ct of mere curiosity, or rather is it
not an involuntary feeling of vanity which prompts us to console
ourselves for the superiority of great men by reflecting on their faults,
their weaknesses, their absurdities; in short, all the points of
resemblance between them and common men? For the satisfaction of those
who are curious in details of this sort, I will here endeavour to paint
Bonaparte, as I saw him, in person and in mind, to describe what were his
tastes and habits, and even his whims and caprices.

Bonaparte was now in the prime of life, and about thirty. The person of
Bonaparte has served as a model for the most skilful painters and
sculptors; many able French artists have successfully delineated his
features, and yet it may be said that no perfectly faithful portrait of
him exists. His finely-shaped head, his superb forehead, his pale
countenance, and his usual meditative look, have been transferred to the
canvas; but the versatility of his expression was beyond the reach of
imitation: All the various workings of his mind were instantaneously
depicted in his countenance; and his glance changed from mild to severe,
and from angry to good-humoured, almost with the rapidity of lightning.
It may truly be said that he had a particular look for every thought that
arose in his mind.

Bonaparte had beautiful hands, and he was very proud of them; while
conversing he would often look at them with an air of self-complacency.
He also fancied he had fine teeth, but his pretension to that advantage
was not so well founded as his vanity on the score of his hands.

When walking, either alone or in company with any one, in his apartments
or in his gardens, he had the habit of stooping a little, and crossing
his hands behind his back. He frequently gave an involuntary shrug of
his right shoulder, which was accompanied by a movement of his mouth from
left to right. This habit was always most remarkable when his mind was
absorbed in the consideration of any profound subject. It was often
while walking that he dictated to me his most important notes. He could
endure great fatigue, not only on horseback but on foot; he would
sometimes walk for five or six hours in succession without being aware of
it.

When walking with any person whom he treated with familiarity he would
link his arm into that of his companion, and lean on it.

He used often to say to me, "You see, Bourrienne, how temperate, and how
thin I am; but, in spite o