Among other dreadful curses incident to revolution and civil war is the stimulation of fanaticism. In his seizure of the supreme power the purpose of the First Consul was justified to himself, and his procedure was rendered tolerable to the nation at large by the scandalous intrigues and complots which were hatched like cockatrices' eggs in every foul cranny of the land. The conspirators stopped at nothing: bad faith, subornation, murder of every variety, from the dagger to the bowl. This gave the First Consul his chance to become himself the arch-intriguer, and as such he overmatched all his opponents, ultramontanes, radicals, and royalists. Finally only a few unreconstructed reactionaries were left from each of these classes, who, though exhausted and panting, still had the strength to be noisy, and occasionally to make a feint of activity. But in the various localities and classes of France each of the factions had numerous silent and inactive sympathizers who had surrendered only as they felt unable to keep up the uneven conflict. The flames of the volcano were quenched, and the gulf of the crater was bridged by a crust, but the lava of sedition boiled and seethed below. It is a well-known nostrum for civil dissension to stir up foreign conflict, and then to call upon the patriotism of men from all parties. To this the First Consul dared not openly resort. In fact, the indications are that if his enemies in France and his foes abroad had consented peaceably to the fulfilment of his now manifest ambitions, he would himself have been glad enough to secure without further fighting what he had gained by war, and to extend the influence of a Bonapartist France by steady encroachments rather than by exhausting hostilities. The word of every man has exactly the value which his character gives it, and treaties are worth the good faith of those who make them, not a tittle more. Neither of the parties to the general peace was exhausted, neither was really earnest. It was a bellicose age: war was then in the air, as peace is now. The rupture of the treaty made at Amiens was quite as much the work of George III as it was of Bonaparte the First Consul, and the two nations over which they ruled were easily led to renew the struggle. Nothing goes to prove that there was long premeditation on the part of either; but at the time and since, were it not for the widespread distrust in Bonaparte's character, popular opinion would have put the blame of renewed war more upon his opponent than on him. Thus far the angel and the devil which struggle for possession of every man had waged a fairly even conflict, and the blame and praise of what is stigmatized as Bonaparte's conduct must be meted out to his foes in even measure. He and his times had interacted one upon the other to a remarkably even degree. But once launched on the career of personal aggrandizement, every hindrance to consuming ambition was ruthlessly cast aside.