ons. Napoleon, though naturally adventurous, was not
deficient in consistency or method; and he wasted neither his soldiers
nor his treasures where the authority of his name sufficed. What he
could obtain by negociations 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 Montecuculii and Turenne, manoeuvring
on the Renchen, that we ought to judge of such enterprises. The first
warred to secure 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 to 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 religions 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 hurrying 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
the French 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 boldn