[Footnote 1: The Russian peasant's name for Napoleon Bonaparte. The
final syllable "der" has perhaps been added because to the ear of the
peasant "Napoleon" sounds clipped and incomplete, as "Alexan" would
sound to us without the "der."]
Long ago--but not so very long ago; our grandfathers remember it--the
Lord God wanted to punish the people of the world for their wickedness.
So he began to think how and by what means he could punish them, and he
called a council of his angels and archangels to talk about it. Says the
archangel Michael to the Lord God: "Shake them up, the recreants, with
an earthquake."
"We've tried that," says the Lord God. "Once upon a time we jolted to
pieces Sodom and Gomorrah, but it didn't teach them anything. Since then
pretty much all the towns have become Sodoms and Gomorrahs."
"How about famine?" says the archangel Gabriel.
"It would be too bad for the babies," replies the Lord God. "Famine
would kill the babies. And, besides that, the cattle must have
food--they're not to blame."
"Drown them with a flood," suggests Raphael.
"Clean impossible!" says the Lord God. "Because, in the first place, I
took an oath once that there should be no more floods, and I set the
rainbow in the sky for an assurance. In the second place, the rascally
sinners have become cunning; they'll get on steamboats and sail all over
the flood."
Then all the archangels were perplexed, and began to screw about in
their seats, trying to invent or think of some calamity that would bring
the wicked human race to its senses and stir up its conscience. But they
had been accustomed, time out of mind, to do good rather than evil; they
had forgotten all about the wickedness of the world; and they couldn't
think of a single thing that would be of any use.
Then suddenly up comes Ivan-angel, a simple-minded soul whom the Lord God
had appointed to look after the Russian muzhiks. He comes up and
reports: "Lord, Satan is outside there, asking for you. He doesn't dare
to come in, because he smells bad [Footnote 2: That is, he brings with
him the sulphurous odor of hell.]; so he's waiting in the entry."
Then the Lord God was rejoiced. "Call Satan in!" he ordered. "I know
that rogue perfectly well, and he has come in the very nick of time. A
scamp like that will be sure to think of something."
Satan came in. His face was as black as tanned calfskin, his voice was
hoarse, and a long tail hung down from under his overcoat.
"If you so order," he says, "I'll distribute your calamities for you
with my own hands."
"Go ahead with your distribution," says the Lord God; "nobody shall
hinder you."
"Will you permit me," Satan says, "to bring about an invasion of
foreigners?"
The Lord God shook his finger at Satan and cried: "Is that all you can
think of? And you so wise!"
"Excuse me," Satan says. "Why doesn't my plan show wisdom?"
"Because," replies the Lord God, "you propose to afflict the people with
war, and war is just what they want. They're all the time fighting among
themselves, one people with another, and that's the very thing I want to
punish them for."
"Yes," says Satan, "they re greedy for war, but that's only because they
have never yet seen a real warrior. Send them a regular conqueror, and
they'll soon drop their tails between their legs and cry, 'Have mercy,
Lord! Save us from the man of blood!'"
The Lord God was surprised. "Why do you say, my little brother, that the
people have never seen a real warrior? The Tsar Herod was a conqueror;
the Tsar Alexander subdued a wonderful lot of people; Ivan-Tsar
destroyed Kazan; Mamai-Tsar the furious came with all his hordes; and
the Tsar Peter, and the great fighter Anika--how many more conquerors do
you want?"
"I want Napoleonder," says Satan.
"Napoleonder!" cries the Lord God. "Who's he? Where did he come from?"
"He's a certain little man," Satan says, "who may not be wise enough to
hurt, but he's terribly fierce in his habits."
The Lord God says to the archangel Gabriel: "Look in the Book of Life,
Gabriel, and see if we've got Napoleonder written down."
The archangel looked and looked, but he couldn't look up any such
person.
"There isn't any kind of Napoleonder in the Book," he says. "Satan is a
liar. We haven't got Napoleonder written down anywhere."
Then Satan replies: "It isn't strange that you can't find Napoleonder in
the Book of Life, because you write in that Book only the names of those
who were born of human fathers and mothers, and who have navels.
Napoleonder never had a father or a mother, and, moreover, he hasn't any
navel--and that's so surprising that you might exhibit him for money."
The Lord God was greatly astonished. "How did your Napoleonder ever get
into the world?" he says.
"In this way," Satan replies. "I made him, as a doll, just for
amusement, out of sand. At that very time, you, Lord, happened to be
washing your holy face; and, not being careful, you let a few drops of
the water of life splash over. They fell from heaven right exactly on
Napoleonder's head, and he immediately took breath and became a man. He
is living now, not very near nor very far away, on the island of Buan,
in the middle of the ocean-sea. There is a little less than a verst of
land in the island, and Napoleonder lives there and watches geese. Night
and day he looks after the geese, without eating, or drinking, or
sleeping, or smoking; and his only thought is--how to conquer the whole
world."
The Lord God thought and thought, and then he ordered: "Bring him to
me."
Satan at once brought Napoleonder into the bright heaven. The Lord God
looked at him, and saw that he was a military man with shining buttons.
"I have heard, Napoleonder," says the Lord God, "that you want to
conquer the whole world."
"Exactly so," replies Napoleonder; "that's what I want very much to
do."
"And have you thought," says the Lord God, "that when you go forth to
conquer you will crush many peoples and shed rivers of blood?"
"That's all the same to me," says Napoleonder; "the important thing for
me is--how can I subdue the whole world."
"And will you not feel pity for the killed, the wounded, the burned, the
ruined, and the dead?"
"Not in the least," says Napoleonder. "Why should I feel pity? I don't
like pity. So far as I can remember, I was never sorry for anybody or
anything in my life, and I never shall be."
Then the Lord God turns to the angels and says: "Messrs. Angels, this
seems to be the very fellow for our business." Then to Napoleonder he
says: "Satan was perfectly right. You are worthy to be the instrument of
my wrath, because a pitiless conqueror is worse than earthquake, famine,
or deluge. Go back to the earth, Napoleonder; I turn over to you the
whole world, and through you the whole world shall be punished."