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running his finger between them； thereby invariably tearing the pages in
shocking wise。
In the arrangement of his library Napoleon observed that exacting
method which was characteristic of him in other employments and
avocations。 Each book had its particular place in a special case； and
Napoleon knew his library so well that he could at any moment place his
hand upon any volume he desired。 The libraries at his palaces he had
arranged exactly as the library at Malmaison was； and never was one book
borrowed from one to serve in another。 It is narrated of him that if ever a
volume was missing Napoleon would describe its size and the color of its
binding to the librarian； and would point out the place where it might have
been wrongly put and the case where it properly belonged。
If any one question the greatness of this man let him explain if he can
why civilization's interest in Napoleon increases as time rolls on。 Why is
it that we are curious to know all about himthat we have gratification in
hearing tell of his minutest habits； his moods； his whims； his practices； his
prejudices？ Why is it that even those who hated him and who denied his
genius have felt called upon to record in ponderous tomes their
reminiscences of him and his deeds？ Princes； generals； lords； courtiers；
poets； painters； priests； plebeiansall have vied with one another in
answering humanity's demand for more and more and ever more about
Napoleon Bonaparte。
I think that the supply will； like the demand； never be exhausted。 The
women of the court have supplied us with their memoirs； so have the
diplomats of that period； so have the wives of his generals； so have the
Tom…Dick…and…Harry spectators of those kaleidoscopic scenes； so have his
keepers in exile； so has his barber。 The chambermaids will be heard from
in good time； and the hostlers； and the scullions。 Already there are
rumors that we are soon to be regaled with Memoirs of the Emperor
Napoleon by the Lady who knew the Tailor who Once Sewed a Button on
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THE LOVE AFFAIRS OF A BIBLIOMANIAC
the Emperor's Coat； edited by her loving grandson； the Duc de Bunco。
Without doubt many of those who read these lines will live to see the
time when memoirs of Napoleon will be offered by ‘‘a gentleman who
purchased a collection of Napoleon spoons in 1899''； doubtless； too； the
book will be hailed with satisfaction； for this Napoleonic enthusiasm
increases as time wears on。
Curious； is it not； that no calm； judicial study of this man's character
and exploits is received with favor？ He who treats of the subject must be
either a hater or an adorer of Napoleon； his blood must be hot with the
enthusiasm of rage or of love。
To the human eye there appears in space a luminous sphere that in its
appointed path goes on unceasingly。 The wise men are not agreed
whether this apparition is merely of gaseous composition or is a solid body
supplied extraneously with heat and luminosity； inexhaustibly； some argue
that its existence will be limited to the period of one thousand； or five
hundred thousand； or one million years； others declare that it will roll on
until the end of time。 Perhaps the nature of that luminous sphere will
never be truly known to mankind； yet with calm dignity it moves in its
appointed path among the planets and the stars of the universe； its fires
unabated； its luminosity undimmed。
Even so the great Corsican； scrutinized of all human eyes； passes along
the aisle of Time enveloped in the impenetrable mystery of enthusiasm；
genius； and splendor。
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THE LOVE AFFAIRS OF A BIBLIOMANIAC
XVIII
MY WORKSHOP AND OTHERS
The women…folk are few up there； For 't were not fair； you
know； That they our heavenly bliss should share Who vex us
here below！ The few are those who have been kind To
husbands such as we： They knew our fads and didn't mind
Says Dibdin's ghost to me。
It has never been explained to my satisfaction why women； as a class；
are the enemies of books； and are particularly hostile to bibliomania。 The
exceptions met with now and then simply prove the rule。 Judge Methuen
declares that bibliophobia is but one phase of jealousy； that one's wife
hates one's books because she fears that her husband is in love； or is going
to be in love； with those companions of his student hours。 If； instead of
being folios； quartos； octavos； and the like； the Judge's books were buxom；
blithe maidens； his wife could hardly be more jealous of the Judge's
attentions to them than she is under existing circumstances。 On one
occasion； having found the Judge on two successive afternoons sitting
alone in the library with Pliny in his lap； this spirited lady snatched the
insidious volume from her husband's embraces and locked it up in one of
the kitchen pantries； nor did she release the object of her displeasure until
the Judge had promised solemnly to be more circumspect in the future；
and had further mollified his wife's anger by bringing home a new silk
dress and a bonnet of exceptional loveliness。
Other instances of a similar character have demonstrated that Mrs。
Methuen regards with implacable antipathy the volumes upon which my
learned and ingenious friend would fain lavish the superabundance of his
affection。 Many years ago the Judge was compelled to resort to every
kind of artifice in order to sneak new books into his house； and had he not
been imbued with the true afflatus of bibliomania he would long ago have
broken down under the heartless tyranny of his vindictive spouse。
When I look around me and survey the persecution to which book…
lovers are subjected by their wives； I thank the goddess Fortune that she
has cast my