Even Napoleon had his Watergate.

“Even Napoleon had his Watergate.” — Yogi Berra

Within this curious and comical saying lies a wisdom that is as old as the rise and fall of kings. Spoken by the ever-unpredictable Yogi Berra, a man whose wit concealed an uncommon depth, the phrase joins two distant moments of human folly — Napoleon’s defeat and Watergate’s disgrace — and unites them beneath one timeless truth: that no mortal, however mighty, is beyond error or downfall. Beneath its humor, this saying is not a jest at all, but a reflection on the fragility of power, the inevitability of failure, and the humbling reminder that even the great stumble before the end.

The ancients understood this truth well. The Greeks spoke of hubris, that overreaching pride which invites ruin. They believed that when a man begins to think himself infallible, the gods grow watchful, and Fate begins to weave his undoing. In Napoleon, the emperor who sought to command all of Europe, we see this ancient story retold. His Waterloo became the symbol of the conqueror undone — the moment when ambition outgrew wisdom. By calling it his “Watergate,” Yogi Berra, in his inimitable way, linked the sins of empires past to the follies of leaders in his own age, when Richard Nixon, like Napoleon, was brought low not by defeat in battle, but by pride, secrecy, and the slow corrosion of integrity.

“Even Napoleon had his Watergate” thus becomes a parable of human limitation. It reminds us that power without humility leads to downfall, and that history, like a stern teacher, repeats the same lessons until they are learned. Napoleon’s battlefield was Europe; Nixon’s was the American presidency. Both sought greatness, and both fell to the same quiet enemy — themselves. The ancients would have seen in their stories the hand of Nemesis, goddess of retribution, who ensures that every excess of pride is balanced by the weight of consequence.

Yet, Berra’s phrasing carries something gentler, too — a kind of forgiveness hidden within humor. By saying “even” Napoleon, he softens the blow of judgment. His words suggest that failure is not unique to villains or fools, but part of the human story itself. If emperors and presidents can err, then so can we. And if they can fall, so too can we rise again. The humor becomes a bridge between wisdom and compassion — a way of laughing at the truth without despairing of it. For laughter, as the ancients knew, is not mockery but understanding; it is how the wise accept what cannot be changed.

Consider also the story of Marcus Aurelius, the philosopher-emperor of Rome. He knew, even at the height of his reign, that power was a fleeting illusion. “All is ephemeral,” he wrote, “even the names of those who triumphed.” Unlike Napoleon or Nixon, he guarded his heart against pride by remembering that time buries all glories alike. In this way, he escaped his own “Watergate.” His example shows that the only shield against collapse is humility — the steady awareness that greatness is a gift, not a possession.

The origin of Yogi Berra’s quote rests in his lifelong habit of turning the profound into the playful. He was a man who spoke as the ancients might have spoken to children — cloaking eternal truths in riddles of humor. In this, he stands beside figures like Diogenes, the philosopher who mocked kings with wit sharper than any blade. Both understood that laughter can reach where lectures cannot — that a single humorous line can pierce the armor of arrogance and leave behind the gleam of understanding. To say “Even Napoleon had his Watergate” is to remind us, in a grin and a shrug, that no man escapes the reckoning of his own choices.

So, my child, let this teaching rest within your heart: be wary of pride, and befriend humility. No matter how high you climb, remember that the ground waits patiently below. When success comes, meet it with gratitude, not arrogance; when failure arrives, greet it with humor, not shame. For in laughter, wisdom finds its gentlest voice. Learn from the errors of those before you — from Napoleon’s hubris, from Nixon’s deceit — and strive to live with clarity, courage, and truth.

And if ever you falter, as all must, recall Yogi’s immortal wisdom. Smile at your own missteps, for even emperors have fallen, and yet the world continues to turn. Every downfall contains its lesson; every failure, its redemption. The truly wise learn to see both — and to laugh, as Yogi did, at the grand and humbling comedy of being human.