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ard, in terror, will plunge into the ocean, to bones amidst the snows of Russia. He had avoid shame, defeat, and death.

gained a throne by the exertion of great In fact, he was already, in his own eyes, a practical wisdom and sagacity; he was now deity upon carth. Writing to his brother, beginning to lose it by the commission of the King of Holland, he says: “Never for- astounding blunders. get, that in the situation to which my polit- He insulted and outraged the northern ical system and the interests of my empire emperor, and carried the greatest army ever have called you, your first duty is towards seen in modern times into the inaccessible ME,—your second towards France. All your empire of Muscovy. He had lost half of other duties, even those towards the people this army before he reached Moscow; and whom I have called you to govern, rank af- had heard, at that enormous distance, that ter these.” Thus, “to his own mind he was the insignificant English force in Spain, the source and centre of duty," and his “po- which he had despised, had won the battle litical system” became the standard of mor- of Salamanca, had entered Madrid, and now als. His devoted and affectionate wife, who threatened the expulsion of his brother, and had stood by him in poverty and danger, the overthrow of the French power in the was discarded the moment his “political sys- Peninsula. tem " rendered it necessary. His brothers He had, in his pride, attempted the imwere used as his tools, and disgraced when possible, and had failed. Leaving the bodies ever they showed the least desire for inde- of 400,000 soldiers on the Russian wilds, he pendence. His mother was not permitted to escaped out of Poland with fewer than 50,000 sit in the presence of her arrogant son! men, and had next to fight for the preserva

But with high-mindedness of this descrip- tion of his ascendency in Germany. Antion practical wisdom never dwells. There other of Wellington's victories, at Vittoria, could be no plainer dictate of common sense, united the three sovereigns of Russia, Austhan that which warned him to crush, if pos- tria, and Prussia against Napoleon, and the sible, the rising power of Wellington. Here winter of that year saw him fairly driven was a commander who had defeated every back into France. His pride and arrogance general that Napoleon had sent against him, still clung to him, and rendered it impossiand had routed the French armies at Vimi- ble for him to stoop. In the negotiations of era, Talavera, Barossa, Sabugal and Fuen- 1813, at Dresden, the Allies offered to leave tes d'Onor. Was it not his first business to him a great empire; in 1814, standing on clear the Peninsula, if he could, of this dan- his own soil, they again offered to give him gerous antagonist, and to drive the English all France. But he could not bend, he army back to its own shores? Yet, with a could not recede; and thus he lost all, bewonderful infatuation did Napoleon adopt cause he would not consent to lose anything. the idea, that “it was good policy to let the A mind which has placed its whole happiEnglish exhaust themselves in the Penin-ness in having no equal, feels the thought sula ;” and hence, instead of putting an end of descending to the level of kings to be into that siruggle, he turned his back upon it, tolerable. He “could not wear,” he said, and madly engaged in a new and deadly strife " a tarnished crown.” • Refusing to take at the other extremity of Europe.

counsel of events, he persevered in fighting, In 1811, when he ought to have been ter- with a stubbornness like that of a spoilt minating the Peninsula controversy, Napo- child, who sullenly grasps what he knows he leon remained at home, adding, by edict af- must relinquish, struggles without hope, and ter edict, new provinces to his immense do- does not give over resistance until his little minions; and commencing a fresh quarrel fingers are one by one unclenched from the with Russia, the only unbroken and really object on which he has set his heart. So formidable power on the continent of Europe. fell Napoleon.” Two hundred thousand fresh troops poured The same burning ambition, the same into Spain might have forced Wellington to restless pride, and the same unscrupulosity quit the Peninsula. But Napoleon over- as to engagements, led him to cast himself looked the opportunity, and in the next spring again upon France in 1815, and forced the he carried more than four hundred and fifty allied powers once more to defeat and to apthousand across the Vistula, to leave their prehend him, and to consign him this time

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to a safer prison. They sent him to St. to live and thrive without moral principle." Helena, and there he ended his days. It was the “ eternal law” which balked and

The last six years of his life were mourn- ruined him, and the result in a million of fully instructive. He had been "a man of experiments would always be the same. Erthe world” all his days, and all his reverses, ery experiment that has a merely sensual being unaccompanied by Divine grace, did and selfish aim will fail.” • nothing to soften his heart, or to elevate his His design, the great business of his life, views ; hence year after year passed in fret- -his design against the independence of ful lamentations over his lost glory, in ill- nations and the liberties of the world, bas concealed aspirations after new contests and been justly described as the most nefavictories, and in bitter quarrelings with his rious enterprise recorded in history. He watchful gaoler.

knew distinctly the price which he must pay Thus had Europe seen “an experiment, for the eminence which he coveted. “He under the most favorable conditions, of the knew that the path to it lay over slaughtered powers of intellect without conscience. Never millions; over the putrifying heaps of his was such a leader so endowed, and so weap- fellow-creatures ; over ravaged fields, smokoned ; never did leader find such aids and ing ruins, pillaged cities. He knew that his followers. And what was the result of this steps would be followed by the groans of vast talent and power; of these immense widowed mothers and famished orphans; of armies, burned cities, squandered treasures, bereaved friendship and despairing love, and demoralized Europe P It came to no result. that with this misery he would create an All passed away, like the smoke of his artil- equal amount of crime.” On the fields of lery, and left no trace.” • “Napoleon's Spain he left half a million of French solworking,—what was it with all the noise it diers, whose bayonets had been dyed with made ? A flash as of gunpowder wide- the blood of a still larger number of murspread ; a blazing up as of dry heath. For dered peasants, with their wives and chilan hour the universe seems wrapt in smoke dren. In his Russian campaign of 1812, he and flame; but only for an hour. It goes lost not fewer than 400,000 of his army; out; the universe with its old mountains while the ravages and murders committed on and streams, its stars above and soil be- the inhabitants of the country defy compuneath, is still there." +

tation. And the sole object of all this And the poor man himself, what a specta- bloodshed,—the Moloch to whom these milcle of earthly greatness does he present, and lions were sacrificed, was nothing else than of earthly folly and self-delusion!

my political system,” “my glory." tions of the world, as he utters them at St. It was the bright and cheering feature in Helena, are almost tragical to consider. his great rival's history, that from first to He seems to feel the most unaffected sur- last he always recognized an obligation, a prise that it has all gone so; that he is flung duty, by which he was bound, and to which out on the rock here, and the world is still he paid a loyal obedience. To say that Welmoving on its axis! His astonishment is lington had no selfishness, would be absurd; extreme. But alas! what help now? He but it is certain that he never allowed it to had to sink there, mournfully enough, and become his dominant motive, or his rule of break his great heart, and die." I

life. Bonaparte, on the other hand, lived Yet, so far as restless energy, unrivalled transparently for himself. No higher or genius, and unscrupulous decision were con- purer aspiration ever stirred his breast than cerned, this terrible failure was not Bona- such as had reference to his own power or " He did all that in him lay “glory.” It was for this sole end that he

lived, and it was to conduce to this end that * Emerson, p. 191.

he would fain have made all other men live. † Carlyle, p. 390. I Carlyle, p. 392. The ostensible cause of his

- There are different orders of greatness. death was cancer of the stomach : on which Dr. Arnott thus writes : “ If it be admitted that a Among these, the first rank is unquestionaprevious disposition to this disease did exist, might bly due to moral greatness ; to that sublime not the depressing passions of the mind act as an energy by which the soul binds itself for life exciting cause? It is more than probable that or death to truth and duty; espouses as its Napoleon's mental sufferings at St. Helena were very poiguant."

Emerson, p. 392.

“ His no

parte's fault.

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own the interests of human nature ; scorns He died defeated, frustrated, and an exile. all meanness and defies all peril; reposes an Yet, unless that thirst could have been unfaltering trust in God; and is ever é ready quenched or taken away, he would have deto be offered up' on the altar of its country served pity no less had he died an autocrat. or of mankind. Of this moral greatness, His broken heart may speak more plainly ; which throws all other greatness into obscurity, we find not a trace in Napoleon.”

but not the fullest success could have ren

dered him less the object of compassion. As to the will or the commands of God, it

Between the boastful conqueror on his is quite clear that these “were not in all his

throne, and the captive exile on his deaththoughts." Hence he performed the work assigned to him, of punishing and scourging cumstances; the disease which ruined him

bed, the only difference is in outward cirguilty nations, and then he was cast upon was the same in his prosperity and in his the rock, “ to break his heart and die." So far as he himself was concerned, his life was those outward circumstances, would pity the

downfall. An archangel, looking beyond one long crime, and, of necessity, it was also

delusion, as much in the conqueror as in the one long and ruinous blunder. What lesson, however, some thoughtless the reality, is the disease, and not this or

captive. And so, now, the substantial thing, reader may exclaim, can there be for us in this story? Which amongst us is likely to

that phase of it. You follow him, perhaps, rise to the command of an empire? Or what that a millionth part of the wealth and power

at an immense distance, vainly imagining instruction can we gain from the study of the

which he enjoyed would richly content you. fall of a great military autocrat? He who so speaks must have overlooked the just remark have the same burning thirst, the same heart

But if you are really following him,-if you of Emerson, that Bonaparte was the type disease, you may reckon on the same fate. or representative, not of emperors, or mili

If apparent success be permitted you, you tary despots, but of " the men of the world.”

will still have to cry out with Solomon, “ All Each man who lives for himself, and covets and obtains wealth and power and the grat. in Napoleon's case,

is vanity and vexation of spirit !” but if, as ification of his selfish ambition, is one of whom Bonaparte was the leader and pattern.

“Vaulting ambition overleaps itself, His motto was Excelsior, and his ceaseless

And falls on the other side,” aim was self-exaltation. A thirst for dominion ever burnt within him,-a thirst which your error will be more seen, and your fate nothing could quench. He gratified it in a more pitied ; yet the difference will be more higher degree than almost any other of the in outside show than in substantial reality. sons of men ; yet still it consumed him, and the practical lesson to all “men of the he died with dreams of conquest and of glory world,” from the merchant craving after gain filling his whole soul. And if you covet to the conqueror at the head of his armies, wealth and power for selfish objects, you fol- is the same: “Wherefore do ye spend money low in the track of Napoleon. “ He had no for that which is not bread, and your labor element of character which others do not pos- for that which satisfieth not? Hearken dili

He is not to be gazed at as a miracle. gently unto me, and eat ye that which is He was a manifestation of our own nature. good, and let your soul delight itself in fatHe teaches us on a large scale what thou- ness. Incline your ear, and come unto me: sands teach on a narrow one."

hear, and your soul shall live." * Channing's Character of Napoleon, p. 62.

sess.

THE PRUSSIAN CROWN AND Cushion.- , William's receipt of his crown from the altar to The Kreuz Zeitung reports a speech made the do with the inviolability of his basis? What other day by the King of Prussia, in which his relation does his basis bear to his crown? Is Majesty said : “My basis will, however, be the not the one the direct opposite to the other?

If the King of Prussia puts his crown upon his same, and will be inviolable. I have received basis, what, we should like to know, does he my crown from the altar.” What has King put his hat upon ?-Punch.

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From The Examiner. “ In early days: when I, of gifts made prond, The Lady of La Garaye. By the Hon Mrs.

That could the notice of such men begnile. Norton. Macmillan and Co.

Stood listening to thee in some brilliant crowd,

With the warm triumph of a youthful smile. This is a true poem, noble in subject and

“ Oh! little now remains of all that was ! aim, natural in flow, worthy in expression,

Even for this gift of linking measured words, with the common soul of humanity throb- My heart oft questions, with discouraged pause, bing in every page through wholesome words Does music linger in the slaekening chords ? that owe their fitness to the generous heart “ Yet, friend, I feel not that all power is fied, not less than to the genius of a woman. While offering to thee, for the kindly years, There is no strain for effect, no evident la- The intangible gift of thought, whose silver

thread bor for the “strong lines " of which Izaak

Heaven keeps untarnished by our bitterest Walton wearied; yet the musical emphatic

tears." lines are modelled to the thoughts they contain with an exquisite nicety. There is the volume indeed untarnished, and if The Lady

The silver thread of thought lies in this refinement of Bowles with the warmth of a

of La Garaye do not win a wide English more heartily poetic nature.

welcome, the change is not in the singer, In the Lady of La Garaye Mrs. Norton

whose best music we have here. simply puts into fit words the sacred poem

The tale is a true one, its date the close of of a life. It is a grave tale of Time and its

the seventeenth century, its scene Dinan in changes—a tale most fit for New Year reading-of Time and its changes that, whatever La Garayes, and its ivy-covered gateway,

Brittany, where the ruined chateau of the be the momentary pang they bring with them, are blessed changes to God's children. remain to be sketched, and have been

sketched by Mrs. Norton to accompany the With its warm sympathies and wholesome truth that may sanctify the memory of our

poem. There is prefixed to it also a copy by

Mrs. Norton of the Lady of Garaye's face dead years, the poem is of all new books the

from a picture in one of the charitable instione most fit to be a New Year's gift between

tutions of Dinan, wherein her spirit yet lives men and women who share with each other earnest thoughts. A murmur of home feeling stirs with plaintive music in the dedica

The poem opens with a prologue among

the ruin Time has made of the house of tion to Lord Lansdowne, who, full as he is of years and honors, cannot account least of

Garaye, where his honors the touching earnestness with

“ Succeeding generations hear

Beneath the shadow of each crumbling arch which his friendship is here honored in a The music low and drear, poet's lines. We quote only a part :- The muffled music of thy onward march, Thou knowest--for thou hast proved—the Made up of piping winds and rustling leaves dreary shade

And plashing raindrops falling from slant caves, A first-born's loss casts over lonely days;

And all mysterious, unconnected sounds

With which the place abounds. And gone is now the pale, fond smile, that made

Time doth efface In my dim future, yet, a path of rays.

Each day some lingering trace “ Gone, the dear comfort of a voice whose sound of human government and human care :

Came like a beacon-bell, heard clear above The things of air The whirl of violent waters surging round ; And earth, usurp the walls to be their own;

Speaking to shipwrecked ears of help and love. Creatures that divell alone, “ The joy that budded on my own youth's Occupy boldly: every mouldering nook bloom,

Wherein we peer and look, When lifo wore still a glory and a gloss,

Seems with wild denizens so swarming rife, Is hidden from me in the silent tomb ;

We know the healthy stir of human life

Must be forever gone!” Smiting with premature unnatural loss. “ So that my very soul is wrung with pain,

But with a sober gravity, unmixed with Meeting old friends whom most I love to see. complaint, Mrs. Norton sings of the ruins Where are the younger lives, since these remain ? of Time, and chooses to tell her tale of huI weep the eyes that should have wept for me!

man trial, love, and triumph, in the woods “But all the more I cling to those who speak of La Garaye.

Like thec, in tones unaltered by my change; Greeting my saddened glance, and faded check,

The poem is in four parts. In the first With the same welcome that seemed sweet and we see "Claud Marot, the young lord of La strange

Garaye, and Gertrude his wife, rich in

upon earth.

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two:

wealth, beauty, friendship, perfectness of gether on that holiday came to wild broken love, and all that can make the full joyous- ground. ness of healthy youth. Claud had a wife

“ Across the water full of peaked stones

Across the water where it chafes and moans“Born, like himself, of lineage brave and good ; Across the water at its widest partAnd like himself, of warm and eager mood;

Which wilt thou leap, O lady of brave heart? Glad to share gladness, pleasure to impart, With dancing spirits and a tender heart.

Their smiling eyes have met—those eager “Pleased, too, to share the manlier sports which She looks at Claud, as questioning which to do; made

He rides-reins in-looks down the torrent's The joy of his young hours. No more afraid

course, Of danger, than the seabird, used to soar

Pats the sleek neck of his sure-footed horse,From the high rocks above the ocean's roar, Stops,-measures spaces with his eagle eye, Which dips its slant wing in the wave's white Tries a new track, and yet returns to try, crest,

Sudden, while pausing at the very brink, And deems the foamy undulations, rest.

The damp, leaf-covered ground appears to sink, Nor think the feminine beauty of her soul

And the keen instinct of the wise dumb brute Tarnished by yielding to such joy's control;

Escapes the yielding earth, the slippery root; Nor that the form which, like a flexile reed,

With a wild effort as if taking wing Swayed with the movements of her bounding The monstrous gup he clears with one safe steed,

spring; Took from those graceful hours a rougher force, Reaches-and barely reaches—past the roar Or left her nature masculine and coarse.

Of the wild stream, the further lower shore,She was not bold from boldness, but from love; Scrambles, recovers, rears, and panting stands Bold from gay frolic; glad with him to rove

Safe 'neath his master's nerveless, irembling In danger or in safety, weal or woe,

hands. And where he ventured, still she yearned to go. “ Oh! even while he leapt, his horrid thought Bold with the courage of his bolder life, Was of the peril to that lady brought; At home a tender and submissive wife,

Oh! even while he leapt, her Claud looked back, Abroad, a woman, modest,-aye, and proud; And shook his hand to warr, her from the track." Not seeking homage from the casual crowd. She remained pure, that darling of his sight,

She fell among the rocks, her horse was In spite of boyish feats and rash delight; killed and she was crippled. Still the eyes fell before an insolent look,

“ But never yet, Or flashed their bright and innocent rebuke ;

Through all the loving days since first they met, Still the cheek kept its delicate youthful bloom, Leaped his heart's blood with such a yearning And the blush reddened through the snow-white plume.

That she was all in all to him, as now. “ He that had seen her, with her courage high,

'O Claud—the pain !! First in the chase where all dashed rapid by,

"O Gertrude, my beloved !' He that had watched her bright impetuous look Then faintly o'er her lips a wan smile moved, When she prepared to leap the silver brook,- Which dumbly spoke of comfort from his tone, Fair in her springtime as a branch of May; As though she felt half saved, not so to die alone. llad felt the dull sneer feebly die away, And unused, kindly smiles upon his cold lips "Ah! happy they who in their grief or pain play!”

Yearn not for some familiar face in vain

Who in the sheltering arms of love can lie It is this fulness and gladness of young Who, when words fail to enter the dull ear,

Till human passion breathes its latest sigh : life that is to be struck down and to bless And when cyes cease from seeing forms most thousands in its ruin. With artistic pur- dear, pose, therefore, its full image is presented Still the fond clasping touch can understand, by the poet. Her friends are gathering to And sink to death from that detaining hand!” join the hunt. She is delicately painted in

With help from a wandering herdsman the words as she waits and as she rides :- count brought home his wife upon a litter of

broken branches. “ Alas! look well upon that picture fair The face, the form, the smile, the golden hair ;

“ The starry lights shino forth from tower and The agile beauty of each movement made,

hall, The loving softness of her eyes' sweet shado,

Stream through the gateway, glimmer on the The bloom and pliant grace of youthful days,

wall, The gladness and the glory of her gaze.

And the loud pleasant stir of busy men If we knew when the last time was the last,

In courtyard and in stable sounds again. Visions so dear to straining eyes went past.”

And through the windows, as that death-bier

passes, The young husband and wife riding to- They see the shining of the ruby glasses

VOW

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