Eric Loomis Visits an American Grave and Sees Napoleon [UPDATED]

As of today, Eric Loomis has posted 1713 installments of his "American Grave" series on the Lawyers, Guns & Money blog. Each post features a photograph of a grave, taken by Loomis, and a biography of the deceased, who include both well-known historical figures, often from the 19th century, and obscure but interesting individuals. Loomis is a progressive labor and environmental historian at the University of Rhode Island, so his "American Grave" posts often, but not always, include political commentary, sometimes favorable and sometimes scathing, depending on the individual.

Today's subject is the despicable Theodore Bilbo, who served as governor and senator from Mississippi in the first half of the twentieth century. Bilbo, for those who do not recognize his name, was one of the very worst southern segregationists, in an era when he had lots of competition for the title. As Loomis puts it, Bilbo was an "open white supremacist" who "just race-baited his way" through his political career.

At first, he was a fairly reliable vote for the New Deal but after 1936, he became an open opponent of it and happily worked with other far-right southern Democrats and Republicans to shut down major legislation. He voted against most of the New Deal labor legislation and tried to kill the Fair Employment Practice Committee.

There are many other bad things to say about Bilbo, and virtually nothing positive. But then Loomis says this:

And let’s not beat around the bush, Bilbo was a piece of shit in other ways. He was a tiny man, only 5’2″ and he had serious Napoleon syndrome. He dressed super flashy for the time and, most terribly, constantly referred to himself in the third person.

While there is no doubt that Bilbo was a piece of shit, what does being short have to do with it?

More to the point, why is it almost reflexive to slap "Napoleon syndrome" on short men who exercise power? What evidence is there that Bilbo's height had anything to do with his drive and ambition (evil as it was)? Do aggressive tall men have serious Peter the Great complexes?

In fact, Napoleon was about 5'6", which was average for Frenchmen at the time. Peter the Great, however, was indeed 6'8".

The myth of Napoleon's shortness as a negative character trait began as a put-down by the British cartoonist James Gillray during the Napoleonic Wars:

From then on, the future emperor was referred to only as “Little Boney” and was shown substantially smaller than all other figures, usually with oversized boots and a too-big bicorne hat. The image of Napoleon as short was firmly entrenched at that moment.

Certainly, in the English-speaking world, Gillray creates the image that runs through to this day. . . . It’s very common in England today to call someone a ‘Little Napoleon.’ The idea is you have to be little to have such great self-importance – as in a Napoleon complex.

We have mostly gotten to the point when body size and shape are no longer used derogatorily. Why is it still acceptable to use short stature as an insult tied to an imputed psychological condition?

Before anyone asks, I am 5'6" and very intense, just like many of my much taller colleagues.

[UPDATE: I did a humorous commentary about the "Napoleon Complex" for NPR's Morning Edition in 1996. I cannot find the audio on line, but the text of the piece is after the jump.]

MORNING EDITION, July 17,1996

LUBET DISCUSSES THE PLIGHT OF THE VERTICALLY CHALLENGED
 FULL TEXT

BOB EDWARDS, Host: Candidates for political office often try to emphasize how much they have in common with the public, even if voters don't always agree. Commentator Steven Lubet says he has something in common with one of this year's presidential candidates, even if it's not a political position.

STEVEN LUBET, Commentator: Listen to people talk about Ross Perot, and pretty soon someone will refer to the fact that he's short. Then someone will describe him as feisty, followed by `pint- sized' and `sawed-off' - and those are his supporters. The people who don't like him use words like `runt' or `pipsqueak.' Now, I don't have much in common with Mr. Perot - I'm about as close to being a billionaire as gefilte fish is to ham hocks - but I do resemble him in one crucial way.

I have always been short for my age, which is currently 47.

As a young child, I kept expecting to grow. Along about puberty, though, the other boys stretched out while I remained my under- sized self. By high school, it became clear that acute shortness was not a transient phenomenon. It was to be a chronic, permanent condition.

My pituitary gland failed me, just when I needed it most - which was not to say that there were no new surprises. Most girls pretty much stopped growing when I did. That meant that I could date girls who were five-four, or five-five and not feel out of place.

Of course, when it came time to meet their fathers or brothers, I was towered over, as usual. If you've never seen it, you can't really imagine the pained expression on the face of a six-two ex- linebacker as he peers down at the little guy who's shown up to court his daughter - or at least it seemed that way. From my vantage point, I couldn't completely discount the possibility that he'd just cut his forehead on a low chandelier.

There's no avoiding it, though, that little guys are not the ideal. You'll never hear someone say, delightedly, `My, how wonderfully small you've stayed.'

Of course, if you ever do assert yourself or succeed at anything - say, running for president or diverting the course of the French revolution, you just feed the stereotype of the pushy, insecure, Napoleonic shrimp. Have you ever noticed, though, that an aggressive or even belligerent big guy is never said to suffer from a Duke of Wellington complex?

Well, I've learned to cope with my `shortcomings' but there is one handicap that I can't seem to overcome. It turns out that I'm incapable of estimating people's height. To me, everyone is tall. From five-nine to six-four, they all look alike from down here.

Over six-four, and I can't see their faces.

So I sometimes find myself describing a friend or colleague as tall, only to get a blank stare. `Me? You've got to be kidding. I'm only five-eight,' comes the puzzled reply.

What can I say but, `Don't feel shortchanged, big fella.'

BOB EDWARDS: The comments of Steven Lubet who teaches at Northwestern University Law School.