might any day be dismissed, and "thus the terror he inspired was simply due to the singular effect of his person on all who approach him."
"I had met men worthy of respect, and had likewise met men of ferocious character; but nothing in the impression which Bonaparte produced on me reminded me of either. . . . A being like him, wholly unlike anybody else, could neither feel nor excite sympathy; he was both more and less than a man; his figure, intellect, and language bore the impress of a foreign nationality. . . . Far from being reassured on seeing Bonaparte oftener, he intimidated one more and more every day. . . . He regards a human being as a fact, an object, and not as a fellow-creature. He neither hates nor loves: he exists for himself alone; the rest of humanity are merely ciphers. . . . Every time that I heard him talk, I was struck with his superiority. It bore no resemblance to that of men informed and cultivated through study and social intercourse, such as we find in France and England; his conversation concerned the material fact only, like that of the hunter in pursuit of his prey. His spirit seemed a cold, keen sword-blade, which freezes while it wounds. I realised a profound sense of irony which nothing great or beautiful could withstand, not even his own fame, for he despised the nation whose suffrages he sought."
