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The Napoleon of the People By: Honoré de Balzac (1799-1850) |
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By Honore De Balzac
Translated by Ellen Marriage and Clara Bell. PREPARER'S NOTE The Napoleon of the People was originally published in Le Medicin de
Campagne (The Country Doctor). It is a story told to a group of peasants
by the character of Goguelat, an ex soldier who served under Napoleon in
an infantry regiment. It was later included in Folk tales of Napoleon:
Napoleonder from the Russian, a collection of stories by various
authors. This translation is 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... Continue reading book >>
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