Napoleon: The Path to Power (review)

Two hundred years after the apogee of Napoleon’s rule, can another biography of the French emperor further our understanding of that era? Steven Englund’s Napoleon: A Political Life (2003) and David Bell’s The First Total War (2007) have answered positively. Philip Dwyer’s biography is certain, by design, to provoke strong criticisms. His analysis of the young Corsican’s psyche addresses unusual issues and makes bold assertions.

Dwyer is well-respected for his recent histories of Prussia (2000 Prussia (2002). His Napoleon and Europe (2003) and Napoleon and His Empire (2006) serve as an inventory of recent scholarship. Thus, he is qualified to deliver a unique perspective on Napoleon’s rise. Dwyer has chosen, in this psychological study, to remove the protagonist from the forefront of events and insert him into the momentous events of the French Revolution. Claiming that Napoleon was the forerunner of modern dictators, Dwyer focuses on his attempts at selfpromotion through the available media. He admits that Bonaparte was not the only French general to manipulate the historical record, but he was a student of history who instinctively understood the “need for a hero” and sought to “dramatize his own role in the wars” (p. 7).

Dwyer deserves praise for elements of his fresh, modern approach and exhaustive research that utilizes archival sources, rare memoirs, and recent scholarship. He begins with a comprehensive examination of Corsican society under French hegemony, at the time of Napoleon’s youth. He is masterful in describing the Italian reaction to French “liberation” in 1796–97. Dwyer reveals his biographical methodology. Since much of our knowledge about these aspects of Napoleon’s life has been based on his own writings, which Dwyer claims were self-serving and false, he discounts them. In addition, he dismisses many nineteenth century memoirs, especially those authored from St. Helena. Thus, Dwyer is obliged to propose alternative accounts or to speculate. While many of his assertions seem fair, perusal of the endnotes reveals that his choice of sources, in many cases, are those that debase the role of Napoleon. Moreover, the author leaves subtle barbs in the text that reveal an anti-Napoleon bias.

Those seeking insights into Napoleon’s military capabilities will be disappointed. Bonaparte’s service in the French Revolution, his 1796–1797 campaign in Italy, and the conquest of Egypt, are given only cursory attention. Dwyer focuses on only three battles: Lodi, Arcola, and the Pyramids. He addresses these events only with respect to Napoleon’s reputation. Dwyer emphasizes the contemporary artists whose iconic imagery served to advance Bonaparte’s political career. The famous bridge-crossings at Lodi and Arcola, Dwyer claims, are simply “the most blatant examples” of heroic images as “Napoleon went about constructing his life” (pp. 1–8).

Dwyer’s biography is fascinating in its unusual descriptions of Napoleon’s tribulations and his motivations. However, due to his methods a novice would be convinced that Napoleon was neither the central figure of his own family, nor a talented military genius who controlled his own destiny. Rather, by Dwyer’s account, the man who would rise to rule over France merely possessed more luck than ability, and simply manipulated the presses to found a falsified reputation.