How Napoleon passed the border and forced the outposts of the enemy back to Waterloo; how there, on 18 June, he fought the final great battle of his remarkable career; how his troops were mowed down by the fearful fire of his adversaries and how even his famous Old Guard rallied gloriously but ineffectually to their last charge; how the defeat administered by Wellington was turned at the close of the day into a mad rout through the arrival of Blücher's forces: all these matters are commonplaces in the most elementary histories of military science. It has long been customary to cite the battle of Waterloo as one of the world's decisive battles. In a sense this is just, but it should be borne in mind that, in view of the firm united determination of all Europe, there was no ultimate chance for Napoleon. If he had defeated Wellington, he would still have had to deal with Blücher. If he should then defeat the Prussians, he would have to turn suddenly against Schwarzenberg and the Austrians. By that time Wellington would have been sufficiently reënforced to resume the offensive, and the war would have gone on inevitably to but a single grim conclusion. The allies could put almost limitless numbers in the field; Napoleon was at the end of his resources. For the conservation of human life, it was fortunate that Napoleon was overwhelmed at Waterloo and that the first battle of the campaign of 1815 was also its last. Waterloo added military prestige to the naval preëminence which Great Britain already enjoyed, and finally established the reputation of Wellington as the greatest general of his age next only to Napoleon himself. It is small wonder that the English have magnified and glorified Waterloo. [Footnote: An interesting side issue of the Waterloo campaign was the fate of Joachim Murat. The wily king of Naples, distrustful of the allies' guarantees, threw in his lot with his brother-in-law. His forces were speedily put to rout by the Austrians and he himself fled to France and later to Corsica, and was ultimately captured and shot. His action enabled still another Bourbon, the despicable Ferdinand I, to recover his throne.]
[Sidenote: Final Overthrow of Napoleon ]
On 21 June, Napoleon arrived in Paris, defeated and dejected. That very day the parliament, on the motion of Lafayette, declared itself in permanent session and took over all functions of government. The following day Napoleon abdicated the second time in favor of his son, and the provisional government of France, under the skillful trimming of the clever Fouché, reopened negotiations with the Bourbons. On 7 July the allies reoccupied Paris, bringing the flustered old Louis XVIII "in their baggage-train." The Bourbons, thus unheroically restored, were destined for fifteen years to maintain in peace their compromise between revolution and reaction.
[Sidenote: Napoleon at St. Helena 1815-1821 ]
On 15 July, the day following the anniversary of the fall of the Bastille, Napoleon, who had gone to Rochefort on the French coast, with some vague idea of taking refuge in America, delivered himself over to the commander of a British warship which was lying in the harbor. For us who live a century after the stirring events whose narrative has filled this chapter, it is easy to perceive that the British government might safely have extended hospitality to their famous captive and might have granted him an asylum in England. He was finally discredited in the eyes not only of the European despots but also of the vast majority of the French people; no matter how much he might burn with the flame of his old ambition, he could never again be in a position to endanger the safety or prosperity of the United Kingdom. But in 1815 Englishmen felt differently, and naturally so. To them Napoleon had been for years a more troublesome and dangerous enemy than a Philip II or a Louis XIV. By them he was deemed the unregenerate child of darkness and of the evil spirit. And "General Bonaparte," as the British authorities persisted in calling him, was not suffered to touch foot upon the sacred soil of England, but was dispatched on another British warship to the rocky island of St. Helena in the south Atlantic.
On St. Helena Napoleon lived five and a half years. He was allowed considerable freedom of movement and the society of a group of close personal friends. He spent his time in walking on the lonely island or in quarreling with his suspicious strait-laced English jailer, Sir Hudson Lowe, or in writing treatises on history and war and dictating memoirs to his companions. These memoirs, which were subsequently published by the Marquis de Las Cases, were subtly compounded of truth and falsehood. They represented Napoleon Bonaparte in the light of a true son and heir of the Revolution, who had been raised by the will of the French people to great power in order that he might consolidate the glorious achievements of liberty, equality, and fraternity. According to the emperor himself, he had always been the friend of peace and of oppressed nationalities, the author of blessings which had flowed uninterruptedly upon his people until he had been thwarted by the machinations of the British and the sheer brute force of the European despots. Napoleon shrewdly foresaw the increase of popular discontent with the repressive measures which the reactionary sovereigns and statesmen of Europe were bound to inaugurate, and in the resulting upheaval he thought he could see an opportunity for his beloved son to build anew an empire of the French. It could hardly have been blind chance that caused him to insert in his will the pious request that he "be buried on the banks of the Seine in the midst of the French people whom he so dearly loved." On 5 May, 1821, the greatest adventurer of modern times died on the island of St. Helena.
[Sidenote: The Napoleonic Legend]
Already the history of the emperor was becoming the Napoleonic Legend. The more his memory was revered as the noble martyr of St. Helena, the more truth withdrew into the background and fiction stepped into the limelight. His holocausts of human life were forgotten; only the glory, the unconquerable prowess of his arms, was remembered. French cottages were adorned with cheap likenesses of the little corporal's features; quaint, endearing nicknames for their hero were on villagers' lips; and around hearth and campfire were related apocryphal anecdotes of his exploits at Lodi, at Austerlitz, and at Wagram. From a selfish despot Napoleon was returning to his mightier, if humbler, position as a child of the people. Thus the last years at St. Helena were far from fruitless: they proved once more that the pen is mightier than the sword,—for one day, not by feats of arms, but by the power of the Napoleonic Legend, another Bonaparte was to be seated upon the throne of France.
SIGNIFICANCE OF THE ERA OF NAPOLEON
[Sidenote: A Continuation of the Revolutionary Era]
[Sidenote: Liberty under Napoleon]