Chapter 35 Napoleon's Renaissance (2)

Among the many categories of literature, there is one category that he does not seem to like very much, and that is fiction.His customary practice with any kind of fiction was to burn it.It should be admitted that he is a big buyer of books.The books he had read always had his imperial arms stamped on the cover, and his St. Helena book stamp was just a scribble of ink. Napoleon didn't care much for fine bindings, but he understood their value.Whenever a book to be given away was bound, he always asked for it to be beautifully bound.The books in his own library are always bound in "calfskin of not very fine quality", and, when he is reading a book, he is always in the habit of filling the margins with a pencil. note.Wherever he went, he took with him a stack of volumes from which he had trimmed all the extra margins to save weight and space.It is not uncommon that the rapid growth of this travel library is a bit in the way, so he will throw the "overflow" books out of the carriage window, and he has a habit (I remember tremblingly) next): To turn the pages of loose-leaf booklets, magazines, and volumes, he flung his fingers up and down between them, always tearing the pages apart in monstrous fashion.

In the arrangement of his books Napoleon followed a very strict method which he followed in his other occupations and pastimes.Each book has its special place in its special cabinet, and Napoleon knows his collection of books so well that he can get the book he wants at any time as long as he reaches out.The libraries at his court were arranged in strict accordance with Malmaison's library, and no book was ever borrowed from one library to another.By his own account, if a book was missing, he would describe its size and cover color to the librarian, and point out that the place where it should have been misplaced and which bookcase it should have belonged to.

Can anyone, who doubts the greatness of this man, explain why, as time goes by, civilized society takes so much more interest in Napoleon?Why are we all curious to know everything about him--we rejoice to hear of his insignificant mannerisms, his tempers, his whims, his habits, his prejudices?Why did even those who hated him and denied his genius feel called to fill their books with reminiscences of the little Corsican man and his exploits?Princes, generals, nobles, courtiers, poets, painters, priests and commoners - all competed to answer the growing number of inquiries about Napoleon Bonaparte.

Such supply (like such demand) will never run dry, I suppose.The women of court have given us their memoirs.So, the diplomats of that period did the same, his generals' wives, the spectators of those dazzling scenes, Zhang Sanli, Siwang Ermazi, the guards of the exile, his barber, and all kinds of people, etc., all did the same.One would hear in time the reports of the chambermaid, and the groom, and the handyman in the kitchen.It has long been rumored that we will soon be enjoying Memoirs of the Emperor Napoleon by a woman who had the good fortune to know the tailor "who sewed a button on His Majesty's coat." Edited by her dear grandson "The Duke of Liars".

No doubt many who have read the above lines will have the honor of seeing in their lifetime the Memoirs of Napoleon dedicated by "a gentleman who bought a spoon from Napoleon in 1899".It goes without saying, too, that the book will be a hit and satisfying.This Napoleonic mania would only increase over time as time slowly passed. Is it not strange that this man's character and merits have not been studied calmly and carefully, and yet he can be loved?People who discuss this issue must be either Napoleon's haters or Napoleon's admirers.His blood, too, must be hot with the rage of anger or love.

The human eye appears as a glowing sphere in space, moving continuously in its specific orbit.Philosophers neither agree that such a peculiar sight is only a gaseous mixture, nor that it is a solid that endlessly supplies heat and light to the outside.Whether it will exist for a thousand, half a million, or a million years is still debated; some even claim that it will remain in its orbit until the end of time.Perhaps, the nature of that luminous sphere has never been known to man.And it, still with a quiet solemnity, runs among the planets and stars in the universe on its own specific orbit, its flame never decays, and its light never dims.

Even as the great Corsican passed through the corridors of time, deep and mysterious, full of passion, genius, and magnificence, all eyes were on him.