out the ghastly spectacle its bosom exhib. ited. The cannonading soon commenced, but with little effect, as the mist concealed the armies from each other. A hundred and sixty thousand of the allies, stretched in a huge semicircle along the heights, while Napoleon, with a hundred and thirty thousand in the plain below, was waiting the favorable moment in which to commence the attack. At length the battle opened on the right, where a fierce firing was heard as Victor pressed firmly against an Austrian battery. Suddenly, Napoleon heard a shock like a falling mountain. While Victor was engaging the enemy in front, Murat, unperceived in the thick mist, had stolen around to the rear, and without a note of warning, burst with twelve thousand cavalry on the enemy. He rode straight through their broken lines, trampling under foot the dead and dying. Ney was equally successful on the left, and as the mist lifted, it showed the allied wings both driven back. The day wore away in blood-carts, loaded with the wounded, moved in a constant stream into the city; but the French were victorious at all points; and when night again closed over the scene, the allied armies had decided to retreat."

BATTLE OF HOHENLINDEN.

"The Iser and the Inn as they flow from the Alps towards the Danube, move nearly in parallel lines, and nearly forty miles apart. As they approach the river, the space between them becomes one elevated plain, covered chiefly with a sombre, dark pine forest-crossed by two roads only while the mere country paths that wind through it here and there give no space to marching colums. Moreau had advanced across this forest to the Inn, where, on the 1st of December, he was attacked and forced to retrace his steps, and take up his position on the farther side, at the village of Hohenlinden. Here, where one of the great roads debouched from the woods, he placed Ney and Grouchy.

"The Austrians, in four massive columns, plunged into this gloomy wilderness, designing to meet in the open plain of Hohenlinden-the central column marching along the high road, while those on either side, made their way through, amid the trees as they best could.

"It was a stormy December morning when these seventy thousand men were swallowed from sight in the dark defiles of Hohenlinden. The day before it had rained heavily, and the roads were almost impassable; but now a furious snow-storm darkened the heavens, and covered the ground with one white unbroken surface. The by-paths were blotted out, and the sighing pines overhead drooped with their snowy

burdens above the ranks, or shook them down on the heads of the soldiers, as the artillery-wheels smote against their trunks. It was a strange spectacle, those long dark columns, out of sight of each other, stretching through the dreary forest by themselves; while the falling snow, sifting over the ranks, made the unmarked way still more solitary. The soft and yielding mass broke the tread of the advancing hosts, while the rumbling of the artillery, and ammunition and baggage-wagons, gave forth a muffled sound, that seemed prophetic of some mournful catastrophe. The centre column alone had a hundred cannon in its train, while behind these were five hundred wagons-the whole closed up by the slowly moving cavalry. Thus marching, it came, about nine o'clock, upon Hohenlinden, and attempted to debouch into the plain, when Grouchy fell upon it with such fury that it was forced back into the woods. In a moment the old forest was alive with echoes, and its gloomy recesses illumined with the blaze of artillery. Grouchy, Grandjeau, and Ney, put forth incredible efforts to keep this immense force from deploying into the open field.. The two former struggled with the energy of desperation to hold their ground, and although the soldiers could not see the enemy's lines, the storm was so thick, yet they took aim at the flashes that issued from the wood, and thus the two armies fought. The pine trees were cut in two like reeds by the artillery, and fell with a crash on the Austrian columns, while the fresh fallen snow turned red with the flowing blood. In the mean time Richenpanse, who had been sent by a circuitous route with a single division to attack the enemy's rear, had accomplished his mission. Though his division had been cut in two, and irretrievably separated by the Austrian left wing, the brave general continued to advance, and with only three thousand men fell boldly on forty thousand Austrians. As soon as Moreau heard the sound of his cannon through the forest, and saw the alarm it spread amid the enemy's ranks, he ordered Ney and Grouchy to charge full on the Austrian centre. Checked, then overthrown, that broken column was rolled back in disorder, and utterly routed. Campbell, the poet, stood in a tower, and gazed on this terrible scene, and in the midst of the fight composed, in part, that stirring ode which is known as far as the English language is spoken.

"The depths of the dark forest swallowed the struggling hosts from sight; but still there issued forth from its bosom shouts and yells, mingled with the thunder of cannon, and all the confused noise of battle. The Austrians were utterly routed, and the frightened cavalry went plunging through the crowds of fugitives into the

woods-the artillerymen cut their traces, and leaving their guns behind, mounted their horses and galloped away-and that magnificent column, as sent by some vio lent explosion, was hurled in shattered fragments on every side. For miles the white ground was sprinkled with dead bodies, and when the battle left the forest, and the pine trees again stood calm and si lent in the wintry night, piercing cries and groans issued out of the gloom in every direction-sufferer answering sufferer as he lay and writhed on the cold snow. Twenty thousand men were scattered there amid the trees, while broken carriages and wagons, and deserted guns, spread a perfect wreck around."

Much has been said of Napoleon's coldness of spirit, his absorbing and unchangeable in-sphering of self. Now, it is undoubtedly true, that he was not of a very kindly nature. He was mainly embodied mind. His companions, of whom he had not many, were mostly companions of his intellect rather than of his heart. He was created ambitious, moreover; and continuous ambition can hardly be dissevered from selfishness. Then, too, he was so keen-eyed. He could "look quite through the deeds of men," and was able always to bend them to the furtherance of his schemes; and such a power can belong to no one without, almost unconsciously, leading him to turn all things into the strong current of his own purposes. Indeed, circumstances will of themselves fall into the plans of such a man. This, of course, historians and the world will call selfishness. And so it is; for a still higher union of elements would lead a man to cover the sweeping whirlpool of his own designs with an equal breadth of human interest in the affairs of others. That Napoleon did, or could, have done this, no one will imagine. But it ought to be remembered, on the other hand, that all great men are in a manner isolated by their very greatness-can have but few companions, and with most of those hold but unfrequent communion. It is still farther true, that they seem more isolated, self-sphered therefore, to the common eye, selfishthan they really are. Thus, many preeminent minds, who are not selfish, appear so from their solitary position among men; and others who really are, appear

for the same reason twice as much so as their true character would warrant. This latter was in some measure the case with Napoleon. From his superior isolated intellect he could not be familiar with

many; and he often doubtless put on the appearance of intimacy when he really had no such feeling. But there were a few whom it is evident Napoleon deeply loved.

least, can feel at ease, perhaps even enNo greatness, in this world at dure existence-utterly alone. Napoleon's dearest friend was probably Duroc. Mr. Headley's picture of his grief at Duroc's death is very fine; one who reads it cannot help seeing how fine a subject it would be for a historical painting.

DEATH OF DUROC.

"But his greatest misfortune, that which wounded him deepest, was the death of his friend Duroc. As he made a last effort to break the enemy's ranks, and rode again to the advanced posts to direct the movements of his army, one of his escort was struck dead by his side. Turning to Duroc, he said, Duroc, fate is determined to have one of us to-day.' Soon after, as he was riding with his suite in a rapid trot along the road, a cannon ball smote a tree beside him, and glancing, struck General Kirgener dead, and tore out the entrails of Duroc. Napoleon was ahead at the time, and his suite, four abreast, behind him. The cloud of dust their rapid movements raised around them, prevented him from knowing at first who was struck. But when it was told him that Kirgener was killed and Duroc wounded, he dismounted, and gazed long and sternly on the battery from which the shot had been fired; then turned towards

the cottage into which the wounded mar

shal had been carried.

"Duroc was grand marshal of the palace, and a bosom friend of the Emperor. Of a noble and generous character, of unshaken integrity and patriotism, and firm as steel in the hour of danger, he was beloved by all who knew him. There was a gentleness about him and a purity of feeling the life of a camp could never destroy. Napoleon loved him-for through all the changes

of his tumultuous life he had ever found his affection and truth the same-and it was with anxious heart and sad countenance he entered the lowly cottage where he lay. His eyes were filled with tears, as he asked if there was hope. When told there was none, he advanced to the bedside without saying a word. The dying marshal seized him by the hand and said, 'My whole life has been consecrated to your service, and now my only regret is, that I replied Napoleon with a voice choked with can no longer be useful to you.' 'Duroc will await me, and we shall meet again.' grief, there is another life-there you 'Yes, sire,' replied the fainting sufferer, but thirty years shall first pass away, when you will have triumphed over your

·

enemies, and realized all the hopes of our country. I have endeavored to be an honest man; I have nothing with which to reproach myself.' He then added, with faltering voice, I have a daughter; your majesty will be a father to her.' Napoleon grasped his right hand, and sitting down by the bedside, and leaning his head on his left hand, remained with closed eyes a quarter of an hour in profound si lence. Duroc first spoke. Seeing how deeply Bonaparte was moved, he exclaimed, Ah! sire, leave me; this spectacle pains you! The stricken Emperor rose, and leaning on the arms of his equerry and Marshal Soult, left the apartment, saying, in heart-breaking tones, as he went, 'Farewell, then, my friend!

"The hot pursuit he had directed a moment before was forgotten-victory, trophies, prisoners and all, sunk into utter worthlessness, and, as at the battle of As pern, when Lannes was brought to him mortally wounded, he forgot even his army, and the great interests at stake. He ordered his tent to be pitched near the cottage in which his friend was dying, and, entering it, passed the night all alone in inconsolable grief. The Imperial Guard formed their protecting squares, as usual, around him, and the fierce tumult of battle gave way to one of the most touching scenes in history. Twilight was deepening over the field, and the heavy tread of the ranks going to their bivouacs, the low rumbling of artillery wagons in the distance, and all the subdued yet confused sounds of a mighty host about sinking to repose, rose on the evening air, imparting still greater solemnity to the hour. Napoleon, with his grey great-coat wrapped about him, his elbows on his knees, and his forehead resting on his hands, sat apart from all, buried in the profoundest melancholy. His most intimate friends dare not approach him, and his favorite officers stood in groups at a distance, gazing anxiously and sadly on that silent tent. But immense consequences were hanging on the movements of the next morning-a powerful enemy was near, with their array yet unbroken-and they at length ventured to approach and ask for orders. But the broken-hearted chieftain only shook his head, exclaiming, Everything to-morrow" and still kept his mournful attitude. Oh, how overwhelming was the grief that could so master that stern heart! The magnificent spectacle of the day that had passed, the glorious victory he had won, were remembered no more, and he saw only his dying friend before him. No sobs escaped him, but silent and motionless he sat, his pallid face buried in his hands, and his noble heart wrung with agony. Darkness drew her curtain over the scene, and the stars came out one after another upon the sky, and, at length, the

moon rose above the hills, bathing in her soft beams the tented host, while the flames from burning villages in the distance shed a lurid light through the gloom

and all was sad, mournful, yet sublime. There was the dark cottage, with the sentinels at the door, in which Duroc lay dying, and there, too, was the solitary tent of Napoleon, and within, the bowed form of the Emperor. Around it, at a distance, stood the squares of the Old Guard, and nearer by, a silent group of chieftains, and over all lay the moonlight. Those brave soldiers, filled with grief to see their beloved chief borne down with such sorrow, stood for a long time silent and tearful. At length, to break the mournful silence, and to express the sympathy they might not speak, the bands struck up a requiem for the dying marshal. The melancholy strains arose and fell in prolonged echoes over the field, and swept in softened cadences on the ear of the fainting warriorbut still Napoleon moved not. They then changed the measure to a triumphant strain, and the thrilling trumpets breathed forth their most joyful notes, till the heav. ens rung with the melody. Such bursts of music had welcomed Napoleon as he returned flushed with victory, till his eye kindled in exultation; but now they fell on a dull and listless ear. It ceased, and again the mournful requiem filled all the air. But nothing could arouse him from his agonizing reflections-his friend lay dying, and the heart he loved more than his life was throbbing its last pulsations.

"What a theme for a painter, and what a eulogy on Napoleon was that scene. That noble heart which the enmity of the world could not shake-nor the terrors of a battle-field move from its calm repose-nor even the hatred and insults of his, at last, victorious enemies humble-here sunk in the moment of victory before the tide of affection. What military chieftain ever mourned thus on the field of victory, and what soldiers ever loved a leader so ?"

We have nothing further to add about Napoleon. We simply feel, that while in military genius, in diplomatic foresight, in far-reaching comprehensiveness of State interests, in sublimity of self-counsel, in grandeur of sustained purpose, he was superior to all the other leaders, monarchs and statesmen of Europe, he was not their inferior in magnanimity, justice or faith. They were all, at times, deficient enough iu these last great qualities; but why assail one, and say nothing of the rest? France was Napoleon's country, and he fought for France; if he fought also for himself, he was not therefore the worst among men.

Nothing is more striking, as we read these sketches, than Bonaparte's wonderful superiority, on the whole, to all his Marshals put together. Yet some of them were remarkable men, and possessed among them some remarkable qualities. Mr. Headley has not always dwelt as long on their individual characters as he might, but whenever he has chosen to extend his portraits, he is very felicitous. We will give, as an instance, his fine characterization of Soult, and with it will take leave of these volumes, with the remark, that every one who has a library should add them to his shelves.

"Marshal Soult had less genius but more intellect than most of the distinguished French Marshals. He had none of that high chivalric feeling which so frequently bore them triumphantly over the battle-field, but he had in its place, a clear, sound judgment, and a fearless heart. It required no thunder of cannon to clear his ideashis thoughts were always clear, and his hand ever ready to strike. He depended on the conclusions of reason rather than on the inspiration of genius for victory. He calculated the chances beforehand, and when his purpose was taken, it was no ordinary obstacle or danger that could shake it. Such men as Murat, and Lannes, and Augereau, relied very much on the enthusiasm of their soldiers, and the power which intense excitement always imparts. Soult, on the contrary, on the discipline of his troops, and the firmness and steadiness it gives, either in assault or retreat; and hence, when left alone, could be depended on as an able and efficient general. Though impetuous as a storm in the early part of his life, it was the impetuosity of youth, rather than of character; and one familiar with his career, ever thinks of him as the stern and steady Soult. He was more of an Englishman than Frenchman in his natural character, and succeeded better than most of the other French generals when opposed to English troops. But though methodical and practical in all his plans, he knew the value of a headlong charge, and could make it. Still, he does not seem to rise with the danger that surrounds him,

but rather meets it with the firmness of one who has settled beforehand that it shall not overcome him.

"He did not possess that versatility of genius which enabled Bonaparte so frequently to turn his very defeats into victory-he depended rather on the strength and terror of the blow he had plannedand if that failed, it became him to pause before he gave another. Like the lion, he measured his leap before he took it, and if he fell short, measured it over again. But with all this coolness and forethought, his blow was sometimes sudden and deadly as a falling thunderbolt. A more prompt and decisive man in action was not to be found

in the army. As cool amid the falling ranks and fire of three hundred cannon as on a parade, his onset was neverthless a most terrible thing to meet. He carried such an iron will with him into the battle, and disputed every inch of ground with such tenacity of purpose, that the courage of the boldest gave way before him. Though he performed perhaps fewer personal heroic deeds than many others, he also committed fewer faults. After seeing him a few times in battle, one unconsciously gets such an opinion of his invincibility, that he never sees his columns moving to the assault, without expecting sudden victory, or one of the most terrific struggles to which brave men are ever exposed. We do not expect the pomp and splendor of one of Murat's charges of cavalry, nor the majesty of Ney's mighty columns, as he hurls them on the foe; but the firm step, and stern purpose, and resistless onset of one who lets his naked deeds report his power. Soult's eye measured a battle-field with the correctness of Napoleon's, and his judgment was as good upon a drawn battle as upon a victory. Not having those fluctuations of feeling to which more excitable temperaments are subject, a defeat produced no discouragement, and hence a victory gave the enemy no moral power over him. It was singular to see in what a matter-of-fact way he took a beating, and how little his confidence in himself was destroyed by the greatest disasters. A man that is not humbled or rendered fearful by defeat, can never be conquered till he is slain."

THE great and propitious event to be communicated this month, propitious to all interests, and especially to those of Finance and Commerce, is the conclusion, and ratification by the Senate of the United States, of a convention with England for the settlement of the long pending Oregon controversy. There remains only for its entire completion and obligation, that it should receive the ratification of the British Government; but as the Convention is in the very words of the project presented by that Government, its ratification is looked upon as a matter of course, and all agree to consider this perilous question as amicably and definitively resolved; and there is rejoicing among all but the blind votaries of the party, which proclaimed our title to the whole of Oregon to be unquestionable, and anathematized all who should suggest the surrender, in the way of compromise, of an inch of that territory.

The satisfactory consummation, though it has been accomplished somewhat earlier than we anticipated, was nevertheless confidently looked for, and in the last number, the war between the United States and Mexico was referred to by us, as likely to dispose Great Britain more speedily to adjust her controversy with us. The result has proved the accuracy of this forecast.

By the last mail steamer, with London dates to the 5th June, the news was received of the success of Sir Robert Peel's measure, for repealing the Corn Laws; the Bill having been read a second time in the House of Lords, in a full vote by 48 majority. This decides the question. As yet, little or no influence is exercised upon our markets by this new feeling of Great Britain; and in the face of the coming harvest-one of very large promise-the prices of all bread stuffs are declining. The fall in price of flour and wheat has occasioned very large losses, and two or three old and well-established houses engaged in that trade in the city, have been borne down thereby.

In money matters, the market is still far from easy or settled, although there is less pressure for money than some weeks ago. Foreign Exchange remains

nearly at the quotations of last month, without any very active demand. Bills on London range from 7 to 84 per cent., on Paris about f.5-35, rates quite satisfactory to the Banks as rather inviting the import than the export of specie. The prices of the public stocks have rather improved; the U. S. six per cents. having been sold at 106-dividend off-which is an improvement of about 1 per cent. in the last week or two.

Pennsylvania Fives are also growing in favor, arising mainly from the increas ing confidence, that the August dividend, about which there has been great uncertainty-will be paid. The Treasurer of Pennsylvania, W. Snowden, who has not erred heretofore by too sanguine calculations, is said to have expressed his confident belief, that he will have sufficient funds for this dividend.

The wants and the ways and means of the General Government, for the prosecution of the war, were developed in the reply of the President, on the 16th inst. to a call made by the Senate on the 6th inst. for information on these points.

The sum required, over and above all the ordinary expenditures of the Government, for prosecuting the war, until the close of the fiscal year 30th June, 1847, is estimated at a small fraction less than twenty-four million dollars! and the ways and means of providing this large sum are thus set forth by the Secretary of the Treasury:

TREASURY DEPARTMNNT. June 15th, 1846. Sir: I have duly considered the resolu tion of the Senate, of the 3d of June, 1846, together with the estimates of the Secre tary of the Navy, of the 9th instant, and of the Secretary of War of the 13th instant, submitted by you to this department, and respectfully report to you as follows:

It appears that the aggregate estimated expenditures of the War and Navy Dethe 30th of June, 1846, and the 30th of June, partments for the fiscal years terminating on 1847, amount to $23,952,904, over and above the estimates made by these departments in December last, and then submitted in my annual report to Congress. In that report it was supposed by this depart