Possibly if there were a greater number of outspoken Napoleons, there would be fewer absurdities in fashionable female attire.
To some of Napoleon’s sharp sayings, the haughty dames and damsels of the old aristocracy made some crushing replies—according to their Memoirs. It is fairly safe to say that these crushing retorts were made in the seclusion of the homes of the fair retorters. The man whose stern look and bitter tongue awed into embarrassed silence such a veteran in word-play as Madame de Staël, was not likely to be crushed by such pert and shallow beings as Madame de Chevreuse and her kind.
For facts, events, his memory was prodigious; for names and dates, it was not good. Sometimes he would ask the same man about court three or four different times what his name was. In his later years his memory became very fickle, and he was known to forget having given the most important orders. He could not remember a charge he ordered Ségur to make in Spain; nor could he recall that he had ordered the charge of the heavy cavalry at Waterloo.
Noted at school for his skill in mathematics, and using that science constantly in his military operations, it is said that he could rarely add up a column of figures correctly.
He could not spell, nor could he write grammatically; and he took no pains to learn. A busy man, according to his idea, had no time to waste on such matters.
He loved music, especially Italian music; was fond of poetry of the higher sort, and appreciated painting, sculpture, and architecture. He loved the beauty and quietude of such country places as Malmaison, never wearied of adding to their attractions, and was happy when free from business, and taking a solitary stroll along garden walks amid flowers and under the shade of trees.
In his work, Napoleon was all system. No clerk could keep papers in better order. No head of a department could turn off business with such regularity and despatch. He knew all about his army, down to the last cannon; knew just what his forces numbered, where they were, and what their condition. He was master of the state finances, of every branch of the internal administration, of every detail of foreign affairs. He kept up with everything, systematized everything, took the initiative in everything. An extra plate of soup could not be served in the palace without a written order from Duroc, the proper officer. An army contractor could not render a false account without being exposed and punished. An overcharge could not be made in the palace furnishings without his finding it out. “He is a devil,” said many a quaking Beugnot.
One day, says Constant, the pontoon men were marching with about forty wagons. The Emperor came along, and cried, “Halt!”
Pointing to one of the wagons, Napoleon asked of the officer in charge:—
“What is in that?”