s his private secretary, and
was of course a special favorite in the house. The first manifestation
of reviving Jacobin confidence was shown in the attack made on May
twentieth upon the Convention by hungry rioters who shouted for the
constitution of 1793. The result was disastrous to the radicals
because the tumult was quelled by the courage and presence of mind
shown by Boissy d'Anglas, a calm and determined moderate. Commissioned
to act alone in provisioning Paris, he bravely accepted his
responsibility and mounted the president's chair in the midst of the
tumult to defend himself. The mob brandished in his face the bloody
head of Feraud, a fellow-member of his whom they had just murdered.
The speaker uncovered his head in respect, and his undaunted mien
cowed the leaders, who slunk away, followed by the rabble. The
consequence was a total annihilation of the Mountain on May
twenty-second. The Convention committees were disbanded, their
artillerymen were temporarily dismissed, and the constitution of 1793
was abolished.

The friendly home of Mme. Permon was almost the only resort of
Buonaparte, who, though disillusioned, was still a Jacobin. Something
like desperation appeared in his manner; the lack of proper food
emaciated his frame, while uncertainty as to the future left its mark
on his wan face and in his restless eyes. It was not astonishing, for
his personal and family affairs were apparently hopeless. His
brothers, like himself, had now been deprived of profitable
employment; they, with him, might possibly and even probably soon be
numbered among the suspects; destitute of a powerful patron, and with
his family once more in actual want, Napoleon was scarcely fit in
either garb or humor for the society even of his friends. His hostess
described him as having "sharp, angular features; small hands, long
and thin; his hair long and disheveled; without gloves; wearing badly
made, badly polished shoes; having always a sickly appearance, which
was the result of his lean and yellow complexion, brightened only by
two eyes glistening with shrewdness and firmness." Bourrienne, who had
now returned from diplomatic service, was not edified by the
appearance or temper of his acquaintance, who, he says, "was ill clad
and slovenly, his character cold, often inscrutable. His smile was
hollow and often out of place. He had moments of fierce gaiety which
made you uneasy, and indisposed to love him."

No wonder the man was il