Green Mountain Freeman

A little while ago I stood by the grave of the old Napoleon, a magnificent tomb, fit for the dead deity almost, and gazed in the great circle at the bottom of it. In the sarcophagus of black Egyptian marble at last rest the ashes of that restless man I looked over the balustrade, and I thought about the career of Napoleon. I could see him walking upon the Seine contemplating suicide. I saw him at Toulon. I saw him putting down the mob in the streets of Paris. I saw him at the head of the army in Italy. I saw him crossing the bridge at Lodi with the tricolor in his hand. I saw him in Egypt fighting the battle of the pyramids. I saw him cross the Alps and mingle the eagles of France with the eagles of the crags. I saw him in Austerlitz. I saw him in Russia where the infantry of the snow and the cavalry of the wild blast scattered his legions like withered leaves. I saw him at Leipsic when his army was defeated and he was taken captive. I saw him land again upon French soil, and retake an empire by the force of his own genius. I saw him banished once more. and again at St. Helena with his arms behind him, gazing out upon the sad and solemn sea; and I thought of the orphans and widows he had made. I thought of the tears that had been shed for his selfish glory. I thought of the only woman who ever loved him. who had been pushed from his heart by the cold hand of ambition; and as I looked at that sarcophagus, I said "I would rather have been a French peasant and worn wooden shoes: I would rather have lived in a hut, with a vine growing over the door and the grapes growing and ripening in the autumn sun. I would a thousand times rather have been that French peasant than that imperial personage of force and murder."