CHAP.  III.

In this manner did Napoleon reply to all objections.  His skilful hand was able to comprehend and turn to his purpose every disposition; and, in fact, when he wanted to persuade, there was a kind of charm in his deportment which it was impossible to resist.  One felt overpowered by his superior strength, and compelled, as it were, to submit to his influence.  It was, if it may be so expressed, a kind of magnetic influence; for his ardent and variable genius infused itself entirely into all his desires, the least as well as the greatest:  whatever he willed, all his energies and all his faculties united to effect:  they appeared at his beck; they hastened forward; and, obedient to his dictation, simultaneously assumed the forms which he desired.

It was thus that the greater part of those whom he wished to gain over found themselves, as it were, fascinated by him in spite of themselves.  It was flattering to your vanity to see the master of Europe appearing to have no other ambition, no other desire than that of convincing you; to behold those features, so formidable to multitudes, expressing towards you no other feeling but a mild and affecting benevolence; to hear that mysterious man, whose every word was historical, yielding, as if for your sake alone, to the irresistible impulse of the most frank and confiding disclosure; and that voice, so caressing while it addressed you, was it not the same, whose lowest whisper rang throughout all Europe, announced wars, decided battles, settled the fate of empires, raised or destroyed reputations?  What vanity could resist a charm of so great potency?  Any defensive position was forced on all points; his eloquence was so much more persuasive, as he himself appeared to be persuaded.

On this occasion, there was no variety of tints with which his brilliant and fertile imagination did not adorn his project, in order to convince and allure.  The same text supplied him with a thousand different commentaries, with which the character and position of each of his interlocutors inspired him; he enlisted each in his undertaking, by presenting it to him under the form and colour, and point of view, most likely to gratify him.

We have just seen in what way he silenced the one who felt alarmed at the expenses of the conquest of Russia, which he wished him to approve, by holding out the perspective, that another would be made to defray them.

He told the military man, who was astonished by the hazard of the expedition, but likely to be easily seduced by the grandeur of ambitious ideas, that peace was to be conquered at Constantinople; that is to say, at the extremity of Europe; the individual was thus free to anticipate, that it was not merely to the staff of a marshal, but to a royal sceptre, that he might elevate his pretensions.

To a minister[14] of high rank under the ancient regime, whom the idea of shedding so much blood, to gratify ambition, filled with dismay, he declared “that it was a war of policy exclusively; that it was the English alone whom he meant to attack through Russia; that the campaign would be short; that afterwards France would be at rest; that it was the fifth act of the drama—­the denouement.”