THE LAST PICTURES
Our pictures change little as they show the next stage of Napoleon's
progress. For when in the summer of 1801 he is made Consul for life, he
appears still to be the same ardent lover of liberty that he was when he
became First Consul. He is still the idol of the French people--as well
he may be--for what ruler has ever done so much for them? When once
things are in his own hands he codifies the laws, gives security to all
forms of religion, and organizes the educational system of France. He
does everything possible for the rebuilding of the state. He regulates
taxes, that the burden may fall equitably on all classes. He helps
manufactures of every kind. He proves himself a masterly road-builder.
He establishes museums, and orders the construction of great public
buildings. In peace he seems to be greater even than he has shown
himself in war. He encourages literature, art, and music, and makes
Paris so beautiful that its citizens are justified in their pride.
He surrounds himself with capable men. In no way does he more clearly
show his own superiority than by letting it be seen that he is free from
jealousy. He is always ready to reward publicly those who help him in
any of his undertakings. Not all Napoleon's plans are carried out during
his Consulship, but they are begun with such vigor that no one doubts
that they will be completed. The country is the better for his firm
hand. Yet in some ways we admired him more in his earlier years. His
ambition now casts a shadow that should warn him that the middle way is
the best.
In one way at least Napoleon's ambitions do not get the better of him.
As he advances in power he does not forget old friends. They share his
prosperity, these schoolmates and associates of his earlier years. They
are given honors that some of them find it hard to wear gracefully.
"Here we are at the Tuileries," he exclaims to an old friend, when made
Consul for life. "We must remain here."
In the short breathing spell made possible by the Peace of Amiens,
France accomplishes more in all directions than the other countries of
Europe. Yet those whose sight is clearest may, perhaps, see a cloud
likely to deepen and blur the picture. Does it come from England, now
making great efforts to gather her strength for a long contest? Or does
the growing ambition of Napoleon mean the overthrow of the very things
he is working for?
Though the gorgeous spectacle of the Imperial Coronation in the great
Cathedral has seldom been surpassed, we incline to turn away from it. It
had been better for Napoleon to remain First Consul rather than to make
himself Emperor. His plain gray suit became him better than this
trailing cloak of purple velvet embroidered in gold and trimmed with
ermine. We recognize the golden bees, and the insignia of the Legion of
Honor, but the diamond collar and the great Pitt diamond blazing in the
pommel of his sword seem unsuited to the young Corsican who once
delighted in simplicity. The laurel wreath that he first wears suits him
better than the Imperial crown that he takes from the hands of the Pope
and places on his own head. But the Pope has anointed him, and Napoleon
is now Emperor of that shadowy Holy Roman Empire, for which in the past
rivers of blood have been shed.
Is Napoleon really happier now than when he roamed, a fearless boy, over
the rough hills of Corsica? Is Josephine as contented wearing the crown
of an Empress as she was wandering light-hearted in the forests of
Martinique? Josephine is indeed fond of jewels and beautiful clothes,
and nothing could be more splendid than her coronation robe of white
satin and silver and gold, with its ornaments of pearls and diamonds.
But Josephine has a long memory. She often recalls the poverty of her
childhood, of her early married life. When Empress she tells one of the
ladies in attendance on her that no present ever made her happier than a
pair of shoes given her for Hortense, her little daughter, who otherwise
would have had to go barefoot part of her voyage from Martinique to
France.
Josephine is a sensible woman. She is not ashamed of her early poverty.
Like Napoleon she had suffered during the Revolution and had even for a
time been thrown into prison. Like Napoleon she, too, had sometimes not
known when she should get her next meal. She had even had to borrow
money to pay her rent. She had suffered everything, when the execution
of her first husband, Alexandre de Beauharnais, during the Reign of
Terror, had left her and her two children destitute.
All the circumstances of her past life may not have flashed before
Josephine's mind at the moment of the Coronation. Yet it is not
improbable that wearing the crown and realizing the responsibilities of
her new position, she may have sighed for a day of freedom from care,
such as she had known in Martinique.
On that December day in 1805 when Napoleon puts on the Imperial crown
more than three years have passed since England signed the short-lived
Peace of Amiens. The war that is now renewed between France and England
is to continue until Waterloo. As Emperor, however, Napoleon seems to be
master of Europe. All the European courts, except England, Russia, and
Sweden, acknowledge his new title.
So we turn to a new picture. It is the eve of Austerlitz. Napoleon walks
among the soldiers, who are resting in camp, awaiting the struggle. When
his men recognize him, they surround him, they rush ahead of him,
holding aloft long poles on which are fastened burning wisps of straw.
"It is the anniversary of the Coronation," they shout as they light his
way. The next day when they measure their strength with Russia and
Austria, the soldiers of the Empire are victorious. Another scene now
stands out vividly. Alexander of Russia is coming to meet Napoleon. At
Tilsit on a raft in the river Niemen the two Emperors greet each other
with a kiss.
"I hate the English as much as you," cries the impulsive Alexander. "I
will be your second in all that you do against them."
The next day we see the King of Prussia arriving half-heartedly at
Tilsit. Friedland has done its work, and for the time Prussia is
humbled.
Brilliant though the panorama of Napoleon's life is after Tilsit, we
view with wonder rather than approval the striking pictures as they
present themselves one by one. We observe the wild enthusiasm of the
French people for their Emperor after Ulm and Austerlitz and
Hohenlinden. Even the battle of Trafalgar--a victory for England--does
not dampen their ardor. But Napoleon himself grows careful, and tries to
keep from the army the news of his loss on the sea.
Prussia is humbled, Austria wishes to make terms, Napoleon has some
successes in Spain, and he hopes to injure England. Though we may not
discover this at first, his interference in the affairs of Spain hastens
the Emperor's downfall. Although he succeeds in having his brother
Joseph made King of Spain, he cannot keep him on the throne.
His ambition increases. His family try to persuade him to divorce
Josephine, that he may strengthen himself by a second marriage with some
royal princess.
We look at the family group of the Bonapartes. With Napoleon at the
height of his power, we count the titles.
Joseph, at first King of Naples, is King of Spain; Louis, King of
Holland; Jerome, King of Westphalia; Lucien, a Prince of the Empire,
later repudiates the title; Eliza, Grand Duchess of Tuscany; Pauline,
Princess Borghese; and Caroline is Queen of Naples; Josephine's
daughter, Hortense, is Queen of Holland; and Eugene, her son, is a
Prince. Old Madame Bonaparte, the devoted mother, is not sure that the
glory of the family will last forever. Of the treasures lavished on her
by Napoleon, she puts aside a portion that may be of service when the
possible rainy day comes.
Josephine is the idol of the French people. But Bonaparte ambition
extends even to them. In these uncertain days France might be stronger
if its Emperor were free to marry into a Royal family.
We note Josephine's anxiety as she studies Napoleon. But she sees no
change in his love for her children. Eugene is his adopted heir.
Hortense is married to Napoleon's brother Louis. Josephine hopes that
those who advise the Royal Alliance may not prevail. Her tears are
useless, and when Napoleon decides she has to yield.
The first of April, 1810, less than five years from the date of the
Coronation, Napoleon is the centre of another brilliant ceremony. This
is the day of his marriage with Maria Louisa, daughter of the Emperor of
Austria. A year later fickle Paris is in a state of feverish excitement
over the birth of the King of Rome. Napoleon, rejoicing in his little
son, seems at the height of his power.
Looking at Napoleon now, we must admit that he has become an autocrat.
Yet he is not a despot in the ordinary sense. Though he may like power
in itself, for what it brings to him, he cares still for the prosperity
of France. The country needs his strong guidance. Outside of France he
has enemies on all sides. While he does not admit it, things are against
him in Spain; and then, as if losing his head, he decides to march into
Russia. The Emperor of Russia is now his bitter enemy. The kiss of
Tilsit was soon wiped away.
If we could, we would close our eyes to the next terrible scene. Before
us marches the best of the young manhood of France--hundreds of
thousands of men--to a certain death. Here is the greatest army of the
time, and at Borodino we see "the bloodiest fight of the century." For
the French the victory is almost worse than a defeat, since they are
thus beguiled farther into Russia. No one can paint adequately the
horrors of that bitter campaign. Of the hundreds of thousands who had
crossed the Niemen a few months earlier, only twenty thousand
frost-bitten spectres stagger again over the bridge in the middle of
December.
Napoleon's thoughts are gloomy enough as he rides desperately back to
France, leaving his fragment of an army in charge of Murat. No one
envies him now, with the world against him. Soon he hears that Joseph
has been driven from Spain. Already he feels the strength of the
coalition formed to overthrow him. Does he realize that Austria is no
longer his friend--that Prussia is ready to fall upon him? All Germany
is waking to new life, and to a great extent its energy is the result of
the teachings of Napoleon himself. We see him struggling to hold his
own, unwilling to admit that he has lost anything. There is likely to be
discontent in France. The flower of French youth has gone with the army,
and there are hardly men enough to till the ground. We glance hastily at
the passing pictures. The victory at Dresden is more than balanced by
the disasters at Kulm and Leipzig. The campaign of 1813 is fatal to
Napoleon, who still trusts to his star.
So we pass on to the last scenes of the panorama.
It is a Sunday in January, 1814. Napoleon is in Paris, intending in a
few days to go to the front. He and the Empress are holding a reception
at the Tuileries, and there is a brilliant throng in the great salon.
All eyes are on the Emperor and Empress as they enter the apartment.
Napoleon holds by the hand a fair-haired boy of three, the little King
of Rome. The child wears the uniform of the National Guard of Paris.
Courtiers, crowding around the group, bow and smile. But as he scans
their faces with his keen eye, Napoleon reads who are his enemies, who
his friends. There are many officers of the National Guard present, and
it is to them perhaps that the Emperor especially addresses himself.
"Gentlemen," he cries, "I am about to set out for the army. I intrust to
you what I hold dearest in the world--my wife and my son."
Although those present do not dream that the end of Napoleon's reign is
so near, they show great emotion. Tears fall and sobs are heard on all
sides as his appeal reaches their hearts. Many of those present at the
Tuileries this afternoon--even those nearest him--will never see
Napoleon again.
In less than two days the Emperor bids his last farewell to Maria Louisa
and their little son. The Empress is to be Regent during his absence.
Joseph is appointed Lieutenant of France.
Then we look on the sad picture of Napoleon's last campaign, when he
meets his match in the dogged Blucher. Before the end of February,
Napoleon has to admit that he is conquered. He accepts the terms made by
the Allies. They give him the island of Elba for a time, with money
enough to keep up a certain small grandeur. Pensions are provided for
Maria Louisa and the King of Rome, and even for the other Bonapartes.
It is a curious spectacle--Napoleon amusing himself with Elba, as if it
were a big toy. One day he increases his standing army, the next he
annexes a neighboring island. His mother and some of his family are with
him, but Maria Louisa has returned to her father with the little King of
Rome.
But Napoleon and his friends have been making their plans, and we are
dazzled, as the world was then, by his rapid march across France, by the
demonstrations of his soldiers and the vigor of the short, sharp
campaign and the greatness of Wellington's victory. Yet Quatre Bras and
Waterloo are soon overshadowed by the rock of St. Helena.
Betsy Balcombe, Napoleon's young neighbor, well knew the story of
Napoleon. She could see as plainly as we can to-day the pictures
revealed in the panorama of his life. Perhaps she stood too near him,
perhaps she was too young to draw the lesson that we of to-day draw from
his meteoric career. Perhaps her sympathy for him in all that he had to
bear at St. Helena blinded her to the fact that he was himself to a
certain extent to blame for his own downfall. He reached too far, his
ambition was too great. As First Consul, depending on the votes of the
people, he might have been stronger than he was as Emperor. The good
that he did France was fairly balanced by the fearful loss of life in
his long wars.
Napoleon's one thought was to carry out his own plans without counting
the cost in men. Yet putting aside the question of the vast loss of life
in his wars and the sorrow that resulted, we may see that his career was
not wholly bad for Europe.
Although ambition and selfishness may have prompted much that he did, he
really wished to promote the welfare of France. To-day that country is
farther ahead than would have been possible but for Napoleon. Many of
the institutions that have most advanced her originated with the First
Emperor. Other countries besides France benefited by Napoleon's energy.
He showed several of them how to realize their ideals of independence.
It is true that the constitutions he gave to various states of
Europe--as well as to France--after his downfall were for a time
cancelled. Still, in the end, his ideas prevailed, and except for
Napoleon not only a French Republic would have been slower in
establishing itself, but also a free Italy, and even a United Germany
might have arrived less quickly.
The sadness of Napoleon's last years modified the judgments of many who
had been his bitter enemies. His personal charm made those who knew him
forget the general selfishness of his whole career. Yet in weighing all
that can be said for and against him, it would be unfair to have the
balance against him. That Napoleon whom Betsy Balcombe knew at The
Briars--fun-loving and considerate of those about him--was as truly
Napoleon as the man before whom many had trembled--whom his enemies had
so criticised--to look at him as his young neighbor looked at him is to
understand a little the secret of his influence.
THE END.
HELEN LEAH REED'S "BRENDA" BOOKS
The author is one of the best equipped of our writers for girls
of larger growth. Her stories are strong, intelligent, and
wholesome.--_The Outlook, New York._
Miss Reed's girls have all the impulses and likes of real girls
as their characters are developing, and her record of their
thoughts and actions reads like a chapter snatched from the
page of life.--_Boston Herald._
BRENDA, HER SCHOOL AND HER CLUB
Illustrated by Jessie Wilcox Smith.
One of the most natural books for girls. It is a careful study
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BRENDA'S SUMMER AT ROCKLEY
Illustrated by Jessie Wilcox Smith.
It is a wholesome book, telling of a merry and healthy
vacation.--_Dial_, Chicago.
BRENDA'S COUSIN AT RADCLIFFE
_A College Story for Girls_
Illustrated by Alice Barber Stephens.
No better college story has been written.--_Providence News._
Miss Reed is herself a Radcliffe woman, and she has made a
sympathetic and accurate study of the woman's college at
Cambridge.--_Chicago Evening Post._
The author is one of the best equipped of our writers for girls
of larger growth. Her stories are strong, intelligent, and
wholesome.--_The Outlook_, N. Y.
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BRENDA'S BARGAIN
Illustrated by Ellen Bernard Thompson.
The story deals with social settlement work, under conditions
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AMY IN ACADIA
Illustrated by Katherine Pyle.
A splendid tale for girls, carefully written, interesting and
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BRENDA'S WARD
Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill.
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accomplishing.--_Kansas City Star._
The tale throughout is sweet and wholesome.... The character
sketching is consistent and firm, and the dialogue
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The young Western girl who enters Brenda's life is sweet and
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* * * * *
IRMA AND NAP
_A Story for Younger Girls_
Illustrated by Clara E. Atwood.
A brightly written story about children from eleven to thirteen
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life.
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There are little people in this sweetly written story with whom
all will feel at once that they have been long acquainted, so
real do they seem, as well as their plans, their play, and
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A clever story, not a bit preachy, but with much influence for
right living in evidence throughout.--_Chicago Evening Post._
End of Project Gutenberg's Napoleon's Young Neighbor, by Helen Leah Reed