lumes as far as was compatible with limits of
space and with the narrative form at which, in my judgment, history
ought always to aim.

On the whole, British policy comes out the better the more fully it is
known. Though often feeble and vacillating, it finally attained to
firmness and dignity; and Ministers closed the cycle of war with acts
of magnanimity towards the French people which are studiously ignored
by those who bid us shed tears over the martyrdom of St. Helena.
Nevertheless, the splendour of the finale must not blind us to the
flaccid eccentricities that made British statesmanship the laughing
stock of Europe in 1801-3, 1806-7, and 1809. Indeed, it is
questionable whether the renewal of war between England and Napoleon
in 1803 was due more to his innate forcefulness or to the contempt
which he felt for the Addington Cabinet. When one also remembers our
extraordinary blunders in the war of the Third Coalition, it seems a
miracle that the British Empire survived that life and death struggle
against a man of superhuman genius who was determined to effect its
overthrow. I have called special attention to the extent and
pertinacity of Napoleon's schemes for the foundation of a French
Colonial Empire in India, Egypt, South Africa, and Australia; and
there can be no doubt that the events of the years 1803-13 determined,
not only the destinies of Europe and Napoleon, but the general trend
of the world's colonization.

As it has been necessary to condense the story of Napoleon's life in
some parts, I have chosen to treat with special brevity the years
1809-11, which may be called the _constans aetas_ of his career, in
order to have more space for the decisive events that followed; but
even in these less eventful years I have striven to show how his
Continental System was setting at work mighty economic forces that
made for his overthrow, so that after the _debacle_ of 1812 it came to
be a struggle of Napoleon and France _contra mundum_.

While not neglecting the personal details of the great man's life, I
have dwelt mainly on his public career. Apart from his brilliant
conversations, his private life has few features of abiding interest,
perhaps because he early tired of the shallowness of Josephine and the
Corsican angularity of his brothers and sisters. But the cause also
lay in his own disposition. He once said to M. Gallois: "Je n'aime pas
beaucoup les femmes, ni le jeu--enfin rien: _je suis tout a fait un
e