The Story of Mankind [135]
I hear the sound of the heavy drums and see the little
man on his white horse in his old and much-worn green uniform,
then I don't know, but I am afraid that I would leave
my books and the kitten and my home and everything else to
follow him wherever he cared to lead. My own grandfather
did this and Heaven knows he was not born to be a hero.
Millions of other people's grandfathers did it. They received
no reward, but they expected none. They cheerfully
gave legs and arms and lives to serve this foreigner, who took
them a thousand miles away from their homes and marched
them into a barrage of Russian or English or Spanish or
Italian or Austrian cannon and stared quietly into space while
they were rolling in the agony of death.
If you ask me for an explanation, I must answer that I
have none. I can only guess at one of the reasons. Napoleon
was the greatest of actors and the whole European continent
was his stage. At all times and under all circumstances
he knew the precise attitude that would impress the spectators
most and he understood what words would make the deepest
impression. Whether he spoke in the Egyptian desert, before
the backdrop of the Sphinx and the pyramids, or addressed
his shivering men on the dew-soaked plains of Italy, made no
difference. At all times he was master of the situation. Even
at the end, an exile on a little rock in the middle of the Atlantic,
a sick man at the mercy of a dull and intolerable British governor,
he held the centre of the stage.
After the defeat of Waterloo, no one outside of a few
trusted friends ever saw the great Emperor. The people of
Europe knew that he was living on the island of St. Helena--
they knew that a British garrison guarded him day and night
--they knew that the British fleet guarded the garrison which
guarded the Emperor on his farm at Longwood. But he was
never out of the mind of either friend or enemy. When illness
and despair had at last taken him away, his silent eyes continued
to haunt the world. Even to-day he is as much of a force
in the life of France as a hundred years ago when people
fainted at the mere sight of this sallow-faced man who stabled
his horses in the holiest temples of the Russian Kremlin, and
who treated the Pope and the mighty ones of this earth as if
they were his lackeys.
To give you a mere outline of his life would demand
couple of volumes. To tell you of his great political reform
of the French state, of his new codes of laws which were
adopted in most European countries, of his activities in every
field of public activity, would take thousands of pages. But
I can explain in a few words why he was so successful during
the first part of his career and why he failed during the last
ten years. From the year 1789 until the year 1804, Napoleon
was the great leader of the French revolution. He was not
merely fighting for the glory of his own name. He defeated
Austria and Italy and England and Russia because he, himself,
and his soldiers were the apostles of the new creed of
``Liberty, Fraternity and Equality'' and were the enemies of
the courts while they were the friends of the people.
But in the year 1804, Napoleon made himself Hereditary
Emperor of the French and sent for Pope Pius VII to come
and crown him, even as Leo III, in the year 800 had crowned
that other great King of the Franks, Charlemagne, whose example
was constantly before Napoleon's eyes.
Once upon the throne, the old revolutionary chieftain became
an unsuccessful imitation of a Habsburg monarch. He
forgot his spiritual Mother, the Political Club of the Jacobins.
He ceased to be the defender of the oppressed. He became the
chief of all the oppressors and kept his shooting squads ready
to execute those who dared to oppose his imperial will. No
one had shed a tear when in the year 1806 the sad remains of
the Holy Roman Empire were carted to the historical dustbin
man on his white horse in his old and much-worn green uniform,
then I don't know, but I am afraid that I would leave
my books and the kitten and my home and everything else to
follow him wherever he cared to lead. My own grandfather
did this and Heaven knows he was not born to be a hero.
Millions of other people's grandfathers did it. They received
no reward, but they expected none. They cheerfully
gave legs and arms and lives to serve this foreigner, who took
them a thousand miles away from their homes and marched
them into a barrage of Russian or English or Spanish or
Italian or Austrian cannon and stared quietly into space while
they were rolling in the agony of death.
If you ask me for an explanation, I must answer that I
have none. I can only guess at one of the reasons. Napoleon
was the greatest of actors and the whole European continent
was his stage. At all times and under all circumstances
he knew the precise attitude that would impress the spectators
most and he understood what words would make the deepest
impression. Whether he spoke in the Egyptian desert, before
the backdrop of the Sphinx and the pyramids, or addressed
his shivering men on the dew-soaked plains of Italy, made no
difference. At all times he was master of the situation. Even
at the end, an exile on a little rock in the middle of the Atlantic,
a sick man at the mercy of a dull and intolerable British governor,
he held the centre of the stage.
After the defeat of Waterloo, no one outside of a few
trusted friends ever saw the great Emperor. The people of
Europe knew that he was living on the island of St. Helena--
they knew that a British garrison guarded him day and night
--they knew that the British fleet guarded the garrison which
guarded the Emperor on his farm at Longwood. But he was
never out of the mind of either friend or enemy. When illness
and despair had at last taken him away, his silent eyes continued
to haunt the world. Even to-day he is as much of a force
in the life of France as a hundred years ago when people
fainted at the mere sight of this sallow-faced man who stabled
his horses in the holiest temples of the Russian Kremlin, and
who treated the Pope and the mighty ones of this earth as if
they were his lackeys.
To give you a mere outline of his life would demand
couple of volumes. To tell you of his great political reform
of the French state, of his new codes of laws which were
adopted in most European countries, of his activities in every
field of public activity, would take thousands of pages. But
I can explain in a few words why he was so successful during
the first part of his career and why he failed during the last
ten years. From the year 1789 until the year 1804, Napoleon
was the great leader of the French revolution. He was not
merely fighting for the glory of his own name. He defeated
Austria and Italy and England and Russia because he, himself,
and his soldiers were the apostles of the new creed of
``Liberty, Fraternity and Equality'' and were the enemies of
the courts while they were the friends of the people.
But in the year 1804, Napoleon made himself Hereditary
Emperor of the French and sent for Pope Pius VII to come
and crown him, even as Leo III, in the year 800 had crowned
that other great King of the Franks, Charlemagne, whose example
was constantly before Napoleon's eyes.
Once upon the throne, the old revolutionary chieftain became
an unsuccessful imitation of a Habsburg monarch. He
forgot his spiritual Mother, the Political Club of the Jacobins.
He ceased to be the defender of the oppressed. He became the
chief of all the oppressors and kept his shooting squads ready
to execute those who dared to oppose his imperial will. No
one had shed a tear when in the year 1806 the sad remains of
the Holy Roman Empire were carted to the historical dustbin