There is a zigzag lightning in his brain
That flies in random flashes, yet not errs.
Chances his victories seem; but link those chances,
And under them a science you shall find,
Though unauthentic, contraband, illicit,
Yes, contumelious oft to laws of war.
Fortune, that as a mistress smiles on others,
Serves him as duty-bound; her blood is he,
Born in the purple of her royalties.”
And so they go on describing him, each in his own way; for, with felicitous art, the presence of Alexander is made to permeate the drama, yet so unobtrusively and unconsciously to all seeming that the mind of the reader, though held fast on the chief character throughout, never wearies of him. The extracts given, culled from here and there, point all in one direction. They are consistent, however they may vary in expression, about the man they describe. He is not like other men; he towers above them; he stands alone. But even this only tells us what men say of him. It may mean no more than any young-lady novelist's description of her hero, whose biting sarcasm and brilliant wit are gifts that it was thought were buried with Sheridan. All which we are willing to concede, only that by some untoward accident the brilliant wit and biting sarcasm never appear on the surface. How does Alexander speak for himself?