he juries likewise acquit him, so as not to incur the risk of
revenge, slow perhaps but always sure."--"Public spirit is unknown."
There is no social body, except any number of small parties hostile to
each other.... One is not a Corsican without belonging to some family,
and consequently attached to some party; he who would serve none, would
be detested by all.... All the leaders have the same end in view, that
of getting money no matter by what means, and their first care is to
surround themselves with creatures entirely devoted to them and to whom
they give all the offices.... The elections are held under arms, and
all with violence.... The victorious party uses its authority to avenge
itself on their opponents, and multiplies vexations and outrages... .
The leaders form aristocratic leagues with each other.... and mutually
tolerate abuses. They impose no assessment or collection (of taxes) to
curry favor with electors through party spirit and relationships....
Customs-duties serve simply to compensate friends and relatives....
Salaries never reach those for whom they are intended. The rural
districts are uninhabitable for lack of security. The peasants carry
guns even when at the plow. One cannot take a step without an escort; a
detachment of five or six men is often sent to carry a letter from one
post-office to another."

Interpret this general statement by the thousands of facts of which it
is the summary; imagine these little daily occurrences narrated with all
their material accompaniments, and with sympathetic or angry comments
by interested neighbors, and we have the moral lessons taught to young
Bonaparte.[1230] At table, the child has listened to the conversation of
his elders, and at a word uttered, for instance, by his uncle, or at
a physiognomic expression, a sign of approbation, a shrug of the
shoulders, he has divined that the ordinary march of society is not that
of peace but of war; he sees by what ruses one maintains one's-self,
by what acts of violence one makes ones way, by what sort of help one
mounts upward. Left to himself the rest of the day, to the nurse Ilaria,
or to Saveria the housekeeper, or to the common people amongst whom
he strays at will, he listens to the conversation of sailors or of
shepherds assembled on the public square, and their simple exclamations,
their frank admiration of well-planned ambuscades and lucky surprises,
impress more profoundly on him, often repeated with so muc