Folk-Tales of Napoleon | Page 8

all respects like other
people.
The next day came the battle. Napoleonder led his forces, cloud upon
cloud, to the field of Borodino; but he was shaking as if in a chill. His
generals and field-marshals looked at him and were filled with dismay.
"You ought to take a drink of vodka, Napoleonder," they say; "you
don't look like yourself."
When the Russian troops attacked the hordes of Napoleonder, on the
field of Borodino, the soldiers of the great conqueror at once gave way.
"It's a bad business, Napoleonder," the generals and field-marshals say.
"For some reason the Russians are fighting harder to-day than ever.
You'd better call out your dead men."

Napoleonder shouted at the top of his voice, "Bonaparty!"--six hundred
and sixty-six,--the number of the Beast. But, cry as he would, he only
frightened the jackdaws. The dead men didn't come out of their graves,
nor answer his call. And Napoleonder was left on the field of Borodino
alone. All his generals and field-marshals had fled, and he sat there
alone on his horse, shouting, "Bonaparty! Bonaparty!"
Then suddenly there appeared beside him the smooth-faced, blue-eyed,
fair-haired Russian recruit whom he had killed the day before. And the
young soldier said: "It's useless to shout, Napoleonder. Nobody will
come. Yesterday you felt sorry for me and for my dead brothers, and
because of your pity your corpse-soldiers no longer come at your call.
Your power over them is gone."
Then Napoleonder began to weep and sob, and cried out, "You have
ruined me, you wretched, miserable soldier!"
But the soldier (who was Ivan-angel, and not a soldier at all) replied: "I
have not ruined you, Napoleonder; I have saved you. If you had gone
on in your merciless, pitiless course, there would have been no
forgiveness for you, either in this life or in the life to come. Now God
has given you time for repentance. In this world you shall be punished;
but there, beyond, if you repent of your sins, you shall be forgiven."
And the angel vanished.
Then our Don Cossacks fell on Napoleonder, dragged him from his
horse, and took him to Alexander the Blessed. Some said,
"Napoleonder ought to be shot!" Others cried, "Send him to Siberia to!"
But the Lord God softened the heart of Alexander the Blessed, and the
merciful Tsar would not allow Napoleonder to be shot or sent to Siberia.
He ordered that the great conqueror be put into an iron cage, and be
carried around and exhibited to the people at country fairs. So
Napoleonder was carried from one fair to another for a period of thirty
summers and three years--until he had grown quite old. Then, when he
was an old man, they sent him to the island of Buan to watch geese.
* * * * *

THE NAPOLEON OF THE PEOPLE[1]
[Footnote 1: A story told to a group of French peasants one evening, in
a barn, by Goguelat, the village postman, who had served under
Napoleon in a regiment of infantry.]

Napoleon, my friends, was born, you know, in Corsica. That's a French
island, but it's warmed by the sun of Italy, and everything's as hot there
as if it were a furnace. It's a place, too, where the people kill one
another, from father to son, generation after generation, for nothing at
all; that is, for no reason in particular except that it's their way.
Well, to begin with the most wonderful part of the story, it so happened
that on the very day when Napoleon was born, his mother dreamed that
the world was on fire. She was a shrewd, clever woman, as well as the
prettiest woman of her time; and when she had this dream, she thought
she'd save her son from the dangers of life by dedicating him to God.
And, indeed, that was a prophetic dream of hers! So she asked God to
protect the boy, and promised that when he grew up he should
reestablish God's holy religion, which had then been overthrown. That
was the agreement they made; and although it seems strange, such
things have happened. It's sure and certain, anyhow, that only a man
who had an agreement with God could pass through the enemy's lines,
and move about in showers of bullets and grape-shot, as Napoleon did.
They swept us away like flies, but his head they never touched at all. I
had a proof of that--I myself, in particular--at Eylau, where the
Emperor went up on a little hill to see how things were going. I can
remember, to this day, exactly how he looked as he took out his
field-glass, watched the battle for a minute, and finally said: "It's all
right! Everything is going well." Then, just as he was coming