This prince had nothing great but his soul, nor handsome but his eyes.  Small in size, with broad shoulders, his haunches badly set on, his forehead singularly shaped, long nose, large mouth, the grace and animation of his countenance overcame every imperfection of figure, and rendered Gustavus one of the most attractive men in his dominions; intelligence, goodness, courage, beamed from his eyes, and pervaded his features.  You felt the man, admired the king, appreciated the hero.  There was heart in his genius, as there is in all really great men.  Well informed, deeply read, eloquent, he applied all his endowments to the empire; those whom he had conquered by his courage, he vanquished by his generosity, and charmed by his language.  His faults were display and pleasure; he liked the glory of those enjoyments and amours which are found and pardoned in heroes; his vices were those of Alexander, Caesar, and Henri IV.  The revenge of a disgraceful amour had something to do with the conspiracy which destroyed him; to resemble these great men, he only wanted their destiny.

When almost a child, he had rescued himself from the tutelage of the aristocracy; in emancipating the throne, he had emancipated the people.  At the head of an army, recruited without money, and which he disciplined by its enthusiasm, he conquered Finland, and went on from victory to victory to St. Petersburgh.  Checked in his greatness by a revolt of his officers, surrounded in his tent by his guards, he had escaped by flight, and had gone to the succour of another portion of his kingdom, invaded by the Danes.  Again a victor against these deadly enemies of Sweden, the gratitude of the nation had restored to him his repentant army; and his sole vengeance was in again leading them to conquest.

He had subdued all without, tranquillised all within, and had only one ambition left—­disinterested from every consideration but fame—­to avenge the forsaken cause of Louis XVI., and to secure from her persecutors a queen whom he adored at a distance.  This was the vision of a hero; it had but one mistake—­his genius was vaster than his empire.  Heroism with disproportioned means makes the great man resemble an adventurer, and transforms gigantic designs into follies.  But history does not judge like fortune, and it is the heart rather than success that makes the hero.  The romantic and adventurous character of Gustavus is still the greatness of a restless and struggling soul in the pettiness of its destiny.  His death excited a shriek of joy amongst the Jacobins, who deified Ankastroem; but their burst of delight on learning the end of Gustavus, proved how insincere was their affected contempt for this enemy of the constitution.

IX.