{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_11278/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_11278","id":"gutenberg_11278","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/11278","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Short Stories","France","Napoleon I, Emperor of the French, 1769-1821 -- Fiction"],"text":"FOLK-TALES OF NAPOLEON\n\nNAPOLEONDER\n  From the Russian\n\nTHE NAPOLEON OF THE PEOPLE\n  From the French of Honor\u00e9 de Balzac\n\n\nTranslated With Introduction By\nGEORGE KENNAN\n\n\n1902\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\nNAPOLEONDER\nTHE NAPOLEON OF THE PEOPLE\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nMost of the literature that has its origin in the life and career of a\ngreat man may be grouped and classified under two heads: history and\nbiography. The part that relates to the man's actions, and to the\ninfluence that such actions have had in shaping the destinies of peoples\nand states, belongs in the one class; while the part that derives its\ninterest mainly from the man's personality, and deals chiefly with the\nmental and moral characteristics of which his actions were the outcome,\ngoes properly into the other. The value of the literature included in\nthese two classes depends almost wholly upon truth; that is, upon the\nprecise correspondence of the statements made with the real facts of the\nman's life and career. History is worse than useless if it does not\naccurately chronicle and describe events; and biography is valueless and\nmisleading if it does not truly set forth individual character.\n\nThere is, however, a kind of great-man literature in which truth is\ncomparatively unimportant, and that is the literature of popular legend\nand tradition. Whether it purports to be historical or biographical, or\nboth, it derives its interest and value from the light that it throws\nupon the temperament and character of the people who originate it,\nrather than from the amount of truth contained in the statements that\nit makes about the man.\n\nThe folk-tales of Napoleon Bonaparte herewith presented, if judged from\nthe viewpoint of the historian or the biographer, are absurdly and\ngrotesquely untrue; but to the anthropologist and the student of human\nnature they are extremely valuable as self-revelations of national\ncharacter; and even to the historian and the biographer they have some\ninterest as evidences of the profoundly deep impression made by\nNapoleon's personality upon two great peoples--the Russians and the\nFrench.\n\nThe first story, which is entitled \"Napoleonder,\" is of Russian origin,\nand was put into literary form, or edited, by Alexander Amphiteatrof of\nSt. Petersburg. It originally appeared as a feuilleton in the St.\nPetersburg \"Gazette\" of December 13, 1901. As a characteristic specimen\nof Russian peasant folk-lore, it seems to me to have more than ordinary\ninterest and value. The treatment of the supernatural may seem, to\nOccidental readers, rather daring and irreverent, but it is perfectly in\nharmony with the Russian peasant's anthropomorphic conception of Deity,\nand should be taken with due allowance for the educational limitations\nof the story-teller and his auditors. The Russian muzhik often brings\nGod and the angels into his folk-tales, and does so without the least\nidea of treating them disrespectfully. He makes them talk in his own\nlanguage because he has no other language; and if the talk seems a\nlittle grotesque and irreverent, it is due to the low level of the\nnarrator's literary culture, and not to any intention, on his part, of\ntreating God and the angels with levity. The whole aim of the story is a\nmoral and religious one. The narrator is trying to show that sympathy\nand mercy are better than selfish ambition, and that war is not only\nimmoral but irrational. The conversation between God, the angels, and\nthe Devil is a mere prologue, intended to bring Napoleon and Ivan-angel\non the stage and lay the foundation of the plot. The story-teller's keen\nsense of fun and humor is shown in many little touches, but he never\nmeans to be irreverent. The whole legend is set forth in the racy,\nidiomatic, highly elliptical language of the common Russian muzhik, and\nis therefore extremely difficult of translation; but I have tried to\npreserve, as far as possible, the spirit and flavor of the original.\n\nThe French story was first reduced to writing--or at least put into\nliterary form--by Honor\u00e9 de Balzac, and appeared under the title of \"The\nNapoleon of the People\" in the third chapter of Balzac's \"Country\nDoctor.\" It purports to be the story of Napoleon's life and career as\nrelated to a group of French peasants by one of his old soldiers--a man\nnamed Goguelat. It covers more time chronologically than the Russian\nstory does, and deals much more fully and circumstantially with\nhistorical incidents and events: but it seems to me to be distinctly\ninferior to the Russian tale in power of creative imagination, unity of\nconception, skill of artistic treatment, and depth of human interest.\nThe French peasant regards Napoleon merely as a great leader and\nconqueror, \"created to be the father of soldiers,\" and aided, if not\ndirectly sent, by God, to show forth the power and the glory of France.\nThe Russian peasant, more thoughtful by nature as well as less excitable\nand combative in temperament, admits that Napoleon was sent on earth by\nGod, but connects him with one of the deep problems of life by using him\nto show the divine nature of sympathy and pity, and the cruelty,\nimmorality, and unreasonableness of aggressive war. The only feature\nthat the two tales have in common is the recognition of the supernatural\nas a controlling factor in Napoleon's life. The French peasant believes\nthat he had a guiding star; that he was advised and directed by a\nfamiliar spirit in the shape of a \"Red Man\"; and that he was saved from\ndangers and death by virtue of a secret compact with the Supreme Being.\nThe Russian peasant asserts that he was created by the Devil, and that\nGod, after having given him a soul by accident, first used him as a\nmeans of punishing the Russian people for their sins, and then made him\nreally a man by inspiring him with the human feelings of sympathy and\ncompassion. In the French story Napoleon appears as a great military\nleader, whose life and career reflect honor and glory upon France. In\nthe Russian story he is merely the leading actor in a sort of moral\ndrama, or historical mystery-play, intended to show the divine nature of\nsympathy and compassion, the immorality of war, and the essential\nsolidarity and brotherhood of all mankind.\n\nGEORGE KENNAN.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nNAPOLEONDER[1]\n\n[Footnote 1: The Russian peasant's name for Napoleon Bonaparte. The\nfinal syllable \"der\" has perhaps been added because to the ear of the\npeasant \"Napoleon\" sounds clipped and incomplete, as \"Alexan\" would\nsound to us without the \"der.\"]\n\nLong ago--but not so very long ago; our grandfathers remember it--the\nLord God wanted to punish the people of the world for their wickedness.\nSo he began to think how and by what means he could punish them, and he\ncalled a council of his angels and archangels to talk about it. Says the\narchangel Michael to the Lord God: \"Shake them up, the recreants, with\nan earthquake.\"\n\n\"We've tried that,\" says the Lord God. \"Once upon a time we jolted to\npieces Sodom and Gomorrah, but it didn't teach them anything. Since then\npretty much all the towns have become Sodoms and Gomorrahs.\"\n\n\"How about famine?\" says the archangel Gabriel.\n\n\"It would be too bad for the babies,\" replies the Lord God. \"Famine\nwould kill the babies. And, besides that, the cattle must have\nfood--they're not to blame.\"\n\n\"Drown them with a flood,\" suggests Raphael.\n\n\"Clean impossible!\" says the Lord God. \"Because, in the first place, I\ntook an oath once that there should be no more floods, and I set the\nrainbow in the sky for an assurance. In the second place, the rascally\nsinners have become cunning; they'll get on steamboats and sail all over\nthe flood.\"\n\nThen all the archangels were perplexed, and began to screw about in\ntheir seats, trying to invent or think of some calamity that would bring\nthe wicked human race to its senses and stir up its conscience. But they\nhad been accustomed, time out of mind, to do good rather than evil; they\nhad forgotten all about the wickedness of the world; and they couldn't\nthink of a single thing that would be of any use.\n\nThen suddenly up comes Ivan-angel, a simple-minded soul whom the Lord God\nhad appointed to look after the Russian muzhiks. He comes up and\nreports: \"Lord, Satan is outside there, asking for you. He doesn't dare\nto come in, because he smells bad [Footnote 2: That is, he brings with\nhim the sulphurous odor of hell.]; so he's waiting in the entry.\"\n\nThen the Lord God was rejoiced. \"Call Satan in!\" he ordered. \"I know\nthat rogue perfectly well, and he has come in the very nick of time. A\nscamp like that will be sure to think of something.\"\n\nSatan came in. His face was as black as tanned calfskin, his voice was\nhoarse, and a long tail hung down from under his overcoat.\n\n\"If you so order,\" he says, \"I'll distribute your calamities for you\nwith my own hands.\"\n\n\"Go ahead with your distribution,\" says the Lord God; \"nobody shall\nhinder you.\"\n\n\"Will you permit me,\" Satan says, \"to bring about an invasion of\nforeigners?\"\n\nThe Lord God shook his finger at Satan and cried: \"Is that all you can\nthink of? And you so wise!\"\n\n\"Excuse me,\" Satan says. \"Why doesn't my plan show wisdom?\"\n\n\"Because,\" replies the Lord God, \"you propose to afflict the people with\nwar, and war is just what they want. They're all the time fighting among\nthemselves, one people with another, and that's the very thing I want to\npunish them for.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" says Satan, \"they re greedy for war, but that's only because they\nhave never yet seen a real warrior. Send them a regular conqueror, and\nthey'll soon drop their tails between their legs and cry, 'Have mercy,\nLord! Save us from the man of blood!'\"\n\nThe Lord God was surprised. \"Why do you say, my little brother, that the\npeople have never seen a real warrior? The Tsar Herod was a conqueror;\nthe Tsar Alexander subdued a wonderful lot of people; Ivan-Tsar\ndestroyed Kazan; Mamai-Tsar the furious came with all his hordes; and\nthe Tsar Peter, and the great fighter Anika--how many more conquerors do\nyou want?\"\n\n\"I want Napoleonder,\" says Satan.\n\n\"Napoleonder!\" cries the Lord God. \"Who's he? Where did he come from?\"\n\n\"He's a certain little man,\" Satan says, \"who may not be wise enough to\nhurt, but he's terribly fierce in his habits.\"\n\nThe Lord God says to the archangel Gabriel: \"Look in the Book of Life,\nGabriel, and see if we've got Napoleonder written down.\"\n\nThe archangel looked and looked, but he couldn't look up any such\nperson.\n\n\"There isn't any kind of Napoleonder in the Book,\" he says. \"Satan is a\nliar. We haven't got Napoleonder written down anywhere.\"\n\nThen Satan replies: \"It isn't strange that you can't find Napoleonder in\nthe Book of Life, because you write in that Book only the names of those\nwho were born of human fathers and mothers, and who have navels.\nNapoleonder never had a father or a mother, and, moreover, he hasn't any\nnavel--and that's so surprising that you might exhibit him for money.\"\n\nThe Lord God was greatly astonished. \"How did your Napoleonder ever get\ninto the world?\" he says.\n\n\"In this way,\" Satan replies. \"I made him, as a doll, just for\namusement, out of sand. At that very time, you, Lord, happened to be\nwashing your holy face; and, not being careful, you let a few drops of\nthe water of life splash over. They fell from heaven right exactly on\nNapoleonder's head, and he immediately took breath and became a man. He\nis living now, not very near nor very far away, on the island of Buan,\nin the middle of the ocean-sea. There is a little less than a verst of\nland in the island, and Napoleonder lives there and watches geese. Night\nand day he looks after the geese, without eating, or drinking, or\nsleeping, or smoking; and his only thought is--how to conquer the whole\nworld.\"\n\nThe Lord God thought and thought, and then he ordered: \"Bring him to\nme.\"\n\nSatan at once brought Napoleonder into the bright heaven. The Lord God\nlooked at him, and saw that he was a military man with shining buttons.\n\n\"I have heard, Napoleonder,\" says the Lord God, \"that you want to\nconquer the whole world.\"\n\n\"Exactly so,\" replies Napoleonder; \"that's what I want very much to\ndo.\"\n\n\"And have you thought,\" says the Lord God, \"that when you go forth to\nconquer you will crush many peoples and shed rivers of blood?\"\n\n\"That's all the same to me,\" says Napoleonder; \"the important thing for\nme is--how can I subdue the whole world.\"\n\n\"And will you not feel pity for the killed, the wounded, the burned, the\nruined, and the dead?\"\n\n\"Not in the least,\" says Napoleonder. \"Why should I feel pity? I don't\nlike pity. So far as I can remember, I was never sorry for anybody or\nanything in my life, and I never shall be.\"\n\nThen the Lord God turns to the angels and says: \"Messrs. Angels, this\nseems to be the very fellow for our business.\" Then to Napoleonder he\nsays: \"Satan was perfectly right. You are worthy to be the instrument of\nmy wrath, because a pitiless conqueror is worse than earthquake, famine,\nor deluge. Go back to the earth, Napoleonder; I turn over to you the\nwhole world, and through you the whole world shall be punished.\"\n\nNapoleonder says: \"Give me armies and luck, and I'll do my best.\"\n\nThen the Lord God says: \"Armies you shall have, and luck you shall have;\nand so long as you are merciless you shall never be defeated in battle;\nbut remember that the moment you begin to feel sorry for the shedding of\nblood--of your own people or of others--that moment your power will\nend. From that moment your enemies will defeat you, and you shall\nfinally be made a prisoner, be put into chains, and be sent back to Buan\nIsland to watch geese. Do you understand?\"\n\n\"Exactly so,\" says Napoleonder. \"I understand, and I will obey. I shall\nnever feel pity.\"\n\nThen the angels and the archangels began to say to God: \"Lord, why have\nyou laid upon him such a frightful command? If he goes forth so, without\nmercy, he will kill every living soul on earth--he will leave none for\nseed!\"\n\n\"Be silent!\" replied the Lord God. \"He will not conquer long. He is\naltogether too brave; because he fears neither others nor himself. He\nthinks he will keep from pity, and does not know that pity, in the\nhuman heart, is stronger than all else, and that not a man living is\nwholly without it.\"\n\n\"But,\" the archangels say, \"he is not a man; he is made of sand.\"\n\nThe Lord God replies: \"Then you think he didn't receive a soul when my\nwater of life fell on his head?\"\n\nNapoleonder at once gathered together a great army speaking twelve\nlanguages, and went forth to war. He conquered the Germans, he conquered\nthe Turks, he subdued the Swedes and the Poles. He reaped as he marched,\nand left bare the country through which he passed. And all the time he\nremembers the condition of success--pity for none. He cuts off heads,\nburns villages, outrages women, and tramples children under his horses'\nhoofs. He desolates the whole Mohammedan kingdom--and still he is not\nsated. Finally he marches on a Christian country--on Holy Russia.\n\nIn Russia then the Tsar was Alexander the Blessed--the same Tsar who\nstands now on the top of the column in Petersburg-town and blesses the\npeople with a cross, and that's why he is called \"the Blessed.\"\n\nWhen he saw Napoleonder marching against him with twelve languages,\nAlexander the Blessed felt that the end of Russia was near. He called\ntogether his generals and field-marshals, and said to them: \"Messrs.\nGenerals and Field-marshals, how can I check this Napoleonder? He is\npressing us terribly hard.\"\n\nThe generals and field-marshals reply: \"We can't do anything, your\nMajesty, to stop Napoleonder, because God has given him a word.\"\n\n\"What kind of a word?\"\n\n\"This kind: 'Bonaparty.'\"\n\n\"But what does 'Bonaparty' mean, and why is a single word so terrible?\"\n\n\"It means, your Majesty, six hundred and sixty-six--the number of the\nBeast [Footnote 3: A reference to the Beast of the Apocalypse. \"The\nnumber of the beast is the number of a man: and his number is Six\nhundred threescore and six\" (Rev. xiii. 18).]; and it is terrible\nbecause when Napoleonder sees, in a battle, that the enemy is very\nbrave, that his own strength is not enough, and that his own men are\nfalling fast [Footnote 4: Literally, \"lying down with their bones.\"], he\nimmediately conjures with this same word, 'Bonaparty,' and at that\ninstant--as soon as the word is pronounced--all the soldiers that have\never served under him and have died for him on the field of battle come\nback from beyond the grave. He leads them afresh against the enemy, as\nif they were alive, and nothing can stand against them, because they are\na ghostly force, not an army of this world.\"\n\nAlexander the Blessed grew sad; but, after thinking a moment, he said:\n\"Messrs. Generals and Field-marshals, we Russians are a people of more\nthan ordinary courage. We have fought with all nations, and never yet\nbefore any of them have we laid our faces in the dust. If God has\nbrought us, at last, to fight with corpses--his holy will be done! We\nwill go against the dead!\"\n\nSo he led his army to the field of Kulikova, and there waited for the\nmiscreant Napoleonder. And soon afterward, Napoleonder, the evil one,\nsends him an envoy with a paper saying, \"Submit, Alexander\nBlagoslovenni, and I will show you favor above all others.\"\n\nBut Alexander the Blessed was a proud man, who held fast his\nself-respect. He would not speak to the envoy, but he took the paper\nthat the envoy had brought, and drew on it an insulting picture, with\nthe words, \"Is this what you want?\" and sent it back to Napoleonder.\n\nThen they fought and slashed one another on the field of Kulikova, and\nin a short time or a long time our men began to overcome the forces of\nthe enemy. One by one they shot or cut down all of Napoleonder's\nfield-marshals, and finally drew near to Napoleonder himself.\n\n\"Your time has come!\" they cry to him. \"Surrender!\"\n\nBut the villain sits there on his horse, rolling his goggle-eyes like an\nowl, and grinning.\n\n\"Wait a minute,\" he says coolly. \"Don't be in too big a hurry. A tale is\nshort in telling, but the deed is long a-doing.\"\n\nThen he pronounces his conjuring-word, \"Bonaparty\"--six hundred and\nsixty-six, the number of the Beast.\n\nInstantly there is a great rushing sound, and the earth is shaken as if\nby an earthquake. Our soldiers look--and drop their hands. In all parts\nof the field appear threatening battalions, with bayonets shining in the\nsun, torn flags waving over terrible hats of fur, and tramp! tramp!\ntramp! on come the thousands of phantom men, with faces yellow as\ncamomile, and empty holes under their bushy eyebrows.\n\nAlexander, the Blessed Tsar, was stricken with terror. Terror-stricken\nwere all his generals and field-marshals. Terror-stricken also was the\nwhole Russian army. Shaking with fear, they wavered at the advance of\nthe dead, gave way suddenly in a panic, and finally fled in whatever\ndirection their eyes happened to look.\n\nThe brigand Napoleonder sat on his horse, holding his sides with\nlaughter, and shouted: \"Aha! My old men are not to your taste! I\nthought so! This isn't like playing knuckle-bones with children and old\nwomen! Well, then, my honorable Messrs. Dead Men, I have never yet felt\npity for any one, and you needn't show mercy to my enemies. Deal with\nthem after your own fashion.\"\n\n\"As long as it is so,\" replied the corpse-soldiers, \"we are your\nfaithful servants always.\"\n\nOur men fled from Kulikova-field to Pultava-field; from Pultava-field to\nthe famous still-water Don; and from the peaceful Don to the field of\nBorodino, under the very walls of Mother Moscow. And as our men came to\nthese fields, one after another, they turned their faces again and\nagain toward Napoleonder, and fought him with such fierceness that the\nbrigand himself was delighted with them \"God save us!\" he exclaimed,\n\"what soldiers these Russians are! I have not seen such men in any other\ncountry.\"\n\nBut, in spite of the bravery of our troops, we were unable to stop\nNapoleonder's march; because we had no word with which to meet his word.\nIn every battle we pound him, and drive him back, and get him in a\nslip-noose; but just as we are going to draw it tight and catch him, the\nfilthy, idolatrous thief bethinks himself and shouts \"Bonaparty!\" Then\nthe dead men crawl out of their graves in full uniform, set their teeth,\nfix their eyes upon their officers, and charge! And where they pass the\ngrass withers and the stones crack. And our men are so terrified by\nthese unclean bodies that they can't fight against them at all. As soon\nas they hear that accursed word \"Bonaparty,\" and see the big fur hats\nand the yellow faces of the dead men, they throw down their guns and\nrush into the woods to hide.\n\n\"Say what you will, Alexander Blagoslovenni,\" they cry, \"for corpses we\nare not prepared.\"\n\nAlexander the Blessed reproached his men, and said: \"Wait a little,\nbrothers, before you run away. Let's exert ourselves a little more. Dog\nthat he is, he can't beat us always. God has set a limit for him\nsomewhere. To-day is his, to-morrow may be his, but after a while the\nluck perhaps will turn.\"\n\nThen he went to the old hermit-monks in the caves of Kiev and on the\nisland of Valaam, and bowed himself at the feet of all the\narchimandrites and metropolitans, saying: \"Pray for us, holy fathers,\nand beseech the Lord God to turn away his wrath; because we haven't\nstrength enough to defend you from this Napoleonder.\"\n\nThen the old hermit-monks and the archimandrites and the metropolitans\nall prayed, with tears in their eyes, to the Lord God, and prostrated\nthemselves until their knees were all black and blue and there were big\nbumps on their foreheads. With tearful eyes, the whole Russian people,\ntoo, from the Tsar to the last beggar, prayed God for mercy and help.\nAnd they took the sacred ikon of the Holy Mother of God of Smolensk,\nthe pleader for the grief-stricken, and carried it to the famous field\nof Borodino, and, bowing down before it, with tearful eyes, they cried:\n\"O Most Holy Mother of God, thou art our life and our hope! Have mercy\non us, and intercede for us soon.\"\n\nAnd down the dark face of the ikon, from under the setting of pearls in\nthe silver frame, trickled big tears. And all the army and all God's\npeople saw the sacred ikon crying. It was a terrible thing to see, but\nit was comforting.\n\nThen the Lord God heard the wail of the Russian people and the prayers\nof the Holy Virgin the Mother of God of Smolensk, and he cried out to\nthe angels and the archangels: \"The hour of my wrath has passed. The\npeople have suffered enough for their sins and have repented of their\nwickedness. Napoleonder has destroyed nations enough. It's time for him\nto learn mercy. Who of you, my servants, will go down to the earth--who\nwill undertake the great work of softening the conqueror's heart?\"\n\nThe older angels and the archangels didn't want to go. \"Soften his\nheart!\" they cried. \"He is made of sand--he hasn't any navel--he is\npitiless--we're afraid of him!\"\n\nThen Ivan-angel stepped forward and said: \"I'll go.\"\n\nAt that very time Napoleonder had just gained a great victory and was\nriding over the field of battle on a greyhound of a horse. He trampled\nwith his horse's hoofs on the bodies of the dead, without pity or\nregret, and the only thought in his mind was, \"As soon as I have done\nwith Russia, I'll march against the Chinese and the white Arabs; and\nthen I shall have conquered exactly the whole world.\"\n\nBut just at that moment he heard some one calling, \"Napoleonder! O\nNapoleonder!\" He looked around, and not far away, under a bush on a\nlittle mound, he saw a wounded Russian soldier, who was beckoning to him\nwith his hand. Napoleonder was surprised. What could a wounded Russian\nsoldier want of him? He turned his horse and rode to the spot. \"What do\nyou want?\" he asked the soldier.\n\n\"I don't want anything of you,\" the wounded soldier replied, \"except an\nanswer to one question. Tell me, please, what have you killed me for?\"\n\nNapoleonder was still more surprised. In the many years of his\nconquering he had wounded and killed a multitude of men; but he had\nnever been asked that question before. And yet this Russian soldier\ndidn't look as if he had anything more than ordinary intelligence. He\nwas just a young, boyish fellow, with light flaxen hair and blue\neyes--evidently a new recruit from some country village.\n\n\"What do you mean--'killed you for'?\" said Napoleonder. \"I had to kill\nyou. When you went into the army, didn't you take an oath that you\nwould die?\"\n\n\"I know what oath I took, Napoleonder, and I'm not making a fuss about\ndying. But you--why did you kill me?\"\n\n\"Why shouldn't I kill you,\" said Napoleonder, \"when you were the\nenemy,--that is, my foe,--come out to fight me on the field of\nBorodino?\"\n\n\"Cross yourself, Napoleonder!\" said the young soldier. \"How could I be\nyour foe, when there has never been any sort of quarrel between us?\nUntil you came into our country, and I was drafted into the army, I had\nnever even heard of you. And here you have killed me--and how many more\nlike me!\"\n\n\"I killed,\" said Napoleonder, \"because it was necessary for me to\nconquer the world.\"\n\n\"But what have I got to do with your conquering the world?\" replied the\nsoldier. \"Conquer it, if you want to--I don't hinder. But why did you\nkill me? Has killing me given you the world? The world doesn't belong to\nme. You're not reasonable, brother Napoleonder. And is it possible that\nyou really think you can conquer the whole world?\"\n\n\"I'm very much of that opinion,\" replied Napoleonder.\n\nThe little soldier smiled. \"You're really stupid, Napoleonder,\" he said.\n\"I'm sorry for you. As if it were possible to conquer the whole world!\"\n\n\"I'll subdue all the kingdoms,\" replied Napoleonder, \"and put all\npeoples in chains, and then I'll reign as Tsar of all the earth.\"\n\nThe soldier shook his head. \"And God?\" he inquired. \"Will you conquer\nhim?\"\n\nNapoleonder was confused. \"No,\" he finally said. \"God's will is over us\nall; and in the hollow of his hand we live.\"\n\n\"Then what's the use of your conquering the world?\" said the soldier.\n\"God is all; therefore the world won't belong to you, but to him. And\nyou'll live just so long as he has patience with you, and no longer.\"\n\n\"I know that as well as you do,\" said Napoleonder.\n\n\"Well, then,\" replied the soldier, \"if you know it, why don't you reckon\nwith God?\"\n\nNapoleonder scowled. \"Don't say such things to me!\" he cried. \"I've\nheard that sanctimonious stuff before. It's of no use. You can't fool\nme! I don't know any such thing as pity.\"\n\n\"Indeed,\" said the soldier, \"is it so? Have a care, Napoleonder! You are\nswaggering too much. You lie when you say a man can live without pity.\nTo have a soul, and to feel compassion, are one and the same thing. You\nhave a soul, haven't you?\"\n\n\"Of course I have,\" replied Napoleonder; \"a man can't live without a\nsoul.\"\n\n\"There! you see!\" said the soldier. \"You have a soul, and you believe in\nGod. How, then, can you say you don't know any such thing as pity? You\ndo know! And I believe that at this very moment, deep down in your\nheart, you are mortally sorry for me; only you don't want to show it.\nWhy, then, did you kill me?\"\n\nNapoleonder suddenly became furious. \"May the pip seize your tongue, you\nmiscreant! I'll show you how much pity I have for you!\" And, drawing a\npistol, Napoleonder shot the wounded soldier through the head. Then,\nturning to his dead men, he said: \"Did you see that?\"\n\n\"We saw it,\" they replied; \"and as long as it is so, we are your\nfaithful servants always.\"\n\nNapoleonder rode on.\n\nAt last night comes; and Napoleonder is sitting alone in his golden\ntent. His mind is troubled, and he can't understand what it is that\nseems to be gnawing at his heart. For years he has been at war, and this\nis the first time such a thing has happened. Never before has his soul\nbeen so filled with unrest. And to-morrow morning he must begin another\nbattle--the last terrible fight with the Tsar Alexander the Blessed, on\nthe field of Borodino.\n\n\"Akh!\" he thinks, \"I'll show them to-morrow what a leader I am! I'll\nlift the soldiers of the Tsar into the air on my lances and trample\ntheir bodies under the feet of my horses. I'll make the Tsar himself a\nprisoner, and I'll kill or scatter the whole Russian people.\"\n\nBut a voice seemed to whisper in his ear: \"And why? Why?\"\n\n\"I know that trick,\" he thought. \"It's that same wounded soldier again.\nAll right. I won't give in to him. 'Why? Why?' As if I knew why!\nPerhaps if I knew why I shouldn't make war.\"\n\nHe lay down on his bed; but hardly had he closed his eyes when he saw by\nhis bedside the wounded soldier--young, fair-faced, blond-haired, with\njust the first faint shadow of a mustache. His forehead was pale, his\nlips were livid, his blue eyes were dim, and in his left temple there\nwas a round black hole made by the bullet from his--Napoleonder's--pistol.\nAnd the ghastly figure seemed to ask again, \"Why did you kill me?\"\n\nNapoleonder turns over and over, from side to side, in his bed. He sees\nthat it's a bad business. He can't get rid of that soldier. And, more\nthan all, he wonders at himself. \"What an extraordinary occurrence!\" he\nthinks. \"I've killed millions of people, of all countries and nations,\nwithout the least misgiving; and now, suddenly, one miserable soldier\ncomes and throws all my ideas into a tangle!\"\n\nFinally Napoleonder got up; but the confinement of his golden tent\nseemed oppressive. He went out into the open air, mounted his horse, and\nrode away to the place where he had shot to death the vexatious soldier.\n\n\"I've heard,\" he said to himself, \"that when a dead man appears in a\nvision, it is necessary to sprinkle earth on the eyes of the corpse;\nthen he'll lie quiet.\"\n\nNapoleonder rides on. The moon is shining brightly, and the bodies of\nthe dead are lying on the battle-field in heaps. Everywhere he sees\ncorruption and smells corruption.\n\n\"And all these,\" he thought, \"I have killed.\"\n\nAnd, wonderful to say, it seems to him as if all the dead men have the\nsame face,--a young face with blue eyes, and blond hair, and the faint\nshadow of a mustache,--and they all seem to be looking at him with\nkindly, pitying eyes, and their bloodless lips move just a little as\nthey ask, without anger or reproach, \"Why? Why?\"\n\nNapoleonder felt a dull, heavy pressure at his heart. He had not spirit\nenough left to go to the little mound where the body of the dead soldier\nlay, so he turned his horse and rode back to his tent; and every corpse\nthat he passed seemed to say, \"Why? Why?\"\n\nHe no longer felt the desire to ride at a gallop over the dead bodies of\nthe Russian soldiers. On the contrary, he picked his way among them\ncarefully, riding respectfully around the remains of every man who had\ndied with honor on that field of blood; and now and then he even crossed\nhimself and said: \"Akh, that one ought to have lived! What a fine fellow\nthat one was! He must have fought with splendid courage. And I killed\nhim--why?\"\n\nThe great conqueror never noticed that his heart was growing softer and\nwarmer, but so it was. He pitied his dead enemies at last, and then the\nevil spirit went away from him, and left him in all respects like other\npeople.\n\nThe next day came the battle. Napoleonder led his forces, cloud upon\ncloud, to the field of Borodino; but he was shaking as if in a chill.\nHis generals and field-marshals looked at him and were filled with\ndismay.\n\n\"You ought to take a drink of vodka, Napoleonder,\" they say; \"you don't\nlook like yourself.\"\n\nWhen the Russian troops attacked the hordes of Napoleonder, on the field\nof Borodino, the soldiers of the great conqueror at once gave way.\n\n\"It's a bad business, Napoleonder,\" the generals and field-marshals say.\n\"For some reason the Russians are fighting harder to-day than ever.\nYou'd better call out your dead men.\"\n\nNapoleonder shouted at the top of his voice, \"Bonaparty!\"--six hundred\nand sixty-six,--the number of the Beast. But, cry as he would, he only\nfrightened the jackdaws. The dead men didn't come out of their graves,\nnor answer his call. And Napoleonder was left on the field of Borodino\nalone. All his generals and field-marshals had fled, and he sat there\nalone on his horse, shouting, \"Bonaparty! Bonaparty!\"\n\nThen suddenly there appeared beside him the smooth-faced, blue-eyed,\nfair-haired Russian recruit whom he had killed the day before. And the\nyoung soldier said: \"It's useless to shout, Napoleonder. Nobody will\ncome. Yesterday you felt sorry for me and for my dead brothers, and\nbecause of your pity your corpse-soldiers no longer come at your call.\nYour power over them is gone.\"\n\nThen Napoleonder began to weep and sob, and cried out, \"You have ruined\nme, you wretched, miserable soldier!\"\n\nBut the soldier (who was Ivan-angel, and not a soldier at all) replied:\n\"I have not ruined you, Napoleonder; I have saved you. If you had gone\non in your merciless, pitiless course, there would have been no\nforgiveness for you, either in this life or in the life to come. Now God\nhas given you time for repentance. In this world you shall be punished;\nbut there, beyond, if you repent of your sins, you shall be forgiven.\"\n\nAnd the angel vanished.\n\nThen our Don Cossacks fell on Napoleonder, dragged him from his horse,\nand took him to Alexander the Blessed. Some said, \"Napoleonder ought to\nbe shot!\" Others cried, \"Send him to Siberia to!\" But the Lord God\nsoftened the heart of Alexander the Blessed, and the merciful Tsar would\nnot allow Napoleonder to be shot or sent to Siberia. He ordered that the\ngreat conqueror be put into an iron cage, and be carried around and\nexhibited to the people at country fairs. So Napoleonder was carried\nfrom one fair to another for a period of thirty summers and three\nyears--until he had grown quite old. Then, when he was an old man, they\nsent him to the island of Buan to watch geese.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nTHE NAPOLEON OF THE PEOPLE[1]\n\n[Footnote 1: A story told to a group of French peasants one evening, in\na barn, by Goguelat, the village postman, who had served under Napoleon\nin a regiment of infantry.]\n\nNapoleon, my friends, was born, you know, in Corsica. That's a French\nisland, but it's warmed by the sun of Italy, and everything's as hot\nthere as if it were a furnace. It's a place, too, where the people kill\none another, from father to son, generation after generation, for\nnothing at all; that is, for no reason in particular except that it's\ntheir way.\n\nWell, to begin with the most wonderful part of the story, it so\nhappened that on the very day when Napoleon was born, his mother dreamed\nthat the world was on fire. She was a shrewd, clever woman, as well as\nthe prettiest woman of her time; and when she had this dream, she\nthought she'd save her son from the dangers of life by dedicating him to\nGod. And, indeed, that was a prophetic dream of hers! So she asked God\nto protect the boy, and promised that when he grew up he should\nreestablish God's holy religion, which had then been overthrown. That\nwas the agreement they made; and although it seems strange, such things\nhave happened. It's sure and certain, anyhow, that only a man who had an\nagreement with God could pass through the enemy's lines, and move about\nin showers of bullets and grape-shot, as Napoleon did. They swept us\naway like flies, but his head they never touched at all. I had a proof\nof that--I myself, in particular--at Eylau, where the Emperor went up on\na little hill to see how things were going. I can remember, to this day,\nexactly how he looked as he took out his field-glass, watched the battle\nfor a minute, and finally said: \"It's all right! Everything is going\nwell.\" Then, just as he was coming back, an ambitious chap in a plumed\nhat, who was always following him around, and who bothered him, they\nsaid, even at his meals, thought he'd play smart by going up on the very\nsame hill; but he had hardly taken the Emperor's place when--batz!--away\nhe went, plume and all!\n\nNow follow me closely, and tell me whether what you are going to hear\nwas natural.\n\nNapoleon, you know, had promised that he'd keep his agreement with God\nto himself. That's the reason why his companions and even his particular\nfriends--men like Duroc, Bessi\u00e8res, and Lannes, who were strong as bars\nof steel, but whom he molded to suit his purposes--all fell, like nuts\nfrom a shaken tree, while he himself was never even hurt.\n\nBut that's not the only proof that he was the child of God and was\nexpressly created to be the father of soldiers. Did anybody ever see him\na lieutenant? Or a captain? Never! He was commander-in-chief from the\nstart. When he didn't look more than twenty-four years of age he was\nalready an old general--ever since the taking of Toulon, where he first\nbegan to show the rest of them that they didn't know anything about the\nhandling of cannon.\n\nWell, soon after that, down comes this stripling to us as\ngeneral-in-chief of the Army of Italy--an army that hadn't any\nammunition, or bread, or shoes, or coats; a wretched army--naked as a\nworm. \"Now, boys!\" he said, \"here we are, all together. I want you to\nget it fixed in your heads that in fifteen days more you 're going to be\nconquerors. You're going to have new clothes, good leggings, the best of\nshoes, and a warm overcoat for every man; but in order to get these\nthings you'll have to march to Milan, where they are.\" So we marched. We\nwere only thirty thousand bare-footed tramps, and we were going against\neighty thousand crack German soldiers--fine, well equipped men; but\nNapoleon, who was only Bonaparte then, breathed a spirit of--I don't\nknow what--into us, and on we marched, night and day. We hit the enemy\nat Montenotte, thrashed 'em at Rivoli, Lodi, Arcola, and Millesimo, and\nstuck to 'em wherever they went. A soldier soon gets to like being a\nconqueror; and Napoleon wheeled around those German generals, and pelted\naway at 'em, until they didn't know where to hide long enough to get a\nlittle rest. With fifteen hundred Frenchmen, whom he made to appear a\ngreat host (that's a way he had), he'd sometimes surround ten thousand\nmen and gather 'em all in at a single scoop. Then we'd take their\ncannon, their money, their ammunition, and everything they had that was\nworth carrying away. As for the others, we chucked 'em into the water,\nwalloped 'em on the mountains, snapped 'em up in the air, devoured 'em\non the ground, and beat 'em everywhere. So at last our troops were in\nfine feather--especially as Napoleon, who had a clever wit, made friends\nwith the inhabitants of the country by telling them that we had come to\nset them free; and then, of course, they gave us quarters and took the\nbest of care of us. And it was not only the men: the women took care of\nus too, which showed their good judgment!\n\nWell, it finally ended in this way: in Ventose, 1796,--which was the\nsame time of year that our March is now,--we were penned up in one\ncorner of the marmot country: but at the end of the first campaign, lo\nand behold! we were masters of Italy, just as Napoleon had predicted.\nAnd in the month of March following--that is, in two campaigns, which we\nfought in a single year--he brought us in sight of Vienna. It was just a\nclean sweep. We had eaten up three different armies in succession, and\nhad wiped out four Austrian generals; one of them--a white-haired old\nchap--was burned alive at Mantua like a rat in a straw mattress. We had\nconquered peace, and kings were begging, on their knees, for mercy.\nCould a man have done all that alone? Never! He had the help of God;\nthat's certain! He divided himself up like the five loaves of bread in\nthe Gospel; he planned battles at night and directed them in the\ndaytime: he was seen by the sentries going here and there at all hours,\nand he never ate or slept. When the soldiers saw all these wonderful\nthings, they adopted him as their father.\n\nBut the people at the head of the government over there in Paris, who\nwere looking on, said to themselves: \"This schemer, who seems to have\nthe watchword of Heaven, is quite capable of laying his hands on France.\nWe'd better turn him loose in Asia or America. Then maybe he'll be\nsatisfied for a while.\" So it was written that he should do just what\nJesus Christ did--go to Egypt. You see how in this he resembled the Son\nof God. But there's more to come.\n\nHe gathered together all his old fire-eaters--the fellows that he had\nput the spirit of the Devil into--and said to them: \"Boys! They've given\nus Egypt to chew on--to keep us quiet for a while; but we'll swallow\nEgypt in one time and two movements--just as we did Italy; All you\nprivate soldiers shall be princes, with lands of your own. Forward!\"\n\n\"Forward, boys!\" shouted the sergeants.\n\nSo we marched to Toulon, on our way to Egypt. As soon as the English\nheard of it, they sent out all their ships of war to catch us; but when\nwe embarked, Napoleon said to us: \"The English will never see us; and\nit is only proper for you to know now that your general has a star in\nthe sky which will henceforth guide and protect us.\"\n\nAs 't was said, so 't was done. On our way across the sea we took Malta\n(just as one would pick an orange in passing) to quench Napoleon's\nthirst for victory; because he was a man who wanted to be doing\nsomething all the time.\n\nAnd so at last we came to Egypt; and then the orders were different. The\nEgyptians, you know, are people who, from the beginning of the world,\nhave had giants to rule over them, and armies like innumerable ants.\nTheir country is a land of genii and crocodiles, and of pyramids as big\nas our mountains, where they put the bodies of their dead kings to keep\nthem fresh--a thing that seems to please them all around. Of course you\ncan't deal with such people as you would with others. So when we landed,\nthe Little Corporal said to us: \"Boys! The country that you are going to\nconquer worships a lot of gods that must be respected. Frenchmen should\nkeep on good terms with everybody, and fight people without hurting\ntheir feelings. So let everything alone at first, and by and by we'll\nget all there is.\"\n\nNow there was a prediction among the Egyptians down there that Napoleon\nwould come; and the name they had for him was Kebir Bonaberdis, which\nmeans, in their lingo, \"The Sultan strikes fire.\" They were as much\nafraid of him as they were of the Devil; so the Grand Turk, Asia, and\nAfrica resorted to magic, and sent against us a demon named Mody [the\nMahdi], who was supposed to have come down from heaven on a white horse.\nThis horse was incombustible to bullets, and so was the Mody, and the\ntwo of 'em lived on weather and air. There are people who have seen 'em;\nbut I haven't any reason, myself, to say positively that the things told\nabout 'em were true. Anyhow, they were the great powers in Arabia; and\nthe Mamelukes wanted to make the Egyptian soldiers think that the Mody\ncould keep them from being killed in battle, and that he was an angel\nsent down from heaven to fight Napoleon and get back Solomon's seal--a\npart of their equipment which they pretended to believe our general had\nstolen. But we made 'em laugh on the wrong side of their mouths, in\nspite of their Mody!\n\nThey thought Napoleon could command the genii, and that he had power to\ngo from one place to another in an instant, like a bird; and, indeed,\nit's a fact that he was everywhere. But how did they know that he had an\nagreement with God? Was it natural that they should get such an idea as\nthat?\n\nIt so happened, finally, that he carried off one of their queens--a\nwoman beautiful as the sunshine. He tried, at first, to buy her, and\noffered to give for her all his treasure, and a lot of diamonds as big\nas pigeons' eggs; but although the Mameluke to whom she particularly\nbelonged had several others, he wouldn't agree to the bargain; so\nNapoleon had to carry her off. Of course, when things came to such a\npass as that, they couldn't be settled without a lot of fighting; and if\nthere weren't blows enough to satisfy all, it wasn't anybody's fault. We\nformed in battle line at Alexandria, at Gizeh, and in front of the\nPyramids. We marched in hot sunshine and through deep sand, where some\ngot so bedazzled that they saw water which they couldn't drink, and\nshade that made them sweat; but we generally chewed up the Mamelukes,\nand all the rest gave in when they heard Napoleon's voice.\n\nHe took possession of Upper and Lower Egypt, Arabia, and the capitals of\nkingdoms that perished long ago, where there were thousands of statues\nof all the evil things in creation, especially lizards--a thundering big\ncountry, where one could get acres of land for as little as he pleased.\n\nWell, while Napoleon was attending to his business inland, where he\nintended to do some splendid things, the English, who were always trying\nto make us trouble, burned his fleet at Aboukir. But our general, who\nhad the respect of the East and the West, who had been called \"my son\"\nby the Pope, and \"my dear father\" by the cousin of Mahomet, resolved to\npunish England, and to capture the Indies, in payment for his lost\nfleet. He was just going to take us across the Red Sea into Asia--a\ncountry where there were lots of diamonds, plenty of gold with which to\npay his soldiers, and palaces that could be used for etapes--when the\nMody made an arrangement with the Plague, and sent it down to put an end\nto our victories. Then it was, Halt, all! And everybody marched off to\nthat parade from which you don't come back on your feet. Dying soldiers\ncouldn't take Saint Jean d'Acre, although they forced an entrance three\ntimes with noble and stubborn courage. The Plague was too strong for us;\nand it wasn't any use to say \"Please don't!\" to the Plague. Everybody\nwas sick except Napoleon. He looked fresh as a rose, and the whole army\nsaw him drinking in pestilence without being hurt a bit. How was that?\nDo you call that natural?\n\nWell, the Mamelukes, who knew that we were all in ambulances, thought\nthey'd bar our way; but they couldn't play that sort of game with\nNapoleon. He turned to his old fire-eaters--the fellows with the\ntoughest hides--and said: \"Go clear the road for me.\" Junot, who was his\ndevoted friend and a number one soldier, took not more than a thousand\nmen, and slashed right through the army of the pasha which had had the\nimpudence to get in our way. Then we went back to Cairo, where we had\nour headquarters.\n\nAnd now for another part of the story. While Napoleon was away France\nwas letting herself be ruined by those government scalawags in Paris,\nwho were keeping back the soldiers' pay, withholding their linen and\ntheir clothes, and even letting them starve. They wanted the soldiers to\nlay down the law to the universe, and that's all they cared for. They\nwere just a lot of idiots jabbering for amusement instead of putting\ntheir own hands into the dough. So our armies were beaten and we\ncouldn't defend, our frontiers. THE MAN was no longer there. I say \"the\nman\" because that's what they called him; but it was absurd to say that\nhe was merely a man, when he had a star of his own with all its\nbelongings. It was the rest of us who were merely men. At the battle of\nAboukir, with a single division and with a loss of only three hundred\nmen, he whipped the great army of the Turks, and hustled more than half\nof them into the sea--r-r-rah--like that! But it was his last\nthunderclap in Egypt; because when he heard, soon afterward, what was\nhappening in France, he made up his mind to go back there. \"I am the\nsavior of France,\" he said, \"and I must go to her aid.\" The army didn't\nknow what he intended to do. If they had known, they would have kept him\nin Egypt by force and made him Emperor of the East.\n\nWhen he had gone, we all felt very blue; because he had been the joy of\nour lives. He left the command to Kl\u00e9ber--a great lout of a fellow who\nsoon afterward lost the number of his mess. An Egyptian assassinated\nhim. They put the murderer to death by making him sit on a bayonet;\nthat's their way, down there, of guillotining a man. But he suffered so\nmuch that one of our soldiers felt sorry for him and offered him his\nwater-gourd. The criminal took a drink, and then gave up the ghost with\nthe greatest pleasure.\n\nBut we didn't waste much time over trifles like that.\n\nNapoleon sailed from Egypt in a cockle-shell of a boat called _Fortune_.\nHe passed right under the noses of the English, who were blockading the\ncoast with ships of the line, frigates, and every sort of craft that\ncould carry sail, and in the twinkling of an eye he was in France;\nbecause he had the ability to cross the sea as if with a single stride.\nWas that natural? Bah! The very minute he reached Fr\u00e9jus, he had his\nfoot, so to speak, in Paris. There, of course, everybody worships him.\nBut the first thing he does is to summon the government. \"What have you\nbeen doing with my children the soldiers?\" he said to the lawyers. \"You\nare nothing but a lot of poll-parrots, who fool the people with your\ngabble, and feather your own nests at the expense of France. It is not\nright; and I speak in the name of all who are dissatisfied.\"\n\nThey thought, at first, that they could get rid of him by talking him\nto death; but it didn't work. He shut 'em up in the very barrack where\nthey did their talking, and those who didn't jump out of the windows he\nenrolled in his suite, where they soon became mute as fish and pliable\nas a tobacco-pouch. This coup made him consul; and as he wasn't one to\ndoubt the Supreme Being who had kept good faith with him, he hastened to\nfulfil his own promise by restoring the churches and reestablishing\nreligion; whereupon the bells all rang out in his honor and in honor of\nthe good God.\n\nEverybody then was satisfied: first, the priests, because they were\nprotected from persecution; second, the merchants, because they could do\nbusiness without fearing the \"we-grab-it-all\" of the law; and finally\nthe nobles, because the people were forbidden to put them to death, as\nthey had formerly had the unfortunate habit of doing.\n\nBut Napoleon still had his enemies to clear away, and he was not a man\nto drop asleep over his porringer. His eye took in the whole world--as\nif it were no bigger than a soldier's head. The first thing he did was\nto turn up in Italy--as suddenly as if he had poked his head through a\nwindow; and one look from him was enough. The Austrians were swallowed\nup at Marengo as gudgeons are swallowed by a whale. Then the French\nVICTORY sang a song of triumph that all the world could hear, and it was\nenough. \"We won't play any more!\" declared the Germans.\n\n\"Nor we either,\" said the others.\n\nSum total: Europe is cowed; England knuckles down; and there is\nuniversal peace, with all the kings and people pretending to embrace one\nanother.\n\nIt was then that Napoleon established the Legion of Honor; and a fine\nthing it was, too. In a speech that he made before the whole army at\nBoulogne he said: \"In France everybody is brave; so the civilian who\ndoes a noble deed shall be the brother of the soldier, and they shall\nstand together under the flag of honor.\" Then we who had been down in\nEgypt came home and found everything changed. When Napoleon left us he\nwas only a general; but in no time at all he had become Emperor. France\nhad given herself to him as a pretty girl gives herself to a lancer.\n\nWell, when everything had been settled to everybody's satisfaction,\nthere was a religious ceremony such as had never before been seen under\nthe canopy of heaven. The Pope and all his cardinals, in their robes of\nscarlet and gold, came across the Alps to anoint him with holy oil, and\nhe was crowned Emperor, in the presence of the army and the people, with\ngreat applause and clapping of hands.\n\nBut there is one thing that it would not be fair not to tell you; and\nthat is about the RED MAN. While Napoleon was still in Egypt, in a\ndesert not far from Syria, the Red Man appeared to him on the mountain\nof Moses (Sinai), and said to him, \"It's all right!\" Then again, at\nMarengo, on the evening of the victory, the same Red Man appeared to him\na second time, and said: \"You shall see the world at your feet: you\nshall be Emperor of France; King of Italy; master of Holland; sovereign\nof Spain, Portugal, and the Illyrian provinces; protector of Germany;\nsavior of Poland; first eagle of the Legion of Honor--everything!\"\n\nThis Red Man, you see, was his own idea; and was a sort of messenger\nwhom he used, many people said, as a means of communication with his\nstar. I've never believed that, myself, but that there was a Red Man is\na real fact. Napoleon himself spoke of him, and said that he lived up\nunder the roof in the palace of the Tuileries, and that he often used to\nmake his appearance in times of trouble. On the evening of his\ncoronation Napoleon saw him for the third time, and they consulted\ntogether about a lot of things.\n\nAfter that the Emperor went to Milan, where he was crowned King of\nItaly; and then began a regular triumph for us soldiers. Every man who\nknew how to read and write became an officer; it rained dukedoms;\npensions were distributed with both hands; there were fortunes for the\ngeneral staff which didn't cost France a penny; and even common soldiers\nreceived annuities with their crosses of the Legion of Honor--I get\nmine to this day. In short, the armies of France were taken care of in\na way that had never before been seen.\n\nBut the Emperor, who knew that he was the emperor not only of the\nsoldiers but of all, remembered the bourgeois, and built wonderful\nmonuments for them, to suit their own taste, in places that had been as\nbare before as the palm of your hand. Suppose you were coming from\nSpain, for example, and going through France to Berlin. You would pass\nunder sculptured triumphal arches on which you'd see the common soldiers\ncarved just as beautifully as the generals.\n\nIn two or three years, and without taxing you people at all, Napoleon\nfilled his vaults with gold; created bridges, palaces, roads, schools,\nfestivals, laws, harbors, ships; and spent millions and millions of\nmoney--so much, in fact, that if he'd taken the notion, they say, he\nmight have paved all France with five-franc pieces.\n\nFinally, when he was comfortably seated on his throne, he was so\nthoroughly the master of everything that Europe waited for his\npermission before it even dared to sneeze. Then, as he had four brothers\nand three sisters, he said to us in familiar talk, as if in the order of\nthe day: \"Boys! Is it right that the relatives of your Emperor should\nhave to beg their bread? No! I want them to shine, just as I do. A\nkingdom must be conquered, therefore, for every one of them; so that\nFrance may be master of all; so that the soldiers of the Guard may make\nthe world tremble; so that France may spit wherever she likes; and so\nthat all nations may say to her,--as it is written on my coins,--'God\nprotects you.'\"\n\n\"All right!\" says the army. \"We'll fish up kingdoms for you with the\nbayonet.\"\n\nWe couldn't back out, you know; and if he had taken it into his head to\nconquer the moon, we should have had to get ready, pack our knapsacks,\nand climb up. Fortunately, he didn't have any such intention.\n\nThe kings, who were very comfortable on their thrones, naturally didn't\nwant to get off to make room for his relatives; so they had to be\ndragged off by the ears. Forward!  We marched and marched, and\neverything began to shake again. Ah, how he did wear out men and shoes\nin those days! He struck such tremendous blows with us that if we had\nbeen other than Frenchmen we should all have been used up. But Frenchmen\nare born philosophers, and they know that a little sooner or a little\nlater they must die. So we used to die without a word, because we had\nthe pleasure of seeing the Emperor do this with the geographies. [Here\nthe old soldier nimbly drew a circle with his foot on the floor of the\nbarn.]\n\n\"There!\" he would say, \"that shall be a kingdom!\" And it was a kingdom.\nAh, that was a great time! Colonels became generals while you were\nlooking at them; generals became marshals, and marshals became kings.\nThere's one of those kings still left, to remind Europe of that time;\nbut he is a Gascon, and has betrayed France in order to keep his crown.\nHe doesn't blush for the shame of it, either; because crowns, you\nunderstand, are made of gold! Finally, even sappers, if they knew how to\nread, became nobles all the same. I myself have seen in Paris eleven\nkings and a crowd of princes, surrounding Napoleon like rays of the sun.\nEvery soldier had a chance to see how a throne fitted him, if he was\nworthy of it, and when a corporal of the Guard passed by he was an\nobject of curiosity; because all had a share in the glory of the\nvictories, which were perfectly well known to everybody through the\nbulletins.\n\nAnd what a lot of battles there were! Austerlitz, where the army\nmaneuvered as if on parade; Eylau, where the Russians were drowned in a\nlake as if Napoleon had blown them in with a single puff; Wagram, where\nwe fought three days without flinching. In short, there were as many\nbattles as there are saints in the calendar. And it was proved then that\nNapoleon had in his scabbard the real sword of God. He felt regard for\nhis soldiers, too, and treated them just as if they were his children,\nalways taking pains to find out if they were well supplied with shoes,\nlinen, overcoats, bread, and cartridges. But he kept up his dignity as\nsovereign all the same; because to reign was his business. However,\nthat didn't make any difference. A sergeant, or even a common soldier,\ncould say to him \"Emperor,\" just as you sometimes say \"my dear fellow\"\nto me. He was one that you could argue with, if necessary; he slept on\nthe snow with the rest of us; and, in short, he appeared almost like any\nother man. But when the grape-shot were kicking up the dust at his very\nfeet, I have seen him going about coolly,--no more disturbed by them\nthan you are at this minute,--looking through his field-glass now and\nthen, and attending all the time to his business. Of course that made\nthe rest of us as calm and serene as John the Baptist. I don't know how\nhe managed it, but when he spoke to us, his words put fire into our\nhearts; and in order to show him that we really were his children, and\nnot the kind of men to shrink from danger, we used to march right up to\ngreat blackguards of cannon which bellowed and vomited balls without so\nmuch as saying \"Look out!\" Even dying men had the nerve to raise their\nheads and salute him with the cry of \"Long live the Emperor!\" Was that\nnatural? Would they have done that for a mere man?\n\nWell, when he had settled all his folks comfortably, the Empress\nJosephine--who was a good woman all the same--was so fixed that she\ncouldn't give him any family, and he had to leave her. He loved her\nquite a little, too; but for reasons of state he had to have children.\nWhen the kings of Europe heard of this trouble, they came to blows over\nthe question who should give him a wife. He finally married, they told\nus, an Austrian woman. She was a daughter of Caesar's--a man of ancient\ntimes who is much talked about, not only in our country, where they say\nhe made everything, but in Europe. It's true, anyhow, that I have myself\nbeen on the Danube, and have seen there the remains of a bridge that\nthis man Caesar built. It appears that he was a relative of Napoleon's\nin Rome, and that's why the Emperor had a right to take the inheritance\nthere for his son.\n\nWell, after his marriage, when there was a holiday for the whole world,\nand when he let the people off ten years' taxes (which were collected\nall the same, because the tax-gatherers didn't pay any attention to what\nhe said), his wife had a little boy who was King of Rome. That was a\nthing which had never been seen on earth before--a child born king while\nhis father was still living. A balloon was sent up in Paris to carry the\nnews to Rome, and it made the whole distance in a single day. Now will\nany of you tell me that that was natural? Never! It had been so written\non high.\n\nWell, next comes the Emperor of Russia. He had once been Napoleon's\nfriend; but he got angry because our Emperor didn't marry a Russian\nwoman. So he backs up our enemies the English. Napoleon had long\nintended to pay his respects to those English ducks in their own nests,\nbut something had always happened to prevent, and it was now high time\nto make an end of them. So he finally got angry himself, and said to us:\n\"Soldiers! You have been masters of all the capitals of Europe except\nMoscow, which is the ally of England. In order to conquer London, as\nwell as the Indies, which belong to London, I find it necessary to go to\nMoscow.\"\n\nWell, there assembled then the greatest army that ever tramped in\ngaiters over the world; and the Emperor had them so curiously well lined\nup that he reviewed a million men in a single day.\n\n\"Hourra!\" shout the Russians. And there they were--those animals of\nCossacks who are forever running away, and the whole Russian nation,\nall complete! It was country against country--a general mix-up, where\neverybody had to look out for himself. As the Red Man had said to\nNapoleon, \"It's Asia against Europe.\"\n\n\"All right!\" replied the Emperor, \"I'll take care.\" And then came\nfawning on Napoleon all the kings of Europe,--Austria, Prussia, Bavaria,\nSaxony, Poland, Italy,--all flattering us and going along with us. It\nwas splendid! The French eagles never cooed as they did on parade then,\nwhen they were held high above all the flags of Europe. The Poles\ncouldn't contain themselves for joy, because the Emperor intended to set\nthem up again as a nation--and for that reason the French and the Poles\nhave been like brothers ever since.\n\n\"Russia shall be ours!\" cried the army.\n\nWe crossed the frontier,--the whole lot of us,--and marched, and\nmarched, and marched. No Russians! At last we found the rascals, camping\non the bank of the Moscow River. That's where I got my cross; and I take\nleave to say that it was the damnedest of battles! Napoleon himself was\nworried, because the Red Man had appeared again and had said to him, \"My\nson, you are going too fast; you will run short of men, and your friends\nwill betray you.\" Thereupon the Emperor proposed peace; but before the\ntreaty was signed he said to us, \"Let's give those Russians a\ndrubbing!\"\n\n\"All right!\" said the army.\n\n\"Forward!\" shout the sergeants.\n\nMy clothes were going to pieces and my shoes were all worn out from\ntramping over the bad roads out there, but I said to myself, \"Never\nmind; since this is the last of the rumpus, I'll make 'em give me a\nbellyful!\"\n\nWe were drawn up near the edge of the great ravine--in the front seats!\nThe signal was given, and seven hundred pieces of artillery began a\nconversation that was enough to bring the blood from your ears. Well, to\ndo justice to one's enemies, I must admit that the Russians let\nthemselves be killed like Frenchmen. They wouldn't give way, and we\ncouldn't advance.\n\n\"Forward!\" shouted our officers. \"Here comes the Emperor!\" And there he\nwas, passing at a gallop, and motioning to us that it was very important\nto capture the redoubt. He put new life into us, and on we ran. I was\nthe first to reach the ravine. Ah! Mon Dieu! How the colonels are\nfalling, and the lieutenants, and the soldiers! But never mind! There'll\nbe all the more shoes for those who haven't any, and epaulets for the\nambitious fellows who know how to read.\n\nAt last the cry of \"Victory!\" rang all along the line; but--would you\nbelieve it?--there were twenty-five thousand Frenchmen lying on the\nground! A trifle, eh? Well, such a thing had never been seen before. It\nwas a regular harvest field after the reaping; only instead of stalks of\ngrain there were bodies of men. That sobered the rest of us. But the\nEmperor soon came along, and when we formed a circle around him, he\npraised us and cheered us up (he could be very amiable when he liked),\nand made us feel quite contented, even although we were as hungry as\nwolves. Then he distributed crosses of honor among us, saluted the dead,\nand said, \"On to Moscow!\"\n\n\"All right! To Moscow!\" replied the army.\n\nAnd then what did the Russians do but burn their city! It made a\nsix-mile bonfire which blazed for two days. The buildings fell like\nslates, and there was a rain of melted iron and lead which was simply\nhorrible! Indeed, that fire was the lightning from the dark cloud of our\nmisfortunes. The Emperor said: \"There's enough of this. If we stay here,\nnone of my soldiers will ever get out.\" But we waited a little to cool\noff and to refresh our carcasses; because we were really played out. We\ncarried away a golden cross that was on the Kremlin, and every soldier\nhad a small fortune.\n\nOn our way back, winter came upon us, a month earlier than usual,--a\nthing that those stupid scientific men have never properly\nexplained,--and the cold caught us. Then there was no more army; do you\nunderstand? No army, no generals, no sergeants even! After that it was\na reign of misery and hunger--a reign where we were all equal. We\nthought of nothing except of seeing France again. Nobody stooped to pick\nup his gun, or his money, if he happened to drop them; and every one\nwent straight on, arms at will, caring nothing for glory. The weather\nwas so bad that Napoleon could no longer see his star--the sky was\nhidden. Poor man! It made him sick at heart to see his eagles flying\naway from victory. It was a crushing blow to him.\n\nWell, then came the Beresina. And now, my friends, I may say to you, on\nmy honor and by everything sacred, that never--no, never since man lived\non earth--has there been such a mixed up hodgepodge of army, wagons,\nand artillery, in the midst of such snows, and under such a pitiless\nsky! It was so cold that if you touched the barrel of your gun you\nburned your hand.\n\nIt was there that Gondrin--who is now present with us--behaved so well.\nHe is the only one now living of the pontooners who went down into the\nwater that day and built the bridge on which we crossed the river. The\nRussians still had some respect for the Grand Army, on account of its\npast victories; but it was Gondrin and the pontooners who saved us, and\n[pointing at Gondrin, who was looking at him with the fixed attention\npeculiar to the deaf] Gondrin is a finished soldier and a soldier of\nhonor, who is worthy of your highest esteem.\n\nI saw the Emperor that day, standing motionless near the bridge, and\nnever feeling the cold at all. Was that natural, do you think? He was\nwatching the destruction of his treasure, his friends, his old Egyptian\nsoldiers. It was the end of everything. Women, wagons, cannon--all were\nbeing destroyed, demolished, ruined, wrecked! A few of the bravest\nguarded the eagles; because the eagles, you understand, stood for\nFrance, for you, for the civil and military honor that had to be kept\nunstained and that was not to be humbled by the cold.\n\nWe hardly ever got warm except near the Emperor. When he was in danger,\nwe all ran to him--although we were so nearly frozen that we would not\nhave held out a hand to our dearest friend. They say that he used to\nweep at night over his poor family of soldiers. Nobody but he and\nFrenchmen could ever have pulled out of there. We did pull out, but it\nwas with loss--terrible loss. Our allies ate up all of our provisions,\nand then began the treachery which the Red Man had foretold.\n\nThe blatherskites in Paris, who had kept quiet since the formation of\nthe Imperial Guard, thought that the Guard had finally perished. So they\ngot up a conspiracy and hoodwinked the Prefect of Police into an attempt\nto overthrow the Emperor. He heard of this and it worried him. When he\nleft us he said: \"Good-by, boys. Guard the posts. I will come back to\nyou.\"\n\nAfter he had gone, things went from bad to worse. The generals lost\ntheir heads; and the marshals quarreled with one another and did all\nsorts of foolish things, as was natural. Napoleon, who was good to\neverybody, had fed them on gold until they had become as fat as pigs,\nand they didn't want to do any more marching. This led to trouble,\nbecause many of them remained idle in forts behind the army that was\ndriving us back to France, and didn't even try to relieve us by\nattacking the enemy in the rear.\n\nThe Emperor finally returned, bringing with him a lot of splendid\nrecruits whom he had drilled into regular war-dogs, ready to set their\nteeth into anything. He brought also a bourgeois guard of honor, a fine\ntroop, which melted away in battle like butter on a hot gridiron. In\nspite of the bold front that we put on, everything went against us;\nalthough the army performed feats of wonderful courage. Then came\nregular battles of mountains--nations against nations--at Dresden,\nLutzen, and Bautzen. Don't you ever forget that time, because it was\nthen that Frenchmen showed how wonderfully heroic they could be. A good\ngrenadier, in those days, seldom lasted more than six months. We always\nwon, of course; but there in our rear were the English, stirring up the\nnations to take sides against us. But we fought our way through this\npack of nations at last. Wherever Napoleon showed himself, we rushed;\nand whenever, on land or sea, he said, \"I wish to pass,\" we passed.\n\nWe finally got back to France; and many a poor foot-soldier was braced\nup by the air of his native country, notwithstanding the hard times we\nhad. As for myself, in particular, I may say that it renewed my life.\n\nIt then became a question of defending the fatherland--our fair\nFrance--against all Europe. They didn't like our laying down the law to\nthe Russians, and our driving them back across their borders, so that\nthey couldn't devour us, as is the custom of the North. Those Northern\npeoples are very greedy for the South, or at least that's what I've\nheard many generals say. Then Napoleon saw arrayed against him his own\nfather-in-law, his friends whom he had made kings, and all the\nscoundrels whom he had put on thrones. Finally, in pursuance of orders\nfrom high quarters, even Frenchmen, and allies in our own ranks, turned\nagainst us; as at the battle of Leipsic. Common soldiers wouldn't have\nbeen mean enough to do that! Men who called themselves princes broke\ntheir word three times a day.\n\nWell, then came the invasion. Wherever Napoleon showed his lion face\nthe enemy retreated; and he worked more miracles in defending France\nthan he had shown in conquering Italy, the East, Spain, Europe, and\nRussia. He wanted to bury all the invaders in France, and thus teach\nthem to respect the country; so he let them come close to Paris, in\norder to swallow 'em all at a gulp and rise to the height of his genius\nin a battle greater than all the others--a regular mother of battles!\nBut those cowardly Parisians were so afraid for their wretched skins and\ntheir miserable shops that they opened the gates of the city. Then the\ngood times ended and the \"ragusades\" began. They fooled the Empress and\nhung white flags out of the palace windows. Finally the very generals\nwhom Napoleon had taken for his best friends deserted him and went over\nto the Bourbons--of whom nobody had ever before heard. Then he bade us\ngood-by at Fontainebleau. \"Soldiers!\"\n\nI can hear him, even now. We were all crying like regular babies, and\nthe eagles and flags were lowered as if at a funeral. And it was a\nfuneral--the funeral of the Empire. His old soldiers, once so hale and\nspruce, were little more than skeletons. Standing on the portico of his\npalace, he said to us:\n\n\"Comrades! We have been beaten through treachery; but we shall all see\none another again in heaven, the country of the brave. Protect my child,\nwhom I intrust to you. Long live Napoleon II!\"\n\nLike Jesus Christ before his last agony, he believed himself deserted by\nGod and his star; and in order that no one should see him conquered, it\nwas his intention to die; but, although he took poison enough to kill a\nwhole regiment, it never hurt him at all--another proof, you see, that\nhe was more than man: he found himself immortal. As he felt sure of his\nbusiness after that, and knew that he was to be Emperor always, he went\nto a certain island for a while, to study the natures of those people in\nParis, who did not fail, of course, to do stupid things without end.\n\nWhile he was standing guard down there, the Chinese and those animals on\nthe coast of Africa--Moors and others, who are not at all easy to get\nalong with--were so sure that he was something more than man that they\nrespected his tent, and said that to touch it would be to offend God. So\nhe reigned over the whole world, although those other fellows had sent\nhim out of France.\n\nWell, then, after a while he embarked again in the very same nut-shell\nof a boat that he had left Egypt in, passed right under the bows of the\nEnglish vessels, and set foot once more in France. France acknowledged\nhim; the sacred cuckoo flew from spire to spire; and all the people\ncried, \"Long live the Emperor!\"\n\nIn this vicinity the enthusiasm for the Wonder of the Ages was most\nhearty. Dauphiny behaved well; and it pleased me particularly to know\nthat our own people here wept for joy when they saw again his gray coat.\n\nOn the 1st of March Napoleon landed, with two hundred men, to conquer\nthe kingdom of France and Navarre; and on the 20th of the same month\nthat kingdom became the French Empire. On that day THE MAN was in Paris.\nHe had made a clean sweep--had reconquered his dear France, and had\nbrought all his old soldiers together again by saying only three words:\n\"Here I am.\" 'Twas the greatest miracle God had ever worked. Did ever a\nman, before him, take an empire by merely showing his hat? They thought\nthat France was crushed, did they? Not a bit of it! At sight of the\nEagle a national army sprang up, and we all marched to Waterloo. There\nthe Guard perished, as if stricken down at a single blow. Napoleon, in\ndespair, threw himself three times, at the head of his troops, on the\nenemy's cannon, without being able to find death. The battle was lost.\n\nThat evening the Emperor called his old soldiers together, and, on the\nfield wet with our blood, burned his eagles and his flags. The poor\neagles, who had always been victorious, who had cried \"Forward!\" in all\nour battles, and who had flown over all Europe, were saved from the\ndisgrace of falling into the hands of their enemies. All the treasure of\nEngland couldn't buy the tail of one of them. They were no more!\n\nThe rest of the story is well known to everybody. The Red Man went over\nto the Bourbons, like the scoundrel that he is; France was crushed; and\nthe old soldiers, who were no longer of any account, were deprived of\ntheir dues and sent back to their homes, in order that their places\nmight be given to a lot of nobles who couldn't even march--it was\npitiful to see them try! Then Napoleon was seized, through treachery,\nand the English nailed him to a rock, ten thousand feet above the earth,\non a desert island in the great ocean. There he must stay until the Red\nMan, for the good of France, gives him back his power. It is said by\nsome that he is dead. Oh, yes! Dead! That shows how little they know\nhim! They only tell that lie to cheat the people and keep peace in their\nshanty of a government. The truth of the matter is that his friends have\nleft him there in the desert to fulfil a prophecy that was made about\nhim--for I have forgotten to tell you that the name Napoleon really\nmeans \"Lion of the Desert.\"\n\nThis that I have told you is gospel truth; and all the other things that\nyou hear about the Emperor are foolish stories with no human likeliness.\nBecause, you see, God never gave to any other man born of woman the\npower to write his name in red across the whole world--and the world\nwill remember him forever. Long live Napoleon, the father of the\nsoldiers and the people!","title":"Folk-Tales of Napoleon: Napoleonder from the Russian; The Napoleon of the People from the French of Honor\u00e9 De Balzac","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":13689}