We reject the exclusively moral no less than the exclusively intellectual view, and find most satisfaction in those who, aiming neither at apology nor attack, make their observations upon the great phenomenon as partial, and to be received as partial. Mr. Headley, in his first surprise at finding how falsely John Bull, rarely liberal enough to be fully trusted in evidence on any topic, has spoken of the acts of a hated and dreaded foe, does indeed rush too much on the other side. He mistakes the touches of sentiment in Napoleon for genuine feeling. Now we know that Napoleon loved to read Ossian, and could appreciate the beauty of tenderness: but we do not believe that he had one particle of what is properly termed heart;--that is, he could always silence sentiment at once when his projects demanded it. Then Mr. Headley finds apologies for acts where apology is out of place. They characterize the ruthless nature of the man, and that is all that can be said of them. He moved on, like the Juggernaut car, to his end, and spilled the blood that was needed for this, whether that blood were "ditch-water" or otherwise. Neither is this supposing him to be a monster. The human heart is very capable of such uncontrolled selfishness, just as it is of angelic love. "'Tis but the first step that costs"--_much_. Yet some compassionate hand strewed flowers on Nero's grave, and the whole world cried shame when Bonaparte's Mameluke forsook his master. Mr. Headley does not seem to be aware that there is no trust to be put in Napoleon's own account of his actions. He seems to have been almost incapable of speaking sincerely to those about him. We doubt whether he could have forgotten with the woman he loved, that she might become his historiographer.