THE MAN again, of whom more has already been written, we believe, than of any other human being, and of whom more remains to be, that is, will be, written, we imagine, than has yet appeared. It is not wonderful. Whatever opinion admirers or defamers may form of his moral character, his career, from the beginning to the close, was the most extraordinary, the most unexpected, the most thoroughly startling, whether considered in its parts or as a whole, that has ever passed before the eyes of the world.

Alexander's career was undoubtedly magnificent. It was a great enterprise, conducted with constant splendor and success, not only to the overthrow of ancient empires supported by immense wealth and powerful armies, but into distant countries, 66 barbaric born," of which only vague reports had come to the ears of civilized nations. From the valley of the Nile to Babylon, Persia and the Indus, his course was one series of memorable triumphs; and to have always conquered is sufficient to give any military chieftain an undying name. Besides his great conquests, moreover, he gave evidences of a mind at once regal and statesmanlike; his views of government were capacious, his plans for the building of cities and the establishment of empire and commerce far-reaching and noble. Had he lived, it is probable that not one half of his reputation would have rested on his achievements in arms.

Hannibal was the second great leader of antiquity, and was unquestionably a genius of the highest order. His native genius, indeed, was probably far superior to that of Alexander. The conqueror of Persia conducted his expeditions mainly against half-barbarous nations; the indomitable Carthaginian was to wage war with a civilized people, and the most experienced military power in the world. Alexander, again, invaded large and open countries, from which, if repulsed, it would have been easy to draw his armies aside into neighboring ter

ritories possessing small means of resistance; but Hannibal led his swarthy legions to the summits of the Alps and hurled them down into the bosom of a narrow and crowded peninsula, where every second man was a warrior, and from which there was no drawing back except with victory. This achievement of scaling so vast a chain of mountains with an armed host was superior to all others of the kind, including Napoleon's boasted passage, insomuch as it was the first, the original, leaving the rest to be in a measure but imitations. This terrible descent into Italy, with the victories and the reverses which followed-equally mighty but equally honorable to his military fame, if we except his strange negligence in not marching direct upon Rome after the battle of Canna-all consummated by a close of life magnanimous as unfortunate, conspire to make his career among the most remarkable on record.

Julius Cæsar, as a character, was superior to both the former. There was no one point in his life quite so imposing or startling, as those which make up the thrilling history of Alexander and Hannibal; but there was an accomplished greatness about him which neither of them possessed. He was of a race prolific in masterly talent, of an age adorned with the highest attainments of the intellect. The resources of arms they had learned in centuries of warfare; the august beauties of law were native with themselves; the splendors of arts and letters they had lavishly adopted. They had subdued the various provinces of Italy, destroyed Carthage, conquered Greece, overrun all the states and kingdoms in the East, which Alexander overran before them, and were now invading the vast nations among the forests of Gaul and Germany. Of that race, and in such an age, Cæsar was undoubtedly the greatest production. The proof of his greatness lay with him, as with all who are great, in his ability to do whatever he planned or aspired to. There is, in fact,

no other evidence that a man is great. For it is a very false idea that genius is always greatness. The latter, in its broadest comprehension, must include the former under some shape, but this does not of necessity fulfill the latter. It argues necessarily the possession of some extraordinary quality or qualities; but these may exist in erratic minds, and their possessors often accomplish memorable things rather as matters of chance than as difficult efforts, marked out at a distance, yet broadly conceived, and overtaken and executed with the fullness of sustained purpose. To have many large qualities, loftily balanced and those not only of mind but of character-to estimate himself never by what he has done, but by what he can do; to regard the objects in view, however vast, as no greater than many others, and as a part only of what is to be accomplished; to recognize them as already effected because resolved upon, remaining unelated in the time of triumph because it was expected-in a word, to be always master of himself to the measure of achievement, yet never show achievement to be the measure of his capacity this, in a man, and this alone, is the highest greatness.

It was to this order of men Cæsar belonged. This is not saying that he was able to do anything which could be done by any other man-for it is a part of the greatness of which we have spoken, that it sees clearly what does, and what does not, lie in its capacity to accomplish. Whatever Cæsar undertook to do, Cæsar did; and he showed ability to triumph on many fields which he scarcely entered. He was not unwise enough (like Cicero) to attempt the heights of poetry-for which he probably had no faculty; but he displayed evidences of consummate power in such various spheres, that some have thought him to have been only a man of general talent rather than of genius, when In fact it was the rare exhibition of genius covering many fields at once. That he was a finished writer of prose, is amply testified by his "Commentaries," where the native directness and simplicity of style, joined with a masterly ease and strength, have made them a model for all subsequent compositions of the kind. It is not difficult, indeed, to conclude from them, that he would have been a master in any species of writing to which he might have turned his attention. In history, we imagine, he would have been especially em

inent, possessing much of Tacitus' brevity and terseness, with much of Livy's breadth of brush and vividness of coloring, while in a clear understanding of matters of government, so necessary to the perfection of history, he would have been superior to both. Whether he might have placed his name with Cicero's in philosophy, we cannot judge, though he had unquestionably far more sense and judgment-no small requisites for such works; and it is conceded by all who have studied him and his times, that in oratory he would have equaled if not excelled the great Roman declaimer, had he pressed into that field with the skill and the vigor which he carried into his campaigns and battle-fields, and ambitious schemes of power. But, as with Napoleon, war and empire had more attractions for his strong energies, and it is there we see the chief exhibitions of the man. Beyond question he was among the five or six first military characters of all nations. He planned his campaigns with a far-reaching foresight, and conducted them with infinitely more science than any general before him had exhibited. He fought seven times as many pitched battles as any leader of antiquity, and more than any modern commander except Napoleon; his eagles were never vanquished; and the range of his conquests nearly doubled the extent of the Roman Empire. In civil matters, among the responsibilities and perils of government, there is evidence enough that he showed equal capacities. He was born both to conquer and to rule; and had he been suffered to bear the full weight of empire and a crown, it would have rested as easily and naturally upon him as his iron helmet. And then comes in the fitting manner of his death to make him " mark for history!" Julius Cæsar was among the greatest men whom Rome and the world have ever produced.

a

In modern times the most striking career was that of Cromwell. Rising from low origin, in as stormy a period as ever upturned the elements of a strong-minded people from the bottom, his iron will, his energy, his stern military capacities, his amazing sense and sagacity in all civil affairs and extraordinary gift at piercing the characters and the motives of men, enabled him to ascend rapidly to the command of the army, lead his nasal psalmsinging Roundheads to constant victory, overturn the throne, behead a King, seize the reins of revolution into his hands of steel, assume fearlessly the im

sensualized-whether from some error in the burin, or imperfection of the daguerreotype, it matters not, so the mischief is done. The sketch of Inman is about as detailed and just as might be expected so soon after the death of a man so much beloved and admired. A happy versatility, but not a very great depth of genius, characterized this favorite artist.

In the third number we have sketches of Benjamin West and Stewart. The portrait of West is so particularly fine, that we present it to our readers. Apart from other considerations, this is a distinction of precedence to which this venerable Artist is certainly entitled. He was the first, in point of time, our country gave birth to, and unquestionably his painstaking and laborious life was crowned with honors not discreditable to the infancy of Art among any people.

The Life and Character of Benjamin West is a subject which can awaken but little true enthusiasm in men's minds. "Some men achieve greatness-some have it thrust upon them." With all West's order and industry, and his long life of earnest endeavor, we still feel that he was a lucky man-that he was born at a fortunate period, when a small capital of talent went a great way, because there was less competition than at a later day. We feel that, in some sense, "greatness was thrust upon him." He was born of Quaker parents. Absurdity often passes for wit, and oddity is almost universally interesting. There was something novel-something exceedingly recherché-in the idea of a Quaker Artist. It was what the learned call a lusus naturæ, and the vulgar a white black bird.

His early efforts make our hearts thrill. We feel a joy at his success in the drawing of his baby sister, which has something in it analogous to the feeling of the mother. Then we take deep interest in his Cherokee instructors, and their teachings in the mysteries of colors, and the art of archery. Then his picking the cat of her fur for brushes, and the trouble of the precise Quaker parents at the altered appearance of the cat, and their rebuking him for his quotations from its fur, "more in affection than anger," are all subjects of interest. And then, when better help came, and the merchant-Penningtonsent his young artist cousin a box of paints and pencils, with canvas prepared for the easel, and six engravings by Grevling, we sympathize deeply with the child in his sleepless joy. And then

the anger of his schoolmaster, because he shut himself up to paint instead of going to school, and the kisses of his mother because of his success in his seclusion, are interesting features in the history of West.

There seems to have been but one event in West's life, which violated his Quaker faith or education. He became a soldier. The Friends had not included this pursuit in their prophecy for the paragon they were persuaded West must become. His only exploit as a soldier appears to have been finding the bones of Sir Peter Halket's father. The sober imagination of West was so much excited by the scene, that he wished to embody it in a picture; but Lord Grosvenor, to whom he described it, discouraged him, and he had not that impetuous genius which carries its possessor, with the force of the avalanche or cataract, over all obstacles, and, easiest of all, over the bubbles of royalty. He returned from his little episode as a soldier, to receive the dying blessing of his mother. His deep and absorbing love for her is truly affecting. His father's house was no longer a pleasant home to him, without the charm of his mother's watchful affection. He soon left for Philadelphia. Here he obtained much patronage. From Philadelphia he went to New York. Here he obtained help to go to Italy. With a present of fifty guineas from Kelly, and letters to leading men in his pocket, he departed for Rome. There he was considered a lion, or rather a sort of savage; and it can hardly be determined at this day whether the people of Rome wished most to exhibit the young savage, or the masterpieces of Art which their City contained. They paid him, however, great attention. An exhausting ambition seems to have been awakened in his mind, and he soon fell ill of a fever. After a lingering illness of eleven months, he was cured.

Those who befriend genius, (says Cunningham in his life of West,) when it is struggling for distinction, befriend the world, and their names should be held in remembrance. There is good sense and right feeling in the reply of Mahomet to the insinuation of the fair Ayesha, that his first wife, Cadijah, was old and unlovely, and that he had now a better in her place. "No, by Allah! there never was a better. She believed in me when men despised me. She relieved my wants when I was poor and persecuted by the world."

character, a quick philosophy to discern the causes that produced great results, and a power of description on occasions of "pith and moment," in scenes of swift and thrilling action, that we do not remember to have seen surpassed by any writer. He possesses the still greater requisite of thoroughly knowing his subject. He feels what Napoleon was, and what the men were whom he gathered around him. He feels, too, what was the nature of that period in which the great Corsican rose, conquered and reigned. He knows that if no ordinary times could produce such a man, no ordinary man was needed to rule such times; that if the struggles of freedom often end in despotism, it may be the very magnitude of the social evils under which those struggles commenced that made a second despotism necessary. He is aware, in brief, that while all historians should know that no important events are without their adequate causes-usually inevitable if not lying in reason-individual or national prejudice, in the old world especially, has falsified one-half of the history ever written, by refusing to see any connection between them, looking at mighty events in times of revolution entirely by themselves, as some monstrous birth a kind of moral mushrooms, born, no one knows how, of night and unwholesome dews. One might better be a fatalist than such a historian. Mr. Headley is an American, and writes with what ought to be the true American spirit, sympathizing always with the masses, yet recognizing what so many republican writers zealously overlook, that intellect and attainments must bear the rule. And we cannot forbear remarking here, that American writers have a great mission to perform. It is to read the history of the old nations with other eyes than those which have hitherto read it for us and the world. Our vision, made keen by a new experience, gazing through a new light, informed by new modes of thought and feeling, cannot fail of seeing things in the past ages very differently from the way in which they have usually been seen. We know of no field on which writers of this country could gain so striking a reputation, as by re-writing the annals of Europe, more especially those of Feudal England. Rightly written, they would be a new revelation to the European mind.

It is at least necessary that we should not take the word only of English histo

rians respecting the character and conduct of their enemies. Yet this, to our disgrace, is what we have usually done. Speaking the same language, we naturally see for the most part, and earliest in life, their representations of Continental affairs, so that nearly all our fixed impressions of European history are derived from the most prejudiced sources. It is quite time that a different state of things should exist, and this is one of the chief causes of our gratification at the appearance of the present volume. There was danger, indeed, that the author, in meeting the thoroughly prejudiced statements of the English, should too exclusively adopt the extremes of French partiality. But we do not think he can be accused of this. All Mr. Headley's writings that we have seen, show him to be an impassioned man, but eminently disposed to justicethough it may be said, and with truth, that an impassioned writer will with difficulty always be entirely just. We can, however, the more safely confide in his account of Napoleon, because, as he himself frankly states, he had formed and published a very different opinion of the man; but on making wider and deeper researches, he was compelled to change it in very many important points. What is yet more conclusive, the reader will find that in all the most "critical instances," the disputed passages of Napoleon's life, he has fortified his defence only by the admissions of the English themselves. A most remarkable instance relates to the breaking of the treaty of Amiens. We will quote a few passages upon this point, as it is made one of the principal grounds of assailing Bonaparte for "unbounded ambition," disdainfulness of the peace of mankind. For, as Mr. Headley remarks, "the first great barrier in the way of rendering him justice is the conviction, everywhere entertained, that he alone, or chiefly, is chargeable with those desolating wars that covered the Continent with slain armies." The first question is, how did those wars begin? How came Napoleon first to be involved in those tremendous struggles?

The original cause of hostility to France-deadly and enduring-was, as Mr. Headley states, the alarming rise of her republic in the midst of Feudal Europe.

"It is impossible for one who has not traveled amid the monarchies of Europe, and witnessed their nervous fear of republican principles, and their fixed determi

nation, at whatever sacrifice of justice, human rights, and human life, to maintain their oppressive forms of government, to appreciate at all the position of France at the time of the revolution. The balance of political power had been their great object of anxiety, and all the watchfulness directed against the encroachments of one state on another; and no one can imagine the utter consternation with which Europe saw a mighty republic suddenly rise in her midst. The balance of power was forgotten in the anxiety for self-preservation. The sound of the falling throne of the Bourbons rolled like a sudden earthquake under the iron and century-bound framework of despotism, till everything

heaved and rocked on its ancient foundation."

This republic the monarchical governments around determined to crush before her strength was consolidated. Austria and Prussia took up arms, avowing their purpose to aid the Bourbon whom France had repudiated. Then Holland, Spain, and England came into the allianceforcing an independent people to arrange their government in a manner against their will. Who, then, is to blame for the terrible train of evils that followed, but the Allied Powers? "Bonaparte was yet a boy," says Mr. Headley," when this infamous war was strewing the banks of the Rhine with slain armies." Finally, the "poor, proud charity-boy of the military school at Brienne," became a lean, pale-faced, slightly-formed young officer of artillery, with a quick, gray eye, and a calm forehead. He was employed, with many hundreds of like grade, in defending France. We have never been able to

understand why he was selected for the most important of all the posts at that time-to head the armies of Italy. He had done nothing especial. He was twenty-seven years old, had trained some cannon successfully at Toulon, and put down a revolt of the sections at Paris. Barras, who procured his appointment, must have had some singular presentiment of his greatness. However, he was sent; and the mighty genius of the man was soon apparent. He found the forces in Italy less than forty thousand men, badly provisioned, worse paid, ragged and murmuring" yet with this force, such was his energy and skill, and the confidence he inspired, he destroyed four -separate armies, each fully as large as his own, achieving one of the most remarkable campaigns on record. Those rmies were Austrian, and this fierce con

flict, the foundation of Bonaparte's fame, was against those who had assailed his country. The next year, by direction of and forced Austria to sign a treaty of his government, he subjugated Lombardy, peace. Thus many of the most terrific battles he ever fought-at Lodi, Arcola, Montenotte, Rivoli, Castiglione, which took place at that period,-were a part of a defensive war carried on under the orders of his government.

Bonaparte returned to Paris, as the preserver of France. Weary of inaction and of the wretched Directory, he proposed the expedition into Egypt. this enterprise cannot be defended. It was By itself, aggressive and unjust; but what had the other powers of Europe to say to it, except that they wanted all the spoils of feeble nations to themselves. Russia, Austria and Prussia had dismembered and stripped poor Poland, and England was covering the plains of India with her swarthy dead in a series of conquests as iniquitous as any nation has ever perpetrated. Cruel ambition of Napoleon and of France!-Undoubtedly, the violence of one nation does not justify the violence of another: but it were wise as well as modest for England to keep silence.

Bonaparte absent, Austria thought it a good time for crippling her old enemy, and recovering a part of her immense losses. Without scruple, she broke her treaty, and recommenced direct hostilities. Napoleon was two thousand miles distant, under the shadow of the Pyramids.

66

Hearing that the Republic was everywhere defeated, and Italy wrested from its grasp, he immediately set sail for France, and escaping the English fleet in a most miraculous manner, protected by "his star," reached France in October. By November he had overthrown the inefficient Directory, and been proclaimed First Consul with all the attributes, but none of the titles, of king. He immediately powers, while at the same time he brought commenced negotiations with the allied his vast energies to bear on the internal state of France. Credit was to be restored, money raised, the army supplied, war in Vendée suppressed, and a constitution given to France. By his superhuman exertions and all-pervading genius, he accomplished all this, and by next spring was ready to offer Europe peace or war."

It is unquestionable that he desired peace." He had acquired sufficient glory," says Mr. Headley, "as a military leader, and he now wished to resuscitate