cleverest lad at the college. I used sometimes to help him with his
Latin themes and versions in return for the aid he afforded me in the
solution of problems, at which he evinced a degree of readiness and
facility which perfectly astonished me.

When at Brienne, Bonaparte was remarkable for the dark color of his
complexion (which, subsequently, the climate of France somewhat changed),
for his piercing and scrutinising glance, and for the style of his
conversation both with his masters and comrades. His conversation almost
always bore the appearance of ill-humour, and he was certainly not very
amiable. This I attribute to the misfortunes his family had sustained
and the impressions made on his mind by the conquest of his country.

The pupils were invited by turns to dine with Father Berton, the head of
the school. One day, it being Bonaparte's turn to enjoy this indulgence,
some of the professors who were at table designedly made some
disrespectful remarks on Paoli, of whom they knew the young Corsican was
an enthusiastic admirer. "Paoli," observed Bonaparte, "was a great man;
he loved his country; and I will never forgive my father, who was his
adjutant, for having concurred in the union of Corsica with France. He
ought to have followed Paoli's fortune, and have fallen with him."

--[The Duchesse d'Abrantes, speaking of the personal characteristics
of Bonaparte in youth and manhood, says, "Saveria told me that
Napoleon was never a pretty boy, as Joseph was, for example: his
head always appeared too large for his body, a defect common to the
Bonaparte family. When Napoleon grew up, the peculiar charm of his
countenance lay in his eye, especially in the mild expression it
assumed in his moments of kindness. His anger, to be sure, was
frightful, and though I am no coward, I never could look at him in