. . Often, at Saint-Cloud, he keeps the counselors of state from nine o'clock in the morning until five in the evening, with fifteen minutes' intermission, and seems no more fatigued at the close of the session than when it began." During the night sessions "many of the members succumb through weariness, while the Minister of War falls asleep"; he gives them a shake and wakes them up, "Come, come, citizens, let us bestir ourselves, it is only two o'clock and we must earn the money the French people pay us." Consul or Emperor,[50] "he demands of each minister an account of the smallest details: It is not rare to see them leaving the council room overcome with fatigue, due to the long interrogatories to which he has subjected them; he appears not to have noticed, and talks about the day's work simply as a relaxation which has scarcely given his mind exercise." And what is worse, "it often happens that on returning home they find a dozen of his letters requiring immediate response, for which the whole night scarcely suffices." The quantity of facts he is able to retain and store away, the quantity of ideas he elaborates and produces, seems to surpass human capacity, and this insatiable, inexhaustible, unmovable brain thus keeps on working uninterruptedly for thirty years.
Through another result of the same mental organization, Napoleon's brain is never unproductive; that's today our great danger. - During the past three hundred years we have more and more lost sight of the exact and direct meaning of things. Subject to the constraints of a conservative, complex, and extended educational system we study* the symbols of objects rather than on the objects themselves;* instead of the ground itself, a map of it;* instead of animals struggling for existence,[51] nomenclatures and classifications, or, at best, stuffed specimens displayed in a museum;* instead of persons who feel and act, statistics, codes, histories, literatures, and philosophies;in short, printed words. Even worse, abstract terms, which from century to century have become more abstract and therefore further removed from experience, more difficult to understand, less adaptable and more deceptive, especially in all that relates to human life and society. Here, due to the growth of government, to the multiplication of services, to the entanglement of interests, the object, indefinitely enlarged and complex, now eludes our grasp. Our vague, incomplete, incorrect idea of it badly corresponds with it, or does not correspond at all. In nine minds out of ten, or perhaps ninety-nine out of a hundred, it is but little more than a word. The others, if they desire some significant indication of what society actually is beyond the teachings of books, require ten or fifteen years of close observation and study to re-think the phrases with which these have filled their memory, to interpret them anew, to make clear their meaning, to get at and verify their sense, to substitute for the more or less empty and indefinite term the fullness and precision of a personal impression. We have seen how ideas of Society, State, Government, Sovereignty, Rights, Liberty, the most important of all ideas, were, at the close of the eighteenth century, curtailed and falsified; how, in most minds, simple verbal reasoning combined them together in dogmas and axioms; what an offspring these metaphysical simulacra gave birth to, how many lifeless and grotesque abortions, how many monstrous and destructive chimeras. There is no place for any of these fanciful dreams in the mind of Bonaparte; they cannot arise in it, nor find access to it; his aversion to the unsubstantial phantoms of political abstraction extends beyond disdain, even to disgust.[52] That which was then called ideology, is his particular bugbear; he loathes it not alone through calculation, but still more through an instinctive demand for what is real, as a practical man and statesman, always keeping in mind, like the great Catherine, "that he is operating, not on paper, but on the human hide, which is ticklish."Every idea entertained by him had its origin in his personal observation, and he used his own personal observations to control them.
If books are useful to him it is to suggest questions, which he never answers but through his own experience. He has read only a little, and hastily;[53] his classical education is rudimentary; in the way of Latin, he remained in the lower class. The instruction he got at the Military Academy as well as at Brienne was below mediocrity, while, after Brienne, it is stated that "for the languages and belles-lettres, he had no taste." Next to this, the literature of elegance and refinement, the philosophy of the closet and drawing-room, with which his contemporaries are imbued, glided over his intellect as over a hard rock. None but mathematical truths and positive notions about geography and history found their way into his mind and deeply impressed it. Everything else, as with his predecessors of the fifteenth century, comes to him through the original, direct action of his faculties in contact with men and things, through his prompt and sure tact, his indefatigable and minute attention, his indefinitely repeated and rectified divinations during long hours of solitude and silence. Practice, and not speculation, is the source of his instruction, the same as with a mechanic brought up amongst machinery.
"There is nothing relating to warfare that I cannot make myself. If nobody knows how to make gunpowder, I do. I can construct gun-carriages. If cannon must be cast, I will see that it is done properly. If tactical details must be taught, I will teach them."[54]