(M726) We come now to consider briefly the career of Alexander, the son of Philip—the most successful, fortunate, and brilliant hero of antiquity. I do not admire either his character or his work. He does not compare the with Cæsar or Napoleon in comprehensiveness of genius, or magnanimity, or variety of attainments, or posthumous influences. He was a meteor—a star of surprising magnitude, which blazed over the whole Oriental world with unprecedented brilliancy. His military genius was doubtless great—even transcendent, and his fame is greater than his genius. His prestige is wonderful. He conquered the world more by his name than by his power. Only two men, among military heroes, dispute his pre-eminence in the history of nations. After more than two thousand years, his glory shines with undiminished brightness. His conquests extended over a period of only twelve years, yet they were greater and more dazzling than any man ever made before in a long reign. Had he lived to be fifty, he might have subdued the whole world, and created a universal empire equal to that of the Cæsars—which was the result of five hundred years’ uninterrupted conquests by the greatest generals of a military nation. Though we neither love nor reverence Alexander, we can not withhold our admiration, for his almost superhuman energy, courage, and force of will. He looms up as one of the prodigies of earth—yet sent by Providence as an avenger—an instrument of punishment on those effeminated nations, or rather dynasties, which had triumphed over human misery. I look upon his career, as the Christians of the fifth century looked upon that of Alaric or Attila, whom they called the scourge of God.