reported the result--Carlyle has proclaimed him the "Hero of tools"--and, to single out two from a crowd, Thiers and Alison have told his history with minute and careful attention, as well as with glowing ardor of admiration. Time would fail us, besides, to speak of the memories, favorable or libellous-of the dramas, novels, tales, and poems, in which he has figured in primary or in partial display. Surely the man who has borne such discussion, endured such abuse, sustained such panegyric, and who remains an object of curiosity, wonder, and inquiry still, must have been the most extraordinary production of modern days. He must have united profundity and brilliance, splendor and solidity, qualities creating fear and love, and been such a compound of the demigod and the demon, the wise king and the tyrant, as the earth never saw before, nor is ever likely to behold again.

This, indeed, is the peculiarity of Napoleon. He was profound, as well as brilliantly successful. Unlike most conquerors, his mind was big with a great thought, which was never fully developed. He was not raised, as many have stupidly thought, upon the breath of popular triumph. It was not "chance that made him king," or that crowned him, or that won his battles. He was a cumulative conqueror.-Every victory, every peace, every law, every movement, was the step of a giant stair, winding upward toward universal dominion. All was systematic. All was full of purpose. All was growingly progressive. No rest was possible. He might have noonday breathing-times, but there was no nightly repose. "Onwards" was the voice ever sounding behind him: nor was this the voice of his nation, ever insatiate for novelty and conquest; nor was it the mere "Give, give" of his restless ambition; it was the voice of his ideal, the cry of his unquenchable soul. He became the greatest of warriors and conquerors, or at least one of the greatest, because, like a true painter or poet, he came down upon the practice of his art, from a stern and lofty conception, or hypothesis, to which everything required to yield. As Michael Angelo subjected all things to his pursuit and the ideal he had formed of it, painted the crucifixion by the side of a writhing slave, and, pious though he was, would have broken up the true cross for pencils; so Napolean pursued his ideal through tempests of

death-hail and seas of blood, and looked upon poison, and gunpowder, and men's lives, as merely the box of colors necessary to his new and terrible art of war and grand scheme of conquest.

But were the art and the scheme, thus frightfully followed out, worthy and noble? Viewed in a Christian light, they hardly were. The religion of Jesus denounces war, in all save its defensive aspects. But, when we try Napoleon by human standards, and compare his scheme with that of other conquerors, both seem transcendently superb. He saw clearly that there was no alternative between the surges of anarchy and the absolute government of one master-mind. He saw that what was called "balance of power" was a feeble and useless dream, and that all things in Europe were tending either to anarchy or a new absolutism-either to the dominion of millions, or of that one who should be found a match for millions. He thought himself that one. His iron hand could, in the first place, grasp the great sceptre; and his wise and powerful mind would afterwards consolidate his dominion by just and liberal laws. "On this hint he spake"-in cannon. This purpose he pursued with an undeviating energy, which seemed, for a season, sure and irresistible as one of the laws of nature. The unity of his tactique only reflected the unity of his plan. It was just the giant club in the giant hand. Of his system of strategy, the true praise is simply that it gave a fit and full expression to his idea-it was what heroic rhyme was to Dryden, blank verse to Milton, and the Spenserian stanza to Byron.

To his scheme, and his mode of pursuing it, there occur, however, certain strong objections; but all, or nearly all, founded upon principles the truth of which he did not recognize. First, it is a scheme impossible. No one human arm or mind can ever govern the world. There is but One person before whom every knee shall bow, and whose lordship every tongue shall confess. Napoleon saw that there is no help for the world, but in the absolute dominance of a single mind; but he did not see that this mind, ere it can keep as well as gain dominion, and ere it can use that dominion well, must be divine. Who can govern even a child without perpetual mis

takes? And how much less can one ungifted with divine knowledge and power govern a world?

But, secondly, Napoleon mistook the means for gaining his object. He thought himself invested with immunities which he did not possess. The being who can repeal the laws of justice and mercy-who can pursue plans of ultimate benevolence through paths of profound and blood-sprinkled darkness -who can command the Banaanites to be extirpated, and permit the people of Rabbah to be put under axes and saws of iron, and raise up base, bad, or dubious characters, to work out his holy purposes, must be a being superior to man-must be God. Whereas the man, however endowed, who violates all conventional as well as moral laws in secking his objectwho can "break open letters, tell lies, calumniate private character," as well as assassinate and poison, must be pronounced a being in many respects inferior to mankind, a human Satan, uniting magnitude of object and of power to detestable meanness and maliciousness of character and of instrumentality. We ought, perhaps, to apologize for bringing thus, even into momentary contrast, the Governor of the universe, and his mysterious, but most righteous ways, and the reckless actions of the Emperor of the French.

A greater mistake still was committed by Napoleon, when he allied himself with the princes of Europe, when he ceased to be the soldier and the Cæsar of democracy, and when, above all, he sought to found a house, and was weak enough to believe that he could ever have a successor from his own loins equal to himself. Cromwells and Napoleons are but thinly sown, and "not transferable," might be written on their brains. Here we see another proof of the gross miscalculation he made of his own, and indeed of human, nature. "My children must be as great as myself," was his secret thought: otherwise, "I am God, and gods must spring from me." But it is not in human nature to continue a hereditary series of able and wise rulers, far less a procession of prodigies. From heaven must come down the one immutable Man, who is without beginning of days or end of life, whose kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and the days of whose years are for ever and ever.

But, thirdly taking Napoleon on his own godless ground, in seeking his great object, he neglected some important ele

ments of success. He not only committed grave errors, but he omitted some wise and prudent steps. He reinstated the crosier and re-crowned the Pope, instead of patronizing a moderate Protestantism. He was more anxious to attack aristocrats than the spirit of oligarchy. He sought rather to crush than to transfuse the Jacobin element. He contrived elaborately to disguise his real purpose, to dream of his imagination, under the trappings and pretensions of vulgar ambition, and thus created a torrent of prejudice against himself. He made the contest against Russia assume the aspect of a strife between two butchers for a very fair heifer, rather than that of civilization bearding, since it could not interpene trate, barbarism-of the hunter seeking the bear in his den. The enthusiasm he kindled was chiefly that of the love of martial glory, or of attachment to his flag and person, not of the "idea" which possessed his own breast. Hence the ardor of his army, being of the "earth, earthy," yielded quickly to the first gush of genuine patriotism which arose to oppose them, and which, though as narrow as intense, was, in comparison, fire from heaven. Perhaps, in truth, his inspiring idea was not easily communicable to such men as those he led, who, shouting "Vive la France," or "Vive l'Empereur," little imagined that he was paving, on their carcasses, his path to the title and the throne of an "Omniarch.”

The theory of Napoleon, thus propounded, seems to explain some points in his character which are counted obscure. It accounts for his restless dissatisfaction with the success he did gain. What were Belgium, Holland, and Italy to him, who had formed not the mere dream, but the hope and design of a fifth monarchy? It explains his marvellous triumphs. He fought not for a paltry battle-field, nor for the possession of an island, but to gain a planet, to float his standard in the breezes of the whole earth! Hence an enthusiasm, a secret. spring of ardor, a determination and a profundity of resource, which could hardly be resisted. How keen the eye, and sharpened almost to agony the intellect, of a man gambling for a world! It explains the strange gloom, and stranger gaiety, the oddness of manner, the symptoms which made many think him mad. The man, making a fool of the world, became often himself the fool of a company, who knew not be

sides that he was the fool of an idea. The thought of universal dominion-the feeling that he was made for it, and tending to it-this made him sometimes silent when he should have spoken, and sometimes speak when he should have been silent this was a wierd wine which the hand of his Demon poured out to him, and of which he drank without measure and in secret. It explains the occasional carelessness of his conduct a carelessness like that of the sun, who, warming the earth and glorifying the heavens, yet sometimes scatters abroad beams which burn men's brains, and anon set cornfields on fire. It explains the truth and tenderness, the love of justice and the gleams of compassion, which mingled with his public and private conduct. He was too wise to underrate, and too great not to feel, the primary laws of human nature. And he intended that, when his power was consolidated, these should be the laws of his empire. His progress was a voyage through blood, toward mildness, peace, and justice.— But in that ocean of blood there lay an island, and in the island did that perilous voyage terminate, and to it was our daring hero chained, till his soul departed. Against one is land had this continental genius bent all the fury and the energy of his nature, and in another island was he for a time imprisoned, and in a third island he breathed his last.

Our theory, in fine, accounts for the calm firmness with which he met his reverses. His empire, indeed, had fallen, but his idea remained intact. He might never express it in execution; but he had thrown it down on the arena of the world, and it lies still in that "court of the Gentiles." It has started anew in these degenerate days, an invigorating thought, the thought of a single ruler for this distracted earth; a thought which, like leaven, is sure to work on till it leaven all the lump; and is to be fulfilled in a way of which many men dream not. Napoleon, though he failed in the attempt, felt, doubtless, the consolation of having made it, and of having thereby established for himself an impersonal and imperishable glory. The reality of empire departed when he resigned; but the bright prophetic dream of empire only left him when he died, and has become his legacy to the world.

Such, we think, were Napoleon's purpose and its partial fulfilment. His powers, achievements, and private character