ence;
that the results were against the nature of things, and that in 1812
strategic justice at last found vent for itself in opposition to blind
chance? That would be an unwarrantable conclusion, a most arbitrary
judgment, a case only half proved, because no human, eye can trace the
thread of the necessary connection of events up to the determination of
the conquered Princes.

(*) "Frage an der Schicksal,"a familiar quotation from
Schiller.--TR.

Still less can we say the campaign of 1812 merited the same success
as the others, and that the reason why it turned out otherwise lies in
something unnatural, for we cannot regard the firmness of Alexander as
something unpredictable.

What can be more natural than to say that in the years 1805, 1807, 1809,
Buonaparte judged his opponents correctly, and that in 1812 he erred
in that point? On the former occasions, therefore, he was right, in the
latter wrong, and in both cases we judge by the RESULT.

All action in War, as we have already said, is directed on probable,
not on certain, results. Whatever is wanting in certainty must always be
left to fate, or chance, call it which you will. We may demand that what
is so left should be as little as possible, but only in relation to the
particular case--that is, as little as is possible in this one case, but
not that the case in which the least is left to chance is always to
be preferred. That would be an enormous error, as follows from all our
theoretical views. There are cases in which the greatest daring is the
greatest wisdom.

Now in everything which is left to chance by the chief actor, his
personal merit, and therefore his responsibility as well, seems to be
completely set aside; nevertheless we cannot suppress an inward
feeling of satisfaction whenever expectation realises itself, and if it
disappoints us our mind is dissatisfied; and more than this of right and
wrong should not be meant by the judgment which we form from the mere
result, or rather that we find there.

Nevertheless, it cannot be denied that the satisfaction which our mind
experiences at success, the pain caused by failure, proceed from a sort
of mysterious feeling; we suppose between that success ascribed to good
fortune and the genius of the chief a fine connecting thread, invisible
to the mind's eye, and the supposition gives pleasure. What tends to
confirm this idea is that our sympathy increases, becomes more decided,
if the successes