avoid regarding him with horror." Another observation, equally just, by the same author, follows that just quoted. "The greatest crime," he says, "he has committed in all this is that, in order to avenge private quarrels which he had drawn on himself by his too ambitious conduct, he employed for the oppression of his country the same arms which its sovereigns had placed in his hands for the subjugation of their enemies."+ Plutarch, in speaking of this same event, tells us that in less than ten years' war in Gaul he took eight hundred cities by assault, conquered three hundred nations, and fought pitched battles at different times with three millions of men, one million of whom he cut in pieces, and made another million prisoners. If all this was praiseworthy, great, and worthy of imitation, no doubt Cæsar was a great and good man. But let us now consider for a moment the use he made of the prestige and power thus gained.

It is not necessary to speak here of the passing of the Rubicou, or any other act done by Cæsar, on his way to Rome to destroy with fire and sword all who opposed his ambitious desires. Suffice it to say, that when he saw that the citizens were not half so much frightened as he had supposed he would find them, he addressed the senators in a mild and gracious manner, telling them to send deputies to Pompey offering honorable terms of peace, &c. But not one of them would bear his message. His first care at the same time was to seize upon the treasury As Metellus, the tribune, opposed his taking the money, reminding him that there were strict laws against it, Cæsar said: " Arms and laws do not flourish together. If you are not pleased with what I am about, you have nothing to do but to withdraw; indeed, war will not bear much liberty of speech. When I say this, I am departing from my own right; for you and all whom I have found exciting a spirit of faction against me are at my disposal. Saying this, he approached the doors of the treasury, and as the keys were not produced he sent for workmen to break them open. Metellus opposed him again and some applauded his firmness; but Cæsar, raising his voice, threatened to put him to death if he gave him any further trouble. "Young man," said he, "you are not ignorant that this is harder for me to say than to do." Metellus, terrified with his menaces, retired, and afterwards, Cæsar was

*Dict. Phil., Art. Cæsar.

† Voltaire also calls him "the robber of the public treasury, who employed the money of the Romans to reduce the Romans to subjection."- Voltaire's Phil. Dict., Art. Cæsar.

easily and readily supplied with everything necessary for the

war.

Soon after, the battle of Pharsalia was fought, in which Pompey was completely defeated and his camp taken, that defeated general made all the haste he could, with only thirty horsemen, to the shores of the Archipelago and thence to Egypt. Cæsar, fearing that as long as Pompey lived he would enjoy no tranquillity, pursued him to Egypt; and on arriving at Alexandria he found him assassinated. None acquainted with the circumstances doubted that nothing could have pleased him more than this; but in order to make a show of magnanimity he affected to weep on seeing the head of his rival, as Elizabeth did when signing the death-warrant of the unfortunate Mary Stuart. Lest this might not be deemed sufficient, he had the two assassins put to death, the same as he had put Vettius and others to death on former occasions, so that it might not be known who hired them to do the bloody work. Pompey was scarcely cold in his grave before the conqueror entered into an intrigue with Cleopatra, and placed the crown of Egypt on her head in consideration of her favors to himself. After fighting some more battles, he returned to Rome, and Cato committed suicide at Utica on hearing of his success. Laden with the plunder of so many countries, the conqueror of the world was able to glut his soldiers with presents and the citizens with largesses; he also tried to dazzle the eyes of the multitude, and to make the citizens forget the extinction of their liberties by getting up shows of unparalleled magnificence and feasts of unbounded profusion.

He had, however, one war to suppress yet. Cneius and Sextus, the sons of Pompey, raised a powerful army in Spain, aided by Labienus one of their father's lieutenants; and Cæsar was obliged to leave Rome in order to attack them. After some manoeuvring, which lasted for months, the rival armies came to a decisive battle at Munda. The sons of Pompey displayed so much heroism and generalship that the veterans of Cæsar, always used to victory as they had been were forced to flee; and it required all his skill and intrepidity to bring them back to the charge. He had recourse to his usual expedient in such circumstances, took a buckler from one of the subaltern officers, and, calling on his favorite legions to follow, rushed into the thick of the fight. This fired his

• Plutarch in Cæsar.

whole army with enthusiasm, and he was soon rewarded by a complete victory. This was his last battle, for it left him in undisputed possession of the Roman Empire.

None were so blind now as not to see what his object had been from the beginning. Even those on whom he had lavished bribes with more than oriental profusion felt remorse at having made themselves the instruments of his ambition. He claimed and got his triumph, however, as usual; and it surpassed in splendor and magnificence everything of the kind that had ever before been seen in Rome; but the people, who on former occasions used to give expression to the most frantic delight, looked on in mournful silence, without taking any part in the procession one way or other. The citizens understood him at last; they saw that it was not over the Spaniards or any other foreign people he was triumphing, but over the sons of Pompey and all that had been left of their ancient laws and liberties. They felt that Cæsar was now their master, and that their lives as well as their properties were at his disposal.

On reflection, some were so credulous as to hope that the senate would hold his ambitious designs in check at the eleventh hour, and that even he would shrink from attacking them. Of course no such restraint was attempted; on the contrary, the senate were more lavish of their honors to him than ever. They not only complied with all his demands, but did everything besides which seemed likely to gratify his ambition or his vanity. Not content with electing him dictator for life, and conferring on him the title of Imperator, they appointed him superintendent of public morals, and decreed him an elevated seat in the theatre, a golden seat in the senate-house, and another in the forum. Even all this was not deemed sufficient; the destroyer of the constitution. and the enslaver of his fellow-citizens was voted temples, altars, and priests, so that he might be duly worshipped as a divinity. The senators have, of course, been blamed for all this; but they merely granted, with a good grace, what they had not the power to withhold. They knew very well how easily he could have them expelled from the senate-house by his legions, and that he would not hesitate to give the order if he thought it in the least necessary for his purposes. We may remark, in passing, that in this, at least, there is good reason to regard Cæsar as the prototype of Napoleon I., for whenever the senators of the latter did not vote or act as he directed them he made no scruple of making them feel that

he was more powerful than they. Cæsar did not care for the formality of the consent of the senate as to his having complete control of the army and of the public treasury, as well as the appointment of all magistrates; these little privileges he regarded himself as entitled to by the success of his arms; and who will deny that Napoleon followed his example in this too?

But this life of Cæsar affords an excellent lesson even for despots. If Napoleon III. will explain the fact, we will excuse him for many things he has said in the volumes before us which do no credit to his judgment, but, on the contrary, are, indeed, unworthy of one who has guided the destinies of France so ably and successfully for the last ten years. Let him tell his royal and imperial readers that, although no sovereign that ever lived possessed more power than Cæsar after he defeated the sons of Pompey, or had a larger army attached to his person and to his interests, yet he was only permitted to enjoy the peaceful possession of the sceptre he had spent his life in seeking, for five months. During this brief reign he had made himself so odious that some sixty of the principal senators, including his most intimate friend, Brutus, conspired against his life, and proved that, with all his honors and armies, and with his priests to offer him incense as a deity, he was still but a man, as vulnerable to the dagger's point as the lowest of his slaves.

Far be it from us to deny that Cæsar had many great and noble qualities; our readers will bear us testimony that we have often expressed our admiration for those qualities in this journal. Cicero, the most competent judge of his time, ranks him among the first of orators. Still higher, if possible, is the estimate of Quintilian, who says that he spoke with the same spirit with which he fought; and that, had not ambition diverted him from the arts of peace, he would have rivalled the eloquence of Cicero. As a general he has never been surpassed; while in possession of the supreme power at Rome, he not only did many acts of clemency, but enacted some salutary laws. But all this is perfectly consistent with his being the usurper and tyrant which he has been represented by the best of his own countrymen. The only question is, then, Is it judicious, wise, or statesmanlike, on the part of Napoleon III., to present him to the world as a model. ruler a Messiah-and to labor as he has done in these volumes to prove him the prototype of Napoleon I.?

ART. II.-1. Recherches Philosophiques sur la Vie et la Mort. Par ZAV. BICHAT. Paris.

2. The Essays of MICHAEL DE MONTAIGNE. Boston, 1862.

"IT is foolish," says Seneca, "to fear what cannot be avoided." Who can deny this? But there is nothing more unavoidable than death; yet nothing is more feared. No one can reflect on this fear without being convinced of its absurdity, and what good will our reason do us if we make ourselves unhappy to no purpose? In the observations which we are about to make on the subject, however, we disclaim all intention of impugning the doctrines of Christianity relative to the rewards and punishments of a future world. Nor do we want to show that we should not be afraid to do evil in the present life lest we should be punished for it in the future, for this would be immoral as well as irreligious, and we trust we shall never encourage any one to do wrong. At the same time, there is nothing theological in the views which we are about to offer; now, as heretofore, we leave the dogmas of religion to those who have made them their study, and without presuming to utter any sneer against them. In a word, it is the fear of death, and not the fear of punishment, that we have chosen as the subject of this article, for we hold that none should fear punishment except those who are conscious of having deserved it.

There are a thousand notions that give us a horror of death, not one of which is founded in reason. When our friends die, we mourn for them as if their lot was peculiar, as if a calamity had befallen them, to which only a few are subject. We are too apt to forget that what has happened to them to-day may happen to us to-morrow, nay, within one hour, and must happen to us sooner or later. The self-love common to mankind makes us feel still more acutely in our own case. We picture to ourselves how frightful it is to be deprived of life. While we think ourselves in danger of death, the vigor and gaiety of others only grieve us; we envy even the lower animals the exuberance of life which they exhibit, while we languish on the bed of sickness; nay, the whole smiling face of nature, the groves, rich with foliage, and the green fields-all contribute to embitter the pang caused by the fear, real or imaginary, of approaching death.

There is no stronger proof of thoughtlessness than this;