which the civilized world will henceforth hold to be just. Mr. Webster displayed the true grounds of national equality and independence, pointed out the just limitations to the force of municipal law, and made declarations, which cast the responsibility of war arising from any of these causes of offence upon those who shall give the offence. The probability of such wars is therefore vastly lessened, and the principle of national equality and independence is advanced to a stage which it had not reached before. When the Secretary threw out the broad banner of that Declaration, which is to float hereafter over every American vessel that shall be found upon the sea, he made it certain to England, that her extreme doctrines about the force of English law cannot hereafter be practiced, in international relations, without the peril and the responsibility of wars, in which the sympathies and the judgments of mankind will be against her.*

With the same bold and acute discrimination, Mr. Webster seized the prominent facts in the case of the Caroline, and at once extracted the real cause for complaint which we had against England. He made it manifest that a violation of our soil and territory had been committed, which could not be justified by any inquiry into the lawfulness or unlawfulness of the employment in which the Caroline had been engaged. This view of the case he had the satisfaction of seeing admitted, upon his reasoning, by the British Envoy, who made for the act all the apology which the case required. In this admission, that most important principle, the sanctity of soil and territory, was fully established; and it was established too in a case in which our own citizens had given very high

provocation for the act that was complained of.

We have not space to pursue the reflection, how important to the peace of the world is the establishment of the doctrine of equality and independence between nations. Nothing can be a more fruitful source of wars and conquest and universal dominion, as all history shows than the absence of that doctrine from the practice of nations in their relations with each other; and in nothing can mankind be greater gainers, than in the negotiations, between powerful states, in which that doctrine is made the leading idea on which the merits of all complaints and controversies are made to turn. It is quite true, that this doctrine may not have been likely to be denied in terms, for a long time; but there have been practices and objects of national policy which have been virtually a denial of it, and it concerns the great purposes of the law of nations that they should be stayed. To this end, our illustrious countryman has been a great contributor, in a manner which will carry his name and fame to the remotest ages, in which that sublime code shall continue to govern the interests of mankind.

We have thus only sought, at this time, to seize upon a few bold points of Mr. Webster's public career. We have not attempted to enter into the great nature of his oratory, his masterly legal acquirements and forensic eloquence, his high statesmanship and peculiar qualifications for diplomatic station, or any of the chief qualities of his mind and character. These will make the subject of a future paper, when a greater remove from late causes of irritation, will allow a greater freedom and dignity of discussion.

NAPOLEON AND

WE have read this second volume of Mr. Headley's martial sketches with an interest quite equal to that with which we perused the first. This is saying a great deal for the sustained vigor and effectiveness of the work as a whole. Being all actors with like objects, moving in similar, often in the same, scenes

HIS MARSHALS.†

of the same great drama, it was hardly possible that successive representations of the qualities and actions of Napoleon's Marshals should not tire somewhat with repetition of like effects. Such a result was likely to be enhanced by the pictures presented being mainly of blood and carnage the terrible and loathsome mise

ries of war.

The same gory fields are constantly spread before us, covered with the ruins of battle-dead men and horses piled in heaps of flesh among shattered cannon-and drenched with a sea of blood. The chief variations were to be found in the storming of some city, where famine, rapine, lust and indiscriminate massacre, almost make the sanguinary triumphs of the open field seem stainless. That such difficulties did not destroy the interest of the separate sketches, when read together or in a volume, is partly owing, no doubt, to that love of conflict in human nature, which carries the mind thrillingly through even the horrors of human carnage. It is due still more, however, to the vigor and freshness of Mr. Headley's style, and the skillful manner in which he has presented each character as the agent or exponent of some one of the great scenes that made up the career of Napoleon. The faults, indeed, as in the first volume, are manifest enough. There are too many carefully constructed sentences for the work of a habitual writer-too plentiful a use at times of strong epithets and numerous repetitions unnecessary and which a quick-sighted vision should have done away with of words and forms of expression, the appearance of which might just as well have been avoided. A little more labor would have imparted to the work an element of the classical, which now it certainly has not. We doubt, indeed, if it is in Mr. Headley's nature to produce true classical writings. We should judge him, in the first place, to be a man of impatient nerves. His mind "canters" too much. True, we would not have him, like-whom shall we say ?--Mr. Cooper or J. K. Paulding, getting off from his lymphatic "cob" every few miles, and taking a nap by the road; but neither is it wiser, when his beast is naturally a keen pacer, to be always rising in his stirrups that he may see to the end of his journey. Aside from temperament, however, Mr. Headley loves too much the flush and life of splendid general effects to be chiseling statues, or the nice proportions of architecture. He has too great earnestness of imagination-he cannot think in marble. As for the sketches before us, they would undoubt. edly not bear much elaboration-such as most writers who think "to live" bestow upon their efforts without losing something of their strength and vividness of coloring; still a more easy and subdued tone in parts, a less constant array of

astonishing scenes for nearly the whole work is made up of such-would have made the volumes more permanently pleasing; and Mr. Headley's general style, by a little more under-current, would be decidedly improved. But with all this, and some other things, which other readers will have noted with ourselves, we cannot but again express our opinion that no second writer among us could have flung off these sketches with nearly as much spirit and power.

It seems to be felt by some of the new age," whose souls are as easily alarmed as a sitting-hen, that these pictures of war are calculated to foster a war spirit in the bosom of our "beloved country." Now we do not hesitate to say that we consider war in any shape as a great evil; that the chief nations of Christendom could forever prevent any general contest taking place again in the world, and that the efforts of all should be sedulously directed to create and diffuse such an impression-since the impression, once universal, would be sure to be followed by such a result. So much the more reason for not blessing, if we do not curse, our present Administration, which, creating difficulties with a wretched and half-savage nation, makes this Republic the first Christian people to break a peace of thirty years, strews the hot plains of the South-West in summer with festering corpses, takes the lives of hundreds of our countrymen, and puts back, twenty years, the dominion of the spirit of peace, if it do not end in making us a military people, delighting in war, and looking on bloodshed as the noblest means of distinction. If such, also, were to be the effect of Mr. Headley's book, we would condemn it at once and without reserve. But the impression on our own minds has been precisely the reverse. We have never been so shocked with a view of the horrors of war, and we believe the same feelings must be produced upon the minds of others. It must, indeed, be a very oblique or diluted intellect, which could gather anything different on reading the whole work; and we should just as soon think of precluding people from reading all history, because one-half of it is made up of the sanguinary records of war. This feeble puling is not the way to change the opinions of men on this subject. Let them have a plain view of everything; let them be able to condemn all evil on grounds of knowledge. Such a condemnation, when it comes, will stand. We

believe in having the history of every thing written.

Mr. Headley himself, though excited with the movements of such mighty armies, and all the splendid scenery of Napoleon's victories, is still plainly impressed throughout with the terrors of human warfare. He has taken many occasions to comment upon them. What, for example, could be more appalling than the following picture of the battlefield of Eylau, where Murat's terrific charge was made, through a whirling snow-storm, with 14,000 cavalry.

"Let the enthusiast go over the scene on the morning after the battle, if he would find a cure for his love of glory. Fiftytwo thousand men lay piled across each other in the short space of six miles, while the snow, giving back the stain of blood, made the field look like one great slaughter-house. The frosts of a wintry morning were all unheeded in the burning fever of ghastly wounds, and the air was loaded with cries for help, and groans, and blasphemies, and cursings. Six thousand horses lay amid the slain, some stiff and cold in death, others rendering the scene still more fearful by their shrill cries of pain. The cold heavens looked down on this fallen multitude, while the pale faces of the thousands that were already stiff in death, appeared still more appalling in their vast winding-sheet of snow. Foemen had fallen across each other as they fought, and lay like brothers clasped in the last embrace; while dismembered limbs and disemboweled corpses were scattered thick as autumn leaves over the field. Every form of wound, and every modification of wo were here visible. No modern war had

hitherto exhibited such carnage, and where Murat's cavalry had charged, there the Islain lay thickest. Two days after the battle five thousand wounded Russians lay on the frozen field, where they had dragged out the weary nights and days in pain. The dead were still unburied, and lay amid wrecks of cannons, and munition wagons, and bullets, and howitzers;-whole lines had sunk where they stood, while epaulettes, and neglected sabres, and muskets

without owners, were strewed on every side, and thrown into still more terrible relief by the white ground of snow, over which they lay. Said Napoleon, in his bulletin home, after describing the dreadful appearance the field presented, The spectacle is sufficient to inspire princes with the love of peace and horror of war."

More terribly impressive to the same point is the account, in the sketch of Marshal Ney, of that most terrible paragraph in all modern history-The Re

treat from Moscow. The entire sketch of this Marshal is perhaps the most powerful in the two volumes. It will bear, what indeed all the sketches will not, to be read over three or four times-the hardest test to which a book can be put. It is as thrillingly and strangely terrific as that of Macdonald, formerly published in our pages-as full of painful interest as that of Massena, in which occurs the awful siege of Genoa-and as replete with a high chivalry as the brilliant account of Murat-while in the representation of a stern dignity and grandeur of nature almost solemn in its aspect, and a bravery utterly immovable and natural as the silence of a rock, it surpasses them all together. Ney was an astonishing character-and Mr. Headley's sketch is We would quote worthy of the man.

the whole description of the Retreat from Moscow, but for its extreme length. A powerful extract to the same effect would be some paragraphs from the terrible

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Passage of the Beresina." This event took place as a part of that disastrous retreat, but the account of it is given in the sketch of Victor.

So also of the awful sieges of Genoa, Saragossa and Talavera, so vividly described-how strong are the pictures they present of the horrors of Christian warfare! It is honorable to Mr. Headley, that though captivated too much, perhaps, by the splendors of such great military movements, he constantly shows his sense, that nothing can compensate for the evils that follow after them.

Mr. Headley's descriptions of battles though by no means the most comprehensive and satisfactory, are quite the most graphic and powerful we have ever seen. He does not attempt minute history; but a few glowing dashes of the brush sets all the most striking parts of the scene most wonderfully before us. We make room for two passages--The Battle of Dresden and the conflict of Hohenlinden. They are no more striking than many others, but are sufficient to show with what kind of a pen Mr. Headley writes:

BATTLE OF DRESDEN.

"On the evening of their approach, St. Cyr wrote to Napoleon the following letter:

Dresden, 23d Aug., 1813; ten at night. Atfive this afternoon the enemy approached Dresden, after having driven in our cavalry. We expected an attack this evening; but probably it will take place to-morrow. Your Majesty knows better than I do, what

time it requires for heavy artillery to beat down enclosure walls and palisades.' The next night, at midnight, he dispatched another letter to him, announcing an immediate attack, and closing up with We are determined to do all in our power; but I can answer for nothing more with such young soldiers.' Immediately on the reception of the first letter, Napoleon surrendered his command to Macdonald, and turned his face towards Dresden. Murat was dispatched in hot haste, to announce his arrival and re-assure the besieged. In the middle of his guards, which had marched nearly thirty miles a day since the commencement of the war, he took the road to the city.

"To revive his sinking troops, he ordered twenty thousand bottles of wine to be distributed among them, but not three thousand could be procured. He, however, marched all next day, having dispatched a messenger to the besieged to ascertain the exact amount of danger. Said Napoleon, to the messenger Gourgaud, 'Set out immediately for Dresden, ride as hard as you can, and be there this evening--see St. Cyr, the King of Naples, and the King of Saxony--encour age every one. Tell them I can be in Dresden to-morrow with forty thousand men, and the day following with my whole army. At day-break visit the outposts and redoubts-consult the commander of engineers as to whether they can hold out. Hurry back to me to-morrow at Stolpen, and bring a full report of St. Cyr's and Murat's opinion as to the real state of things.' Away dashed Gourgaud in hot speed, while the Emperor hurried on his exhausted army. Gourgaud did not wait till day-break before he returned. He found everything on the verge of ruin-the allied army was slowly enveloping the devoted city, and when, at dark, he issued forth from the gates, the whole summer heavens were glowing with the light of their bivouac fires, while a burning village near by, threw a still more baleful light over the scene. Spurring his panting steed through the gloom, he at midnight burst in a fierce gallop into the squares of the Old Guard, and was immediately ushered into the presence of the anxious Emperor. The report confirmed his worst fears. At daylight the weary soldiers were roused from their repose, and though they had marched a hundred and twenty miles in four days, pressed cheerfully for ward; for already the distant sound of heavy cannonading was borne by on the morning breeze. At eight in the morning, Napoleon and the advanced guard, reached an elevation that overlooked the whole plain in which the city lay embosomed; and lo! what a sublime yet terrific sight met their gaze. The whole valley was

filled with marching columns, preparing for an assault; while the beams of the morning sun were sent back from countless helmets and bayonets that moved and shook in their light. Here and there volumes of smoke told where the batteries were firing, while the heavy cannonading rolled like thunder over the hills. There, too, was the French army, twenty thou sand strong, packed behind the redoubts, yet appearing like a single regiment in the midst of the host that enveloped them. Courier after courier, riding as for life, kept dashing into the presence of the Emperor, bidding him make haste if he would save the city. A few hours would settle its fate. Napoleon, leaving his guards to follow on, drove away in a furious gallop, while a cloud of dust along the road, alone told where his carriage was whirling onward. As he approached the gates, the Russian batteries swept the road with such a deadly fire, that he was compelled to leave his carriage and crawl along on his hands and knees over the ground, while the cannon balls whistled in an incessant shower above him.

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Suddenly and unannounced, as if he had fallen from the clouds, he appeared at the Royal Palace, where the King of Saxony was deliberating on the terms of capitulation. Waiting for no rest, he took a single page so as not to attract the enemy's fire, and went forth to visit the outer works. So near had the enemy approached, that the youth by his side was struck down by a spent musket ball. Having finished his inspection, and settled his plans, he returned to the Palace, and hurried off couriers to the different portions of the army that were advancing by forced marches towards the city. First, the indomitable guards and the brave cuirassiers, eager for the onset, came pouring in furious haste over the bridge. The overjoyed inhabitants stood by the streets, and offered them food and drink; but though weary, hungry and thirsty, the brave fellows refused to take either, and hurried onward towards the storm that was ready to burst on their companions. At ten o'clock the troops commenced entering the city-infantry, cavalry and artillery pouring forward with impetuous speed-till there appeared to be no end to the rushing thousands. Thus, without cessation, did the steady columns arrive all day long, and were still hurrying in, when at four o'clock the attack commenced. The batteries that covered the heights around the city, opened their terrible fire, and in a moment Dresden became the target of three hundred cannon all trained upon her devoted buildings. Then commenced one of war's wildest scenes. St. Cyr replied with his artillery, and thunder answered thunder, as if the hot August afternoon was ending in a real storm of

heaven. Balls fell in an incessant shower in the city, while the blazing bombs traversing the, sky, hung for a moment like messengers of death over the streets, and then dropped with an explosion, that shook the ground, among the frighted in habitants. Amid the shrieks of the wounded, and the stern language of command, was heard the heavy rumbling of the artillery and ammunition wagons through the streets; and in the intervals, the steady tramp of the marching columns, still hastening to the work of deathwhile over all, as if to drown all; like successive thunder-claps where the lightning falls nearest, spoke the fierce batteries that were exploding on each other. But the confusion and death and terror that reigned through the city, as the burning buildings shot their flames heavenward, were not yet complete. The inhabitants had fled to their cellars, to escape the balls and shells that came rushing every moment through their dwellings; and amid the hurry and bustle of the arriving armies, and their hasty tread along the streets, and the roll of drums, and rattling of armor, and clangor of trumpets, and thunder of artillery, the signal was given for the assault-three cannon shots from the heights of Raecknitz. The next moment, six massive columns, with fifty cannon at their head, began to move down the slopes-pressing straight for the city. The muffled sound of their heavy, measured tread was heard within the walls, as in dead silence and awful majesty they moved steadily forward upon the batteries.

"It was a sight to strike terror into the heart of the boldest, but St. Cyr marked their advance with the calmness of a fearless soul and firmly awaited the onset that even Napoleon trembled to behold. No sooner did they come within the range of artillery than the ominous silence was broken by its deafening roar. In a moment the heights about the city were in a blaze; the fifty cannon at the head of these columns belched forth fire and smoke; and amid the charging infantry, the bursting of shells, the rolling fire of musketry, and the explosion of hundreds of cannon, St. Cyr received the shock. For two hours did the battle rage with sanguinary ferocity. The plain was covered with dead-the suburbs were overwhelmed with assailants, and ready to yield every moment-the enemy's batteries were playing within fifteen rods of the ramparts-the axes of the pioneers were heard on the gates; and shouts, and yells, and execrations rose over the walls of the city. The last of St. Cyr's reserve were in the battle, and had been for half an hour, and Napoleon began to tremble for his army. But at half past six, in the hottest of the fight,

the Young Guard arrived, shouting as they came, and were received in return with shouts by the army, that for a moment drowned the roar of battle. Then Napoleon's brow cleared up, and St. Cyr, for the first time, drew a sigh of relief.

"The gates were thrown open, and the impetuous Ney, with the invincible Guard, poured through one like a resistless torrent on the foe, followed soon after by Murat, with his headlong cavalry. Mortier sallied forth from another; and the Young Guard, though weary and travel-worn, burst with loud cheers on the chief redoubt-which, after flowing in blood, had been wrested from the French-and swept it like a tornado.

"Those six massive columns, thinned and riddled through, recoiled before this fierce onset, like the waves when they meet a rock; and slowly surged back from the walls. In the mean time, dark and heavy clouds began to roll up the scorching heavens, and the distant roll of thunder mingled with the roar of artillery. Men had turned this hot August afternoon into a battle-storm, and now the elements were to end it with a fight of their own. In the midst of the deepening gloom, the allies, now for the first time aware that the Emperor was in the city, drew off their troops for the night. The rain came down as if the clouds were falling, drenching the living and the dead armies; yet Napoleon, heedless of the storm, and knowing what great results rested upon the next day's action, was seen hurrying on foot through the streets to the bridge, over which he expected the corps of Marmont and Victor to arrive. With anxious heart he stood and listened, till the heavy tread of their advancing columns through the darkness, relieved his suspense; and then, as they began to pour over the bridge, he hastened back, and traversing the city; passed out at the other side, and visited the entire lines that were now formed without the walls. The bivouac fires shed a lurid light over the field, and he came at every step upon heaps of corpses, while groans and lamentations issued from the gloom in every direction; for thousands of wounded, uncovered and unburied, lay exposed to the storm, dragging out the weary night in pain. Early in the morning, Napoleon was on horseback, and rode out to the army. Taking his place beside a huge fire that was blazing and crackling in the centre of the squares of the Old Guard, he issued his orders for the day. Victor was on the right; the resistless Ney on the left, over the Young Guard, while St. Cyr and Marmont were in the centre, which Napoleon commanded in person.

"The rain still fell in torrents, and the thick mist shrouded the field as if to shut