Folk-Tales of Napoleon: Napoleonder from the Russian

In Short

This volume gathers two legendary accounts of Napoleon Bonaparte that transform the historical figure into a figure of myth. In the Russian tale, he is a man of sand and hellish origins who plagues the world until humbled by pity; in the French account, he is a semi-divine savior whose life is dictated by a mysterious star and a supernatural "Red Man." By stripping away dry historical fact to reveal the deep-seated fears and admirations of the common people, these stories capture the profound, indelible imprint the Emperor left on the collective consciousness of nineteenth-century Europe.

The Story

The Russian tale, Napoleonder, begins in Heaven, where the Almighty seeks a scourge to punish a wicked world. At Satan’s suggestion, God agrees to unleash an entity created from sand—a man without a navel or a human origin, brought to life by a divine accident. This "Napoleonder" is a military fanatic whose only goal is total world conquest. His power is terrifying: he possesses the ability to command an army of the dead, conjured whenever he utters the word "Bonaparty." He tears through nations with ruthless brutality until he encounters the Russian army.

The Tsar, Alexander the Blessed, finds his forces crumbling before this unnatural foe. However, the tide turns when Napoleonder encounters a wounded, dying Russian soldier. When the soldier asks a simple, human question—"What have you killed me for?"—the conqueror is struck by an unprecedented, gnawing unrest. His ability to conjure the dead vanishes, and he is eventually captured. In a final act of mercy, he is not executed but imprisoned in an iron cage to be shown at fairs, eventually living out his days as a humble gooseherd on the island of Buan.

The second half of the book, The Napoleon of the People, shifts to the perspective of French peasants listening to a veteran named Goguelat. He frames Napoleon’s life as a fated, miraculous progression. Born on an island of fire, Napoleon is cast as a man who could breathe a spirit of conquest into the most wretched, shoeless army. His campaigns across Italy and Egypt are depicted as triumphs of magic and divine favor, where he moves with supernatural speed and strikes fear into the hearts of the "Grand Turk" and his genii.

Goguelat emphasizes that Napoleon was not merely human; he was guided by a "Red Man" and a personal star. Even the disastrous Russian winter is framed as a betrayal by the elements, and the eventual defeat at Waterloo is characterized as a tactical anomaly where Napoleon sought death but could not find it. The story concludes with the belief that Napoleon was not truly defeated or killed by the English, but remains on a desert island, effectively immortal, waiting for his destiny to be fulfilled. Through these accounts, the historical man is eclipsed by the legend, becoming a symbol of national glory and tragic, inevitable loss.

How It Unfolds

The divine council The Lord God and his archangels deliberate on how to punish humanity’s wickedness, ultimately turning to Satan, who proposes the creation of a conqueror named Napoleonder.

A creature of sand Satan reveals that Napoleonder is an unnatural being made of sand, gifted with life by a splash of divine water, and possessed of a singular, cold-blooded obsession with global dominion.

The army of the dead Napoleonder marches through Europe and into Russia, using the incantation "Bonaparty" to summon his fallen soldiers from their graves to fight alongside his living army.

The power of a question While surveying the carnage, Napoleonder is confronted by a dying Russian recruit whose simple, guileless inquiry about the purpose of his death shatters the conqueror's supernatural confidence.

A humble end Stripped of his command over the dead, Napoleonder is captured by Cossacks and sentenced by the Tsar to spend his life as a wandering curiosity in a cage and later a servant to geese.

The veteran’s tale Goguelat recounts Napoleon’s rise from a Corsican stripling to the Emperor of the French, insisting that his victories were the result of a secret pact with God and a star of his own.

The Red Man and the end The narrative follows the Emperor’s triumphs and final defeat, maintaining that the "Lion of the Desert" cannot die, but is instead waiting in exile for his return.

The People

Napoleonder is a grotesque, singular force of nature. Being made of sand, he lacks the human capacity for pity, which renders him both invincible and inherently hollow. His transformation occurs only when his "military" logic is punctured by a single, innocent human voice. He ends his life not as a conqueror, but as an old, discarded observer of geese, having been brought down to the level of the common people he once trampled.

Alexander the Blessed serves as the foil to this terror. He is the personification of Russian piety and national endurance. Unlike the mechanical Napoleonder, Alexander relies on prayer and the strength of his people to weather the storm. His final act of mercy—sparing the conqueror’s life—elevates him to a position of moral authority.

Goguelat is the enthusiastic, somewhat unreliable narrator of the French half. An old veteran, he is the vessel through which the "Napoleon of the People" lives on. He views his Emperor with the religious fervor of a devotee, turning every battlefield maneuver into a miracle. Through his eyes, Napoleon is not a flawed politician, but a sun-like figure whose glory is shared by every soldier who ever wore a uniform. His narrative captures the intense, personal bond between the French soldiery and their leader, a bond that persists long after the Empire has collapsed into history.

In Its Own Voice

"Napoleonder never had a father or a mother, and, moreover, he hasn't any navel--and that's so surprising that you might exhibit him for money."

Satan explains to the Lord God the unnatural origins of the creature he has designed to punish humanity.

"I'm sorry for you. As if it were possible to conquer the whole world!"

A dying Russian soldier responds to Napoleonder’s claim of absolute power, effectively beginning the conqueror's internal undoing.

"The truth of the matter is that his friends have left him there in the desert to fulfil a prophecy that was made about him--for I have forgotten to tell you that the name Napoleon really means 'Lion of the Desert.'"

Goguelat concludes his tale by dismissing the reports of the Emperor's death as a political lie.

What It's Really About

These tales explore the human need to mythologize the extraordinary. By turning a historical political figure into a supernatural entity, the stories bypass the complexities of 19th-century geopolitics to address more primal questions: What is the source of absolute power? Why do the innocent suffer for the ambitions of the great? And, perhaps most importantly, how do nations process the trauma of total war? The Russian myth serves as a morality play on the dangers of pride and the necessity of pity, while the French myth serves as a balm for the national ego, refusing to accept the finality of defeat. Both demonstrate how history, once it enters the realm of folklore, is no longer about what happened, but about what a people choose to believe.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the intersection of history and folklore will find this book fascinating. It provides a rare look at how the Napoleonic Wars were digested by the common people of the time, long before the sanitizing hand of academic historians took over. You will encounter a world of "Red Men," ghostly battalions, and divine prophecies, all delivered with the cadence of oral storytelling.

The text does not shy away from the period’s stark, often brutal attitudes toward violence and conquest. The Russian portion, in particular, is grim in its descriptions of war, while the French portion reflects a blind, unquestioning loyalty that may strike modern readers as both poignant and unsettling. Because this is a translation of 19th-century folk-tales, the language is occasionally archaic and the perspective intentionally biased—Goguelat’s voice is that of a soldier who would follow his leader into the moon, and the Russian narrator speaks with the simplicity of a peasant. These are not nuanced historical portraits; they are living, breathing legends. If you approach this as a window into the popular imagination of the past rather than a record of the past itself, you will find it a compelling, strangely resonant experience that captures the "Napoleon" who existed not in Paris or Moscow, but in the dreams and nightmares of the people.