his renown; though other kings had ruled over the nation; though a lone island was his grave, and his image had long been withdrawn from the sight, still, after a lapse of six and twenty years, his senseless form is borne back to France, and we see a nation in tears over his coffin! What legitimate prince was ever thus wept-what other man, public or private, has ever been honored with such a testimony to his dominion over the hearts of thirty-five millions of men?

But while we thus acknowledge the intellectual greatness of Napoleon, and ponder with admiration upon it as a spectacle of human capacity, calculated to exalt our views of man, we must still bestow the most emphatic condemnation upon his character and career. His aim was universal dominion, for no good or philanthropic purpose, but only to gratify the hungering and thirsting ambition of his soul. In attempting to realize this wicked dream, he sacrificed millions of human lives, and would, had it been required, have sacrificed half the human race. Nor was this reckless waste of happiness, this utter contempt of mankind,—their hopes, fortunes, feelings, pains, pleasures,-the only charge which we must lay to his account.

Universal dominion, at which Bonaparte aimed, involves a general prostration of the sense of rectitude in the hearts of men. Implying, as it does, universal despotism, it is a thing so wicked, so monstrous, that it cannot be, till the light of justice and truth is put out in the human bosom. Bonaparte, then, was warring, not against men's physical power alone, but

against the light of reason-the laws of justice written by the finger of God in men's hearts. England appears to have been the only European power that had not quailed before him. In that country there was a light that he could not extinguish; a fire that he could not quench; a power he could not subdue. It was the moral energy of England that finally crushed him. It was the good sense, the right feeling, the religious light which continued to nerve the arm, and guide the hand, and illuminate the soul of that nation, until, at last, roused by her spirit, all Europe was awake to the danger that threatened the world, and by one united but stupendous effort, it was averted.

JOHN WOLFGANG VON GÖTHE, or Goethe, was born at Frankfort, on the Maine, August 28th, 1749. His father was a doctor of laws, and an imperial counsellor of high standing. He was a great admirer of pictures, and had a considerable collection, embracing many fine specimens. He early directed the attention of his son to these, pointed out their beauties and defects, and thus excited his interest in them. This

course, coöperating with a native tendency to love everything beautiful, in young Göthe, served to cherish and establish that admiration of the arts, which distinguished him through life.

When he was eight years old, the Seven Years' war broke out, and the Count de Thorane, one of the king's officers, was stationed at his father's house. He was a man of taste, and employed several young painters of Frankfort to execute pictures for him. At the interviews between the count and these artists, Göthe was present, took part in the conversations, and one picture, from the story of Joseph, was painted agreeably to his suggestions.

He now learnt the French language, and a French company, performing at Frankfort, excited his taste for the drama. While pursuing his studies at this period, he devoted himself, with singular versatility, alternately to drawing, music, the natural sciences, jurisprudence and the languages.

To assist his studies in the latter, he formed the plan of a novel, in which seven characters, brothers and sisters, corresponded with each other, in so many different languages. The youngest of these used Hebrew, and this led Göthe to study that language. In this manner he acquired a taste for oriental poetry, which is visible in his works.

At an early age, he fell in love, and, as often happens with boys, the object of his affection was much older than himself. Young as he was, his passion was so violent as to deprive him of sleep and rest; the consequence of this was a severe fit of sickness. With returning health, he devoted himself to a pre

paration for the university of Leipsic, which he soon after entered.

At this period, German literature was modelled upon that of France: it was stiff, heartless and bombastic. Göthe, who felt a thousand springs of thought and emotion bubbling through him, had no just models to guide him in giving them utterance. He resorted, therefore, to a plan of his own. Whatever gratified or grieved him; whatever pleased or displeased him; whatever occupied his mind intensely, he began to embody in a poem; and thus, unconsciously, to write the history of his own mind and heart. This plan he pursued through life, and it constitutes one of the chief characteristics of his works. Instead of going out of himself for subjects of thought, he looked at the mirror of his own soul, and wrote down the reflections it gave forth.

In 1768, he left the college, his health being much impaired. During his illness, he was nursed by a lady, whose name was Klettenberg. She was a mystic, and his conversations with her led him to the study of cabalistic authors, and the subtle arts of alchemy; and also to that of chemistry. He likewise read some religious works, and, in an unsettled state of mind, he framed a religious system of his own, which appears to have borne a resemblance to the heathen fancies of Plato.

He afterwards went to the university of Strasburg to study law, agreeably to his father's desire; but his bias led him to devote his chief attention to chemistry and anatomy. Here, he became acquainted with Herder, one of the most original thinkers of his time.

K