Napoleon's Last Battle

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter ten of the Story of Napoleon the Henrietta Elizabeth Marshall.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain recording by
Patrick Seville. Chapter ten Napoleon's last Battle. Meanwhile, the brother
of Louis sixteenth, whom the French had beheaded, was proclaimed

(00:22):
king of France. He was not stupid, but he was
not clever enough to rule at such a time when
all France, and indeed all Europe, was turned upside down
and full of discontent, every one struggling for something they
hardly knew what. When the French soldiers who had been
imprisoned in German fortresses were set free and came back

(00:45):
to France, the discontent grew worse, for they, having spent
so many years fighting, could not settle down to a
life of peace. They longed for their great leader again,
and he was soon weary of playing at empire in
his little island. He had been there just eleven months
when he made up his mind once more to try

(01:07):
his fortune. He escaped from Elba easily enough and landed
near Kannes on March first, eighteen fifteen. It was near
Grenoble that Napoleon met the soldiers sent to stop him.
He had with him a little army, for he had
brought his soldiers from Elba, though a few others had joined.

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But now he advanced against the enemy alone. Soldiers. He cried,
if there is one among you who desires to kill
his emperor, he can do so. Here I am, And
he threw back his coat as if awaiting the blow,
But not a weapon was raised. Instead, a shout of

(01:50):
long live the Emperor rang out, and every man marched
over to his old leader's side. At Leon, the Bourbont
generals fled, and Napoleon entered the city in triumph. Nay,
one of Napoleon's old generals, whom he had called the
bravest of the brave, marched to stop him, vowing to

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bring his old master back in an iron cage like
a wild beast. But he had not gone before he too,
declared for Napoleon and joined his army. And so as
on and on Napoleon passed the little man in the
big gray coat, which the soldiers knew and loved, drew

(02:30):
them to himself. His army grew larger and larger. Men
tore the white stockade of the Burbon from their hats
and trampled it under foot. Once more, the tricolor was everywhere.
In the middle of the night, King Louis fled from
Paris towards Belgium, and at last, on the nineteenth of March,

(02:52):
Napoleon once more reached Fontainbleau. The next day he entered Paris.
While the Allies were gathered at Vienna trying to bring
order into disordered Europe. They had been suddenly startled by
the news that Napoleon had left Elba and was making
his way to Paris. They had not agreed very well,

(03:12):
but now this new danger made them forget their quarrels.
Quickly they gathered their soldiers, and by June armies were
marching against France from all sides. From Russia, Prussia, Sardinia, Austria,
from Holland and Belgium, and the German states, and not
least from Britain came troops. But Napoleon did not wait

(03:35):
for France to be invaded. He marched northwards. He hoped,
with his usual quick daring, to win some splendid battle
and with one stroke chatter the power of the Allies
and see himself again upon the throne of France. So
Napoleon's last campaign was fought in Belgium. The Duke of
Willington commanded a great part of the Allied troops which

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were gathered there, while rim Old Blucher led the Prussians.
And it was upon the eighteenth of June, upon the
field of Waterloo, that Napoleon made his last stand, fought
his last fight, and lost. The night had been wet
and bustery. In the morning rain still fell. The fair

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fields of Waterloo, about the farms of Lae Sought and
Ugomo were boggy and sodden, and it was not until
nearly twelve o'clock that the battle began. All day long,
under a cloudy, stormy sky, it raged. It was a
fight of all the nations, and in Willington's army alone,

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five languages were spoken. And while at Waterloo the thunder
of war roared and crashed. Blucher, with his Prussians, was
toiling over rain soaked roads, his cannon sinking axle deep
in mud, his men splashing and plomming through deep pools,
stumbling wearily onward to join the battle. We can go

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no further, they cried despairingly. We must, my children. I
have given my word to Wellington. You will not have
me break it, replied Blucher. So they struggled on, but
it was late in the afternoon before they reached the battlefield.
The end of the long contest was now near. Napoleon

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ordered his old guard, which he had kept in reserve,
to advance, but when he saw them bend and then
break and scatter before the British charge, he turned deadly pale.
Why they are in confusion, he cried, hardly, able to
believe it possible. All is lost. Let us save ourselves.

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In utter route and panic, the French fled from the field.
The wearied British soldiers left the pursuit to the Prussians
under the light of the moon, and till the dawning
of the day, the chase went on for many miles.
The roads were ghastly and horrible. Again and again the
French tried to take refuge in the villages by the way.

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Again and again they were driven forth, fleeing before the
terrible hurrah of the exultant Prussians, who slaughtered them without mercy.
To France. Napoleon fled, tears of anger and despair running
down his pale cheeks on the tenth of June. He
reached Paris. There next morning the news that the Emperor

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had returned alone, and that the great army of France
was no more spread fast and now Napoleon learned that
as he was no longer great and successful, the people
of Paris did not want him. Of the soldiers who
adored him, few were left. So once more he abdicated.

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His second reign, which had lasted only a hundred days,
was over by his own people. Napoleon was ordered to
leave Paris, to leave France, but British men of war
were watching every port, and escape was impossible. So at
last he gave himself up to the commander of the
Bellerophon and was taken to England. To the Prince Regent,

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he wrote, I come to seat myself on the hearth
of the British people. I put myself under the protection
of their laws, which I claimed from your Royal Highness
as the most powerful, the most constant, and the most
generous of my enemies. Sadly, Napoleon watched the shores of
France disappear. He never set foot in his adopted land again,

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never more saw its sunny shores. He was only forty five,
but his life of splendor and excitement was done. It
had been Napoleon's dream to conquer Britain and add these
islands to his empire. Now, as a fugitive, he was
not even allowed to land there. He was kept on

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the Bellerophon until a letter was brought to him which
told him that Rolle Buonaparte was to be sent to
Saint Helena, a little island in the South Atlantic. At Elba,
small though his empire was, Napoleon had been still a
ruler there. He could still make laws in levy taxes,

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was still surrounded by an army and a court. At
Saint Helena, he was a prisoner, and a prisoner in
a lonely island twenty thousand leagues from Europe, nine hundred
leagues from the nearest continent. Saint Helena is very small
and not more than twenty one miles all around, and
from a distance it looks like a shapeless mass of

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black rock rising out of the sea. To Napoleon, it
seemed a hateful place in little wonder. After his life
splendor and excitement, it was terrible to be shut away
in this lonely island in the middle of the wide ocean.
He who had played with kings and kingdoms, made making

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and unmaking them, moving them here and there at will
like chessmen on a board, had now nothing to do.
He who had been dreaded by half the world, was
now of no importance. It mattered not whether he lived
or died. So the dreary years dragged on, and petty
quarrels about petty things and reading, writing and chess playing. Then,

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after five years, the great Conqueror lay dying. And as
he lay already muttering and unconscious, a great storm swept
the island. It dashed the waves against the rocky shore.
It bent, broke, and uprooted the willows about his house.
But Napoleon lay unheeding it. His wandering mind was dreaming

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of other days. France, Army, Josephine, he muttered. Then he
lay still. The wind too sank to rest, And when
the golden sun of May, shining once more over calm
blue waters slipped beneath the waves, the great, restless spirit
passed with it. A few days later, followed reverently by

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those few of his friends who had clung to him
to the last, sharing his lonely exile. He was laid
to rest under the willow trees where he had once sat.
British soldiers carried the coffin, upon which was laid the
sword and cloak he had worn at Maringo. British soldiers

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fired a volley and lowered their banners and salute over
the grave of the great enemy, and there they left
him in a nameless tomb. Eighteen years later, in the
darkness of an October night, by the faint light of lanterns,
the coffin was once more dug up and carried away
to France with the permission of the British government. At

(10:57):
the Hotel the Invalid and Paris, it was received by
the nobles and the King of France, who brabon, though
he was desired to do honor to the great Emperor dead. Sire,
I present the body of the Emperor Napoleon, said the
Prince de Joinville, who had brought it from Saint Helena.

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I receive it in the name of France, replied the King.
So for the last time, the greatest soldier the world
has ever seen was laid to rest beside the sea
inn among his people, as he himself had wished. End
of chapter ten, end of the Story of Napoleon by

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Henrietta Elizabeth Marshall