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pure, in the circles of friendship, or in the bowers of home? Did any thing that other men consider just and true, and on no account to be trifled with, ever hold him back one moment from that course, which was dictated by his own devilish ambition ? The reader of Napoleon's life-as written in the world's knowledge-finds the ready answer; and sees, and feels too, how vain is Mr. Headley's attempt, through the blaze of Napoleon's intellectual qualities, to blind the eye to the awful deformity of his soul.

As to Mr. Headley's fears that he will be censured for inculcating a warlike spirit in this age, we would say we perhaps find less fault with this than aught else in his book. A warlike spirit, in itself, rightly based and rightly kept alive, is only feared by a few modern sentimentalists in religion, in these innovating times. Fourierists, Socialists, and what not, will, of course, find fault with Mr. Headley,as they object to all fighting; -we however belong to the old New England race, who find back in their history, such out of the way and ignoble places as Concord, Lexington, Bunker Hill, &c. &c.; who revere our ancestors for all noble qualities, among the which, as not the least best, was their war spirit; and we shall not find fault with this or any other author, who shows us the intellectual power necessary, or the fame accruing to any and all successful or unsuccessful battles, where a nation's just rights are invaded. We are not in favor of cruelty. We go for no aggressive wars. Territory, if we must have it, we would pay for, not with the heart's blood of citizens, but their cash. But we are among the staid and sober-the old blue Connecticut and New England set, who go for such vices as capital punishment, paying for what we buy both as individuals and as states, and who would not

(unless like the Quaker, who threw a man overboard and drowned him though he would not take his life) at all object to beating back from our coast or soil any foreign enemy who might dare invade us. In other words, we are not for Peace Societies in these days, any farther than these are for cultivating a just spirit of peace and forbearance. We are not non-resistance people. We believe we should fight, and that with very considerable, if not commendable energy, if any one should seem determined forcibly, to take from us what was our own and we felt we could not well spare. Mr. Headley then, need not fear any malediction from the New Englander, or we think from any New England man, for giving a warlike spirit to the age. Let him teach a just warlike spirit; one that waits for wrongs, and proceeds violently to right them, only when other means fail; and he will so far-have every right-minded man's approbation.

But for the gigantic and evil Spirit of France he has seen fit to eulogize; for the wars of this giant, by which millions of souls were sent to doom, and thrones in scores were scraped together like so many pebbles, and then piled up for an enormous seat on which himself should be seated ;-for attempting to make out that France was just from first to last, Napoleon was just, and all the histories from first to last have slandered both France and her evil Genius; and that the world made a very great mistake when she took this Genius for a devil-for all this we have for Mr. Headley no harsher wish, than that the work may soon pass away from the recollections of our people, as a mistaken act from a mistaken judgment, of one who we doubt not is an amiable, as he certainly is an able and often eloquent man.

MORNING.

He has no heart who on a morn like this

Wakes not in glory with the glorious scene; He does not know the luxury of bliss,

Nor where its source is found, or where has been ;-
He walks along the baser paths of life-

He drinks from streams that let him thirst again;
He gains no strength to grapple with the strife,
Or strong endurance for its fiery pain.

The sun goes up the eastern sky in glory,

And flings abroad a flood of fairy flame;
The earth seems deck'd like earth in fairy story,
And every thing has beauty none can name;
Along the mountains runs the eye in wonder,
Along the forests, and the valley bright-

Where the dark floods that sweep that vale in thunder,
And the sweet brooks are laughing in the light.

And what a voice of sweetness earth is waking
From every side of us-a burst of song!—
As the full soul of Melody were breaking,

And its glad notes commingled pour'd along;
From the far forest, from the copse-wood dingle,

From every grove, each stream bank, and smooth'd lea; From each, from all, the notes come, and then mingle In all the soul has dreamed of harmony.

E'en the full heart of earth's Intelligence,
Twould seem were flooded with a newer joy;
The storms that beat the spirit hurry hence,
And comes again the gladness of the boy;

Twould seem the thorns of sorrow could not press us,
Twould seem afflictions should be felt no more;
And we could feel that earth hath that to bless us,
And we are wandering on a flowery shore.

Tis true indeed the earth has that which often
Crushes the soul and beats it to the ground;
And nothing seems there the poor heart to soften,
From the broad heavens above, or aught around;
We go abroad upon its spreading bosom,

We keep the open ear for its sweet songs;
Yet nothing see we like the flower in blossom,
And nothing hear we but the voice of wrongs.

Yet earth hath that to fill the breast with gladness,
She often comes to us and wondrous seems;
She drives afar the clouds that vex to madness,
And fills the soul with holiest, happy dreams;

We then can feel there is a joy in being,

We love the world, and feel it loves us too;
And we go on its thousand beauties seeing,

While every moment gives us something new.

Like this glad morn the earth puts on a brightness
The heart can feel, yet words can scarce express-
When the heart has the wildest sense of lightness,
And the soul knows the fairy world can bless;
And we cast off each bitter thought of sorrow,
And seem to gather strength still to go on-
Our hopes all brighter for a bright to-morrow,
Our spirits sure to gaze upon the sun.

Thanks, for this world of glory now around us,
Thanks for its light, and for its glorious joy;
Thanks for the freedom from the chains that bound us,
Thanks for the wild sweet gladness of the boy ;—
While this wild pleasure thrills us till we fear it,
And e'en oppress'd the heart is from its sway-
Let the pure thought go up to the great Spirit,
And thank Him for the glories of the day!

Henry Bronson

WAR IN ITS DEMOCRATIC AND ECONOMIC
RELATIONS.

THE war-spirit, it seems, has not yet died out. Men talk in the old strain of washing their hands in each other's blood. The clarion-note of battle and of victory is even now ringing through the land, recalling scenes of carnage which have not been witnessed for more than thirty years. Its half-forgotten sounds, there is reason to believe, are not, in all instances, unwelcome to our ears. There are those among us, who speak in tones of complacency, if not exultation, at the prospect of national strife.

The consequences of a war, prosecuted in earnest, between two of the prime powers of the present day, would be dreadful. We are sickened and filled with horror even at the thought. The tremendous war-engines which modern science and skill have provided, and might greatly improve, would tell with frightful effect in such a contest. The deVOL. IV.

47

struction of life and property would be

without a parallel even in history. There is a strange insensibility to the guilt of taking life in public war. Private murder is regarded in its true light. It is looked upon as a crime of the blackest dyea wicked and dastardly act, of which none but fiends and cowards can be guilty. Life is sacred --too sacred to be committed to the keeping of individuals. It is guarded with scrupulous and unceasing care. It must not be taken, even by government, except as a punishment for a few of the most aggravated offences; and then only in a prescribed manner, and after tedious and most solemn formalities. And yet we are ready to glory over the carnage of the battle-field, where opposing hosts meet in hostile array, to hack and hew each other's bodies, and send souls to the world of spirits. We even single out the principal

actors in these sanguinary scenes, and confer on them envied distinctions. We mount them upon our shoulders, put wreaths upon their brows, and honor them with a victor's triumph. Their deeds are celebrated by shouts, bonfires, and gunpowder explosions. Poets sing their praises, and children are taught to lisp their names with pride. And when death bids them follow their victims, their souls are ushered into -Heaven, mid the booming of cannon. Long processions of sorrow. ing mortals follow their scarred bodies to the grave. To preserve their memory, costly and ambitious monuments are erected, on which are recorded, in stately phrase, the glories of the departed. Such are warriors! They are called heroes and patriots. They have slaughtered their thousands, and thus have won deathless wades the me highwayman, who kills a solitary traveler, is a dastard, worthy a dungeon and the scaffold. Strange inconsistency! What is the wide difference between that species of killing which earns garlands and immortality, and that which merits infamy and a halter? Is the conqueror better than the assassin because he deals out death on a larger scale, striking down battalions, instead of single men ? Is the fact that his victims were the subjects of a different government, having breathed another air and trod another soil, a matter of such moment that he must be honored, while the highwayman is hung? Are not we brothers all, and may not all be permitted to live on this planet? Does the circumstance that we dwell on the hither, while others dwell on

* We are not so blind as not to see that the responsibilities of war do not always rest on the immediate doers of its bloody deeds. Perhaps the government, possibly the people themselves, are most guilty. We are not so strenuous to know to whom belongs the responsibility; we only insist that it must be with somebody. Somebody must answer to the charge of murder.

the farther, side of an artificial line called the national boundary, furnish a valid reason why the latter should be shot, and why we should shoot them, and be called valiant for so doing? Has not that somewhat numerous race of men which governments call "enemies," the common attributes of humanity?

There are those who would deprive the state of the power to take human life, (such is its sanctity) as a punishment for crime. They would substitute imprisonment for the gallows, in all cases whatsoever. They have tender consciences; get faint at the sight of blood; talk of a Christian code of laws; and yet are not always so zealous or so eloquent as they ought to be in the glorious cause of national peace. Not an hour ago we took into our hands an influential political paper. In the first column there was tempt to prove hanging for me a relic of the dark ages; a sanguinary and wicked practice, inconsistent with the mild precepts of the Gospel and the lights of this age, and digraceful to any but a barbarian country. We thought then, as we had thought before, that there was at least plausibility in what was said. But in another column, there was an announcement, in staring capitals, of a battle, a glorious victory, with great slaughter of the enemy. Then followed the details of the bloody fight. There was not a single accompanying expression of regret— of pity for fallen, suffering humanity.

A government like ours ought, above all others, to be opposed to

war.

War is contrary to its spirit, and is incompatible with its most important objects. The true and permanent interests of this country would be put in jeopardy by warby such a war as we have contemplated. Our progress in population and wealth, in commerce and all "industrial" enterprises, in free government, in the arts and sciences, and in every thing which makes

a people great, would be abruptly checked. To secure the ends of our national existence-to fulfil our proper destiny-it is necessary that we should pursue a peaceful policy. We desire abundance and security. We wish to be happy, enlightened, united and free. We can not be so without peace at home and peace abroad. It is utterly impossible that a warlike people should be other than a miserable people. Eternal Justice has so ordained it; all history is witness to the fact. Would we extend the boundaries of freedom-break the chains which tyranny has fastened upon the nations? Would we win the good opinion of the suffering in other lands, concerning the excellence of our institutions and the sincerity of our love for the human race? Then we must prove that we can practice, as well as preach, the mild doctrines of republicanism-that we are unwilling to resort to the brutal weapons of despots that we feel for our fellow men a little too sincerely, to blow out their brains with gunpowder. Fire and sword and red-hot shot will not make friends-will not gain the affection and confidence of the oppressed of other governments. They are poor arguments with which to advance the cause of humanity and liberty. If, then, we would make sure of the inestimable blessings which Providence has placed within our reach; if we would recommend ourselves and our principles and institutions to the wide world; we must avoid the bloody business of war.

We have endeavored to found a system of government on a moral basis. Moral means are the chief instruments by which its ends are to be attained. We have almost discarded force as an element of our political institutions. We are hardly willing to retain enough for the execution of our criminal law. For the propagation of opinions among ourselves, we never think of calling in its assistance. When we resort

to force, and place our reliance upon it, in our dealings with men, we abandon all our darling political theories. We put our trust in a new principle. We invoke the aid of a divinity which we have all along rejected and reviled.

The ideas, force and freedom, are eternally opposed--contradictory and mutually destructive. The first is the central idea of European institutions. It is the foundation of monarchies, aristocracies, theocracies, hereditary rights and despotic laws. The instruments with which it acts are bayonets, gunpowder, solid, hollow and grape shot," peace. makers" of various calibre, trained battalions, etc. Its victims are of course the people the ignoble masses. The second, is the characteristic and central idea of American institutions. We have embra. ced it enthusiastically, have cherished it as a grand source of our hap piness, and have ever sought to preserve it in our legislative action. Our political system is held together by a moral bond; and we are never weary of contrasting the blessings which it secures to us, with the deg radation, the destitution, the help. less dependence and hopeless bondage, which flow from governments constituted and administered on different principles. But the moment we take up arms and attempt to compass our ends by their agency, treating men not as moral agents but as brutes, to be governed by fear and loaded muskets, we change front; we repudiate our republican doctrines, and take our position by the side of kings and tyrants. We reject our own, and adopt the European mode of attaining an object and governing the world.

Armies and the implements of war, are the means by which ty ranny triumphs over freedom-by which the few contrive to enslave the many. They are the instruments by which thrones are acquir. ed and despots maintained in power.

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