The dome of the Invalides now rises over his remains; his statue again caps the column that commemorates his exploits; and one of his name, advanced by the sole magic of his glory, controls, with arbitrary will and singular ability, the destinies, not of France only, but of Europe.
The nations which united for his overthrow now humbly bow before the family they solemnly pledged themselves should never again taste power, and, with ill-concealed distrust and anxiety, deprecate a resentment that has not been weakened by years nor forgotten in alliances.
Not to them alone has Time hastened to bring that retributive justice which falls alike on empires and individuals. The son of "The Man" moulders in an Austrian tomb, leaving no trace that he has lived; while the lineal descendant of the obscure Creole, of the deposed empress, of the divorced wife, sits on the throne of Clovis and Charlemagne, of Capet and Bonaparte. Within the brief space of one generation, within the limit of one man's memory, vengeance has revolved full circle; and while the sleepless Nemesis points with unresting finger to the barren rock and the insulted captive, she turns with meaning smile to the borders of the Seine, where mausoleum and palace stand in significant proximity,--the one covering the dust of the first empire, the other the home of the triumphant grandson of Josephine.
Said Fortune to a common spit, "Your rust and grease I'll rid ye on, And make ye in a twinkling fit For Ireland's Sword of Gideon!"
In vain! what Nature meant for base All chance for good refuses; M. gave one gleam, then turned apace To dirtiest kitchen uses.
There is upon record a remark of Mozart--probably the greatest musical genius that ever lived--to this effect: that, if few had equalled him in his art, few had studied it with such persevering labor and such unremitting zeal. Every man who has attained high preëminence in Science, Literature, or Art, would confess the same. At all events, the greatest musical composers--Bach, Handel, Haydn, Gluck--are proofs that no degree of genius and natural aptitude for their art is sufficient without long-continued effort and exhaustive study of the best models of composition. And this is the moral to be drawn from Beethoven's early life.