of the other world were only imagined, as a counterpoise to those inadequate allurements which are offered C us here. God can never have willed such a contra'diction to his infinite goodness, especially for an act ' of this kind; and what is it, after all, but wishing to C return to him a little sooner ?'

What curious language is this from one, who had waged so many sanguinary, unprincipled, and useless wars! One who, unmindful of posterity, had chosen to be an Alexander, when he might have been an Epaminondas; a Cæsar, when he might have been a Washington. What reward have I not to expect?' said he, one day; 'I who have run a career so extraordinary, so tempestuous, without committing a single crime; and yet how many might I not have been guilty of! I can await his judgment without fear; he will not find 'this conscience stained with the thoughts of murder ' and poisonings; with the infliction of violent and ' premeditated deaths; events so common in the his'tory of those whose lives have resembled mine. I ' have wished only for the glory, the power, the greatness of France. All my faculties, all my efforts, all C my moments, were directed to the attainment of that object. These cannot be crimes. To me they ap

peared acts of virtue. What then would be my happiness, if the bright prospect of futurity presented itself 'to crown the last moments of my existence !'

At another time he said to O'Meara, 'I never com'mitted a crime in all my political career! At my last ' hour I can assert that. Had I done so, I should not have been here now. I should have dispatched the

'Bourbons. It only rested with me to give my consent, and they would have ceased to live. "J'ai tou

6.66

'jours marché avec l'opinion de grandes masses et ""les événemens." "J'ai toujours marché avec l'opinion de cinq ou six millions d'hommes.”

6 66

This naturally reminds us of an assertion of Dumourier: In the course of a motley and very active life, 'I cannot discover a single incident for which I have occasion to blush.'

Napoleon and Dumourier seem, like many other persons, to have supposed that they had a right to do whatever they possessed the power to do: a delusion, arising in no small degree from the misfortune of having had too high an opinion of their own talents, and too low an opinion in regard to the wants and rights of mankind.

CXLVI.

SIMPLICITY OF CHARACTER.

THIS beautiful characteristic (simplicity) distinguishes most men of enlarged minds and true science. Fontenelle cited it as one of the qualities for which Varignon was remarkable. 'But,' said he, 'I have 'bestowed the same praise so often on other members ' of the Academy, that it may be doubted whether it ' is not less due to the individuals than to the sciences

'which they cultivated in common.’ A finer compliment to the sciences can scarcely be cited than this! As when seraphic hands a hymn impart ;

Wild-warbling Nature all, above the reach of art.'

CXLVII.

WHO ARE COMBINATIONS OF SOLECISMS.

WHAT a compound was Cato the censor! He was, in fact, a combination of solecisms. Frugal and temperate, he was, nevertheless, fond of military glory. He took Fabius Maximus for his model, and yet practised usury in the most open manner. Inexorable in respect to public justice, and esteeming it a high political duty to prosecute offenders, he yet preferred the character of a good husband to that of a good senator. In his youth he hated Greece; in his manhood he persecuted the science of Greece; yet in his age he learned the language of Greece. He was the vainest of men, and scrupled not to commend himself in the most public places, and in the most unblushing manner. He impeached Scipio; but Scipio treating him with disdain, he deemed it expedient to drop his accusations. He lent money to his slaves, who employed it in buying boys, and instructing them for his service; and he then sold them at the end of every year. And so great a lover was he of what is called prudence, that he esteemed him the most godlike and full of glory who, at his death, was found to have doubled what he had received from his ancestors! He hated the memory of Socrates; and married a young wife in his old age! And yet this is the man whose memory is even now associated with public and private virtue, and of whom Paterculus could write, Homo virtuti simillimus, et

per omnia ingenio diis quàm hominibus proprior*.' It is almost laughable to read such judgments; particu* Lib. ii., c. 36.

larly from Paterculus; he who was not only the panegyrist of Tiberius, but of his odious minister, Sejanus.

CXLVIII.

WHO SUSPEND THEIR NATURAL CHARACTERS.

SOME men do this for years; their bad qualities as well as their good ones. In the midst of most good actions, however, less noble qualities will peep out; and in the midst of bad ones, good qualities will flash and illumine, as it were, at least for a time, the hemisphere of the heart. Hence one of the thousand causes, why in men appear so many points of inconsistency: wise, for instance, to-day, and foolish to-morrow; now all peace, now all passion; generous on this occasion, heartless on that.

I am often reminded of that species of texture, called shot-silk. This material is finely woven; and yet its colours seem ever to be changing as the wearer moves. The conduct of men seems, occasionally, to vary after a similar manner; but, on examination, they are found to change only as the silk does; the contexity of their natures still remaining the same.

CXLIX.

WHOSE NATURE FROM ILL-USAGE APPEARS TO BE

CHANGED.

MEN are certainly often turned into villains from having smarted intensely from the villany of others; but some even of these turn naturally to a better course upon the approach of a better fortune; and this reminds me of a picture by a late eminent poet :—

'He was a man of a strange temperament,
Of mild demeanour, though of savage mood;
Moderate in all his habits, and content

With temperance in pleasure, as in food;
Quick to perceive, and strong to bear, and meaut
For something better, if not wholly good.
His country's wrongs, and his despair to save her,
Had stung him from a slave to an enslaver?

Danger of situation, misfortune, and ill-usage, alter the direction of many, and sometimes almost change their very natures, from the top of the head, as it were, to the tip of the toe. A striking example of this is given in one of the dramas of Beaumont and Fletcher, where the mild, sweet, and gentle Evadne is turned by seduction and abandonment into any thing, that knew not pity.'

CL.

WHO ARE DIFFERENT AT DIFFERENT TIMES.

ARISTOTLE attributes the wide variety of manners and modes of life and character in men and animals, to the want of subsistence, and the various means employed for supplying it. This is partly true and partly otherwise. The world is a mere puppet-show; and men such compounds, that even their histories are but unequal commentaries on their characters. For though their talents sometimes rise, as if they were sown and nurtured in hot-beds, their characters are often not thoroughly expanded till the awful day,

'When tired Dissimulation drops her mask.'

Man is complex, whether we regard his organical structure, his moral qualities, or his mental capacities. Hence, through a long life, his exhibitions are but one continued series of contradiction. Who can be per