the fact that, for a long time, we ldlighted in the unreal, until we grew tired of it. Such as it appears now it is in itself a serious tendency, without option and refinement-—ts least danger is insipidity.
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Subtlety of the sense of power.—Napoleon resented the fact that he was but on indifferent orator, and did not deceive himself on that point: but his ambition, which did not shrink from any means and was even subtler than his subtle intellect, made him less clever an orator than he really was. Thus he wreaked vengeance on his own anger (he was jealous of all his emotions, because they had a hold upon his mind), and enjoyed his autocratic pleasure. This same pleasure he again enjoyed with regard to the ears and judgment of the audience as though it would quite do for them to be thus spoken to. Nay, he exulted in the thought of weeping judgment and good taste by force of the thunderbolts of the highest authority—which lies in the alliance of power with genius—whilst in his own heart both judgment and good taste coldy and proudly adhered to the truth that he did not speak well. Napoleon, as the perfect and elaborate type of one passion, belongs to antique humanity: whose characteristics—the simple construction and ingenious formation and fiction of one motive or a few motives—may be easily recognised.
