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?” The officer answered, “Some bolts, nails, ropes, hatchets, saws--” “How many of all that?” The officer gave the number. “Empty the wagon and let me see!” The order was obeyed, bolts, nails, ropes, saws, everything taken out and counted. But the Emperor was not satisfied. He got off his horse, climbed into the wagon over the spoke to see that it had been emptied. The troops shouted: “Bravo! That’s right! That is the way to find out!” He compared his mind to a chest of drawers, where each subject occupied its separate space. In turn he opened each drawer. No one subject ever got mixed with another. When all the drawers were shut, he fell asleep. Of course this was not literally true, but during his best years it came as near being literally true as is possible to the human brain. After the day’s work was done, he would enter into the amusements of his domestic circle, would play and dance with the young people, would read or listen to music, or would entertain the circle by telling some romantic story which he composed as he talked. In the evening he loved to have the room darkened while he threw the ladies into a gentle state of terror with a ghost-story.