about what he should do in case of success, but a great deal about what he should do in case of a reverse of fortune.  I mention this as a fact of which I have often been a witness, and leave to his brothers in arms to decide whether his calculations were always correct.  He had it in his power to do much, for he risked everything and spared nothing.  His inordinate ambition goaded him on to the attainment of power; and power when possessed served only to augment his ambition.  Bonaparte was thoroughly convinced of the truth that trifles often decide the greatest events; therefore he watched rather than provoked opportunity, and when the right moment approached, he suddenly took advantage of it.  It is curious that, amidst all the anxieties of war and government, the fear of the Bourbons incessantly pursued him, and the Faubourg St. Germain was to him always a threatening phantom.

He did not esteem mankind, whom, indeed, he despised more and more in proportion as he became acquainted with them.  In him this unfavourable opinion of human nature was justified by many glaring examples of baseness, and he used frequently to repeat, “There are two levers for moving men,—­interest and fear.”  What respect, indeed, could Bonaparte entertain for the applicants to the treasury of the opera?  Into this treasury the gaming-houses paid a considerable sum, part of which went to cover the expenses of that magnificent theatre.  The rest was distributed in secret gratuities, which were paid on orders signed by Duroc.  Individuals of very different characters were often seen catching the little door in the Rue Rameau.  The lady who was for a while the favourite of the General-in-Chief in Egypt, and whose husband was maliciously sent back-by the English, was a frequent visitor to the treasury.  On an occasion would be seen assembled there a distinguished scholar and an actor, a celebrated orator and a musician; on another, the treasurer would have payments to make to a priest, a courtesan, and a cardinal.

One of Bonaparte’s greatest misfortunes was, that he neither believed in friendship not felt the necessity of loving.  How often have I heard him say, “Friendship is but a name; I love nobody.  I do not even love my brothers.  Perhaps Joseph, a little, from habit and because he is my elder; and Duroc, I love him too.  But why?  Because his character pleases me.  He is stern and resolute; and I really believe the fellow never shed a tear.  For my part, I know very well that I have no true friends.  As long as I continue what I am, I may have as many pretended friends as I please.  Leave sensibility to women; it is their business.  But men should be firm in heart and in purpose, or they should have nothing to do with war or government.”