tagonists so
feeble as the rulers who opposed his rush to supremacy. At the dawn of
the nineteenth century the old monarchies were effete: insanity
reigned in four dynasties, and weak or time-serving counsels swayed
the remainder. For several years their counsellors and generals were
little better. With the exception of Pitt and Nelson, who were carried
off by death, and of Wellington, who had but half an army, Napoleon
never came face to face with thoroughly able, well-equipped, and
stubborn opponents until the year 1812.

It seems a paradox to say that this excess of good fortune largely
contributed to his ruin: yet it is true. His was one of those
thick-set combative natures that need timely restraint if their best
qualities are to be nurtured and their domineering instincts curbed.
Just as the strongest Ministry prances on to ruin if the Opposition
gives no effective check, so it was with Napoleon. Had he in his early
manhood taken to heart the lessons of adversity, would he have
ventured at the same time to fight Wellington in Spain and the Russian
climate in the heart of the steppes? Would he have spurned the offers
of an advantageous peace made to him from Prague in 1813? Would he
have let slip the chance of keeping the "natural frontiers" of France
after Leipzig, and her old boundaries, when brought to bay in
Champagne? Would he have dared the uttermost at all points at
Waterloo? In truth, after his fortieth year was past, the fervid
energies of youth hardened in the mould of triumph; and thence came
that fatal obstinacy which was his bane at all those crises of his
career. For in the meantime the cause of European independence had
found worthy champions--smaller men than Napoleon, it is true, but men
who knew that his determination to hold out everywhere and yield
nothing must work his ruin. Finally, the same clinging to unreal hopes
and the same love of fight characterized his life in St. Helena; so
that what might have been a time of calm and dignified repose was
marred by fictitious clamours and petty intrigues altogether unworthy
of his greatness.

For, in spite of his prodigious failure, he was superlatively great in
all that pertains to government, the quickening of human energies, and
the art of war. His greatness lies, not only in the abiding importance
of his best undertakings, but still more in the Titanic force that he
threw into the inception and accomplishment of all of them--a force
which inves