The Fall of the Napoleonic Empire

After Tilsit in 1807, Napoleon was at the height of his power. The Russo-French Alliance
signed on a raft in the Tilsit River had given Napoleon the Russian Bear as his ally, one of
the most prized plums in European international affairs. After defeating both Austria and
Prussia, he had abolished the creaky old Holy Roman Empire, in some senses merely
putting it out of its misery. He had direct control over half of Italy and his brother-in-law
and sister ruled the old Kingdom of Naples. All his former enemies were no his close
allies, at least on paper. Indeed, he could even credibly claim to have enjoyed warm
relations with the other European heads of state on a personal level.

It is amazing that within only a few years of having achieved such stunning success,
Napoleon fortunes would start to unravel. He would make his first abdication from power
in 1814, only seven years after the Treaty of Tilsit was signed. He made a disastrous
invasion of Russia in 1812. He would divorce Josephine and marry the Austrian Emperor’s
daughter. But this marriage proved a failure. Really, Napoleon’s final days in power are
rather sad, at least on a personal level. He lost so much so fast. But few could have seen
that coming in 1807. Still, signs of problems were on the rise. Probably the first apparently
unsolvable difficulty for Napoleon involved his brother Joseph’s monarchy in Spain, and
the occupation of the country by French troops.

The Spanish Ulcer

During his reflective exile on the remote island of Saint Helena, Napoleon said that it was
the Wars with Spain that did him in. They required a lot of his time, not to mention the
stationing of hundreds of thousands of imperial troops there to secure the peninsula. These
troops could better have been used in Central and Eastern Europe, where the fleeing
alliances of one year could so quickly sour, bringing Napoleon back into war with his
ancient Hapsburg rivals. Also, historians have long nicknamed the wars in Spain as the
“Spanish Ulcer.” This is because, like an ulcer, the Spanish campaigns were a nagging,
weakening sore, but not necessarily a fatal one. But coupled with the other problems he
had consolidating his alliances and client-states elsewhere on the Continent, war in Spain
was the last thing Napoleon needed. It sapped his energy, distracted his focus, and
weakened his overall strength.

To bring Portugal to heel in terms of the Continental System, Napoleon decided to bring
troops to the Iberian. Somewhat unbelievably, the King of Spain, Carlos IV (r. 1788-1808)
actually welcome Napoleon’s 100,000 troops into Spain. He thought the move might help
foster better relations between the two powers. In March, Napoleon ordered French troops
into Madrid and they occupied the city. Not surprisingly, the French really didn’t leave
again till they were forcibly evicted, finally, in 1813. It was easy to join-up with Napoleon,
but not so easy to leave.

After scarcely two months of French occupation in the city, the Spanish rose up against
their French guests on May 2. Spanish rebels attacked the French as they were moving
their supplies. A train of North African mercenary troops hired by the French particularly
incensed the Spaniards, perhaps reminding them of the old Moorish presence in Spain, or
simply the specter of North African foreigners hired to keep them down. Whatever the
cause, the caravan was attacked with much loss of blood. The next day, the famous Third
of May, the French summarily executed 43 Spanish partisans by firing squad. The days
were immortalized in the famous 1813 paintings by the Spanish painter Goya. Goya’s
“The Third of May” is one of the best examples of the rising influence of nationalism in
the early nineteenth century, not only in politics and military matters, but also in the arts.

With the uprising creating unforeseen problems in Spain, Napoleon, now in de facto control
of Spain, deposed Carlos IV, installing instead his own older brother Joseph as the new
King of Spain. Joseph was a decent man, sometimes called “the gentle Bonaparte.” He
was learned, polite, and cared about people. He was also truly hated by the rank and file
of the French. He reigned as King of Spain till 1813, when he was finally replaced by
Carlos’ IV son, Ferdinand VII. The British, naturally, never did recognize Joseph as King
of Spain. In 1813, when his political situation had changed so drastically and quickly
following his retreat from Russia, Napoleon finally withdrew Joseph. By then it was too
late and Spain was firmly in the enemy camp.

Guerilla War in Spain

Napoleon’s attempts to establish a permanent Bonaparte regime in Spain reflected some of

the timeless realities of warfare, politics, and trying to occupy enemy territory. Perhaps
the best lesson was that it is much easier to control the cities than the countries. Though
the May 2 uprising had begun in Madrid, the great Spanish capital ultimately proved far
easier to control that the vast, rugged, and often mountainous Spanish countryside. With
some important exceptions, urban populations often seem easier to control than those of
the rustic areas. In Madrid, Joseph mostly lived a secure life, with the balls, diplomatic
visits and formal regalia that accompanied monarchy in those days. In the countryside,
however, it seemed impossible to really gain the upper-hand. It was Spain that provided
the example of the first modern “guerilla” war.

The term “guerilla’: war means a ‘little war,’ fought with unconventional tactics, typically
by irregular troops who lack an officially recognized national status as military soldiers.
In a guerilla war, there usually is no clear-cut ‘front,’ as in the other great battles throughout
the Napoleonic Wars, where the idea of a ‘front’ clearly denoted the edge of the territory
controlled by a given army. In a guerilla war, territorial occupation is murky at best.
Instead, soldiers fight with tactics designed to favor those with smaller numbers, less of a
chain of command, and less resources. The ambush was the preferred method of attack
during the French occupation of Spain. As might be with modern-day terrorists, the French
considered such attacks dishonorable and dirty. French imagery from the Peninsular
Campaigns often emphasizes the Spanish rebels as dirty outlaws, attacking civilians along
with military personnel, including women and children. Modern commentators also might
label such fighting ‘asymmetrical,’ since it involves a small ragtag group against a mighty,
well-organized foe. In such a struggle, conventional military tactics obviously favor the
great power. Guerilla fighters would naturally avoid them. Rebels such as the Spanish
partisans fighting the French also would probably fail to gain recognition as legitimate
military figures, by today’s standards. According to the Protocols of the Geneva
Convention, soldiers have to have identification badges identifying them as such (e.g. dog
tags), as well as wear the uniform of a nation recognized by the United Nations.

The Napoleonic fiasco in Spain had the effect of destabilizing the situation with the Spanish
Empire in Latin America. Spain had controlled a vast Empire in Mexico, with its great
Viceroyalties in Mexico and Peru, for four centuries. The years when Joseph ruled Spain
saw the Spanish colonies in the New World mostly neglected. Other factors were involved,
of course, by the years in which Spain became embroiled in the politics of Napoleon, gave
the Spanish colonies a greater taste of freedom. Coupled with the mood of the times, which
was definitely towards the sorts of freedom and republican thinking equated with the great
Western Enlightenment thinkers, Spain’s colonies moved towards independence. In 1822,
Spain lost control of Spanish South America, Central America, and Mexico. Brazil also
gained its independence from Portugal in 1822.

The Duke of Wellington Comes into the Conflict

The other problem with the Spanish situation in Spain as far as Napoleon was concerned
was that it totally backfired with regards to the initial goal, which was to pacify Portugal.
After all, Spanish troops had entered Spain under the pretext of gaining access to Portugal,
a hard to reach nation, by land or sea – at least for the French. In 1809, Napoleon’s greatest
nemesis Arthur Wellesley, the Earl (soon to be Duke) of Wellington, entered Portugal to
reinforce Portuguese defenses. Portugal also provided an excellent and secure base by
which English troops could enter Spain to engage the French.

The Duke of Wellington was a formidable foe. Napoleon now found himself involved in
a significant land war in Spain, fighting the combined forces of Portugal, England, and
Spanish rebels. The situation went from bad to worse and in 1813, Napoleon returned
France to the Bourbons, and the son of Charles IV Ferdinand VII. Ferdinand was actually
king for two months in 1808, when he had stepped in after his father’s abdication. Having
been quickly deposed by Napoleon, he regained power in 1813, where he reigned until he
died in 1833.

Imperial Overstretch and the Spanish Ulcer

The Spanish Ulcer presents historians with one of the best “Don’t Let This Happen to You”
examples of imperialistic geography: imperial overstretch. World conquerors on the grand
scale need to remember not to bite off more than they can chew. Don’t take over too much
territory; you might not be able to hold it all. Like a lot of important principles (e.g. “Buy
Low, Sell High,” or “Love Thy Neighbor as Thy Self”), it’s an easy principle to understand.
But it’s often maddeningly difficult to execute. Perhaps in spite of himself, Napoleon
found his armies stretched too thin.

As the French bogged-down in a protracted guerilla war in Spain, the problems of being
stretched too thin created obvious problems for Napoleon. Supply of the troops was a
constant problem. Moreover, the sheer numbers involved were staggering. At one point,
Napoleon had 300,000 soldiers in Spain. This directly weakened his military power in
Central and Eastern Europe. It also hurt his image as a peacemaker and diplomat. Reports
of problems in Spain continually marred the French image, not only by creating
nationalism and political controversy, but also by making the French Empire seem less
stable than it really was.

Austria Breaks the Alliance

With the French weakened in 1809, Austria saw a chance to break from their alliance with
Napoleon. Though ostensible ‘allies,” the Austrians had really signed their treaty with
Napoleon in the aftermath of their military defeats in late 1805. Their status as allies might
easily be confused with that of a conquered nation. By many accounts the French had
behaved atrociously in their occupation of Vienna, virtually having their way with the
population. The treaty between Napoleon and the Austrian Emperor Francis II could barely
conceal the real enmity an tension that lay beneath the flowery treaty language. When
Napoleon weakened some because of the Spanish situation, the Austrians saw their chance.
In 1809 the Austrians declared war on Napoleon.

With still another brilliant decisive campaign, Napoleon quickly moved his troops into the
heart of the Austrian Empire to respond to the Hapsburg challenge. He again handily
defeated his old-time rivals, the battle of Wagram in early July, 1809 being the decisive
blow. Following the battle, the Austrians again signed a Treaty with Napoleon. Peace
seemed restored, yet again. Meanwhile, Napoleon took his renewed close relationship with
the Austrian Emperor Francis II to a new level in 1810, the year after Wagram. He took
the occasion of his great victory to find himself a new wife. Somewhat surprisingly, he
would marry Francis’ daughter, becoming the Austrian Emperor’s son-in-law.

Divorce from Josephine

For several years, Napoleon had quietly been seeking a divorce with Josephine. Any
divorce is complicated, but for Napoleon, divorce especially involved the quest for a male
child – a clear-cut heir to his imperial title. Considered by some to have the background
of little more than a Corsican peasant, Napoleon had always had a chip on his shoulder
about his legitimacy as a ruler of Europe. The search for a legitimizing seal on his power
had been one of the principal reasons Napoleon had moved to declare himself Emperor in
1804, especially significant since the Pope had presided over the ceremony. Nobody, not
really even most Protestants, doubted the legitimacy of the Pope. Still, Napoleon would
have liked an heir. In 1808, the birth of his nephew Louis Napoleon (the future Louis
Napoleon Bonaparte III) to his brother Louis and Josephine’s daughter Hortense had
provided a plausible heir. But still, he was uncle to the boy, not father. Opponents might
challenge the child’s weaker claim. Napoleon wanted his own son.

The problem was, Josephine clearly was beyond the age of child-bearing. Staying married
to Josephine pretty-much doomed Napoleon to the fate of never having a legitimate child.
On a related note, the couple seemed to have entered into something of a mutual mid-life
crisis. Both had reportedly enjoyed numerous affairs. Napoleon was gone a lot
campaigning. He wrote Josephine a copious amount of letters, many of which still exist.
Far fewer letters survive from Josephine to Napoleon – perhaps because the Emperor failed
to save them, or perhaps because they were never written in the first place. Either way, the
impression of a stalled, middle-aged marriage seems eerily modern, in the psychological
sense.

There is a sad and tragic dimension to the failed love of Napoleon and Josephine. Yes, the
marriage in many ways had been political and convenient from the outset. All those years
ago, they say that Josephine had married Napoleon because he was a rising star, and she
had debts, plus two fatherless children. As for Napoleon, he saw in Josephine a well-
connected socialite, able to help him in the exclusive Parisian circles during the
Thermidorean Reaction. But their love seems to have been real, as did their famed sexual
chemistry. Now it was coming to an end. Professional historians sometimes avoid talking
about such personal matters of the heart. After all, it is hard to ‘know’ or verify human
feelings like love in terms of sound historical evidence. Also, historians tend to avoid the
‘bedrooms and bathrooms’ nature of much popular history, with its focus on sex, unreliable
gossip, and sordid details. Still, the love of Napoleon and Josephine is one of the most
famous loves of history. It is worth noting its demise, both in historical and human terms.

On December 9, 1809, Napoleon divorced Josephine. The language in the divorce

agreement was amicable and the terms favorable to Josephine. She retained her title as
Empress, as well as a well-staffed palace at Malmaison. She occasionally saw Napoleon
from time to time following the divorce. Napoleon’s relationship as step-father to
Josephine’s two children – Eugene and Hortense -- by Alexandre de Beauharnais was
firmly established, which also kept the two feeling a sense of kinship as parents of adult
children. Josephine died in 1814 when Napoleon was on Elba. He reportedly retired to his
private chambers upon hearing the news, refusing to speak for three days.

Marie Louise and the King of Rome

On March 11, Napoleon married the nineteen-year old daughter of the Austrian Emperor,
Marie Louise. It was quite a coup, from a certain angle. A Corsican nobody had risen to
power through the gifts of talent, grit and ambition. Now, he married into the Hapsburg
family – bluest of the blue-bloods. The marriage was in proxy, and the two didn’t actually
meet until weeks later, when where the respective entourages of the Austrian Arch-Duchess
and the French Emperor met. Reportedly, among Marie Louise’s first words to the
Emperor were “no,” a word he was no doubt unaccustomed to hearing. She meant that the
marriage wasn’t going to be consummated until a proper marriage ceremony had occurred,
with a decent Catholic official presiding. This is because Marie Louise chafed at the
legalistic, civic and proxy nature of their marriage, in which Napoleon hadn’t even been
present. Napoleon hastily made plans for a public Church marriage, and the marriage
moved forward in the proper sense.

On March 20th, 1811, Marie Louise gave birth to a baby boy, Napoleon’s only legitimate
child. The child’s name was Francis Charles. Napoleon gave the boy the title “King of
Rome,” which he declared connoted the next-in-line for the throne. Napoleon was by all
accounts a doting father. Alas, the fate of the child was a sad one. He died at the age of
21 from consumption, or tuberculosis. For a time, Napoleon and Marie Louise appeared
happily married, despite the difficult circumstances of their arranged marriage. It is worth
noting here that the marriage did not end well, however. In 1814, when Napoleon abdicated
and the allies sent him to exile in Elba, Marie Louis quietly disappeared behind the
Hapsburg lines. She would be made the Duchess of Parma, one of the little restored Italian
duchies. After the death of her husband Napoleon, she re-married the Austrian Count
Albert Adam von Neipperg, by whom she had three children, two of whom were born
before Napoleon’s death in 1821, which left Marie Louise a widow, free to marry Neipperg.

Marie Louise’s abandoning of Napoleon can be seen somewhat sympathetically, since her
Hapsburg handlers no doubt influenced her greatly during these emotionally difficult times.
Nonetheless, the French never really forgave her for abandoning the Emperor. However
quaint, the idea that a woman should stand beside her man during a crisis had a great deal
of cache in French society. Marie Louise’s behavior was often contrasted with that of the
second wife of Napoleon’s brother Jerome Bonaparte, Catherine de Württemberg. After
the fall of Napoleon, she famously stayed loyal to her husband Jerome till her death in
1835, despite her Germanic ties, and the awkward politics it created after 1814. Such
prejudices might not be all that fair to Marie Louise, really just a girl at the time of her
marriage with Napoleon. She later remarked that both she and the Emperor had known
from the outset that the marriage was largely political in nature. At any rate, this is the sad
story of Napoleon’s second wife, Marie Louise. For Napoleon’s biographers, the sad
personal side of Napoleon’s family life adds an additional tragic dimension to the
Emperor’s stunningly rapid fall from power.

Jean Jacques Louis David’s “Napoleon in his Study”

His marriage to Marie Louise having sealed another treaty with Austria, Napoleon again
stood at the zenith of his power. Despite problems with Spain, and the growing murmurs
of discontent with his Russian alliance, the renewed peace with Austria had seemingly
stabilized an international continental framework yet again. The arranged marriage with
Marie Louise – harkening back to the great arranged marriages of medieval times – had
seemed to quell any whisper of doubts about Napoleon’s legitimacy, or his judgement. It
was during this heyday period, after his 1810 marriage to Marie Louise and just prior to
his invasion of Russia in 1812, that the French artists Jean Jacques Louis David painted his
famous “Portrait of the Emperor Napoleon in his Study.” It was yet another of the great
David paintings of Napoleon.
 Figure 1Jean Jacques Louis David's 1810 painting of Napoleon at the very height of his power.

Napoleon in his study shows the Emperor just at the age of 40. The candles in the portrait
have burned low, showing that it is the middle of the night. The burning candles, coupled
with the grandfather clock in the background reading a time of 4:13, indicates that it is four
in the morning. This was David’s way of showing Napoleon as a round-the-clock
workaholic, never tiring of working on behalf of the French people and, indeed, all
Europeans. Napoleon also was one of history’s famous “cat-nappers.” Like Thomas
Edison and a few others, he claimed to need very little sleep, believing it a waste of time.
Instead, he was known to take brief power-naps during the day – before meetings, or even
battles. This supposedly kept him fresh and alert, despite a lifelong habit of staying awake
up until the wee hours.

David’s painting of “Napoleon in his Study” also contains other clues as to the Emperor’s
achievements and career. A curled-up version of the Code is visible on the stand beside
the Emperor, along with a sword. The two props show Napoleon’s prowess as a civil
figure, and reminds viewers that Napoleon was also a great man of war. Napoleon’s
famous ‘imperial bees,’ one of his favorite symbols, decorate the imperial-style furniture
in the scene.

Build-Up to the Invasion of Russia

Though still bogged-down in Spain, the marriage with Marie Louise had seemed to re-
affirm once again Napoleon’s good fortune. Now, he even had an heir to the throne.
Somewhat amazingly, however, it was not long after the birth of his child that had made
what was almost certainly the most disastrous decision of his career. He decided to invade
Russia. Indeed, Napoleon’s invasion of Russia is probably one of the most colossal
military failures in the history of the world. Always something of a gambler with a lucky
streak, Napoleon bet big on a successful campaign against Russia, his erstwhile ally. The
outcome of the campaign showed the extent to which his fortunes were changing. It was
such a total catastrophe that, in retrospect, it is hard to believe that a general as intelligent
and savvy as Napoleon could make such a colossal, costly blunder.

Of course, Napoleon was not as stupid as the Invasion of Russia made him seem. In the
Spring of 1812 when he was planning the invasion, few could foresee what happened.
Napoleon decided to invade Russia for a variety of complex reasons – some of them murky,
but no less significant. First of all, Russia was another country failing to enforce the
Continental System. Russia had enjoyed close trading relationships with England going
back to the days of the Tudors. It was hard for Napoleon, the Czar, or anybody else to
simply cancel centuries’ worth of commercial ties. A winter country, Russia was already
heavily dependent on English textiles, where the warm wool and cotton clothes, sold at
affordable prices, often had come from British manufacturers. Russia also saw itself as a
member of the busting community of seafaring peoples in the Baltic and North Sea waters,
of which England was also a vital player. In this way, Napoleon’s increasingly strident
expectations regarding the enforcement of the Continental System incensed the Czar. After
the friendly glow of Tilsit, the relationship between Napoleon and the Czar cooled. The
two men had something of a personal falling out, one that accompanied the growing
distance between their two peoples.

Also, the situation with Poland, and the creation of the Grand Duchy of Warsaw had
strained Franco-Russian ties. While it is true that most of the territories to create the Grand
Duchy had come from German territories, especially Prussia, Napoleon’s role as a
champion of Polish national aspirations also drove a wedge between the French and the
long-term international planning of the Czar’s foreign policy thinkers. Russia did not want
to see a strong and independent Poland on its western border. For one thing, it still
controlled what today would be considered most of eastern Poland. A strong Polish state
in West Poland therefore posed nature risks to Russia’s overall Polish policy. In some
ways, the equation was a simple one: the closer France and Poland became, the father apart
Russia and France would grow.

Perhaps most of all was Napoleon’s personal ambition, so tied to his status as one of
history’s most significant military figures. With Europe at peace, the Napoleonic brand
grew staid and boring – something that Napoleon, for better or worse, had never been
accused of before. Peace and prosperity are perhaps one of the greatest blessings history
can bestow on any given people or society. On the other hand, peace and prosperity has
also tended to favor the Lilliputians over Gulliver – the petty and the conniving over the
grand and heroic. Napoleon arguably needed military victories on a periodic basis to
bolster his image. Perhaps that is the ultimate reason why, in spite of other simpler options,
Napoleon decided to invade Russia.

Napoleon probably never fathomed that his armies would trudge all the way to Moscow
and back. He assumed that once had crossed the Russian border with his huge Grande
Armée, the Russians would naturally meet him head-on, not that deep into Russian
territory. He would win a quick, decisive victory – his forte as a general. When the treaties
were signed, Russia would again ally itself with France, and peace would be restored.
Napoleon’s glory would be enhanced, and a relatively little cost. From napoleon’s
perspective, a quick campaign against Russia would have a lot of diplomatic and political
advantages. Unfortunately for Napoleon, it didn’t turn out that way.

The Invasion of Russia

Napoleon entered Russia with 600,000 soldiers on June 24, 1812. The army was huge –
his Grande Armée. It was no longer simply a French army. The army had scores of
languages represented in it. Proper administration required a bevy of interspersed liberally
laced throughout the ranks. -- French, Italian, German, Polish, Czech, Hungarian and
Spanish. It was the epitome of an international, imperial force. The Grande Armée
represented all that Napoleon had sought – the ecumenism of a European community, and
a grand alliance strategy of power against any enemies or rebels against Napoleon’s mighty
hegemony. The army represented the greatest asset Napoleon had, as well as being
probably the greatest army history had known up to that point. It was this army that
Napoleon squared on the barren wintery plains of the Russian land-mass.

When Napoleon invaded, the Russian army wisely avoided fighting according to
Napoleon’s playbook. Instead, they simply retreated back into the interior of their huge
motherland. Flustered, Napoleon drove deeper into Russian territory, seeking the enemy
forces. In this way, they drew Napoleon in. On he marched towards Moscow. As he
moved deeper into Russian territory, the Russians began burning their towns and fields,
defying Napoleon to feed his own troops. Since an army that size of Napoleon’s army in
1812 counted on ‘living off the land’ to an extent, the Russian strategy was a blade at the
throat of the French invading force.

Napoleon had once quipped that an ‘army marches on its stomach.’ He meant that feeding
an army was, in many ways, as difficult or more than the actual battlefield operations an
army was designed to execute. To feed an army of 600,000 men was no small task.
Napoleon’s army was a travelling city, nearly twice the size of Pittsburgh. Supply lines to
feed such an army were a vast snakelike trail of wagons, carts, and horses reaching
backwards towards the back part of the advancing army. Supply lines like that posed a
grave threat of ambush, since a smart attack would tend to attack the rear. As Napoleon
pushed deeper and deeper into Russia, the supply-lines became less and less viable.

On September 14, Napoleon entered Moscow. The Russians had deserted the city. The
Russians actually put up some significant fighting on the outskirts of the city, especially
the bloody battle of Borodino on September 7. But despite the bloodshed, the fighting
proved inconclusive. The Russians withdrew still further, allowing Napoleon to take their
iconic Russian capital. In doing so, Napoleon had entered yet another of the great capitals
of the world. For a period of a few days, a mood of triumph and exultation prevailed
amongst the Grand Armée. Later in his life, despite the huge debacle it became, Napoleon
would recall the moment of entering Moscow as one a part with his other great occupations
of imperial capitals: Vienna, Rome, Berlin, and Madrid.

Bonaparte’s Retreat

Reaching Moscow was indeed a feat. The German army in World War II failed to do so.
For a time, Napoleon basked in the glory. Napoleon even spent his nights in the Kremlin,
sleeping in the Czar’s bed. He made fun of Alexander’s somewhat effeminate rosy pink
pillows and sheets. It felt good to rest a bit after the long haul into the Russian interior.
Napoleon later remarked that it was a mistake to spend a month sleeping in the Kremlin.
It cost him precious time. Meanwhile, the Russians weren’t negotiating. The city was
mostly deserted. Off somewhere beyond the Moscow suburbs, the Russian army had
simply disappeared. It was unthinkable that the Grand Armée would push even deeper into
Russian territory. The worst problem was that there was no food for his huge army, at this
point still largely in-tact and having suffered relatively few casualties. Facing the specter
of starving troops and the oncoming winter, Napoleon made his fateful decision: on
October 19th, the Grande Armée began leaving Moscow.

“Bonaparte’s Retreat” was one of the most colossal, horrific debacles in military history.
The timing could not have been worse. In the far north, with a continental climate far from
any sea-winds, Russia presented some of the coldest and most hostile terrain Napoleon’s
troops could have faced. Napoleon himself abandoned his army – the second time he did
so. He rushed back to Paris in a sleigh, fearing that the rumors of his military catastrophe
would undermine his power back home in France. As the troops began marching, they
soon succumbed to starvation and frostbite on the Russian plain. Russian snipers had a
field-day taking pot-shots at troops in the retreating forces. Soldiers who died were often
abandoned by the marching soldiers, breaching one of the most ancient codes of honorable
warfare. Many soldiers simply vanished. Order and discipline failed and desertions began
to deplete the ranks of the Grande Armée. By the time the Grande Armée crossed the
Niemen River back into Polish territory, there were only 50,000 troops remaining of what
had once been an army of over half a million men. It was a catastrophe.

The Aftermath of the Invasion of Russia

Upon returning from Russia, Napoleon found his vast Continental System of allies, client
states and expanded French territories in a crisis mode. The Russians not only expelled the
French from Mother Russia, they also followed Napoleon into the heart of Europe, thus
continuing the state of war into 1813. Sweden joined with Russia in a combined effort to
stop the French hegemony, once and for all. Prussia aligned itself with Russia, meaning
Napoleon spent much of the year fighting battles and desperately trying to negotiate some
kind of a settlement. And, of course, England remained ever menacing, not only on the
high-seas, but also in Spain. The Duke of Wellington defeated the French and Spanish
forces of Napoleon’s brother King Joseph of Spain. In the wake of the battle, Napoleon
abandoned Spain, allowing it to return back to its former Bourbon dynasty under Ferdinand
VII.

The wild-card of early 1813 was Austria. Napoleon could not believe that the Austrian
Emperor would break his alliance with France. After all, the alliance of 1809 had been
sealed with a marriage between the French Emperor and the daughter of the Austrian
Emperor –the most personal political bond that one could imagine. In fact, his faith in the
security of the alliance with Austria had probably helped to inform his decision to invade
Russia. He believed that the marriage with Marie Louise had made the Franco-Austrian
alliance virtually unbreakable. To strengthen it even more, Marie Louise had given birth
to Napoleon’s son. The Austrian Emperor was not only Napoleon’s father-in-law. He was
also grandfather to Napoleon’s own son. Despite these considerations, however, the
Austrian Emperor declared war on Napoleon on August 12, joining in the Grand Alliance
that forming to fight the French.

The Battle of Nations

On October 14th, 1813, the Allies fighting the French engaged Napoleon at the Battle of
Nations, or, as others know it, The Battle of Leipzig. The battle lasted four days. For
peoples from the great old French Empire now remained. The Poles in the Grand Duchy
of Warsaw remained under Napoleon’s banner, as did the Germans from the Kingdom of
Saxony, the king of which had governed Warsaw in personal union. Napoleon’s brother-
in-law Joachim Murat also venture north from his Kingdom of Naples in the south of Italy
to fought alongside his old comrade. Still, the odds were now stacked against Napoleon.

Napoleon had lost the best of his army on the plains of Russia. Returning to Paris, he had
raised a hasty army, using the old Revolution-era law the Levée en Masse. These troops
lacked the experience and training of the seasoned armies in their prime that had won
Napoleon his greatest victories. At Leipzig, Napoleon’s troops fared poorly. Things went
so badly that the Saxon troops changed sides during the battle, Napoleon’s last significant
German allies abandoning him during the heat of the fighting. Barely avoiding a complete
rout, Napoleon beat a hasty retreat back to Paris, where he focused on defending France.
The bad old days were back. The Hapsburgs and their allies moved slowly but surely
towards the French capital.

Napoleon’s Isolation and the Defense of Paris

It was almost like the Summer of 1792 all over again. Once again, Paris faced the peril of
foreign invasion, twenty years of brilliant French military supremacy down the drain.
Napoleon’s famous “Defense of Paris” actually revived the once widespread admiration
for his brilliant and decisive capacities to maneuver armies. But the overall reality was that
the Allies’ march towards Paris was virtually inexorable. Napoleon bought some precious
time during the first few months of 1814, keeping the invaders at bay with his quick troop
movements and evasive tactics. Still, the Emperor’s fate had been mostly sealed at the
Battle of Leipzig back in October, 1813. France was now almost completely isolated
diplomatically, with soldiers for many countries amassing on its territory. At first, the
Allies offered terms that, in retrospect, Napoleon might well should have taken. They
offered to leave Napoleon in power should he accept the return of France to its old borders
of 1789. Napoleon refused. Had he accepted, who knows? The Bonapartes might still be
one of Europe’s important dynastic families, like the Bourbons in Spain, the House of
Orange in Holland, or the Windsors of England. But Napoleon refused. Thus, he sealed
his fate, and that of the French Empire.

By March, the enemy had effectively surrounded Paris. On March 9th, the four Allies –
Russia, Prussia, Austria and England – signed the Treaty of Chaumont. In it, they
collectively vowed to avoid separate negotiations with Napoleon, making it practically
impossible for the French to negotiate any kind of settlement that might weaken the assault
on Paris. Napoleon heretofore had been a master at the ‘divide and conquer’ style of
diplomacy, deftly pitting one of his adversaries against another, therefore accommodating
the possibility of separate arrangements with each. Such tactics had always weakened the
resolve of the international coalitions formed against him, and usually produced better final
terms for France. As late as March, 1814, Napoleon had probably still been hoping for
such an outcome, particularly in terms of his father-in-law, the Austrian Emperor. The
Treaty of Chaumont, however, eliminated any hope of such a last-minute deal.

Napoleon’s disastrous military situation compounded the difficulties facing his marriage.
A few decisive victories might have won his father-in-law back over to the French. But it
was not to be. On March 29th, Marie Louise slipped away from Paris with her son, the
King of Rome. A few weeks later she turned up behind the Austrian lines. On March 30th,
the Allied positioned troops around Paris and made preparations for entering the city. By
April 1, the city was effectively under foreign occupation. The only hope remaining now
for Napoleon involved achieving some sort of favorable solution diplomatically or
politically. Along with the elite cadre of his Old Guard, and his senior officers, he secluded
himself at Fontainebleau, his palace on the outskirts of Paris.

The Treaty of Fontainebleau: The First Abdication and Elba

Napoleon could perhaps have thrown France into a guerilla war lasting decades. He could
have scattered his remaining forces into remote areas to harass the enemy for years to come.
After a long and emotional period of vacillating, however, he finally agreed to abdicate his
throne. The Marshalls in the room, and the mustachioed Old Guard, were shocked at how
quickly and totally the end had come. The Emperor made a stirring farewell speech in the
Garden of the Palace, addressing the men who had fought with him for so long. Eyes grew
wet with tears. Finally, Napoleon was ready. On April 11, 1814, he agreed to the terms
presented by the Allies in the Treaty of Fontainebleau.
The Allies actually provided fairly favorable terms with the Treaty of Fontainebleau. The
Treaty granted that Napoleon and Marie Louise would retain their imperial titles. While
retaining her title as Empress, the Treaty also made Marie Louise the Duchess of Parma.
She held this title till the end of her life in 1847. Hinting at the estrangement of Napoleon
and Marie Louise that ensued, the Treaty also granted de facto custody of the King of Rome
to Marie, calling him “her son,” and titling him the Prince of Parma. The Treaty of
Fontainebleau also guaranteed that Napoleon’s family would retain their titles as princes
of the Empire. King Joseph and his wife Queen Julie (Clary) were named. King Louis
was given a generous stipend of 200,000 francs. Interestingly, Louis’s wife, Queen
Hortense, the daughter of Josephine and Alexandre de Beauharnais, was itemized
separately in the treaty from her husband. Louis received a stipend of 200,000 francs, and
Hortense received a stipend of 300,000 francs, the superior amount no doubt intended to
support her children, including the future Louis Napoleon Bonaparte III. Louis and
Hortense had drifted apart at this time and Hortense had even taken up with another lover,
outside of her marriage vows to Louis. She had borne a child by this other man in 1811.
Jerome and his Queen – Catherine de Württemberg – received 500, 000 francs. Even
Madame Mère, Napoleon’s mother, retained her title -- i.e. Madame Mère -- as well as a
generous stipend of 300,000.

The Treaty also looked favorably on Josephine. Along with Marie Louise, Josephine also
retained her title as Empress of the French. Her income was reduced to 1,000,000 francs.
The Treaty also guaranteed Josephine the full rights to all her property, both real and
personal. This would have included Malmaison, the beautiful estate outside of Paris she
had retained during her divorce with Napoleon. Unfortunately, Josephine died on May
29th, scarcely a month after the treaty was signed. She was a popular and well-loved
woman. When Napoleon heard of her death, he wept bitterly.

Emperor of Elba

Another major part of the Treaty of Fontainebleau was that Napoleon agreed to exile on
the island of Elba. Here, he was allowed to retain a tiny shred of his power and sovereignty,
as well as his once glorious titles. In effect, the Allies made Napoleon the Emperor of
Elba.

Having to do with death and dying, war is never really humorous. Nonetheless, it is
practically hilarious, in retrospect, how the allies effectively made Napoleon the Emperor
of Elba, a little Italian island – ten miles wide and sixteen miles long -- off the Tuscan
coast. The Treaty of Fontainebleau named Elba as a separate principality to be possessed
by Napoleon, in all his sovereignty, for the remainder of his life. Napoleon retained his
formal title of Emperor, recognized by the international protocols of the Treaty. By ruling
over the principality of Elba, Napoleon retained at least some sliver of being a legitimate
European ruler, with a proper title and lands. As the Treaty specifically also stipulated that
Napoleon would also keep his title of Emperor, this effectively made Napoleon, quite
literally, the Emperor of Elba.
The other hilarious thing about making Napoleon the Emperor of Elba is that the Treaty of
Fontainebleau also granted Napoleon possession of an armed guard of 400 men, as well as
a small warship. So Napoleon really did function as a little tiny head of state, almost like
the Pope as head of the Vatican City State, or the Prince of Lichtenstein. He even had his
own little security force. This potential for free movement, and his small security
entourage, became the basis of his return to France less than a year after the Treaty was
signed.

It’s hard to fault the Allies for their relatively conciliatory terms granted to Napoleon at the
Treaty of Fontainebleau. Though they might have seemed hash at the time, they appear
very gentle in view of what happened later. After all, the Austrian Emperor was
grandfather to Napoleon’s son. At any rate, they severely underestimated Napoleon. His
relative freedom of movement on the island of Elba included the ability to receive visitors,
as well as receive his own correspondence. For a few months, Napoleon even seemed to
acclimate himself to his newfound role as the Prince of Elba. He reportedly reformed the
Elban civil service, inding small solace by exercising his natural talent for administration.
His mother came to stay with Napoleon on Elba, reportedly loving the charm, comfort and
elegance of the little Italian principality. She advised Napoleon to be content with his new
lot. But Elba was far too small a pond for the likes of Napoleon. Elba made even little
Corsica look a Great Power.

To add to Napoleon’s restlessness, visitors to the island filled with the Emperor’s head with
reports of the newfound discontent back home in France. The Congress of Vienna had
installed Louis XVIII – Louis XVI’s brother -- back on the French throne, beginning the
famous Bourbon Restoration. Many French were beginning to remember what they had
hated about the Bourbons. The new court brought a return to the titled snobbery of the Old
Regime. Some of Napoleon’s most distinguished officers were now in Louis’ royal army,
yet the king seemed to sniff at their distinguished military careers and formal capacities,
seemingly able to see only their lack of a noble birth. Given the uncertainty of the times,
Napoleon sensed a chance to strike. Never one to let an opportunity pass him by, Napoleon
entered into clandestine – and still murky to this day – arrangements to sail to the south of
France. He returned to France on March 1, 1815. He had 1000 men with him. With this
small group representing his paltry base of power, Napoleon was about to re-take the entire
nation of France.

The 100 Days

Standing on the sands of the beach near Cannes with a small group of supporters and
guards, Napoleon literally began marching north towards Paris. It’s really an amazing
story, and a fittingly colorful epitaph for such a colorful and dramatic career. The First
Abdication at Elba had seemed passive and inconclusive, a drab demotion. In the end, for
better or worse, Napoleon wanted to go down swinging, in a blaze of glory. Or, even better,
he wanted to regain his title as Emperor and rule the French once again. Either way, he
chafed at the boredom and provincialism of life as the prince of little Elba, however secure
and comfortable it seemed. After the whole dramatic final episode of Napoleon’s career
had ended, somebody noticed that it lasted exactly 100 Days, from his landing on the south
of France to his second Abdication after the catastrophic loss at Waterloo. Thus, the name
100 Days has entered the history books, one of the most heroic, colorful, and question-
raising moments in modern political history.

As he began the move north, Napoleon had to be careful. The trek through Provence was
royalist country. Still, he proceeded remarkably unmolested, given the circumstances. It
is almost impossible to imagine anybody today pulling-off such a dramatic stunt, in the age
of aerial surveillance, digital financial records, GPS tracking, and instantaneous electronic
communications. Napoleon’s relatively easy landing on the beach reminds us of how much
technology has changed the world in the past two centuries. Still, as word quickly spread,
the journals and newspapers in Paris reported the stunning news: Napoleon has returned.

Napoleon gambled upon the army supporting him upon his return from Elba. Having
commanded the French troops for nearly two decades, he had a hunch that the loyalties of
the rank-and-file soldier lay with him, and not Louis XVIII. It was a gamble that paid rich
dividends. Upon arriving, Napoleon’s supporters began distributing small handbills
containing his famous “Proclamation to the Army.” In it, Napoleon railed against the
restored government. He promised to cleanse Paris of the pollution that treason and enemy
troops had left there. Referencing the great capitals the army had once occupied – Berlin,
Madrid, Rome, and Moscow – Napoleon promised his former soldiers that they could once
again show their scars, going into their old age as proud veterans of the greatest army the
world had ever known. As these handbills circulated widely around France, the mixed
emotions of hysteria, euphoria and panic collectively rose. The Congress of Vienna,
outraged, declared that by effectively launching an invasion of France, Napoleon had
forfeited the titles they had graciously allowed him to maintain in the Treaty of
Fontainebleau. They vowed an unconditional, no compromises war against him to remove
him from power, forever.

At first, Louis XVIII, back in the Tuileries, stayed relaxed. It seemed impossible that
Napoleon could actually overthrow him with such scant resources and manpower. But as
Napoleon had moved northward, his power had grown almost exponentially. On March 7,
senior officers at a military fort near Grenoble defected to their old general, swelling
Napoleon’s numbers. The scene was described in almost ecstatic terms, as cries of “Vive
l’Empereur” and a mood of adulation gripped the soldiers. Napoleon was back. In Paris,
one of Napoleon’s principal old Marshalls, the bravest of the brave Marshall Ney, promised
his new ruler Louis XVIII that he would bring Napoleon back to Paris in a cage. Leaving
Paris with a contingent of troops charged with capturing Napoleon, Ney defected, showing
up three days later at Napoleon’s side. (After Waterloo, Ney was executed on December
7th by a firing squad for his treason against the King.) On March 19, the King left Paris,
fleeing north into the security of Belgium. Napoleon march into Paris on the King’s heels,
with the city in shock. In three weeks’ time, Napoleon had conquered France, with virtually
no bloodshed.

The Battle of Waterloo

Napoleon knew he had little time. The Allies meeting at the Congress of Vienna made it
immediately clear at the outset that they would never accept his return to power. In France,
Napoleon presented himself as the old liberal of his youth, promising to maintain liberal
reforms in a new Constitution, and rule as a constitutional sovereign. He also raised an
army, once again relying on the old Convention-era device of the Levée en Masse. Senior
officers hastily matriculated the hastily assembled young conscripts into the army, drilling
for the major do-or-die showdown battle that everybody knew was imminent. Meanwhile,
the British – close in their proximity to the Channel – brought over a major land-force to
the Belgium. Their leader was Arthur Wellesley, formerly an earl and now a duke – the
famed Duke of Wellington. To his forces were added what other troops there were,
including Dutch and Prussian soldiers. The road to Waterloo had begun.

On June 15th, Napoleon moved his army into Belgium to confront the Duke. On Saint
Helena, Napoleon mused that it had been a mistake to move his troops into Belgian
territory. For two decades Belgium had been incorporated directly into the French
administrative system as a Department. In some ways, therefore, Napoleon seemed to re-
assert the old French claims to this long-contested region. But more than that, Napoleon
had always believed in taking the fight to the enemy. It was his signature move as a general,
his calling card. His great victories had been fought on enemy soil. In some ways, this
made Napoleon seem the aggressor, but it was also a function of his defensive mind. It a
war was to be fought anyway, shock the enemy with lightning quick probes deep into his
territory. Attack the enemy before he has had sufficient time to react. This was Napoleon’s
time-tested approach of fighting, and he resorted to it again in June of 1815. Napoleon’s
invasion of Belgium didn’t really matter much in the final analysis. Even if he had stayed
in France, proper, the Allies would have simply invaded France again. Still, the politics
and diplomacy might have been different, and France would have had the home-field
advantage, as it were. These are history’s hypotheticals, however – speculation over what-
if scenarios that never happened.

On June 18th, Napoleon’s troops and the Duke of Wellington’s troops engaged outside of
Brussels on the green fields nearby the little farming town of Waterloo. Feeling, ill,
Napoleon famously permitted his subordinates to handle much of the fighting on the
morning of the battle, only emerging from his tent in the afternoon. By then, the tides were
already turning against the French. Upon entering the fray, Napoleon ordered a huge
artillery barrage on the Duke’s forces. Later in his life the Duke supposedly remarked that
the Emperor’s presence on the battlefield that day visible rallied the French troops, being
worth more than a reinforcement of 20,000 men. Still, the French failed to break through
Wellington’s lines. Any hope of a French rally or turnaround ended around 7:00 p.m. when
a Prussian Army under General Blucher arrived – hours late – to reinforce the Duke. By
then, the French army was in a rout. Napoleon was almost captured on the battlefield.
Only an almost mythically heroic defense of the Emperor’s person protected his retreat
back to Paris. He spent a lonely few days in the empty halls of the great Tuileries palace,
abandoned by even his closest supporters.

On June 22, Napoleon abdicated a second time. His original abdication was in favor of
replacement by his son the King of Rome, but the Allies would have none of it. Louis
XVIIII moved back into Paris and the Napoleon was again out of power. Napoleon passed
the next weeks haunting his old haunts, including Malmaison, full of so many happy
memories with Josephine. With the Bourbons back in power, he actually had more to fear
from the French than the English. In July, he surrendered his person to the English, after
exhausting every plot to flee to America, or some other safe sanctuary. Taking custody of
the Emperor, the British decided to exile Napoleon one last time, to a place where it would
be virtually impossible for him to return. They chose the island of Saint Helena, literally
in the middle of the South Atlantic almost exactly halfway between Brazil and the West
African coast. A boat named the Northumberland brought the former Emperor to his new
island home, arriving on October 17th, 1815. Napoleon would never leave.

The Gospel of Saint Helena

Napoleon lived on Saint Helena for six years. The island is relatively barren and
windswept, though not without its beauties. After an initial stay at a few local guest houses,
the British moved Napoleon to Longwood House. He would die there. He passed his last
few years enjoying food, probably too much, as he gained a good bit of weight. He
gardened. He chafed at his subordination to the petty, minor-league British officials who
governed remote Saint Helena. He took English lessons. Perhaps most of all, he dictated
his memoirs. In the years to come, historians somewhat ironically named these The Gospel
of Saint Helena. In his memoirs, Napoleon recounted all the major moments of his life,
explaining the thinking behind his actions. In so doing, Napoleon resurrected one of his
greatest talents, the art of spinning the story his way. Whether it was blatant self-
promotion, or a sense of the mythic moment, Napoleon had a flare to explaining complex
events in a way that showed him in his most favorable light. In a way, this last
accomplishment, his ability to move from the realm of history to the realm of myth and
legend, ensured that his memory will live on as long as historians continue to write – and
tell – the great stories of history.

The Napoleonic Myth, created in no small part by Napoleon himself, said that Napoleon
had done everything he did for France. All the wars Napoleon fought were fought in self-
defense. This thesis contradicts the sometimes popular image of the Emperor as a vain,
ambitious, conquering bully, using Europe as his footstool to propel his own personal
glory, and his political career. Is it true? Who could say for sure one way or the other. It
certainly is true that there is a fair amount of blame to go around with regards to the set of
wars that now bear Napoleon’s name, the Napoleonic Wars. These wars cost Europe one
million lives. It’s hard for humans not to assign blame – good guys and bad guys. In
Napoleon’s version of events, he was fighting for France, and, by extrapolation, the values
of the French Revolution, especially “careers open to talent.”

Napoleon’s Tomb: How to Remember Napoleon

Napoleon died on Saint Helena in 1821. He was only 51 years old. His career was over at
an age when many modern men or women in executive leadership are only reaching their
prime. Napoleon’s career stuns with the velocity at which the Corsican had arisen: a
general at 24, commander of the Army of Northern Italy at 26, Consul at 30, Emperor at
34. Then, Napoleon had fought the battle of Waterloo at the age of 46 – still a young man
by most reckonings. But even on the day of the battle, he seemed washed-up and lethargic,
like some aging old athlete losing the smoke off his fastball. Afterwards, the British enemy
had shipped him unceremoniously to one of the most desolate places on the face of the
planet. Now, at 51, he was dead. The British buried him in a small garden grave on Saint
Helena, adjacent to Longwood House.

In 1840, the French government of the Constitutional King Louis Philippe decided to have
Napoleon’s body returned to Paris for a proper state funeral and burial. With English
permission, of course, the body was exhumed from its Saint Helena and brought back to
France. Witnesses briefly opened the coffin upon its unearthing, remarking at the well-
preserved features of the Emperor. His uniform and the slimming effects of the
decomposition gave him the old appearance of the First Consul. The body was placed in a
more substantial series of coffins and outer sarcophagi and loaded onto a ship for transport
back to France. After 19 years, the Emperor was returning home.

As the French made preparations to receive the body of their former Emperor, a very
important debate occurred. How should the French remember their former ruler? Debates
of his nature, in any given society, are important, because they remind us of one of history’s
most essential tasks, which is to serve as a keeper of the public memory – of the people’s
stories, heroes, and the lessons thereof. At the same time, the truth is paramount, as are
facts. Moreover, what lessons and values does a society enshrine when it commemorates
its dead leaders, or other public figures? Should we build a Washington Monument, visible
for miles and miles from any vantage point in the city? Such a structure tells onlookers
that this person represents core values that we lift up as essential, honorable, and positive:
duty, perhaps, or valor and wisdom. Or, conversely, should we simply cremate the dead,
leaving them without stone memorials of any kind. In that way, we discourage the
transmission of their values to future generations. We discourage tourism based on a past
we do not honor, or philosophical enemies we should not, and cannot, tolerate. Such
questions having to do with historical memory are key functions of historical narrative, and
they are different than the mundane duties of any professional historian researching topic
x in some obscure archive. Such questions go to the heart of why we study history, as a
people – of what purpose and value there is in the collective understanding of the past, if
there is such a thing.

In the end, the French compromised in their handling of Napoleon’s tomb and final resting
place. He was entombed in a massive, beautiful red stone sarcophagus, like the red
porphyry marble coffins of the old Roman Emperors. He is buried in a Christian chapel,
filled with traditional Roman Catholic adornments, and highlighted by a glittering golden
cross. Other great French military figures are entombed nearby. The setting reminds us
that Napoleon is one of history’s greatest imperial and military figures – a man on a par
with Caesar, or Charlemagne, or Alexander. Really, in retrospect, France was at the all—
time height of its power under Napoleon. Though few fully realized it in 1815, France
would never really be as great again as it had been under Napoleon. Napoleon was the
culmination of a powerful France envisioned by French rulers since the Middle Ages.
When he lost at Waterloo, something precious in terms of the French national and patriotic
ideal fell too, even if in a largely military guise. In the tomb of Napoleon, gazing at the
implied gravitas of his stone tomb, one remembers the greatness of France – one of
history’s most important and powerful countries.

On the other hand, when one steps outside, one realizes that one is in a little chapel in an
old, former hospital for wounded veterans of the Napoleonic Wars, Les Invalides. The
hospital itself is in a somewhat out of the way neighborhood of Paris, not in a central, iconic
zone like the Eifel Tower, Notre Dame, or the Louvre. The chapel sits adjacent to the old
hospital barracks, where rows of wounded and permanently disabled veterans once
languished. It reminds us of the cost of war in general, and of the Napoleonic Wars, in
particular. For France, and indeed all of Europe, the cost was huge. And, as is often the
case, the cost was mostly heavily borne by the common people of France, pawns in the
larger game of international power politics. Napoleon excelled at this game, at least for a
time. In the end, however, it all failed and France roughly returned back to some version
of where it had been in 1789. Napoleon was gone. It was left to posterity to try to
comprehend the amazing, confusing and epochal events that had just taken place.