that his curiosity was intense and universal. By land or by sea, among the learned or the rude, he put all around him under contribu tion to the improvement of his stock of knowledge. No one better understood the adage, “knowledge is power;" and no one ever more steadily acted on the principle that every man can teach us something, and it is wise and honorable to induce him to do it. Bonaparte, like Cyrus of old, and like Socrates, and like all who are more fond of the acquisition than the display of knowledge, selected those topics of conversation with which his colloquists were better acquainted than himself; thus at once acquiring the best information they had to impart, and endearing himself to men of every grade. The common sailor, or soldier, or peasant, could no longer believe him the haughty and misanthropic being he had been led to imagine. The benignity and familiarity with which he would do this, are said to have been surprising and extremely captivating.

Was Bonaparte a tyrant? This is another question which seems to be in a pretty fair way of adjustment. That he was a despot, his fondest apologist cannot deny. His will was law-and execution too. And where such is the fact on a large scale, and especially where selfishness is so predominant, acts of tyranny, to some extent, are a matter of course-and hence our fundamental objection to despotism, as a species of government to be administered by any being short of the Infinitely Wise and Good. But that Bonaparte was a tyrant in the sense in which Caligula or Nero or Robespierre were tyrants, we cease to believe. His ambition, indeed, drove him headlong to general measures, and to at least one or two individual acts of deep atrocity. His passions, also, were strong; and his wrath, when excited, was terrible. But the same, for aught we

know, is true of every powerful genius; and may be a constituent of that native temperament which is requisite for great deeds. Our own Washington possessed it in a marked degree, as we are personally informed by one of his intimates during our revolution, though his passions were doubtless under a far more steady controul than those of Napoleon. In one sense, Bonaparte was a tyrant; but in the more common and worst acceptation of the epithet, we think him the reverse. So far as his ambition, that volcano in his bosom, would permit, he appears amiable and philanthropic. We will add, that he personally avoided. and despised, and discountenanced, in his court, the practice of low and debasing vices-those usual concomitants of tyranny, and even of royalty.

Wes Napoleon a legitimate sovereign? In the present technical sense of the term, it is plain he was not; that is, his father was not a monarch before him! Bat was he a rightful sovereign? On this point, we answer at once, (though briefly and comparatively,) by saying--just as rightful as any of the rest of them-and just as legitimate, in every sense of the term, as any of the founders of their respective dynasties. Why not? He was just as rightfully eligible to monarchy, and was just as fairly elected, as perhaps any of those founders; and more so than most of them. how could they transmit to their posterity," imbeciles" or tyrants as they might prove, a better right than themselves ever possessed? It is just as absurd as to say, that I have, indeed, no fair right to hold in bondage my kidnapped slave, but his posterity may be held by me and my children forever!

And

Scott has some confused reasoning on Bonaparte's elevation, which seems as if it were written under the eclipse of legitimacy. The

amount of what he has said, or rather of what it seems to us he wished to say, and would have said, and that in a tenth part of the words, had he been writing in a perfectly clear atmosphere, is this: The French people had a right to make Bonaparte a limited monarch, but not a despot, because liberty is an unalienable right. Yet he has so constructed his reasoning on this point, (perhaps intentionally,) that we dare say the legitimates understand him as denying the right of Bonaparte to reign in any manner. He might think it premature to say to all Europe, in any clearer language, that a majority of her sovereigns are at this moment acting essentially as usurpers, in retaining the extent of their prerogative, however acquired; and that any rational combination, adequate to the task, would be justified essentially on the same principle as in the case of Napoleon, in putting down such usurpation, and restoring inalienable rights to the people. We hope the time is not far distant when he will think it opportune to speak out plainly; or rather when there shall be no farther occasion for speech or action to abolish despotism, that pest of humanity-Divine Providence removing it perhaps in a way more peaceful and permanent than man's impatience could devise.

Has the deposition of Bonaparte been a blessing, on the whole, to the world? At first, all Christendom accorded their amen to the transaction, seeming instinctively to know that it was so essential to the peace and good order of the world, that it must be right and best. With the exception of a small minority, the only apprehension was, that the work would not be effectually and forever done. But more recently, and especially since his death has put an end to all possible danger from him, an opposite opinion has been gaining ground; and not a few have been heard to lament his fall.

This opinion has been greatly strengthened, particularly in this country and Great Britain, by the bad faith of the despots to their subjects regarding free constitutions— the hypocrisy of the Holy Alliance, and their conspiracy against light and liberty-and the violent and systematic measures they have pursued against the melioration of man's social condition. It is no wonder that the blood of freemen should boil at such baseness and blind selfishness in those imbecile legitimates, in whom we find so little to respect, and nothing to admire. Our blood has boiled, and we have almost been tempted to wish Bonaparte back again, with his sword at their throats, and they cowering and compelled to court their subjects with at least some temporary relaxation of oppression not stopping to think that he would oppress even more severely

or, thinking this, stil! proudly to say, if so it is, and man must still continue to be mangled, let him rather be torn by the jaws of the noble lion, than vilely trampled and suffocated in the fen beneath the feet of an asз.' We believe it owing, in no slight degree, to this loathing sense of degradation, that France welcomed back the Lion from Elba.

But still such instinctive feelings as these, however natural, when our view is concentered on the present evil, are but poorly fitted to guide us to a just estimate of the consequences on the other side of the alternative, and fairly to strike the balance between them. On the most calm and comprehensive view of the whole subject of which we are capable in our limited sphere of observation, we see, on the whole, no occasion of real regret, but much of grateful joy at his removal from the throne of abused power. From what has transpired from his own lips since his deposition, as well as from other sources, respecting his

"vast plans," as he termed them to O'Meara, it is rendered doubly certain that all hope of general peace with him on the throne, would have been a chimera, so long as a kingdom remained for him to conquer. But in addition to all that can be conceived of the horrors of war, and the blessings of general pacification, we have a further thing to remark; and one which we must ask time to state distinctly, as we do not recollect to have met with the suggestion. The general cause of morality in this country, as well as in Europe, was intimately connected with his downfall. What we remarked as matter of fact at the time, first drew our attention to the topic. The news of his dethronement seemed to strike a damp and discouragement among all the ranks of the vicious. The swearer swore in subdued tones and with less atrocious oaths-the sacrilegious scoffer became more placable and decent-the scorner began to speak with some respect of religion and morality-and the riotous became more calm. While on the other hand, the good of every grade took courage, and breathed new life. A universal impression was felt that the grand adversary of man had received a deadly blow. The effect was manifest, not only in the crowded city, but in the retired hamlet; and regarding the nature of the effect, and its immense aggregate throughout Christendom, a check to every bad, and an encouragement to every good man, we must hold it as a theme of boundless gratitude to the great Disposer of events.

To account for this effect, we have to remark, that the French revolution, that monster of atheism and mother of all abominations, was regarded as the parent of Bonaparte, and he the heir and defender of her moral realm. Mistakes in certain points of his moral character, making him worse than he really was, conduced to increase and

fasten the impression. His pretended change and actual disregard of religion, in Egypt, and again at home, gave an air of credibility to all that was so eagerly said and so readily believed of his wickedness. And France was still known as the head quarters of infidelity. Thus it came to pass, that the triumph of Bonaparte was regarded as the triumph of sin, by both friend and foe to correct principles, morality, and godliness. His fall, therefore, was a crash that shook all Pandemoni

um.

We now proceed to ask; Was it right to dethrone him? We answer, yes. Not indeed for want of legitimacy; nor did even the allies claim this till their work was nearly through. It was justifiable on the principle, that any revolution can be right. Such a dethronement can no more be specifically provided for by international law, than any domestic revolution can be contemplated in the constitution of a government. Common sense and humanity are to arbitrate in such cases; and as there cannot, so there ought not to be, any appeal from their decision, except to the King of the Universe. Napoleon's ambition had made him the butcher of nations and the pest of the world; and it would have been nothing short of manslaughter to suffer him to go on when in their power to prevent it. On the same principle, we regard it the duty of Europe to put a stop to the massacre of the Greeks, and change the Turkish government. Even Bonaparte himself, as reported by O'Meara, held the same sentiment as applied to the Turks; and we thank him for giving us the real reason why they have not long since been expelled from Europe, where he says they are a blot on her map, and a disgrace to civilization. It is for this sordid reason-that the great powers cannot agree on the division of the spoil. He, then, who made and

unmade kings at his pleasure could not consistently complain when his own avowed principle was applied to his own dethronement.

But when dethroned, we wonder that England had not been more careful, as a matter of policy merely, to prolong his life to the utmost. He was their chained lion, to be let loose at their pleasure on the rest of Europe; and while he lived, they might have ruled the continent as they would. No Bourbon could have slept quiet in his palace, till assured that he had breathed his last.

One more question. Has Bonaparte, on the whole, been a curse or a blessing to the world? At such a question, we stagger and succumb. Doubtless immense good, as well as evil, has accrued, and will continue to accrue, from his existence. He benefitted France in a multitude of respects; and he has infused life, and energy, and thought, into the civilized world; and his fall, in connexion with his career, will afford its lessons to the end of time. But whether more good or evil be the result, we can only guess; and that but poorly; for who can conjecture what would have come out of the French revolution without him? None but the Omniscient can tell the ultimate effect of any one thing on the welfare of the universe.

Bonaparte was superstitious. He talked much of fate and destiny, and seemed to believe in some such heathenish vagary. Regardless as he was of the Sabbath, and of religion, he is said to have been loth to join battle on a Friday. So was Lord Byron superstitious in much the same way, and to a greater extent, because perhaps the greater sceptic. He "regarded days" much like the ancient heathen; and he would not suffer his Count Gamba, in Greece, to be the undertaker of any project, lest it should fail, as he counted him ill-starred. The like propensity may perhaps be witness

ed in the unbelievers of every rank. And we suspect that all the gradations of real scepticism and infidelity may be more exactly marked by the degree of credulity and superstition than by any direct professions of these wayward thinkers. God seems to have made man necessarily a religious being, in its general acceptation; and if he rejects the true religion, it is by substituting a false one. This, too, we deem a strong proof from the God of nature, that there is a true religion.

We think highly of the utility of studying thoroughly the biography of great men. It is here that the grand traits of human nature, as well as the dealings of divine providence, appear in bold relief. Such an interest, too, is taken in these great men, that we more easily remember, and more readily apply, what we learn of them. But we have no occasion to exhort our readǝrs to peruse Bonaparte's life. Curiosity will ensure it attention. They may not all undertake with these large volumes; but they will at least see the abridgment. The work is now sold remarkably cheap.

Still we cannot help thinking that such a work as O'Meara's, however faulty and false in some respects, is much better, so far as it goes, for the purpose of mere biography-it is so interesting; so full of anecdote and conversation; is so easily remembered; and shows us so much of the inward man, and of the arts and iniquity of kingly rule. If we would know what kings and cabinets are, Bonaparte is the man to tell us; and in O'Meara, he has done it, and with a frankness and to an extent which he would not have done, if then on a throne, or ever expecting to have occasion for such arts again. He has opened not only the palace, but the policy and the hearts of kings; and whether most to despise or to detest them we know not.

Just after the perusal of Scott, we chanced to take a work containing portions of the private correspondence of Washington and the distinguished generals and statesmen united with him in and after the achievement of our liberty. The contrast between these men and those of the French revolution appeared greater than we had ever before imagined. Here, all was enlightened, sincere, glowing, selfdenying, steady patriotism;-there, rashness, cruelty, supreme and reckless selfishness. We can never again wonder why our revolution should succeed, and theirs fail. Nor can we much hope for any thorough achievement of liberty in France or the adjacent countries for ages yet

to come.

On closing these volumes, we are led to exclaim-Where now is this mighty being under whose tread the earth shook and trembled for twenty years, and at whose presence the nations fled in dismay? what to him, now, is all that glory and power-and what is the reward of such anxious toil and the lavishment of such amazing energies? It is now ended, and the phantom that allured him has vanished. And how, too, will this accountable mortal meet his murdered millions at the bar of God? We know of nothing on earth that operates as so perfect an antidote in our bosom to all sublunary ambition, as the thoughtful perusal of the entire life of a great and ambitious man. Partial glimpses of the great while on their ca reer, may fire the bosom and frenzy the brain; but view the whole life, with all the toils, perplexities, and disasters-and then the closing scene of death, and the cold still ness that succeeds; and all is right again and the lesson is doubly impressed on man, that, "to fear God and keep his commandments, is the whole of man's" duty, happiness, interest, all.

The Duty of Christians to Pray for the Missionary Cause. A Sermon, preached at Boston, Nov. 1, 1827, before the Society for Propagating the Gospel among the Indians and others in North America. By EBENEZER Porter, D. D. Published by request of the Society. Andover; 1827.

THE author of this sermon, without aiming at any originality of statement on a subject which is already exhausted, urges, with his characteristic clearness, judgment, and taste, the duty of Christians to pray for Missionaries, because,

1. Their object is great-the gloof God in the sanctification and salvation of men.

ry

2. The obstacles in their way are great-the indifference, obduracy, pride, prejudice, and hostility of the human heart-obstacles never to be surmounted, except through the influence of that Spirit which is given in answer to prayer.

3. The consequences of their conduct are great on the one hand, and calamitous beyond conception, if Missionaries to the heathen should be left to preach themselves rather than Christ; to proselyte men to their own narrow and sectarian views, rather than to build them up in the most holy faith; and on the other, rich in every blessing for this life and for the life to come, should they, "as wise master-builders,". under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, lay the deep foundations of social order and Christian privilege, on the ruins of Paganism.

4. Their labors and sacrifices are great--involving an amount of hardship, poverty, toil, anxiety, and suffering, which must break their spirits, and crush their frame to the dust, if they cannot lean on an arm that is Almighty.

In reviewing the subject, the preacher asks, "Is it not apparent, that the magnitude of the Mission