Any must reads on the greatest manlet ever lived ?

...

He wasn't short.

>But he was still a manlet
Emperor King of the manlets

MAY 5TH - 1/2

He has passed. As stark and still,
When the mortal gasp was given,
Lay the unremindful spoil
Whence so great a soul was riven;
So the Earth, smitten and dazed
At the announcement, stands amazed

Silent, pondering on that last
Fateful hour; nor, gazing back
In fearful wonder o’er the past,
Kens she when with such a track
By mortal foot shall yet be pressed
The dust upon her bloody breast.

My Genius saw him on a throne
In flashing splendor, nothing said;
The blandishments of fortune flown,
He fell, he rose, again was laid;
While thousand voices then awoke,
Mingled with these, no word he spoke;

Virgin of end-serving praise
And the coward’s safe outrage,
Shocked by the blot of such a blaze,
He rises now his chance to gage,
Shaking the urn, e’en to untie
A canticle which will not die.

From Pyramids to heights alpine
Flashed that god’s swift lightning-stroke;
From Manzares to the Rhine
Rapid, crashing thunders broke,
Rolling on from Scylla’s sea
Shaking farthest Muscovy.

Was this, glory just and true?
Sentence waits posterity.
Bow we to the Highest’s view,
Willing us in him to see
Stamped a trace more vast and grand
Of His own resistless hand.

With hurricanes of anxious joy,
Earthquake exploits of wild renown,
A heart in unsubdued annoy
In slavery gloats upon the crown;
And gains the goal and grasps a prize
‘T was madness there to set his eyes.

All he tasted; glory growing
Greater after great embroil;
Flight; and victory bestowing
Palace; and the sad exile;
Twice in the dust a victim razed,
Twice on the altar victim blazed.

He made a name, two centuries, set
Armed against each other and
To him turned as for their fate,
Waited a signal of his hand.
He sat between them, hushed them still,
Made arbiter his iron will;

2/2

And disappeared; his empty days
Mured within that narrow bound,
Mark for envy’s fiercest rays,
Pity’s sympathy profound,
Inextinguishable hate,
And love unsubdued by fate.

As on the shipwrecked sailor’s head
The wave is wrapped and weighs him down,
The wave upon whose lofty spread
His strained sight was lately thrown,
Scanning to discern once more
The distant and evading shore;

Such on that soul the massy weight
Of memories descended, when —
How many times! — he would narrate
What he has been to coming men;
And on the eternal page remained
Fallen the palsied, nerveless hand!

How oft while day without emprise
Sank into sepulchral rest,
Bent to earth his flashing eyes,
Arms enlaced upon his breast,
He stood; from days of other years
Received the assaults of souvenirs;

Reviewed the moving tents of war
And vanquished ramparts of the foe
And flashing columns gleam afar
And wavy squadrons charging go
And swift commands impetuous made
And swift obedience displayed.

Ah, now, methinks, in such a strait
The spirit fell, breathless and riven
By keen despair; but strong and great
Came a pitying hand from heaven
And into more inspiring air
The desperate transported there;

Led through the flowery paths of Hope
To the eternal plains — the meed
Where guerdons bright, supernal ope,
That loftiest wishes far exceed.
Past glory’s trump and brightest glare
Are silence and deep darkness there.

O thou, fair Immortal! beneficent Faith,
Accustomed to triumphs, conqueror of death!
This, also, among thy triumphings write;
Since no prouder greatness, no loftier height
Of earth-born glory that mortals can know
Has come to the shame of Golgotha to bow.

From these weary ashes, thou
Words condemning ban;
God, who fells and lashes now
Lifts and soothes again,
On that lonely dying bed
Soft His heavenly presence shed.

.

Alessandro Manzoni

Andrew Roberts biography is bretty gud.

Other than that then, Stendhal was in love with him so his books reference him alot, especially The Red and the Black. The protagonist in that is heralded to be the next Napoleon.

And I'm currently reading 'Les Miserables' and so far Napoleon is mentioned alot. Basically anything in the early to mid 19th century French Lit will mention him. He seems to be out of style by the fin de siecle in France at least.

the english translation is f00ckin trash m8

You mean Caesar?

Seconding the Roberts bio.

Chandler's "campaigns of Napoleon" is I think still unrivaled in terms of addressing his military activities.

I read "the charterhouse of Parma" especially hoping to get some Napoleonic content in it, but was pretty disappointed on that front, as I'm sure you know if you've read it. Does the Red and the Black offer more? It sounds promising from what you've said.

Would also love any further recs of literature involving Napoleon; from the few mentions I've found of him (Charterhouse, Dumas' Monte Cristo), he skirts around the edges of the story, offering a backdrop for the story politically/historically, but without himself or his men being involved.

Alexander, Stalin, Hitler, Augustus, the list goes on. Manlets are the most powerful race.

How neutral is Roberts biography? I saw the napoleon documental where he narrates and all the time he's trying to make napoleon look good "h-he wasn't so bad guys c-come on"

I mentioned Caesar not because he was greater than Napoleon, but because he's manlet-er. Napoleon is very great, but not that much of a manlet, so the title of greatest manlet should be to someone who's very great but also very much a manlet

The book is definitely pro-Napoleon, but not detrimentally or apologetically so (in my opinion). But I love Napoleon, so I too could be biased.

Eh, a lot of people in politics tend to be short

Same goes for actors

Didn't know so many famous actors are manlets

Hell has no torments great enough! Nor do the Furies have serpents enough! Vous! Vous!

Ah! how will things stand in two weeks? ... My spirit is heavy; my heart is fettered and I am terrified by my fantasies...

You love me less; but you will get over the loss. One day you will love me no longer; at least tell me; then I shall know how I have come to deserve this misfortune. ...Farewell, my wife: the torment, joy, hope and moving which draw me close to Nature, and with violent impulses as tumultuous as thunder. I ask of you neither eternal love, nor fidelity, but simply...truth, unlimited honesty.

The day when you say "I love you less", will mark the end of my love and the last day of my life.

If my heart were base enough to love without being loved in return I would tear it to pieces.

Josephine! Josephine! Remember what I have sometimes said to you: Nature has endowed me with a virile and decisive character. It has built yours out of lace and gossamer. Have you ceased to love me?

Forgive me, love of my life, my soul is racked by conflicting forces. My heart obsessed by you, is full of fears which prostrate me with misery...I am distressed not to be calling you by name. I shall wait for you to write it.

Farewell! Ah! if you love me less you can never have loved me. In that case I shall truly be pitiable.

memoirs of marbot and caulaincourt
st helena journal by gourgaud

Apparently its actually a benefit as an actor since you're easier to frame and match with other actors
Roger Ebert had a theory that the secret to a great actor is little men with big heads

Don't be mistaken, it's just that a lot of people outside of Europe are fucking short.

War and peace desu