Now, in discussing the justice of view, we have before us two questions resting on entirely different considerations, and which yet are very apt to be confused. Whether Cæsar's accession to power was a benefit to the world is a totally distinct question from the question whether he achieved power by rightful and honourable means. Cæsarism may have tended to the good of mankind, and yet Cæsar's character may be tarnished for ever by the method he adopted to consummate his greatness. The latter issue is one rather for his contemporaries than for succeeding generations; the former is one for all time. Happily for the world, the influence of a man's private character extends far less widely, and operates for a far shorter period, than his public action. Brutus may have been right in considering that Cæsar merited a traitor's death, and yet Cæsar may, through his rule, have been a benefactor to his country and his kind. According to the Napoleonic faith, the justice of Cæsar's sway depends, not on the personal qualities of the man, but on the exigencies of the period in which his lot was thrown. This faith has little resemblance to the harsh and unphilosophical doctrine, if any one holds such a doctrine, that the strong man has a right to rules imply because he is stronger than his neighbours-a doctrine justifying every description of tyranny which the world has known. All that the Emperor endeavours to prove is that there are certain conjunctions in the world's history when, in the interests of mankind, power must be intrusted to a single hand, and that, when such a conjunction arises, the man who monopolizes power is a benefactor, not a malefactor. The doctrine is no doubt liable to fearful perversion. It is easy for any usurper to say that, because he is able to become an autocrat, therefore the tendency of events demands an autocracy. But the fact that the doctrine is dangerous if perverted does not prove that it is never true. What one wishes is that the critics of the Napoleonic theory, instead of contenting themselves with the assertion that Im

nobody doubts) would prove also that it is the greatest of all evils-would show, with reference to the particular case in dispute, that the form of government inaugurated by Cæsar was not an improvement upon the order of things which preceded it. After all, the Empire secured to Italy centuries of internal peace, and of external greatness. It produced a degree of civilization, of progress, and material development, such as the world had never witnessed before; and, above all, it gave to the bulk of its subjects an amount of happiness and security and order which was only reserved for a few beneath the rule of the republic. I am not saying that these blessings were due to the Empire-I am only asserting it must be shown they are not due before we can fairly join in the cry that Imperialism is an evil unredeemed by any compensating advantages. Gibbon was certainly not an apologist of despotism; and yet he avers that, "If a man were called to fix a period "in the history of the world, during "which the condition of the human

race was most happy and prosperous, "he would without hesitation name "that which elapsed from the death of "Domitian to the accession of Com" modus." And it is certain that, for centuries after the Empire had passed away, its memory was still fondly cherished as the great protecting power of law and security and order, and that the dream of its possible revival was entertained by the most brilliant intellects of a far later age when the principle of individual freedom was again asserting its supremacy. The evidence of history seems to show that the cruelties of the wicked Emperors did not affect the masses to any great extent. The famous words

"Sed periit postquam cerdonibus esse timendus Cœperat. Hoc nocuit; Lamiarum cæde

madenti,"

imply clearly enough the limits within which the democratic sway of the autocrat could be safely exercised.

To hold such a faith as I conceive is

Cæsar, need not involve disloyalty to the principles of free government. The only heresy likely to be held, if it be an heresy, is whether there is any virtue in the forms of constitutional institutions when once they have ceased to secure that security and order whose maintenance is the object of all government whatever. Few people, I think, would assert that the South American Republics derive any real advantage from the circumstance of their having the theories of ministerial responsibility and of parliamentary taxation enrolled amongst the principles of their political institutions. The real defect of an autocracy is, that it is of its nature transitory, and therefore cannot secure permanent order; but, in a transition period, it may well be a less evil to a country than the perpetuation of a system of constant revolution and factious disturbance.

It would be idle to deny that these reflections, if they have any value at all, suggest the possibility of a similar defence for the system of government which the eulogist of Cæsar has established in France. The parallel may not hold good between the Cæsars and the Napoleons; and many years, if not generations, must pass away before the world can judge whether the work of the Second Empire has been evil or good. My only feeling in putting forward these considerations is a hope that in some small way they may tend to suggest the necessity of adopting a more philosophic tone in criticising the rule of the greatest of living sovereigns. Surely we have had railing enough. For well-nigh fifteen years we have gone on ridiculing, abusing, and attacking the Second Empire. If fine writing, and eloquent declamation, and burning invective could have killed a man, the object of our abuse would have perished long ago. Yet, somehow, he has lived down the storm of words.

It

has been with us a foregone conclusion, that every word he spoke was dishonest, that every act he did was done from some base motive, that every virtue he

and that his success was nothing but the triumph of rascality, and intrigue, and low cunning. We have denied him even that one quality of physical courage which one would have thought beforehand was indispensable for a man who, single-handed, has raised himself to the height of power. And, thus, his character has been throughout an impenetrable mystery to us. Refusing to judge of him as we judge of other men-by his works, we have been perpetually torturing ourselves to discover some non-natural explanation for acts perfectly intelligible on the hypothesis that their author was a man not devoid of high inspirations, or of an unselfish desire to fulfil what he, rightly or wrongly, believes to be his mission. I have no desire to see success worshipped, as success; but the cause of success always seems to me deserving of investigation.

It is said the only criticism passed by Napoleon III. on Mr. Kinglake's book was "C'est un livre ignoble." Yet it is hard to doubt that the recollection of that bitter personal attack was present to his mind when he speaks of the scant measure of justice that Cæsar received from the chroniclers of his history. For a moment the cold impassive dignity of the style rises to something like passion, as the author comments on those historians who assumed that "all Cæsar's actions have a "secret motive which they boast of

If this counsel were followed, if we could bring ourselves to hold the consoling faith that the success of great men is due not so much to petty passions, to sordid and selfish cunning, as to some moral elevation of mind, we should possibly understand more thoroughly than, as a nation, we ever yet have done the true secret of the success of the Napoleons.

It may be urged that any such impartial estimate of Imperialism is tantamount to an approval of those acts of violence which initiated the Empire, and of those arbitrary measures which have followed its establishment, and which still are maintained in operation. The argument is more ingenious than sound. It is not the purpose of those whose opinions I share to defend in any way the institutions of the French empire. Their merit or demerit is, in my judg

ment, a matter to be left entirely to the decision of the French people. My plea amounts solely to this, that there are epochs when democratic Imperialism suits a nation better than aristocratic or bureaucratic constitutionalism, and that the success which has attended the second empire is some prima facie evidence that such an epoch had arrived in France in the days when the sometime prisoner of Ham first began to attract the notice of men. If this plea be sound, it is childish to content ourselves with idle invectives against the "Coup d'État," or to consider that we have settled the whole question of the Napoleonic rule when we have stigmatized it with the name of Imperialism. It is possible that the experience of future years may confirm the truth of our popular distrust in the stability of the empire. But as long as the "Life of Cæsar" survives it will remain as a testimony that its authorbe his faults or vices what they maywas not a man of low ambitions and

vulgar ends. That justice, at least,

must be done in future to the Third Napoleon.

Cæsar, need not involve disloyalty to the principles of free government. The only heresy likely to be held, if it be an heresy, is whether there is any virtue in the forms of constitutional institutions when once they have ceased to secure that security and order whose maintenance is the object of all government whatever. Few people, I think, would assert that the South American Republics derive any real advantage from the circumstance of their having the theories of ministerial responsibility and of parliamentary taxation enrolled amongst the principles of their political institutions. The real defect of an autocracy is, that it is of its nature transitory, and therefore cannot secure permanent order; but, in a transition period, it may well be a less evil to a country than the perpetuation of a system of constant revolution and factious disturbance.

It would be idle to deny that these reflections, if they have any value at all, suggest the possibility of a similar defence for the system of government which the eulogist of Cæsar has established in France. The parallel may not hold good between the Caesars and the Napoleons; and many years, if not generations, must pass away before the world can judge whether the work of the Second Empire has been evil or good. My only feeling in putting forward these considerations is a hope that in some small way they may tend to suggest the necessity of adopting a more philosophic tone in criticising the rule of the greatest of living sovereigns. Surely we have had railing enough. For well-nigh fifteen years we have gone on ridiculing, abusing, and attacking the Second Empire. If fine writing, and eloquent declamation, and burning invective could have killed a man, the object of our abuse would have perished long ago. Yet, somehow, he has lived down the storm of words. has been with us a foregone conclusion, that every word he spoke was dishonest, that every act he did was done from some base motive, that every virtue he

It

and that his success was nothing but the triumph of rascality, and intrigue, and low cunning. We have denied him even that one quality of physical courage which one would have thought beforehand was indispensable for a man who, single-handed, has raised himself to the height of power. And, thus, his character has been throughout an impenetrable mystery to us. Refusing to judge of him as we judge of other men-by his works, we have been perpetually torturing ourselves to discover some non-natural explanation for acts perfectly intelligible on the hypothesis that their author was a man not devoid of high inspirations, or of an unselfish desire to fulfil what he, rightly or wrongly, believes to be his mission. I have no desire to see success worshipped. as success; but the cause of success always seems to me deserving of inves tigation.

It is said the only criticism passed by Napoleon III. on Mr. Kinglake's book was "C'est un livre ignoble." Yet

it is hard to doubt that the recollection of that bitter personal attack was present to his mind when he speaks of the scant measure of justice that Cæsar received from the chroniclers of his history. For a moment the cold impassive dignity of the style rises to something like passion, as the author comments on those historians who assumed that "all Cæsar's actions have a "secret motive which they boast of "having discerned after the event," and speaks of the "strange inconsistency" of those who impute "to great men at the

same time mean motives and super"human forethought." But this tone of retort is soon dropped in order to resume the wonted style of grave re flection. The concluding words of the book we quote in French, as the Eng lish translation fails to convey their purport:

"Ne cherchons pas sans cesse de petites passions dans de grands âmes. "Le succès des hommes supérieurs, et "c'est une pensée consolante, tient "plutot à l'élévation de leurs senti