stency
or method; and he wasted neither his soldiers nor his treasures where
the authority of his name sufficed. What he could obtain by negotiations
or by artifice, he required not by force of arms. The sword, although
drawn from the scabbard, was not stained with blood unless it was
impossible to attain the end in view by a manoeuvre. Always ready to
fight, he chose habitually the occasion and the ground: out of fifty
battles which he fought, he was the assailant in at least forty. Other
generals have equalled him in the art of disposing troops on the ground;
some have given battle as well as he did--we could mention several who
have received it better; but in the manner of directing an offensive
campaign he has surpassed all. The wars in Spain and Russia prove
nothing in disparagement of his genius. It is not by the rules of
Montecuculi and Turenne, manoeuvring on the Renchen, that we ought to
judge of such enterprises: the first warred to such or such winter
quarters; the other to subdue the world. It frequently behoved him not
merely to gain a battle, but to gain it in such a manner as to astound
Europe and to produce gigantic results. Thus political views were
incessantly interfering with the strategic genius; and to appreciate him
properly, we must not confine ourselves within the limits of the art of
war. This art is not composed exclusively of technical details; it has
also its philosophy.

To find in this elevated region a rival of Napoleon, we must go back to
the times when the feudal institutions had not yet broken the unity of
the ancient nations. The founders of religion alone have exercised over
their disciples an authority comparable with that which made him the
absolute master of his army. This moral power became fatal to him,
because he strove to avail himself of it even against the ascendancy of
material force, and because it led him to despise positive rules, the
long violation of which will not remain unpunished. When pride was
bringing Napoleon towards his fall, he happened to say, "France has more
need of me than I have of France." He spoke the truth: but why had he
become necessary? Because he had committed the destiny of France to the
chances of an interminable war: because, in spite of the resources of
his genius, that war, rendered daily more hazardous by his staking the
whole of his force and by the boldness of his movements, risked, in
every campaign, in every battle, the fruits of twenty ye