at he really never had a friend, would be to deny to
him any part in the nature and destiny of his species.--No one ever
dared to be altogether alone in the world.--But we doubt if any man ever
passed through life, sympathising so slightly with mankind; and the most
wonderful part of his story is, the intensity of sway which he exerted
over the minds of those in whom he so seldom permitted himself to
contemplate anything more than the tools of his own ambition. So great a
spirit must have had glimpses of whatever adorns and dignifies the
character of man. But with him the feelings which bind love played only
on the surface--leaving the abyss of selfishness untouched. His one
instrument of power was genius; hence his influence was greatest among
those who had little access to observe, closely and leisurely, the
minutiae of his personal character and demeanour. The exceptions to this
rule were very few.

Pride and vanity were strangely mingled in his composition. Who does
not pity the noble chamberlain that confesses his blood to have run cold
when he heard Napoleon--seated at dinner at Dresden among a circle of
crowned heads--begin a story with, _When I was a lieutenant in the
regiment of La Fere_? Who does not pity Napoleon when he is heard
speaking of some decorations in the Tuileries, as having taken place "in
the time of the king, my uncle?"[76]

This last weakness was the main engine of his overthrow. When he
condescended to mimic all the established etiquettes of feudal
monarchy--when he coined titles and lavished stars, and sought to melt
his family into the small circle of hereditary princes--he adopted the
surest means which could have been devised for alienating from himself
the affections of all the men of the revolution, the army alone
excepted, and for re-animating the hopes and exertions of the
Bourbonists. It is clear that thenceforth he leaned almost wholly on the
soldiery. No civil changes could after this affect his real position.
Oaths and vows, charters and concessions, all were alike in vain. When
the army was humbled and weakened in 1814, he fell from his throne,
without one voice being lifted up in his favour. The army was no sooner
strengthened, and re-encouraged, then it recalled him. He re-ascended
the giddy height, with the daring step of a hero, and professed his
desire to scatter from it nothing but justice and mercy. But no man
trusted his words. His army was ruined at Waterloo; and the bri