He had that superiority of calmness in the confusion he created, which enabled him to control it: preserving _sangfroid_ in his excitement and his temper, even in a moment of passion, he jested with the clubs in their stormiest moods.

A burst of laughter interrupted bitterest imprecations; and he amused the people even whilst he impelled them to the uttermost pitch of fury.

Satisfied with his two-fold ascendency, he did not care to respect it himself, and neither spoke to it of principles nor of virtue, but solely of force.
Himself, he adored force, and force only.

His sole genius was contempt for honesty; and he esteemed himself above all the world, because he had trampled under foot all scruples.

Every thing was to him a means.