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The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Scrap Book, Volume 1, No. 6, by Various This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: The Scrap Book, Volume 1, No. 6 August 1906 Author: Various Release Date: April 24, 2010 [EBook #32123] Language: English Character set encoding: ASCII *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SCRAP BOOK, VOLUME 1, NO. 6 *** Produced by Barbara Tozier, Bill Tozier, Christine D. and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net THE SCRAP BOOK. Vol. I. AUGUST, 1906. No. 6. THE TOMB OF NAPOLEON. BY ROBERT G. INGERSOLL. A little while ago I stood by the grave of the old Napoleon--a magnificent tomb of gilt and gold, fit almost for a deity dead--and gazed upon the sarcophagus of rare and nameless marble, where rest at last the ashes of that restless man. I leaned over the balustrade and thought about the career of the greatest soldier of the modern world. I saw him walking upon the banks of 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, in the shadow of the Pyramids. I saw him conquer the Alps and mingle the eagles of France with the eagles of the crags. I saw him at Marengo, at Ulm, and at Austerlitz. I saw him in Russia, when the infantry of the snow and the cavalry of the wild blast scattered his legions like winter's withered leaves. I saw him at Leipsic in defeat and disaster--driven by a million bayonets back upon Paris--clutched like a wild beast--banished to Elba. I saw him escape and retake an empire by the force of his genius. I saw him upon the frightful field of Waterloo, where chance and fate combined to wreck the fortunes of their former king. And I saw him at St. Helena, with his hands crossed behind him, gazing out upon the sad and solemn sea. I thought of the widows and orphans he had made, of the tears that had been shed for his glory, and of the only woman who ever loved him, pushed from his heart by the cold hand of ambition. And I said I would rather have been a French peas
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