--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Whitney, O. F. collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 2 number: 8 published: 1899-06 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Whitney, O. F., "Napoleon: A Poem," *Improvement Era* 2, no. 8 (June 1899): 571–578.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera28unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera28unse start_page: 571 end_page: 578 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1899-06) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera28unse publication_year: 1899 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1899, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # Napoleon: A Poem NAPOLEON. BY BISHOP 0. F. WHITNEY. [The battle of Waterloo was fought on the 18th of June, 1815, eighty-four years ago the 18tli of this month. That battle marked the end of Napoleon's career. That was his death proper. The years he dragged out on the lonely island of St. Helena need not be counted among the years of his life, for that period of his existence was but a living death to the fallen monarch, and may be better associated with his term in purgatory than with his earth-life. The career of Napoleon was of such a character that it was absolutely impossible for his contemporaries to write of him in an impartial spirit. They were either for or against him; and were either very much for him, or very much against him. To his enemies he was a demon incarnate, to his admirers and supporters a demi-god. Of late years, however, both his achievements and his character have undergone a more dispassionate analysis, with the result that a better judgment of him in every way has been formed. But with all this he still remains one of the world's mysterious characters, an enigma, utterly unaccountable for by the ordinary rules of judgment. His spirit, still "antithetically mixed," puzzles mankind, alike the historian and the poet. Much has been written of him of late, much of it in a friendly, sympathetic spirit. In his case the order of things pronounced by Shakespeare through Antony has been reversed, viz.: "The evil that men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones." The good that Napoleon has done is now the theme of those who write of him. There has been a Napoleonic renaissance, so to speak, and never, in a manner, was his wild name more bruited in men's mouths than now. Amidst the general voice that sounds his praise, that applauds his — — 572 IMPROVEMENT ERA. achievements, no voice since that of Byron, so nearly touches the truth of the great Napoleon's career as does that of Bishop Orson F. Whitney in the poem that follows —nay, I do the worthy Bishop wrong; for enlightened by the knowledge that comes of the revelations of God to great modern prophets, and being removed from the passions and preju- dices that more or less blinded the eyes of Byron, he more nearly inter- prets the mission and life of Napoleon than Byron could, and with quite as much of the poet's lofty genius. B. H. Roberts.'] Thou earthquake son of destiny, whose name, A mighty synonym for good 0£il|>^^ , " '^^.^^"^t^ ^fealLMage through centuries^i«S~crwn with flame ^^^^ The glittering crest of glory's blood-stained hill! What ^owey ohail jH omp t,%hat oracle shall speak ' The truth, unuttered yet, as touching thee? Nor lend its lips censorious wrath to wreak, Or swell the flood of fawning flattery? As well might man the whirlwind's fury guide, Or sit in judgment on the thunderbolt, Or on the hand that hurled it, as decide Thy course, thou missile from Fate's catapult! Or yet declare thy doom, or e'en aspire To point the place where thou didst mar the plan Of him who forged thy soul in Vulcan's flre And sent thee forth to scourge thy fellow-man, Till Nemesis the fatal trap should spring. Which, opening under, let thy ruin through. And Mars' fierce bolt should break the eagle's wing J ^i'hioly BOfti d from Montenotte to Waterloo. i ' e. Thy course was marked ere yet the morning stars, That in their ancient orbits choiring whirled, Foretold in song the spirit's avatars, Around the cradle of the infant world. Where then wast thou, world-conquering Corsican, Ere Cyrnos' isle or Europe's sun arose? Ere flashed thy lightning life from God to man, Blinding alike the eyes of friends and foes, " — NAPOLEON. 573 Who, dazzled by the glare of thy great soul, Saw not the purpose of its errand pure, Saw but what seemed to thee thy fated goal. Ambition's aim and fortune's fickle lure. Ne'er chimed by chance thy spirit's natal hour, Earth's vapors vile called forth thy cleansing flame, A trampled world lay groaning 'neath the power Of tyrants weaving fast their shrouds of shame; Till fettered Serfdom, rending his fell chains. Shrieked fiercely his wild warning, "Liberty ! And kings turned pale as from the Gallic plains Arose the thunderous shout, "Equality!" The revolution's gathered storm-cloud burst. Where fell the Bastille rose the guillotine, And headless Prance was drained to drown the thirst Of ghoul-like monsters, glutting their mad spleen. Red Terror's reign was o'er, but France was tossed , A tempest-beaten bark on seas of blood; An iron hand must grasp her helm, or lost Was all for which she swept the sanguine flood. That hand was thine, and if it fell thy lot To play the tyrant, and in turn atone, That .thy true mission might not be forgot. What matter, if thy destined work was done? The tool was fashioned as the task inspired. The task foreknown ere yet the tool was formed, The battle fought before a shot was flred, The fortress won before a wall was stormed. That reeking sword was retribution's scythe. That red right hand earth's harvester of wrong; ^j" Dttt thioy of thy great tasEJ^as scarce the tithe, List to the tale told by the cannon's tongue! For France and freedom first the eagle flies. To pounce and pierce where foreign foes invade. There triumphing, war's Titan turns and plies 'Gainst pride and tyranny his trenchant blade. — 574 IMPROVEMENT ERA. She of the scarlet robe and triple crown, Who swayed e'en prostrate emperors' pliant wills, When life or death hung on her smile or frown, Now heard thy thunder shake her seven hills. O'er Egypt's conquered Nile and Pyramids, y^ War's wizard waved his plague-producing rod, —Bet y^/^,.^fc«u_ - forty centuries frowned upon the deeds That turned again her rivers into blood. J^ men beheld till thrones were downward cast. Bourbons and Braganzas fled amazed, all the world stood still and stared aghast. As proud Vienna stooped and Moscow blazed; As Berlin, bending to her bitter fate As bows a mighty oak before the storm, Madrid and Lisbon ope'd the shattered gate To him who smote with ever-conquering arm. While on thy brow, the guerdon of a nation, The jeweled emblem of an empire shone; And dukes and monarchs of a day's creation As satellites surrounded thy dread throne: Murat, Junot, Ney, Lannes, Soult, Berthier And other princes of plebeian birth, Each lent Napoleon's sun an added ray. Each shed a brilliancy that brightened earth. The spell was broken; ne'er again could bind A child of France the fragile fallacy That men are monarchs, notJokingly mind, 4^t But ancient pride and bl«©4-heredity; That none need seek, save sons of lofty sires. For fame, for fortune, or for merit's meed; That it were vain to fan Promethean fires Except in bosoms of patrician breed. To prove it false, thy soul's volcanic fire, Bursting the bars that prisoned it below. Shot upward, mounting higher and still higher. Till e'en the very stars forgot to glow. — NAPOLEON. 575 A royal soul, if not of Bourbon's race. To track thy life stream through the centuries; To teach this truth, God granted thee to place Thy heel upon the necks of dynasties; Then, of thyself, Colossus-like, to build A bridge that made men equal in thy realm, Long torn and trampled while old Custom willed That talent ply the oars, fools foiirt the helm. ^^ — 576 IMPROVEMENT ERA. For mountains shall be leveled to their base, And lifted fe» the lowly trodden plain, -f Man's pride to God's humility give place, Ere com^the One whose right it is to reign; Whose even path earth's mighty ones prepare. Make plain and straight the crude and crooked way, Proclaim by tongue of peace and trump of war. The dawn of freedom's universal sway. Thy mighty mission more than Time's revenge; Through thee a voice omnipotent did speak. King's loins to loose, pride's portals to unhinge, And bolts and bars of tyranny to break. But thou, forsooth, must found a dynasty. And reign as sovereign o'er a world enslaved, Then fortune frowned and fled, and victory No longer hovered where thy banners waved. Withdrawn the wondrous panoply of power Which rendered thee Achilles-like till then,«i C^£d_thou/Invincib!eMn that same hour, A Samson shorn, wert e'en as other men. Vain further strife. From Borodino's field Flowed blood to smother more than Moscow's flame, But still that flame burnt on, aad- thou didst yield " To fire and frost what combat ne'er could claim. Nor now thy flight, as erst from Egypt's strand, A signal of success—the stepping-stone To power that never was on sea or land Till rose aloft thy planet-shadowing throne. Retreat now meant thy ruin, the swift ebb Of fortune's flow, of triumph's swollen tide; — Destruction and desertion prince and pleb Forsaking thee to swell thy foes allied. And Leipsic came, and crimson Waterloo, To write in blood an empire's epitaph; And loomed for thee, above Atlantic's blue, Helena's rock, thy wave-washed cenotaph; NAPOLEON. 577 A monument that evermore must bear The glittering terror of thy glorious name, E'en though the jealous Briton still should fear To carve it on that flinty scroll of fame; Which guarded well the long-imprisoned dust, Dreadful in death no less than when in life It housed the human thunderbolt that thrust Kings from their thrones and filled tiw world with strife. Small wonder these the record would erase That wreathed thy brow with glory, theirs with shame, And gloating o'er thy fall from fortune's grace. Would e'en withhold from history thy name. As if thou couldst not be, save by permits Of princes, such as once thy breath could make! As if Marengo, Jena, Austerlitz, Were dreams, not deeds that caused their thrones to quake! In vain detraction, o'er thy prostrate form, To Leipsic points, and prates of Waterloo, Where hawks around one wounded eagle swarm. To pluck his plumage and to pierce him through. True, thou didst fall, but 'twas as Csesar fell, By triple foemen armed with traitor steel; A stalwart stag at bay, who could not quell The howling pack that hemmed him toe and heel. Caged "lion of the desert," when the door ^ Of freedom closed on thy captivity. And shook the nations thy indignant roar, Protesting in the name of liberty, Didst think on Europe's fetters, forged by thee? Of conquered kings, thy captives and thy slaves? Of chains thou wouldst have laid on land and sea. — To bind a world to quell the winds and waves? When death's dread messenger thy breast assailed. And drained thy soul the dregs of misery, Till warring pain o'er vanquished flesh prevailed, Didst liquidate thy life's delinquency? 578 IMPROVEMENT ERA. If so, thy agony was not in vain; Perchance it proved an angel in disguise, That washed thy spirit free from guilty stain And lent it wings to mount to Mercy's skies. Thy fate most piteous was then most just, Most merciful, most needful for thy weal. Whate'er man's motive, God's let none mistrust, That whirled thy soul on expiation's wheel. Mark how the course of retribution runs! How justice holds o'er all her balanced scale ! How stars do stars eclipse, and blazing suns. Obscured ofttimes by lesser planets, pale! The Gods decree what shall be, and 'tis done; The strong then weaken and the swift stand still. Success but wins a race already won. And e'en defeat the fiat doth fulfill. Man hath no freedom that can fetter God; All agency but acts within its sphere, And circumscribed must own His sovereign rod. And to his mighty purpose minister.