rupulous than Wellington's. Neither
declined to employ every legitimate means of deceiving their enemies,
but both were absolutely incapable of self-deception. And this
characteristic was not without effect on their military conduct.
Although never deterred by difficulties, they distinguished clearly
between the possible and the impossible. To gain great ends they were
willing to run risks, but if their plans are carefully considered, it
will be seen that the margin left to chance was small. The odds were
invariably in their favour. In conception as in execution obstacles
were resolutely faced, and they were constitutionally unable to close
their eyes to contingencies that might prove ruinous. The promise of
great results was never suffered to cajole them into ignoring the
perils that might beset their path. Imagination might display in
vivid colours the success that might accrue from some audacious
venture, but if one step was obscure the idea was unhesitatingly
rejected. Undazzled by the prospect of personal glory, they formed "a
true, not an untrue, picture of the business to be done," and their
plans, consequently, were without a flaw. Brilliant, indeed, were the
campaigns of Napoleon, and astonishing his successes, but he who had
so often deceived others in the end deceived himself. Accustomed to
the dark dealings of intrigue and chicanery, his judgment, once so
penetrating, became blunted. He believed what he wished to believe,
and not that which was fact. More than once in his later campaigns he
persuaded himself that the chances were with him when in reality they
were terribly against him. He trusted to the star that had befriended
him at Marengo and at Aspern; that is, he would not admit the truth,
even to himself, that he had been overdaring, that it was fortune,
and fortune alone, that had saved him from destruction, and Moscow
and Vittoria, Leipsic and Waterloo, were the result.

But although there was a signal resemblance, both in their military
characters as in their methods of war, between Wellington and
Jackson, the parallel cannot be pushed beyond certain well-defined
limits. It is impossible to compare their intellectual capacity.
Wellington was called to an ampler field and far heavier
responsibilities. Not as a soldier alone, but as financier,
diplomatist, statesman, he had his part to play. While Napoleon
languished on his lonely island, his great conqueror, the
plenipotentiary of his own Governmen