THE NAPOLEON OF THE PEOPLE

By Honore De Balzac

Translated by Ellen Marriage and Clara Bell.

THE NAPOLEON OF THE PEOPLE

Napoleon, you see, my friends, was born in Corsica, which is a French
island warmed by the Italian sun; it is like a furnace there, everything
is scorched up, and they keep on killing each other from father to son for
generations all about nothing at all—’tis a notion they have. To
begin at the beginning, there was something extraordinary about the thing
from the first; it occurred to his mother, who was the handsomest woman of
her time, and a shrewd soul, to dedicate him to God, so that he should
escape all the dangers of infancy and of his after life; for she had
dreamed that the world was on fire on the day he was born. It was a
prophecy! So she asked God to protect him, on condition that Napoleon
should re-establish His holy religion, which had been thrown to the ground
just then. That was the agreement; we shall see what came of it.

Now, do you follow me carefully, and tell me whether what you are about to
hear is natural.

It is certain sure that only a man who had had imagination enough to make
a mysterious compact would be capable of going further than anybody else,
and of passing through volleys of grape-shot and showers of bullets which
carried us off like flies, but which had a respect for his head. I myself
had particular proof of that at Eylau. I see him yet; he climbs a hillock,
takes his field-glass, looks along our lines, and says, “That is going on
all right.” One of the deep fellows, with a bunch of feathers in his cap,
used to plague him a good deal from all accounts, following him about
everywhere, even when he was getting his meals. This fellow wants to do
something clever, so as soon as the Emperor goes away he takes his place.
Oh! swept away in a moment! And this is the last of the bunch of feathers!
You understand quite clearly that Napoleon had undertaken to keep his
secret to himself. That is why those who accompanied him, and even his
especial friends, used to drop like nuts: Duroc, Bessieres, Lannes—men
as strong as bars of steel, which he cast into shape for his own ends. And
here is a final proof that he was the child of God, created to be the
soldier’s father; for no one ever saw him as a lieutenant or a captain. He
is a commandant straight off! Ah! yes, indeed! He did not look more than
four-and-twenty, but he was an old general ever since the taking of
Toulon, when he made a beginning by showing the rest that they knew
nothing about handling cannon. Next thing he does, he tumbles upon us. A
little slip of a general-in-chief of the army of Italy, which had neither
bread nor ammunition nor shoes nor clothes—a wretched army as naked
as a worm.

“Friends,” he said, “here we all are together. Now, get it well into your
pates that in a fortnight’s time from now you will be the victors, and
dressed in new clothes; you shall all have greatcoats, strong gaiters, and
famous pairs of shoes; but, my children, you will have to march on Milan
to take them, where all these things are.”

So they marched. The French, crushed as flat as a pancake, held up their
heads again. There were thirty thousand of us tatterdemalions against
eighty thousand swaggerers of Germans—fine tall men and well
equipped; I can see them yet. Then Napoleon, who was only Bonaparte in
those days, breathed goodness knows what into us, and on we marched night
and day. We rap their knuckles at Montenotte; we hurry on to thrash them
at Rivoli, Lodi, Arcola, and Millesimo, and we never let them go. The army
came to have a liking for winning battles. Then Napoleon hems them in on
all sides, these German generals did not know where to hide themselves so
as to have a little peace and comfort; he drubs them soundly, cribs ten
thousand of their men at a time by surrounding them with fifteen hundred
Frenchmen, whom he makes to spring up after his fashion, and at last he
takes their cannon, victuals, money, ammunition, and everything they have
that is worth taking; he pitches them into the water, beats them on the
mountains, snaps at them in the air, gobbles them up on the earth, and
thrashes them everywhere.

There are the troops in full feather again! For, look you, the Emperor
(who, for that matter, was a wit) soon sent for the inhabitant, and told
him that he had come there to deliver him. Whereupon the civilian finds us
free quarters and makes much of us, so do the women, who showed great
discernment. To come to a final end; in Ventose ’96, which was at that
time what the month of March is now, we had been driven up into a corner
of the Pays des Marmottes; but after the campaign, lo and behold!
we were the masters of Italy, just as Napoleon had prophesied. And in the
month of March following, in one year and in two campaigns, he brings us
within sight of Vienna; we had made a clean sweep of them. We had gobbled
down three armies one after another, and taken the conceit out of four
Austrian generals; one of them, an old man who had white hair, had been
roasted like a rat in the straw before Mantua. The kings were suing for
mercy on their knees. Peace had been won. Could a mere mortal have done
that? No. God helped him, that is certain. He distributed himself about
like the five loaves in the Gospel, commanded on the battlefield all day,
and drew up his plans at night. The sentries always saw him coming; he
neither ate nor slept. Therefore, recognizing these prodigies, the soldier
adopts him for his father. But, forward!

The other folk there in Paris, seeing all this, say among themselves:

“Here is a pilgrim who appears to take his instructions from Heaven above;
he is uncommonly likely to lay a hand on France. We must let him loose on
Asia or America, and that, perhaps, will keep him quiet.”

The same thing was decreed for him as for Jesus Christ; for, as a matter
of fact, they give him orders to go on duty down in Egypt. See his
resemblance to the Son of God! That is not all, though. He calls all his
fire-eaters about him, all those into whom he had more particularly put
the devil, and talks to them in this way:

“My friends, for the time being they are giving us Egypt to stop our
mouths. But we will swallow down Egypt in a brace of shakes, just as we
swallowed Italy, and private soldiers shall be princes, and shall have
broad lands of their own. Forward!”

“Forward, lads!” cry the sergeants.

So we come to Toulon on the way to Egypt. Whereupon the English put to sea
with all their fleet. But when we are on board, Napoleon says to us:

“They will not see us: and it is right and proper that you should know
henceforward that your general has a star in the sky that guides us and
watches over us!”

So said, so done. As we sailed over the sea we took Malta, by way of an
orange to quench his thirst for victory, for he was a man who must always
be doing something. There we are in Egypt. Well and good. Different
orders. The Egyptians, look you, are men who, ever since the world has
been the world, have been in the habit of having giants to reign over
them, and armies like swarms of ants; because it is a country full of
genii and crocodiles, where they have built up pyramids as big as our
mountains, the fancy took them to stow their kings under the pyramids, so
as to keep them fresh, a thing which mightily pleases them all round out
there. Whereupon, as we landed, the Little Corporal said to us:

“My children, the country which you are about to conquer worships a lot of
idols which you must respect, because the Frenchman ought to be on good
terms with all the world, and fight people without giving annoyance. Get
it well into your heads to let everything alone at first; for we shall
have it all by and by! and forward!”

So far so good. But all those people had heard a prophecy of Napoleon,
under the name of Kebir Bonaberdis; a word which in our lingo
means, “The Sultan fires a shot,” and they feared him like the devil. So
the Grand Turk, Asia, and Africa have recourse to magic, and they send a
demon against us, named the Mahdi, who it was thought had come down from
heaven on a white charger which, like its master was bullet-proof, and the
pair of them lived on the air of that part of the world. There are people
who have seen them, but for my part I cannot give you any certain
informations about them. They were the divinities of Arabia and of the
Mamelukes who wished their troopers to believe that the Mahdi had the
power of preventing them from dying in battle. They gave out that he was
an angel sent down to wage war on Napoleon, and to get back Solomon’s
seal, part of their paraphernalia which they pretended our general had
stolen. You will readily understand that we made them cry peccavi all the
same.

Ah, just tell me now how they came to know about that compact of
Napoleon’s? Was that natural?

They took it into their heads for certain that he commanded the genii, and
that he went from place to place like a bird in the twinkling of an eye;
and it is a fact that he was everywhere. At length it came about that he
carried off a queen of theirs. She was the private property of a Mameluke,
who, although he had several more of them, flatly refused to strike a
bargain, though “the other” offered all his treasures for her and diamonds
as big as pigeon’s eggs. When things had come to that pass, they could not
well be settled without a good deal of fighting; and there was fighting
enough for everybody and no mistake about it.

Then we are drawn up before Alexandria, and again at Gizeh, and before the
Pyramids. We had to march over the sands and in the sun; people whose eyes
dazzled used to see water that they could not drink and shade that made
them fume. But we made short work of the Mamelukes as usual, and
everything goes down before the voice of Napoleon, who seizes Upper and
Lower Egypt and Arabia, far and wide, till we came to the capitals of
kingdoms which no longer existed, where there were thousands and thousands
of statues of all the devils in creation, all done to the life, and
another curious thing too, any quantity of lizards. A confounded country
where any one could have as many acres of land as he wished for as little
as he pleased.

While he was busy inland, where he meant to carry out some wonderful ideas
of his, the English burn his fleet for him in Aboukir Bay, for they never
could do enough to annoy us. But Napoleon, who was respected East and
West, and called “My Son” by the Pope, and “My dear Father” by Mahomet’s
cousin, makes up his mind to have his revenge on England, and to take
India in exchange for his fleet. He set out to lead us into Asia, by way
of the Red Sea, through a country where there were palaces for
halting-places, and nothing but gold and diamonds to pay the troops with,
when the Mahdi comes to an understanding with the Plague, and sends it
among us to make a break in our victories. Halt! Then every man files off
to that parade from which no one comes back on his two feet. The dying
soldier cannot take Acre, into which he forces an entrance three times
with a warrior’s impetuous enthusiasm; the Plague was too strong for us;
there was not even time to say “Your servant, sir!” to the Plague. Every
man was down with it. Napoleon alone was as fresh as a rose; the whole
army saw him drinking in the Plague without it doing him any harm
whatever.

There now, my friends, was that natural, do you think?

The Mamelukes, knowing that we were all on the sick-list, want to stop our
road; but it was no use trying that nonsense with Napoleon. So he spoke to
his familiars, who had tougher skins than the rest:

“Go and clear the road for me.”

Junot, who was his devoted friend, and a first-class fighter, only takes a
thousand men, and makes a clean sweep of the Pasha’s army, which had the
impudence to bar our way. Thereupon back we came to Cairo, our
headquarters, and now for another story.

Napoleon being out of the country, France allowed the people in Paris to
worry the life out of her. They kept back the soldiers’ pay and all their
linen and clothing, left them to starve, and expected them to lay down law
to the universe, without taking any further trouble in the matter. They
were idiots of the kind that amuse themselves with chattering instead of
setting themselves to knead the dough. So our armies were defeated, France
could not keep her frontiers; The Man was not there. I say The Man, look
you, because that was how they called him; but it was stuff and nonsense,
for he had a star of his own and all his other peculiarities, it was the
rest of us that were mere men. He hears this history of France after his
famous battle of Aboukir, where with a single division he routed the grand
army of the Turks, twenty-five thousand strong, and jostled more than half
of them into the sea, rrrah! without losing more than three hundred of his
own men. That was his last thunder-clap in Egypt. He said to himself,
seeing that all was lost down there, “I know that I am the saviour of
France, and to France I must go.”

But you must clearly understand that the army did not know of his
departure; for if they had, they would have kept him there by force to
make him Emperor of the East. So there we all are without him, and in low
spirits, for he was the life of us. He leaves Kleber in command, a great
watchdog who passed in his checks at Cairo, murdered by an Egyptian whom
they put to death by spiking him with a bayonet, which is their way of
guillotining people out there; but he suffered so much, that a soldier
took pity on the scoundrel and handed his flask to him; and the Egyptian
turned up his eyes then and there with all the pleasure in life. But there
is not much fun for us about this little affair. Napoleon steps aboard of
a little cockleshell, a mere nothing of a skiff, called the Fortune,
and in the twinkling of an eye, and in the teeth of the English, who were
blockading the place with vessels of the line and cruisers and everything
that carries canvas, he lands in France for he always had the faculty of
taking the sea at a stride. Was that natural? Bah! as soon as he landed at
Frejus, it is as good as saying that he has set foot in Paris. Everybody
there worships him; but he calls the Government together.

“What have you done to my children, the soldiers?” he says to the lawyers.
“You are a set of good-for-nothings who make fools of other people, and
feather your own nests at the expense of France. It will not do. I speak
in the name of every one who is discontented.”

Thereupon they want to put him off and to get rid of him; but not a bit of
it! He locks them up in the barracks where they used to argufy and makes
them jump out of the windows. Then he makes them follow in his train, and
they all become as mute as fishes and supple as tobacco pouches. So he
becomes Consul at a blow. He was not the man to doubt the existence of the
Supreme Being; he kept his word with Providence, who had kept His promise
in earnest; he sets up religion again, and gives back the churches, and
they ring the bells for God and Napoleon. So every one is satisfied: primo
the priests with whom he allows no one to meddle; segondo, the
merchant folk who carry on their trades without fear of the rapiamus
of the law that had pressed too heavily on them; tertio, the
nobles; for people had fallen into an unfortunate habit of putting them to
death, and he puts a stop to this.

But there were enemies to be cleared out of the way, and he was not the
one to go to sleep after mess; and his eyes, look you, traveled all over
the world as if it had been a man’s face. The next thing he did was to
turn up in Italy; it was just as if he had put his head out of the window
and the sight of him was enough; they gulp down the Austrians at Marengo
like a whale swallowing gudgeons! Haouf! The French Victories blew
their trumpets so loud that the whole world could hear the noise, and
there was an end of it.

“We will not keep on at this game any longer!” say the Germans.

“That is enough of this sort of thing,” say the others.

Here is the upshot. Europe shows the white feather, England knuckles
under, general peace all round, and kings and peoples pretending to
embrace each other. While then and there the Emperor hits on the idea of
the Legion of Honor. There’s a fine thing if you like!

He spoke to the whole army at Boulogne. “In France,” so he said, “every
man is brave. So the civilian who does gloriously shall be the soldier’s
sister, the soldier shall be his brother, and both shall stand together
beneath the flag of honor.”

By the time that the rest of us who were away down there in Egypt had come
back again, everything was changed. We had seen him last as a general, and
in no time we find that he is Emperor! And when this was settled (and it
may safely be said that every one was satisfied) there was a holy ceremony
such as was never seen under the canopy of heaven. Faith, France gave
herself to him, like a handsome girl to a lancer, and the Pope and all his
cardinals in robes of red and gold come across the Alps on purpose to
anoint him before the army and the people, who clap their hands.

There is one thing that it would be very wrong to keep back from you.
While he was in Egypt, in the desert not far away from Syria, the Red
Man had appeared to him on the mountain of Moses, in order to say,
“Everything is going on well.” Then again, on the eve of victory at
Marengo, the Red Man springs to his feet in front of the Emperor for the
second time, and says to him:

“You shall see the world at your feet; you shall be Emperor of the French,
King of Italy, master of Holland, ruler of Spain, Portugal, and the
Illyrian Provinces, protector of Germany, saviour of Poland, first eagle
of the Legion of Honor and all the rest of it.”

That Red Man, look you, was a notion of his own, who ran on errands and
carried messages, so many people say, between him and his star. I myself
have never believed that; but the Red Man is, undoubtedly, a fact.
Napoleon himself spoke of the Red Man who lived up in the roof of the
Tuileries, and who used to come to him, he said, in moments of trouble and
difficulty. So on the night after his coronation Napoleon saw him for the
third time, and they talked over a lot of things together.

Then the Emperor goes straight to Milan to have himself crowned King of
Italy, and then came the real triumph of the soldier. For every one who
could write became an officer forthwith, and pensions and gifts of duchies
poured down in showers. There were fortunes for the staff that never cost
France a penny, and the Legion of Honor was as good as an annuity for the
rank and file; I still draw my pension on the strength of it. In short,
here were armies provided for in a way that had never been seen before!
But the Emperor, who knew that he was to be Emperor over everybody, and
not only over the army, bethinks himself of the bourgeois, and sets them
to build fairy monuments in places that had been as bare as the back of my
hand till then. Suppose, now, that you are coming out of Spain and on the
way to Berlin; well, you would see triumphal arches, and in the sculpture
upon them the common soldiers are done every bit as beautifully as the
generals!

In two or three years Napoleon fills his cellars with gold, makes bridges,
palaces, roads, scholars, festivals, laws, fleets, and harbors; he spends
millions on millions, ever so much, and ever so much more to it, so that I
have heard it said that he could have paved the whole of France with
five-franc pieces if the fancy had taken him; and all this without putting
any taxes on you people here. So when he was comfortably seated on his
throne, and so thoroughly the master of the situation, that all Europe was
waiting for leave to do anything for him that he might happen to want; as
he had four brothers and three sisters, he said to us, just as it might be
by way of conversation, in the order of the day:

“Children, is it fitting that your Emperor’s relations should beg their
bread? No; I want them all to be luminaries, like me in fact! Therefore,
it is urgently necessary to conquer a kingdom for each one of them, so
that the French nation may be masters everywhere, so that the Guard may
make the whole earth tremble, and France may spit wherever she likes, and
every nation shall say to her, as it is written on my coins, ‘God protects
you.'”

“All right!” answers the army, “we will fish up kingdoms for you with the
bayonet.”

Ah! there was no backing out of it, look you! If he had taken it into his
head to conquer the moon, we should have had to put everything in train,
pack our knapsacks, and scramble up; luckily, he had no wish for that
excursion. The kings who were used to the comforts of a throne, of course,
objected to be lugged off, so we had marching orders. We march, we get
there, and the earth begins to shake to its centre again. What times they
were for wearing out men and shoe-leather! And the hard knocks that they
gave us! Only Frenchmen could have stood it. But you are not ignorant that
a Frenchman is a born philosopher; he knows that he must die a little
sooner or a litter later. So we used to die without a word, because we had
the pleasure of watching the Emperor do this on the maps.

[Here the soldier swung quickly round on one foot, so as to trace a circle
on the barn floor with the other.]

“There, that shall be a kingdom,” he used to say, and it was a kingdom.
What fine times they were! Colonels became generals whilst you were
looking at them, generals became marshals of France, and marshals became
kings. There is one of them still left on his feet to keep Europe in mind
of those days, Gascon though he may be, and a traitor to France that he
might keep his crown; and he did not blush for his shame, for, after all,
a crown, look you, is made of gold. The very sappers and miners who knew
how to read became great nobles in the same way. And I who am telling you
all this have seen in Paris eleven kings and a crowd of princes all round
about Napoleon, like rays about the sun! Keep this well in your minds,
that as every soldier stood a chance of having a throne of his own
(provided he showed himself worthy of it), a corporal of the Guard was by
way of being a sight to see, and they gaped at him as he went by; for
every one came by his share after a victory, it was made perfectly clear
in the bulletin. And what battles they were! Austerlitz, where the army
was manoeuvred as if it had been a review; Eylau, where the Russians were
drowned in a lake, just as if Napoleon had breathed on them and blown them
in; Wagram, where the fighting was kept up for three whole days without
flinching. In short, there were as many battles as there are saints in the
calendar.

Then it was made clear beyond a doubt that Napoleon bore the Sword of God
in his scabbard. He had a regard for the soldier. He took the soldier for
his child. He was anxious that you should have shoes, shirts, greatcoats,
bread, and cartridges; but he kept up his majesty, too, for reigning was
his own particular occupation. But, all the same, a sergeant, or even a
common soldier, could go up to him and call him “Emperor,” just as you
might say “My good friend” to me at times. And he would give an answer to
anything you put before him. He used to sleep on the snow just like the
rest of us—in short, he looked almost like an ordinary man; but I
who am telling you all these things have seen him myself with the
grape-shot whizzing about his ears, no more put out by it than you are at
this moment; never moving a limb, watching through his field-glass, always
looking after his business; so we stood our ground likewise, as cool and
calm as John the Baptist. I do not know how he did it; but whenever he
spoke, a something in his words made our hearts burn within us; and just
to let him see that we were his children, and that it was not in us to
shirk or flinch, we used to walk just as usual right up to the sluts of
cannon that were belching smoke and vomiting battalions of balls, and
never a man would so much as say, “Look out!” It was a something that made
dying men raise their heads to salute him and cry, “Long live the
Emperor!”

Was that natural? Would you have done this for a mere man?

Thereupon, having fitted up all his family, and things having so turned
out that the Empress Josephine (a good woman for all that) had no
children, he was obliged to part company with her, although he loved her
not a little. But he must have children, for reasons of State. All the
crowned heads of Europe, when they heard of his difficulty, squabbled
among themselves as to who should find him a wife. He married an Austrian
princess, so they say, who was the daughter of the Caesars, a man of
antiquity whom everybody talks about, not only in our country, where it is
said that most things were his doing, but also all over Europe. And so
certain sure is that, that I who am talking to you have been myself across
the Danube, where I saw the ruins of a bridge built by that man; and it
appeared that he was some connection of Napoleon’s at Rome, for the
Emperor claimed succession there for his son.

So, after his wedding, which was a holiday for the whole world, and when
they let the people off their taxes for ten years to come (though they had
to pay them just the same after all, because the excisemen took no notice
of the proclamation)—after his wedding, I say, his wife had a child
who was King of Rome; a child was born a King while his father was alive,
a thing that had never been seen in the world before! That day a balloon
set out from Paris to carry the news to Rome, and went all the way in one
day. There, now! Is there one of you who will stand me out that there was
nothing supernatural in that? No, it was decreed on high. And the mischief
take those who will not allow that it was wafted over by God Himself, so
as to add to the honor and glory of France!

But there was the Emperor of Russia, a friend of our Emperor’s, who was
put out because he had not married a Russian lady. So the Russian backs up
our enemies the English; for there had always been something to prevent
Napoleon from putting a spoke in their wheel. Clearly an end must be made
of fowl of that feather. Napoleon is vexed, and he says to us:

“Soldiers! You have been the masters of every capital in Europe, except
Moscow, which is allied to England. So, in order to conquer London and
India, which belongs to them in London, I find it absolutely necessary
that we go to Moscow.”

Thereupon the greatest army that ever wore gaiters, and left its
footprints all over the globe, is brought together, and drawn up with such
peculiar cleverness, that the Emperor passed a million men in review, all
in a single day.

“Hourra!” cry the Russians, and there is all Russia assembled, a lot of
brutes of Cossacks, that you never can come up with! It was country
against country, a general stramash; we had to look out for ourselves. “It
was all Asia against Europe,” as the Red Man had said to Napoleon. “All
right,” Napoleon had answered, “I shall be ready for them.”

And there, in fact, were all the kings who came to lick Napoleon’s hand.
Austria, Prussia, Bavaria, Saxony, Poland, and Italy, all speaking us fair
and going along with us; it was a fine thing! The Eagles had never cooed
before as they did on parade in those days, when they were reared above
all the flags of all the nations of Europe. The Poles could not contain
their joy because the Emperor had a notion of setting up their kingdom
again; and ever since Poland and France have always been like brothers. In
short, the army shouts, “Russia shall be ours!”

We cross the frontiers, all the lot of us. We march and better march, but
never a Russian do we see. At last all our watch-dogs are encamped at
Borodino. That was where I received the Cross, and there is no denying
that it was a cursed battle. The Emperor was not easy in his mind; he had
seen the Red Man, who said to him, “My child, you are going a little too
fast for your feet; you will run short of men, and your friends will play
you false.”

Thereupon the Emperor proposes a treaty. But before he signs it, he says
to us:

“Let us give these Russians a drubbing!”

“All right!” cried the army.

“Forward!” say the sergeants.

My clothes were all falling to pieces, my shoes were worn out with
trapezing over those roads out there, which are not good going at all. But
it is all one. “Since here is the last of the row,” said I to myself, “I
mean to get all I can out of it.”

We were posted before the great ravine; we had seats in the front row. The
signal is given, and seven hundred guns begin a conversation fit to make
the blood spirt from your ears. One should give the devil his due, and the
Russians let themselves be cut in pieces just like Frenchmen; they did not
give way, and we made no advance.

“Forward!” is the cry; “here is the Emperor!”

So it was. He rides past us at a gallop, and makes a sign to us that a
great deal depends on our carrying the redoubt. He puts fresh heart into
us; we rush forward, I am the first man to reach the gorge. Ah! mon
Dieu! how they fell, colonels, lieutenants, and common soldiers, all
alike! There were shoes to fit up those who had none, and epaulettes for
the knowing fellows that knew how to write…. Victory is the cry all
along the line! And, upon my word, there were twenty-five thousand
Frenchmen lying on the field. No more, I assure you! Such a thing was
never seen before, it was just like a field when the corn is cut, with a
man lying there for every ear of corn. That sobered the rest of us. The
Man comes, and we make a circle round about him, and he coaxes us round
(for he could be very nice when he chose), and persuades us to dine with
Duke Humphrey, when we were hungry as hunters. Then our consoler
distributes the Crosses of the Legion of Honor himself, salutes the dead,
and says to us, “On to Moscow!”

“To Moscow, so be it,” says the army.

We take Moscow. What do the Russians do but set fire to their city! There
was a blaze, two leagues of bonfire that burned for two days! The
buildings fell about our ears like slates, and molten lead and iron came
down in showers; it was really horrible; it was a light to see our sorrows
by, I can tell you! The Emperor said, “There, that is enough of this sort
of thing; all my men shall stay here.”

We amuse ourselves for a bit by recruiting and repairing our frames, for
we really were much fatigued by the campaign. We take away with us a gold
cross from the top of the Kremlin, and every soldier had a little fortune.
But on the way back the winter came down on us a month earlier than usual,
a matter which the learned (like a set of fools) have never sufficiently
explained; and we are nipped with the cold. We were no longer an army
after that, do you understand? There was an end of generals and even of
the sergeants; hunger and misery took the command instead, and all of us
were absolutely equal under their reign. All we thought of was how to get
back to France; no one stooped to pick up his gun or his money; every one
walked straight before him, and armed himself as he thought fit, and no
one cared about glory.

The Emperor saw nothing of his star all the time, for the weather was so
bad. There was some misunderstanding between him and heaven. Poor man, how
bad he felt when he saw his Eagles flying with their backs turned on
victory! That was really too rough! Well, the next thing is the Beresina.
And here and now, my friends, any one can assure you on his honor, and by
all that is sacred, that never, no, never since there have been men
on earth, never in this world has there been such a fricasse of an army,
caissons, transports, artillery and all, in such snow as that and under
such a pitiless sky. It was so cold that you burned your hand on the
barrel of your gun if you happened to touch it. There it was that the
pontooners saved the army, for the pontooners stood firm at their posts;
it was there that Gondrin behaved like a hero, and he is the sole survivor
of all the men who were dogged enough to stand in the river so as to build
the bridges on which the army crossed over, and so escaped the Russians,
who still respected the Grand Army on account of its past victories. And
Gondrin is an accomplished soldier, [pointing at Gondrin, who was gazing
at him with the rapt attention peculiar to deaf people] a distinguished
soldier who deserves to have your very highest esteem.

I saw the Emperor standing by the bridge, and never feeling the cold at
all. Was that, again, a natural thing? He was looking on at the loss of
his treasures, of his friends, and those who had fought with him in Egypt.
Bah! there was an end of everything. Women and wagons and guns were all
engulfed and swallowed up, everything went to wreck and ruin. A few of the
bravest among us saved the Eagles, for the Eagles, look you, meant France,
and all the rest of you; it was the civil and military honor of France
that was in our keeping, there must be no spot on the honor of France, and
the cold could never make her bow her head. There was no getting warm
except in the neighborhood of the Emperor; for whenever he was in danger
we hurried up, all frozen as we were—we who would not stop to hold
out a hand to a fallen friend.

They say, too, that he shed tears of a night over his poor family of
soldiers. Only he and Frenchmen could have pulled themselves out of such a
plight; but we did pull ourselves out, though, as I am telling you, it was
with loss, ay, and heavy loss. The Allies had eaten up all our provisions;
everybody began to betray him, just as the Red Man had foretold. The
rattle-pates in Paris, who had kept quiet ever since the Imperial Guard
had been established, think that he is dead, and hatch a
conspiracy. They set to work in the Home Office to overturn the Emperor.
These things come to his knowledge and worry him; he says to us at
parting, “Good-bye, children; keep to your posts, I will come back again.”

Bah! Those generals of his lose their heads at once; for when he was away,
it was not like the same thing. The marshals fall out among themselves,
and make blunders, as was only natural, for Napoleon in his kindness had
fed them on gold till they had grown as fat as butter, and they had no
mind to march. Troubles came of this, for many of them stayed inactive in
garrison towns in the rear, without attempting to tickle up the backs of
the enemy behind us, and we were being driven back on France. But Napoleon
comes back among us with fresh troops; conscripts they were, and famous
conscripts too; he had put some thorough notions of discipline into them—the
whelps were good to set their teeth in anybody. He had a bourgeois guard
of honor too, and fine troops they were! They melted away like butter on a
gridiron. We may put a bold front on it, but everything is against us,
although the army still performs prodigies of valor. Whole nations fought
against nations in tremendous battles, at Dresden, Lutzen, and Bautzen,
and then it was that France showed extraordinary heroism, for you must all
of you bear in mind that in those times a stout grenadier only lasted six
months.

We always won the day, but the English were always on our track, putting
nonsense into other nations’ heads, and stirring them up to revolt. In
short, we cleared a way through all these mobs of nations; for wherever
the Emperor appeared, we made a passage for him; for on the land as on the
sea, whenever he said, “I wish to go forward,” we made the way.

There comes a final end to it at last. We are back in France; and in spite
of the bitter weather, it did one’s heart good to breathe one’s native air
again, it set up many a poor fellow; and as for me, it put new life into
me, I can tell you. But it was a question all at once of defending France,
our fair land of France. All Europe was up in arms against us; they took
it in bad part that we had tried to keep the Russians in order by driving
them back within their own borders, so that they should not gobble us up,
for those Northern folk have a strong liking for eating up the men of the
South, it is a habit they have; I have heard the same thing of them from
several generals.

So the Emperor finds his own father-in-law, his friends whom he had made
crowned kings, and the rabble of princes to whom he had given back their
thrones, were all against him. Even Frenchmen and allies in our own ranks
turned against us, by orders from high quarters, as at Leipsic. Common
soldiers would hardly be capable of such abominations; yet these princes,
as they called themselves, broke their words three times a day! The next
thing they do is to invade France. Wherever our Emperor shows his lion’s
face, the enemy beats a retreat; he worked more miracles for the defence
of France than he had ever wrought in the conquest of Italy, the East,
Spain, Europe, and Russia; he has a mind to bury every foreigner in French
soil, to give them a respect for France, so he lets them come close up to
Paris, so as to do for them at a single blow, and to rise to the highest
height of genius in the biggest battle that ever was fought, a mother of
battles! But the Parisians wanting to save their trumpery skins, and
afraid for their twopenny shops, open their gates and there is a beginning
of the ragusades, and an end of all joy and happiness; they make a
fool of the Empress, and fly the white flag out at the windows. The
Emperor’s closest friends among his generals forsake him at last and go
over to the Bourbons, of whom no one had ever heard tell. Then he bids us
farewell at Fontainebleau:

“Soldiers!”… I can hear him yet, we were all crying just like children;
the Eagles and the flags had been lowered as if for a funeral. Ah! and it
was a funeral, I can tell you; it was the funeral of the Empire; those
smart armies of his were nothing but skeletons now. So he stood there on
the flight of steps before his chateau, and he said:

“Children, we have been overcome by treachery, but we shall meet again up
above in the country of the brave. Protect my child, I leave him in your
care. Long live Napoleon II.!”

He had thought of killing himself, so that no one should behold Napoleon
after his defeat; like Jesus Christ before the Crucifixion, he thought
himself forsaken by God and by his talisman, and so he took enough poison
to kill a regiment, but it had no effect whatever upon him. Another
marvel! he discovered that he was immortal; and feeling sure of his case,
and knowing that he would be Emperor for ever, he went to an island for a
little while, so as to study the dispositions of those folk who did not
fail to make blunder upon blunder. Whilst he was biding his time, the
Chinese and the brutes out in Africa, the Moors and what-not, awkward
customers all of them, were so convinced that he was something more than
mortal, that they respected his flag, saying that God would be displeased
if any one meddled with it. So he reigned over all the rest of the world,
although the doors of his own France had been closed upon him.

Then he goes on board the same nutshell of a skiff that he sailed in from
Egypt, passes under the noses of the English vessels, and sets foot in
France. France recognizes her Emperor, the cuckoo flits from steeple to
steeple; France cries with one voice, “Long live the Emperor!” The
enthusiasm for that Wonder of the Ages was thoroughly genuine in these
parts. Dauphine behaved handsomely; and I was uncommonly pleased to learn
that people here shed tears of joy on seeing his gray overcoat once more.

It was on March 1st that Napoleon set out with two hundred men to conquer
the kingdom of France and Navarre, which by March 20th had become the
French Empire again. On that day he found himself in Paris, and a clean
sweep had been made of everything; he had won back his beloved France, and
had called all his soldiers about him again, and three words of his had
done it all—”Here am I!” ‘Twas the greatest miracle God ever worked!
Was it ever known in the world before that a man should do nothing but
show his hat, and a whole Empire became his? They fancied that France was
crushed, did they? Never a bit of it. A National Army springs up again at
the sight of the Eagle, and we all march to Waterloo. There the Guard fall
all as one man. Napoleon in his despair heads the rest, and flings himself
three times on the enemy’s guns without finding the death he sought; we
all saw him do it, we soldiers, and the day was lost! That night the
Emperor calls all his old soldiers about him, and there on the
battlefield, which was soaked with our blood, he burns his flags and his
Eagles—the poor Eagles that had never been defeated, that had cried,
“Forward!” in battle after battle, and had flown above us all over Europe.
That was the end of the Eagles—all the wealth of England could not
purchase for her one tail-feather. The rest is sufficiently known.

The Red Man went over to the Bourbons like the low scoundrel he is. France
is prostrate, the soldier counts for nothing, they rob him of his due,
send him about his business, and fill his place with nobles who could not
walk, they were so old, so that it made you sorry to see them. They seize
Napoleon by treachery, the English shut him up on a desert island in the
ocean, on a rock ten thousand feet above the rest of the world. That is
the final end of it; there he has to stop till the Red Man gives him back
his power again, for the happiness of France. A lot of them say that he is
dead! Dead? Oh! yes, very likely. They do not know him, that is plain!
They go on telling that fib to deceive the people, and to keep things
quiet for their tumble-down government. Listen; this is the whole truth of
the matter. His friends have left him alone in the desert to fulfil a
prophecy that was made about him, for I forgot to tell you that his name
Napoleon really means the Lion of the Desert. And that is gospel
truth. You will hear plenty of other things said about the Emperor, but
they are all monstrous nonsense. Because, look you, to no man of woman
born would God have given the power to write his name in red, as he did,
across the earth, where he will be remembered for ever!… Long live
“Napoleon, the father of the soldier, the father of the people!”