But it was not an unvaried sunshine with this gentleman. There were periods when his gigantic capital seemed likely to be scattered to the four quarters of the globe. He lost half a million in one English operation; when the French entered Spain in 1823, he was also in the utmost jeopardy; but, perhaps, the most perilous position in which he was placed was with the Polignac loan, although his vast intelligence again saved him, and placed the burden on the shoulders of others. With this, however, he suffered greatly, as the price fell thirty per cent. He had, also, other sources of apprehension. Threats of murder were not unfrequent. On one occasion, he was waited on by a stranger, who informed him that a plot had been formed to take his life; that the loans which he had made to Austria, and his connection with governments adverse to the liberties of Europe, had marked him for assassination; and that the mode by which he was to lose his life was arranged. But though Rothschild smiled outwardly at this and similar threats, they said, who knew him best, that his mind was often troubled by these remembrances, and that they haunted him at moments when he would willingly have forgotten them. Occasionally his fears took a ludicrous form. Two tall, mustachioed men were once shown into his counting-house. Mr. Rothschild bowed, the visitors bowed, and their hands wandered first in one pocket, and then in another. To the anxious eye of the millionnaire, they assumed the form of persons searching for deadly weapons. No time seemed allowed for thought; a leger, without a moment’s warning, was hurled at the intruders; and, in a paroxysm of fear, he called for assistance, to drive out two customers, who were only feeling in their pockets for letters of introduction. There is no doubt that he dreaded assassination greatly. “You must be a happy man, Mr. Rothschild,” said a gentleman who was sharing the hospitality of his splendid home, as he glanced at the superb appointments of the mansion. “Happy! me happy!” was the reply. “What! happy when, just as you are going to dine, you have a letter placed in your hands, saying, ‘If you do not send me £500, I will blow your brains out!’ Happy! me happy!” And the fact, that he frequently slept with loaded pistols by his side, is an indirect evidence of a constant excitement on the subject.