the republic of Plato, the Utopia of More, and some modern theories no less chimerical, because they proceed upon the basis of amending the nature of man, and eradicating all his evil passions. The systems of Harrington, however, in his "Oceana," and of Mr. Hume in his "Idea of a perfect Commonwealth," have been considered as more worthy of the attention of mankind, as resting upon the basis of human nature such as it is, and without assuming for their foundation any wonderful improvement either of the moral or intellectual nature of our species. Yet in so far as either of these systems has been partially introduced into practice, we have very little reason to subscribe to any eulogium upon their merits. Harrington, who wrote his "Oceana," during a period of the com. monwealth of England, was so intoxicated with that newly erected system of government, as agreeing in many respects with his own theory, that he boldly ventured to pronounce it impossible that monarchy should ever be re-established in England. Yet his book was scarcely published, when the nation, weary to death of an experiment which, under the mask of freedom, had loaded them with tenfold tyranny, unanimously recurred to their ancient monarchical constitution.

With respect to Mr. Hume's "Idea of a perfect Commonwealth," it were, perhaps, not difficult to show that, instead of simplifying the machine of government, it renders it so complicated, that it would be impossible for it to proceed either with that regularity or despatch which is often most essential to the mass of public measures. If, for example, in Mr. Hume's senate of one hundred members, there should be only ten dissentient voices to the passing of a law, that law is to be sent back to be debated and canvassed by no less than 11,000 county representatives. In the same manner, if there should be but five of the one hundred senators who approve of a law, while ninety-five disapprove of it, those five have a right to summon the 11,000 county representatives," and take their sense of the matter. It surely requires little political judgment to pronounce that such a constitution is utterly unfit for the regulation of an extended or populous empire; yet Great Britain is the subject upon which he supposes in theory that the experiment is to be tried. God forbid it ever should! Had this experiment been proposed in reality, Mr. Hume himself would have been the first man to have resisted it. His genuine sentiments of such experiments he has given in the words of sound sense and wisdom. "It is not with forms of government," says he, "as with other artificial contrivances, where an old engine may be rejected if we can discover another more accurate or commodious, or where trials may be safely made, even though the success be doubtful. An established government has an infinite advantage by that very circumstance of its being established; the bulk of mankind being governed by authority, not reason, and never attributing authority to any thing that has not the recom

mendation of antiquity. To tamper, therefore, in this affair," says he, "and to try experiments, merely upon the credit of supposed argument and philosophy, can never be the part of a wise magistrate, who will bear a reverence to what carries the marks of age: though he may attempt some improvements for the public good, yet he will adjust his innovations as much as possible to the ancient fabric, and preserve entire the chief pillars and supports of the constitution."

Time, which brings improvement to every science, has undoubtedly contributed much to the advancement of political knowledge. Among the chief advantages derived from the art of printing is that of fixing and perpetuating all human attainments in science, which, before that invention, either perished with their authors, or if preserved by writing, were sparingly communicated even in the country which produced them, seldom reached beyond it, and were often in the course of a few generations irretrievably lost. By the art of printing, the opinions of some of the greatest of the ancient philosophers and politicians, and, what is much more valuable, the great outlines of the history of the most remarkable states of antiquity, their laws, their manners, and customs, are now committed to perpetual records, open to all nations, and familiar to the knowledge of every individual who has enjoyed the most. ordinary education.

It is from this knowledge of the accumulated experience of ages, that not only men, but nations, may derive the most important lessons. History will inform us that some nations have enjoyed, during the course of many ages, an unvarying and uninterrupted prosperity; while others have been destined to a short, unfortunate, and despicable mediocrity. History will inform us, that the greatest empires which have hitherto existed on the earth are now sunk into oblivion; that Persia, Egypt, Greece, Macedonia, and Rome, have fallen themselves, like the petty states which they overwhelmed in their conquest. But while we contemplate their changes of fortune, their prosperity, their disgraces, their revolutions, and their final catastrophe, must these vicissitudes be considered only as the effect of a blind fatality? Can they furnish us with no other conclusion than that every human institution must yield to the hand of time, against which neither wisdom nor virtue can ultimately afford a defence? No, certainly every nation of antiquity has met with that fate which either its own political institutions, or the operation of foreign circumstances, must necessarily have induced. "Accustom your mind," said the excellent Phocion to Aristias, "to discern in the prosperity of nations that recompense which the Author of Nature has affixed to the practice of virtue; and in their adversity, the chastisement which he has thought proper to bestow on vice." No state ever ceased to be prosperous, but in consequence of having departed from those institutions to which she owed her prosperity.

The ancient political writers, in speaking on the best form of a political establishment, held this as a great desideratum, that a government should possess within itself a power of periodical reformation; a capacity of reforming from time to time all abuses; of checking every overgrowth of power in any one branch of the body politic; and, at short intervals of time, winding up, as it were, the springs of the machine, and bringing the constitution back to its first principles. To the want of this power of periodical reformation in the ancient constitutions, which was ineffectually endeavored to be supplied by such contrivances as the ostracism and petalism, we may in a great measure attribute their decline and extinction; for in these governments, when the balance was once destroyed by an increase of power in any one branch, the evil grew worse from day to day, and at length, was utterly irremediable, unless by a revolution or entire change of the political system. Happily for us Britons, that which was a desideratum in the ancient governments is with us realized; that power of reforming all abuses, and even of making alterations and amendments as time and circumstances require, which is perfectly agreeable to the spirit of our constitution, has given us an unspeakable advantage, both over all the states of antiquity, and over every other government among the moderns. But let us not abuse this advantage, or convert what is a wholesome remedy into a poison. There are seasons when political reforms are safe, expedient, and desirable; there are others when none but the most rash empiric would prescribe their application. If the minds of a people are violently agitated by political enthusiasm, kindled by the example of other nations actually in a state of revolution,—if that class of the people who derive their subsistence from bodily labor and industry are artfully rendered discontented with their situation, inflamed by pictures of imaginary grievances, and stimulated by delusive representations of immunities to be acquired, and blessings to be obtained, by new political systems, in which they themselves are to be legislators and governors, -if there should be a time when the common people are taught to believe that a subordination of ranks and conditions is contrary to the laws of God and nature, and that the inequality they perceive in the possessions of the rich and poor is a proof of the diseased state of the body politic,—if such should be the delusions of the community, which the traitorous designs of others aim at rendering general; in such a crisis it cannot be the part of true patiotism to attempt the reform or amendment even of confessed imperfections. The hazard of the experiment at such a time is apparent to all rational and reflecting men. It is then we feel it our duty to resist all attempts at innovation to cherish with gratitude the blessings we enjoy, and quietly await a more favorable opportunity of gently and easily removing our small imperfections-trivial, indeed, when balanced against that high measure of political happiness of which the com munity at large is possessed.

BOOK THE FIFTH.

CHAPTER I.

Fate of the Roman Republic decided by the Battle of Actium-Reign of Asgustus Birth of our Saviour JESUS CHRIST - Tiberius - Crucifixion of our Saviour-Caligula-Claudius-Nero-Galba-Otho-Vitellius-Vespasian

-Titus-Domitian-Nerva-Trajan--Adrian.

THE battle of Actium decided, as we have above seen, the fate of the Roman republic; and Octavius, now hailed by the splendid title of Augustus, was master of the Roman empire. We have seen this singular person raise himself to the highest summit of power, without a tincture of those manly and heroic virtues which generally distinguish the authors of important revolutions. Those fortunate circumstances which concurred to promote his elevation; the adoption by Julius Cæsar, the weakness of Lepidus, the infatuation of Mark Antony, the treachery of Cleopatra, and, perhaps, more than all, his own insinuating flattery and duplicity of conduct-were shortly hinted at as the great instruments in the good fortune of Augustus.

Possessing that sagacity which enabled him to discern distinctly what species of character would please the people, he had, in addition to this, all that versatility of genius which enabled him to assume it; and so successfully did he follow out this idea, that to those unacquainted with the former conduct of the man, nothing was now discernible but the qualities which were indicative of goodness, and virtue, and munificence. The fate of Cæsar warned him of the insecurity of an usurped dominion; and we shall see him, whilst he studiously imitated the clemency of his great predecessor, affect a much greater degree of respect for the pretended rights of that degraded people whom he ruled at the same time with the most absolute authority. He had not yet returned from Egypt when, at Rome, they had already decreed him every honor both human and divine. The title of Imperator was conferred on him for life. His colleague, Sextus Apuleius, along with the whole senate, took a solemn oath to obey the emperor's decrees; and it was determined that he should hold the consulate so long as he

esteemed it necessary for the interests of the people. Such was the contemptible servility of all ranks of the state, that temples were erected to his honor, and public worship and sacrifice performed at the altars of the "divine Augustus. He, howev

er, with becoming modesty, requested that these honors might be paid to him in the provinces alone, as at Rome he should never regard himself but as a private citizen invested with the superintendence of the rights and liberties of the republic. The state being now in profound peace, the temple of Janus, which had remained open since the beginning of the second Punic war-a period of 188 years-was shut, an event which occasioned the most universal joy. This single circumstance contributed much to abolish the memory of all those cruelties, proscriptions, and complicated horrors, which had accompanied the triumvirate and the civil wars; and the "infatuated Romans now believed themselves a free people, since they had no longer to fight for their liberty."*

It was the policy of Augustus to keep up this favorable delusion, by extraordinary marks of indulgence and munificence. He gratified the people by continually amusing them with their favorite games and spectacles; he affected an extreme regard for all the ancient popular customs; he pretended the utmost deference for the senate; he re-established the Comitia, which the internal commotions of the government had prevented from being regularly held; he flattered the people with the ancient right of electing their own magistrates; if he presented candidates, it was only to give a simple recommendation, under reservation that they should be judged worthy by the people, and the people, on their part, could not but regard as the most certain symptom of desert, the recommendation of so gracious a prince. It was in this manner that Augustus, by the retention of all those empty but ancient appendages of liberty, concealed the form of that arbitrary monarchy which he determined to maintain; and that he thus, with the most hypocritical and specious generosity, contrived, with the machinery of freedom, to accomplish all the purposes of despotism.

After having established an appearance of order in the several departments of the state, Augustus, to complete the farce, affected a wish to abdicate his authority, and return to the rank of a private citizen; but this was a piece of gross affectation. He consulted Mecenas, however, and Marcus Agrippa, whether he ought to follow his inclination. Mecænas, with the most honest, though certainly not the wisest policy, exhorted him to put his design in execution; but Agrippa, more of a courtier, and perhaps having more discernment into the real character of Augustus, or dreading

* Condillac.