2015년 8월 31일 월요일
Niebla Nivola 1
Niebla Nivola 1
Niebla Nivola
Author: Miguel de Unamuno
PRÓLOGO
Se empeña don Miguel de Unamuno en que ponga yo un prólogo a este
su libro en que se relata la tan lamentable historia de mi buen
amigo Augusto Pérez y su misteriosa muerte, y yo no puedo menos sino
escribirlo, porque los deseos del señor Unamuno son para mí mandatos,
en la más genuina acepción de este vocablo. Sin haber yo llegado al
extremo de escepticismo hamletiano de mi pobre amigo Pérez, que llegó
hasta a dudar de su propia existencia, estoy por lo menos firmemente
persuadido de que carezco de eso que los psicólogos llaman libre
albedrío, aunque para mi consuelo creo también que tampoco goza don
Miguel de él.
Parecerá acaso extraño a alguno de nuestros lectores que sea yo, un
perfecto desconocido en la república de las letras españolas, quien
prologue un libro de don Miguel que es ya ventajosamente conocido en
ella, cuando la costumbre es que sean los escritores más conocidos
los que hagan en los prólogos la presentación de aquellos otros que
lo sean menos. Pero es que nos hemos puesto de acuerdo don Miguel y
yo para alterar esta perniciosa costumbre, invirtiendo los términos,
y que sea el desconocido el que al conocido presente. Porque en rigor
los libros más se compran por el cuerpo del texto que no por el
prólogo, y es natural por lo tanto que cuando un joven principiante
como yo, desee darse a conocer, en vez de pedir a un veterano de las
letras que le escriba un prólogo de presentación, debe rogarle que le
permita ponérselo a una de sus obras. Y esto es a la vez resolver uno
de los problemas de ese eterno pleito de los jóvenes y los viejos.
Únenme, además, no pocos lazos con don Miguel de Unamuno. Aparte de
que este señor saca a relucir en este libro, sea novela o _nivola_
(véase pág. 158)—y conste que esto de la _nivola_ es invención mía—,
no pocos dichos y conversaciones que con el malogrado Augusto Pérez
tuve, y que narra también en ella la historia del nacimiento de mi
tardío hijo Victorcito, parece que tengo algún lejano parentesco con
don Miguel, ya que mi apellido es el de uno de sus antepasados,
según doctísimas investigaciones genealógicas de mi amigo Antolín S.
Paparrigópulos, tan conocido en el mundo de la erudición.
Yo no puedo prever ni la acojida que esta _nivola_ obtendrá de parte
del público que lee a don Miguel, ni cómo se la tomarán a éste. Hace
algún tiempo que vengo siguiendo con alguna atención la lucha que don
Miguel ha entablado con la ingenuidad pública y estoy verdaderamente
asombrado de lo profunda y cándida que es ésta. Con ocasión de sus
artículos en el _Mundo Gráfico_ y en alguna otra publicación análoga,
ha recibido don Miguel algunas cartas y recortes de periódicos de
provincias que ponen de manifiesto los tesoros de candidez ingenua
y de simplicidad palomina que todavía se conservan en nuestro
pueblo. Una vez comentan aquella su frase de que el Sr. Cervantes
(don Miguel) no carecía de algún ingenio y parece se escandalizan
de la irreverencia; otra se enternecen por esas sus melancólicas
reflexiones sobre la caída de las hojas; ya se entusiasman por su
grito ¡guerra a la guerra! que le arrancó el dolor de ver que los
hombres se mueren aunque no los maten; ya reproducen aquel puñado de
verdades no paradójicas que publicó después de haberlas recojido por
todos los cafés, círculos y cotarrillos, donde andaban podridas de
puro manoseadas y hediendo a ramplonería ambiente, por lo que las
reconocieron como suyas los que las reprodujeron, y hasta ha habido
palomilla sin hiel que se ha indignado de que este logómaco de don
Miguel escriba algunas veces Kultura con K mayúscula y después de
atribuirse habilidad para inventar amenidades reconozca ser incapaz
de producir colmos y juegos de palabras, pues sabido es que para este
público ingenuo el ingenio y la amenidad se reducen a eso: a los
colmos y los juegos de palabras.
Y menos mal que ese ingenuo público no parece haberse dado cuenta de
alguna otra de las diabluras de don Miguel, a quien a menudo le pasa
lo de pasarse de listo, como es aquello de escribir un artículo y
luego subrayar al azar unas palabras cualesquiera de él, invirtiendo
las cuartillas para no poder fijarse en cuáles lo hacía. Cuando me lo
contó le pregunté por qué había hecho eso y me dijo: «¡Qué sé yo...
por buen humor! ¡Por hacer una pirueta! Y además porque me encocoran
y ponen de mal humor los subrayados y las palabras en bastardilla.
Eso es insultar al lector, es llamarle torpe, es decirle: ¡fíjate,
hombre, fíjate, que aquí hay intención! Y por eso le recomendaba yo
a un señor que escribiese sus artículos todo en bastardilla para que
el público se diese cuenta de que eran intencionadísimos desde la
primera palabra a la última. Eso no es más que la pantomima de los
escritos; querer sustituir en ellos con el gesto lo que no se expresa
con el acento y entonación. Y fíjate, amigo Víctor, en los periódicos
de la extrema derecha, de eso que llamamos integrismo, y verás cómo
abusan de la bastardilla, de la versalita, de las mayúsculas, de
las admiraciones y de todos los recursos tipográficos. ¡Pantomima,
pantomima, pantomima! Tal es la simplicidad de sus medios de
expresión, o más bien tal es la conciencia que tienen de la ingenua
simplicidad de sus lectores. Y hay que acabar con esta ingenuidad.»
Otras veces le he oído sostener a don Miguel que eso que se llama
por ahí humorismo, el legítimo, ni ha prendido en España apenas, ni
es fácil que en ella prenda en mucho tiempo. Los que aquí se llaman
humoristas, dice, son satíricos unas veces y otras irónicos, cuando
no puramente festivos. Llamar humorista a Taboada, verbigracia, es
abusar del término. Y no hay nada menos humorístico que la sátira
áspera, pero clara y transparente de Quevedo, en la que se ve el
sermón enseguida. Como humorista no hemos tenido más que Cervantes,
y si éste levantara cabeza, ¡cómo había de reírse—me decía don
Miguel—de los que se indignaron de que yo le reconociese algún
ingenio, y, sobre todo, cómo se reiría de los ingenuos que han
tomado en serio alguna de sus más sutiles tomaduras de pelo! Porque
es indudable que entraba en la burla—burla muy en serio—que de los
libros de caballerías hacía el remedar el estilo de éstos, y aquello
de «no bien el rubicundo Febo, etc.» que como modelo de estilo
presentan algunos ingenuos cervantistas no pasa de ser una graciosa
caricatura del barroquismo literario. Y no digamos nada de aquello
de tomar por un modismo lo de «la del alba sería» con que empieza un
capítulo cuando el anterior acaba con la palabra _hora_.
Nuestro público, como todo público poco culto, es naturalmente
receloso, lo mismo que lo es nuestro pueblo. Aquí nadie quiere que
le tomen el pelo, ni hacer el primo, ni que se queden con él, y así
en cuanto alguien le habla quiere saber desde luego a qué atenerse
y si lo hace en broma o en serio. Dudo que en otro pueblo alguno
moleste tanto el que se mezclen las burlas con las veras, y en cuanto
a eso de que no se sepa bien si una cosa va o no en serio, ¿quién de
nosotros lo soporta? Y es mucho más difícil que un receloso español
de término medio se dé cuenta de que una cosa está dicha en serio y
en broma a la vez, de veras y de burlas, y bajo el mismo respecto.
Don Miguel tiene la preocupación del bufo trágico y me ha dicho más
de una vez que no quisiera morirse sin haber escrito una bufonada
trágica o una tragedia bufa, pero no en que lo bufo o grotesco y lo
trágico estén mezclados o yuxtapuestos, sino fundidos y confundidos
en uno. Y como yo le hiciese observar que eso no es sino el más
desenfrenado romanticismo, me contestó: «no lo niego, pero con poner
motes a las cosas no se resuelve nada. A pesar de mis más de veinte
años de profesar la enseñanza de los clásicos, el clasicismo que se
opone al romanticismo no me ha entrado. Dicen que lo helénico es
distinguir, definir, separar; pues lo mío es indefinir, confundir».
Y el fondo de esto no es más que una concepción, o mejor aún que
concepción un sentimiento de la vida que no me atrevo a llamar
pesimista porque sé que esta palabra no le gusta a don Miguel. Es su
idea fija, monomaníaca, de que si su alma no es inmortal y no lo son
las almas de los demás hombres y aun de todas las cosas, e inmortales
en el sentido mismo en que las creían ser los ingenuos católicos de
la Edad Media, entonces, si no es así, nada vale nada ni hay esfuerzo
que merezca la pena. Y de aquí la doctrina del tedio de Leopardi
después que pereció su engaño extremo,
ch’io eterno mi credea
de creerse eterno. Y esto explica que tres de los autores más
favoritos de don Miguel sean Sénancour, Quental y Leopardi.
Pero este adusto y áspero humorismo confusionista, además de herir la
recelosidad de nuestras gentes, que quieren saber desde que uno se
dirige a ellas a qué atenerse, molesta a no pocos. Quieren reírse,
pero es para hacer mejor la digestión y para distraer las penas, no
para devolver lo que indebidamente se hubiesen tragado y que puede
indigestárseles, ni mucho menos para digerir las penas. Y don Miguel
se empeña en que si se ha de hacer reír a las gentes debe ser no para
que con las contracciones del diafragma ayuden a la digestión, sino
para que vomiten lo que hubieren engullido, pues se ve más claro el
sentido de la vida y del universo con el estómago vacío de golosinas
y excesivos manjares. Y no admite eso de la ironía sin hiel ni del
humorismo discreto, pues dice que donde no hay alguna hiel no hay
ironía y que la discreción está reñida con el humorismo, o como él se
complace en llamarle: malhumorismo.
Todo lo cual le lleva a una tarea muy desagradable y poco agradecida,
de la que dice que no es sino un masaje de la ingenuidad pública,
a ver si el ingenio colectivo de nuestro pueblo se va agilizando
y sutilizando poco a poco. Porque le saca de sus casillas el que
digan que nuestro pueblo, sobre todo el meridional, es ingenioso.
«Pueblo que se recrea en las corridas de toros y halla variedad y
amenidad en ese espectáculo sencillísimo, está juzgado en cuanto a
mentalidad», dice. Y agrega que no puede haber mentalidad más simple
y más córnea que la de un aficionado. ¡Vaya usted con paradojas más
o menos humorísticas al que acaba de entusiasmarse con una estocada
de Vicente Pastor! Y abomina del género festivo de los revisteros
de toros, sacerdotes del juego de vocablos y de toda la bazofia del ingenio de puchero.
발수제와 롤러로 발생하는 화재와 화상흉터치료
발수제와 롤러로 발생하는 화재와 화상흉터치료
2015년 8월 31일 오후 9시 위기탈출 넘버원 코너중 미녀탐정 K인 김지민이 화상사고에 대한 수사를 하는 장면이 방영되었다. 트렌치 코트를 입은 개그맨 정찬민씨도 탐정으로 출연했다. 더운 날씨 햇볕과 지독한 휘발유 냄새를 단서로 현장에서 화상이 발생한 원인을 탐색했다. 2005년 5월 부부가 발수제를 바르던 도중 2도 화상을 당했고, 2010년도 어린이집에서 방수작업을 하다가 화재가 일어났다. 옥상 방수작업중 화재를 일으킨 도구는 연예인 패널들은 정가은은 썼던 붓, 황치열은 마찰해 스파크가 발생할 수 있는 롤러, 김정민은 마찰로 정전기가 발생할 수 있는 비닐장갑중 정답은 롤러였다. 화재를 일으킨 원인은 유기용매용 롤러로 발수제를 발랐기 때문이다. 냄새가 나고 인화점이 낮아 롤러 사용할 경우 정전기로 화재가 발생할 수 있다. 복사열로 옥상이 달궈줘 조건을 맞춰줄수 있기 때문에 주의해야 한다.
발수제 사고 예방을 위한 방법은 복사열이 높은 낮시간때 피하고 스프레이나 면적이 적은 붓으로 사용한다. 화재를 막기 위해 소화기를 준비하고 수용성 발수제를 사용해야 한다.
화재로 화상사고가 나면 매우 안타깝다. 재물 손상은 돈을 벌어 메꿀수 있지만 몸의 화상흉터는 오랜 세월에도 회복이 어렵기 때문이다. 이런 화상흉터는 피부 이식수술이나 레이저만 생각하고 화상흉터침인 BT침은 낯설수 있지만 이미지한의원에서 화상흉터침으로 치료할 수 있다.
The Mentor Napoleon Bonaparte 4
The Mentor Napoleon Bonaparte 4
RETREAT FROM MOSCOW, from the painting by Meissonier, is the
subject of one of the intaglio-gravure pictures illustrating
“Napoleon Bonaparte.”
THURSDAY DAILY READING IN THE MENTOR COURSE
PREPARED BY THE EDITORIAL STAFF OF THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION
RETREAT FROM MOSCOW
Napoleon’s invasion of Russia was one of the most disastrous military
enterprises in the history of the world. It was not the Russians that
defeated the emperor. During much of his advance he was left alone.
Sometimes he was harrassed by skirmish forces. Several great battles
were fought, notably that of Borodino. But for the most part he was
allowed to go on his way; for his enemies knew that he had greater
than human forces to face and battle with,--the vast Russian solitudes
and the cruel, killing Russian winter. The terrible story is summed
up in the statement that Napoleon invaded Russia with an armed force
numbering more than 500,000 men, and that he returned with less than
30,000.
Bonaparte had once said, “I will never lead an army to destruction as
did Charles XII on the steppes of Russia. My soldiers are my children.”
However, when Czar Alexander of Russia refused to accept his terms,
Napoleon assembled his grand army of Frenchmen, Italians, Austrians,
and Germans and invaded Russia as far as Moscow, a distance of 2,000
miles from Paris.
He was victorious at Moscow; but the Russians burned the city, and
thus destroyed it for purposes of winter quarters. The czar delayed
in his negotiations for peace so long that Napoleon was compelled to
order a retreat, which began on October 19, 1812. His army was then
harassed from the rear, and many lives were lost in these engagements.
After two weeks of marching the soldiers met the first wave of Russian
winter. The roads were frozen sheets of ice, and in a week nearly all
the horses perished. The cavalry could no longer ward off the attacks
of Cossacks. Many of the guns had to be abandoned. The army lacked the
artillery necessary to fight a big battle. Food supplies had to be
abandoned, as there were no horses to draw them. Thousands stretched
out by the fire at night never to awaken in the morning. Cold and
starvation killed them.
At Smolensk the army presented an appalling spectacle. Napoleon headed
it, clad in furs, his __EXPRESSION__ set and stern. Behind him came the
captains, majors, and lieutenants, then a few harnessed wagons with the
emperor’s war chest and papers; after that the straggling forces, many
of them unarmed, limping, half frozen, some wandering away with wild
looks, others falling by the roadside never to rise again.
At the frontier Napoleon left this pitiful fragment of an army in
charge of the king of Naples, took a horse, and rode to Paris.
[Illustration: NAPOLEON ON BOARD THE BELLEROPHON--BY W. Q.
ORCHARDSON]
NAPOLEON ON BOARD THE BELLEROPHON, from the painting by W.
Q. Orchardson, is the subject of one of the intaglio-gravure
pictures illustrating “Napoleon Bonaparte.”
FRIDAY DAILY READING IN THE MENTOR COURSE
PREPARED BY THE EDITORIAL STAFF OF THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION
ON BOARD THE BELLEROPHON
The Battle of Waterloo, June 18, 1815, was the final blow to Napoleon’s
power. On that day hung the fate of Europe. Napoleon faced the
allied forces of Prussia, England, Germany, and the Dutch, and had
assembled an army of 70,000 to meet them. The allied forces were under
command of the Duke of Wellington. They were bound together by one
stern purpose,--to annihilate once for all the man whom they called
the scourge of Europe. A heavy rainstorm prevented the emperor from
carrying out his original plan of attack, which was to meet the enemy
in two sections. The night of June 17 was stormy. A heavy rainstorm
made the roads so heavy that the emperor could not move his cannon
into the place desired until a short time before the enemy’s forces
joined. Then, too, General Grouchy had been instructed to intercept the
Prussian forces under Blücher, and hold them back while Napoleon fought
his fight with Wellington. If he could not do that, he was at least to
follow Blücher to Waterloo. The arrival, therefore, of Blücher and his
forces in good fighting trim put the French into such confusion that a
crushing defeat was inevitable. In the rout men had to save themselves
as best they could.
Napoleon left the field, and took the road to Paris, where he found
his power gone. He resigned as emperor in favor of his son, and went
to Rochefort in hope of finding a ship going to the United States. The
English vessel Bellerophon blockaded the harbor, and Napoleon boarded
it, throwing himself on the mercy of Great Britain. He reckoned,
however, without his host; for England had never forgotten that
Napoleon had threatened an invasion of Great Britain. Moreover, within
the year Napoleon had been declared an international outlaw, “outside
the pale of social and civil relations, and liable to public vengeance.”
So, as Napoleon crossed the English Channel from Rochefort to
Portsmouth, with Captain Maitland, on board his Majesty’s ship
Bellerophon, he had sought safety in the lion’s mouth. England assumed
charge of him on behalf of all Napoleon’s European enemies, and
consigned him to exile on the island of St. Helena.
[Illustration: NAPOLEON AT ST. HELENA--BY PAUL DELAROCHE]
NAPOLEON AT ST. HELENA, from the painting by Paul Belaroche,
is the subject of one of the intaglio-gravure pictures
illustrating “Napoleon Bonaparte.”
SATURDAY DAILY READING IN THE MENTOR COURSE
PREPARED BY THE EDITORIAL STAFF OF THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION
AT ST. HELENA
On a rock-bound island in the South Atlantic the greatest military
genius of all time spent the last six years of his life. There
Napoleon dragged out the months in company with a number of his former
associates, recalling the glories of the past and complaining of the
bitter conditions of the present. There he wrote interesting memorial
papers and gave __EXPRESSION__ to the ripe results of his military training.
Sir Hudson Lowe, a British military officer with little tact or
diplomacy, was his jailer. It was not possible for such a man and
Napoleon Bonaparte to meet on terms of amity. Writers on the subject
differ, as they do on almost all the episodes of Napoleon’s life. Some
say that Sir Hudson abused and insulted Napoleon shamefully. However,
there are French writers who try to prove that Napoleon continually
lied to and intrigued against the governor.
Napoleon’s mind during these days turned frequently toward his son,
“the little king of Italy,” and he dictated many instructions as to the
boy’s future. It might have been with the hope that at some future time
an empire might come to his son that he also dictated those elaborate
memoirs in which he gave an account of himself.
During a terrific storm of wind and rain on the night of May 5, 1821,
Napoleon died. The dash of the waves and the roar of the storm seemed
to stir his fading faculties and to arouse in him a memory of the din
of battle; for his last words were “Tête d’armée” (the head of the
army), and with that ejaculation in a sharp military tone his lips
closed forever.
He was buried near his favorite haunt,--a fountain shaded by weeping
willows, at Longwood, the estate on which he had lived at St. Helena.
British soldiers accompanied his body to rest with reversed arms and
fired a parting salute over his grave.
In his will the following extraordinary statement appeared: “My wish
is to be buried on the banks of the Seine, in the midst of the French
people, whom I so dearly loved.”
In 1840 his body was ceremoniously transferred to Paris and buried in
the Hôtel des Invalides with every circumstance of military pomp and national mourning.
The Mentor Napoleon Bonaparte 3
The Mentor Napoleon Bonaparte 3
We have chosen this cover after a number of experiments. It has not
been an easy matter to settle. The Mentor, as we have stated more than
once, is not simply a magazine. It does not call for the usual magazine
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Mentor, the tendency would be to lead on to academic severity--and
that we desire least of all. On the other hand, it would be manifestly
inappropriate to wear a coat of many colors. The position of The Mentor
in the field of publication is peculiar--its interest unique. How best
could its character be expressed in decorative design?
* * * * *
We believe that Mr. Edwards has given us in the present cover a fitting
__EXPRESSION__ of the character of The Mentor. It is unusual in its
lines--that is, for a periodical. It has the quality of a fine book
cover design--at least so we think. It will, we believe, invite readers
of taste and intelligence to look inside The Mentor, and as experience
has taught us, an introduction to The Mentor usually leads on to
continued acquaintance.
* * * * *
We want The Mentor to be regarded as a companion. It has often been
said that books are friends. We give you in The Mentor the good things
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* * * * *
And since the word “library” has been used, let us follow that just a
bit further. The Mentor may well become _yourself_ in library form.
Does that statement seem odd? Then let us put it this way: The Mentor
is a cumulative library for you, each day, each week--a library
that grows and develops as you grow and develop--a library that has
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of The Mentor something to your mental growth. You add it as you add
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acquire in this natural, agreeable way becomes a permanent possession.
You gather weekly what you want to know, and you have it in an
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and to refresh your mind.
* * * * *
So in time your assembled numbers of The Mentor will represent in
printed and pictorial form the fullness of your own knowledge.
[Illustration: NAPOLEON AT ARCOLE--BY ANTOINE JEAN GROS]
NAPOLEON AT ARCOLE, from the painting by Antoine Jean Gros,
is the subject of one of the intaglio-gravure pictures
illustrating “Napoleon Bonaparte.”
MONDAY DAILY READING IN THE MENTOR COURSE
PREPARED BY THE EDITORIAL STAFF OF THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION
AT THE BRIDGE AT ARCOLE
“Follow your general!” was the cry with which young Bonaparte urged his
army to victory at Arcole. He was only twenty-seven years old at the
time--and yet was commander in chief of the army of Italy. The years
that brought Napoleon into prominence had been troublous ones. He was
born in Corsica, and in moderate circumstances. The exact date of his
birth is uncertain. At school he said it was 1768. It is stated that he
gave this date because that made him a citizen of Genoa, inasmuch as
Corsica was at that time a dependency of Genoa. Later on he said that
he was born in 1769; for Corsica had then become a French possession,
and this made him a Frenchman by birth. After early schooling at
Brienne young Napoleon entered the military academy of Paris in 1784.
After a year he was commissioned as a sublieutenant in the regular
army, and made rapid progress from the start. As lieutenant colonel he
distinguished himself in the wars of Spain. He held the mobs boldly and
in masterful manner during the turbulent scenes in the early days of
the Revolution. Barras, a high official, recognized his military genius
and gave Bonaparte command of the army of Italy.
The capture of the bridge at Arcole was essential to the success of the
Italian campaign. For three days the Austrian army gallantly opposed
the attacks of Napoleon’s forces, and it was only by the personal
courage of the young general that victory was finally won. Bonaparte
personally led a rush across the bridge at Arcole, and he was the real
vital force in the battle. He saw his staff killed or wounded about him
during the onslaughts. Once he himself was swept by a counter attack of
the Austrian forces into a swamp, where he nearly perished.
Napoleon’s army consisted of 18,000 men, which he had moved over the
narrow and rugged roads with heavy baggage at a rate of fourteen miles
a day for three consecutive days,--the same rate at which Stonewall
Jackson made his marches through the Shenandoah Valley. It was a
remarkable achievement under the conditions Napoleon had to face.
And with this force he met an Austrian army of 40,000 and defeated it
signally after a bitter engagement.
COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION, INC.
[Illustration: EMPEROR NAPOLEON--BY FRANCOIS GÉRARD]
EMPEROR NAPOLEON, from the painting by François Gérard, is the
subject of one of the intaglio-gravure pictures illustrating
“Napoleon Bonaparte.”
TUESDAY DAILY READING IN THE MENTOR COURSE
PREPARED BY THE EDITORIAL STAFF OF THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION
EMPEROR NAPOLEON
“I shall now give myself to the administration of France.” That was
the statement of Napoleon Bonaparte in 1802 after he had overthrown
the government and had instituted a consulate, to which he was elected
first for ten years, and then for life. There were three consuls, and
Napoleon was known as the first consul. To one of his sublime ambition,
however, the thought of association in government was unbearable. Two
years later, despite his attitude expressed in his own words, “I am a
friend of the Republic; I am a son of the Revolution; I stand for the
principles of liberty, equality, and fraternity,” Napoleon determined
to make an office for himself that would be absolute and hereditary.
The title of king had grown hateful to the people of France; so
Napoleon chose “emperor” instead, and in 1804 he assumed the title and
the office.
Many were shocked; but none could resist his assumption of imperial
power. A popular vote showed that only 2,500 people opposed the new
government. Pope Pius VII accepted Napoleon’s request to take part in
the coronation ceremony on December 2, 1804. The event occurred at
Notre Dame Cathedral. The pope poured the mystic oil on the head of
the kneeling sovereign. It was ten centuries since any pope had left
Rome for a coronation, and in the minds of the Latin peoples this was
a consecration of a monarch that put him on an equal plane with the
proudest rulers of Europe, whose power reposed on the basis of Divine
Right. When the pope lifted the crown Napoleon performed an act so
striking in its originality that the people held their breath. He took
the crown from the pope’s hands and placed it on his own head. He then
crowned Empress Josephine.
A few months later Napoleon journeyed to Milan, the capital of what
was called the Cisalpine Republic, and there proclaimed the kingdom of
Italy. He crowned himself then with “the iron crown of the Lombards”
and named Prince Eugène, his stepson, heir to the throne.
During the ceremonies the republic of Genoa sent ambassadors to Paris
with the request to be incorporated into the French empire. This
offended Austria, and led to the third war with that empire since 1792,
when the republic of France was proclaimed.
[Illustration: FRIEDLAND--“1807”--BY MEISSONIER]
FRIEDLAND--“1807,” from the painting by Meissonier, is the
subject of one of the intaglio-gravure pictures illustrating
“Napoleon Bonaparte.”
WEDNESDAY DAILY READING IN THE MENTOR COURSE
PREPARED BY THE EDITORIAL STAFF OF THE MENTOR ASSOCIATION
FRIEDLAND--“1807”
Emperor Napoleon’s brilliant victory at Friedland was the event that
placed him at the topmost height of his military power. In a fierce
battle, noted for the strategy characteristic of Bonaparte, he defeated
a large Russian army. This was on June 14, 1807.
Czar Alexander of Russia had refused to comply with the demands of
Napoleon regarding trade with England. England would not recognize
Napoleon as emperor, and he retorted by forcing several of the European
nations to sever commercial connections with England. Czar Alexander
held out. The forces of both emperors met at a small town called
Heilsberg, near Friedland. Napoleon disposed his army in such a way
that he led the Russian general, Bennigsen, to believe that he had to
conquer only a small number at Friedland. Part of the French army was
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