In short, he found that he had to contend with a mighty, and an uncontrollable, power—the great moral power of Public Opinion—compared with which, the Military Power, centred in a single Individual, however brilliant the latter in genius and in conception, however fertile in expedients, and however daring and successful in enterprise and in execution, can acquire no permanent stability, when not based upon, and emanating from, the broad and comprehensive moral energies of the Nation; and even a succession of dazzling triumphs, when gained through the instrumentality of an arbitrary drain upon the national resources, and in opposition to the real interests and welfare of the State, tends but to hasten the downfall of the Military Dictator: whose career may be aptly likened to a Grecian column erected upon a loose foundation, displaying around its lofty capital an exuberance of meretricious ornament, which, by its disproportionate weight, destroys the equilibrium of the ill-supported shaft, and involves the entire structure in one confused and irretrievable ruin. Its fall may startle the world with its shock; the fragments may strew the earth in a wreck as gigantic as were its proportions when it drew the gaze of admiring or trembling nations: but they are but the more striking proofs of the destruction that has overtaken it;—it is a ruin still.
BELGIUM, the frequent battle-ground of Europe, whose every stream and every town is associated with the memory of bygone deeds of arms, was destined, in 1815, to witness another and a mighty struggle—a struggle in which were arrayed, on the one side, the two foremost of the confederated Armies advancing towards the French frontiers; and, on the other, the renowned Grande Armée of Imperial France, resuscitated at the magic call of its original founder—the great Napoleon himself. During the months of April and May, troops of all arms continued to enter upon, and spread themselves over, the Belgian soil.
Here might be seen the British soldier, flushed with recent triumphs in the Peninsula over the same foe with whom he was now prepared once more to renew the combat; and here the Prussian, eager for the deadly strife, and impatiently rushing onward to encounter that enemy whose ravages and excesses in his Fatherland still rankled in his memory. The Englishman was not fired by the desire of retribution; for it had pleased Divine Providence to spare Great Britain from the scourge of domestic war, and to preserve her soil unstained by the footprint of a foreign enemy. The Prussian soldier looked forward with a sullen pleasure to the prospect of revenge: vengeance seemed to him a sacred duty, imposed upon him by all the ties of kindred, and by all those patriotic feelings, which, in the hour of Prussia's need, had roused her entire people from the abject state to which they had been so fatally subdued; which, when the whole country lay prostrate at the conqueror's feet, so wonderfully, so powerfully, and so successfully prompted her sons to throw off the yoke. History will mark this deliverance as the brilliant point in Prussia's brightest era, affording as it does, a clear and beautiful parallel to that in which an equally forcible appeal to the energies of the nation was made with similar success by that illustrious Statesman and General, Frederick the Great, when opposed single-handed to the immense Armies and powerful resources of surrounding States. France was about to expiate by her own sufferings the wrongs she had wrought upon his country and his kind, and the Prussian panted for an opportunity of satiating his revenge.
The Briton, if he had no such spur as that which urged the Prussian soldier forward, did not want a sufficiently exciting stimulus; he cherished, in an eminent degree, that high feeling and proud bearing which a due sense of the obligations imposed on him by his country, and of her anxious expectations of his prowess, could not fail to inspire; determined resolutely and cheerfully to discharge the former, and, if possible, to more than realise the latter.
