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a less feverish period. I was familiar with all the later theories of those visions and hallucinations, which so often result from strong mental excitement, and which undoubtedly make up so large a share of direct insanity. If there were a terror of terrors to me, it was that of losing such degree of understanding as had been allotted to my share. I therefore determined to conquer this illusion by the force of reason, to give my senses time to recover from the fever which had wrought this phenomenon into living force, and to convince myself of the recovery of the healthful state of my mind, by seeing the vision gradually disappear. I gazed, but the figure, instead of vanishing, seemed_to make a gesture of actual life. The hand seemed to rise towards the lips, the lips themselves to wreathe with a smile. The new force of the illusion only startled me the more. I felt myself powerless to move a limb; enfeebled by wounds and weariness, exhausted by emotion, my eyes grew dim, and I sat, with their gaze fixed on the form, but fixed almost sightless. At length,

a hasty step sounded at my side. I felt a hand grasping me. It was Altuna's. "I have been looking for you," said he, "in every part of this unhappy place; the night is falling fast. It will be impossible to find shelter here, and we have only to trust to our chances of the highroad. Up, we have no time to lose." I raised my heavy eyes. My victory over the illusion was complete. The pedestal was empty of all but its vine tendrils and weeds, the statue was lying on its side on the ground. I gazed on it again with the feelings of a Pygmalion. I would have removed it with me, but the sun was sinking behind the grove. Night had almost hidden its beauty; to carry it with us, as Altuna justly observed, would have been impossible at the moment, even if we were entitled thus to plunder the property of whoever was now the inheritor of the Ildefonzo line. I submitted to reasons which were thus unanswerable, and after one long and sorrowful look at the relics of the palazzo, suffered myself to be placed in the calèche, and driven away.

THE ENGLISH BOY.

BY MRS HEMANS.

"Go, call thy sons; instruct them what a debt They owe their ancestors; and make them swear To pay it, by transmitting down entire

Those sacred rights to which themselves were born."

Look from the ancient mountains down,

My noble English Boy!

Thy country's fields around thee gleam
In sunlight and in joy.

Ages have roll'd since foeman's march
Pass'd o'er that old firm sod;
For well the land hath fealty held
To Freedom and to God!

Gaze proudly on, my English Boy!
And let thy kindling mind
Drink in the spirit of high thought
From every chainless wind!

There, in the shadow of old Time,
The halls beneath thee lie,

Which pour'd forth to the fields of yore,
Our England's chivalry.

VOL. XXXVI. NO. CCXXIV.

AKENSIDE.

E

How bravely and how solemnly
They stand, 'midst oak and yew!
Whence Cressy's yeomen haply framed
The bow, in battle true.

And round their walls the good swords hang Whose faith knew no alloy,

And shields of knighthood, pure from stain-
Gaze on, my English Boy!

Gaze where the hamlet's ivied church
Gleams by the antique elm,

Or where the minster lifts the cross
High thro' the air's blue realm.

Martyrs have shower'd their free hearts' blood,
That England's prayer might rise,

From those grey fanes of thoughtful years,
Unfetter'd, to the skies.

Along their aisles, beneath their trees,
This earth's most glorious dust,
Once fired with valour, wisdom, song,
Is laid in holy trust.

Gaze on-gaze farther, farther yet-
My gallant English Boy!

Yon blue sea bears thy country's flag,

The billows' pride and joy!

Those waves in many a fight have closed
Above her faithful dead;

That red-cross flag victoriously

Hath floated o'er their bed.

They perish'd-this green turf to keep
By hostile tread unstain'd;
These knightly halls inviolate,

Those churches unprofaned.

And high and clear, their memory's light
Along our shore is set,

And many an answering beacon-fire

Shall there be kindled yet!

Lift up thy heart, my English Boy!
And pray, like them to stand,
Should God so summon thee, to guard
The altars of the land.

J. Dε Quincey

THE CÆSARS.

CHAPTER V.

1

THE Roman Empire, and the Roman Emperors, it might naturally be supposed by one who had not as yet traversed that tremendous chapter in the history of man, would be likely to present a separate and almost equal interest. The Empire, in the first place, as the most magnificent monument of human power which our planet has beheld, must for that single reason, even though its records were otherwise of little interest, fix upon itself the very keenest gaze from all succeeding ages to the end of time. To trace the fortunes and revolutions of that unrivalled monarchy over which the Roman eagle brooded, to follow the dilapidations of that aërial arch, which silently and steadily through seven centuries ascended under the colossal architecture of the children of Romulus, to watch the unweaving of the golden arras, and step by step to see paralysis stealing over the once perfect cohesion of the republican creations, cannot but ensure a severe, though melancholy delight. On its own separate account, the decline of this throne-shattering power must and will engage the foremost place amongst all historical reviews. The "dislimning" and unmoulding of some mighty pageantry in the heavens has its own appropriate grandeurs, no less than the gathering of its cloudy pomps. The goingdown of the sun is contemplated with no less awe than his rising. Nor is any thing portentous in its growth, which is not also portentous in the steps and "moments " of its decay. Hence, in the second place, we might presume a commensurate interest in the characters and fortunes of the successive Emperors. If the Empire challenged our first survey, the next would seem due to the Cæsars who guided its course; to the great ones who retarded, and to the bad ones who precipitated, its ruin.

Such might be the natural expectation of an inexperienced reader. But it is not so. The Cæsars, throughout their long line, are not interesting, neither personally in themselves, nor derivatively from the tragic

events to which their history is attached. Their whole interest lies in their situation-in the unapproachable altitude of their thrones. But, considered with a reference to their human qualities, scarcely one in the whole series can be viewed with a human interest apart from the circumstances of his position. "Pass like shadows, so depart! The reason for this defect of all personal variety of interest in these enormous potentates, must be sought in the constitution of their power and the very necessities of their office. Even the greatest among them, those who by way of distinction were called the Great, as Constantine and Theodosius, were not great, for they were not magnanimous ; nor could they be so under their tenure of power, which made it a duty to be suspicious, and, by fastening upon all varieties of original temper one dire necessity of bloodshed, extinguished under this monotonous cloud of cruel jealousy and everlasting panic every characteristic feature of genial human nature, that would else have emerged through so long a train of princes. There is a remarkable story told of Agrippina, that, upon some occasion when a wizard announced to her, as truths which he had read in the heavens, the two fatal necessities impending over her son,one that he should ascend to empire, the other that he should murder herself, she replied in these stern and memorable words-Occidat, dum imperet. Upon which a Continental writer comments thus: "Never be fore or since have three such words issued from the lips of woman; and in truth, one knows not which most to abominate or to admire-the_aspiring princess, or the loving mother. Meantime, in these few words lies naked to the day, in its whole hideous deformity, the very essence of Romanism and the Imperatorial power, and one might here consider the mother of Nero as the impersonation of that monstrous condition."

This is true: Occidat dum imperet, was the watchword and very cognizance of the Roman Imperator. But

almost equally it was his watchword -Occidatur dum imperet. Doing or suffering, the Cæsars were almost equally involved in bloodshed; very few that were not murderers, and nearly all were themselves murdered.

The Empire, then, must be regarded as the primary object of our interest; and it is in this way only that any secondary interest arises for the Emperors. Now, with respect to the Empire, the first question which presents itself is,-Whence, that is, from what causes and from what era,

we are to date its Decline? Gibbon, as we all know, dates it from the reign of Commodus; but certainly upon no sufficient, or even plausible grounds. Our own opinion we shall state boldly: the Empire itself, from the very era of its establishment, was one long decline of the Roman power. A vast monarchy had been created and consolidated by the all-conquering instincts of a Republic-cradled and nursed in wars, and essentially warlike by means of all its institutions* and by the habits of the people. This monarchy had

Amongst these institutions, none appear to us so remarkable, or fitted to accomplish so prodigious a circle of purposes belonging to the highest state policy, as the Roman method of colonization. Colonies were, in effect, the great engine of Roman conquest; and the following are among a few of the great ends to which they were applied. First of all, how came it that the early armies of Rome served, and served cheerfully, without pay? Simply because all who were victorious knew that they would receive their arrears in the fullest and amplest form upon their final discharge, viz. in the shape of a colonial estate-large enough to rear a family in comfort, and seated in the midst of similar allotments, distributed to their old comrades in arms. These lands were already, perhaps, in high cultivation, being often taken from conquered tribes; but, if not, the new occupants could rely for aid of every sort, for social intercourse, and for all the offices of good neighbourhood upon the surrounding proprietors who were sure to be persons in the same circumstances as themselves, and draughted from the same legion. For be it remembered, that in the primitive ages of Rome, concerning which it is that we are now speaking, entire legions-privates and officers-were transferred in one body to the new colony. "Antiquitus," says the learned Goesius, "deducebantur integræ legiones, quibus parta victoria." Neither was there much waiting for this honorary gift. In later ages, it is true, when such resources were less plentiful, and when regular pay was given to the soldiery, it was the veteran only who obtained this splendid provision; but in the earlier times, a single fortunate campaign not seldom dismissed the young recruit to a life of ease and honour. "Multis legionibus," says Hyginus, "contigit bellum feliciter transigere, et ad laboriosam agriculture requiem primo tyrocinii gradu pervenire. Nam cum signis et aquilâ et primis ordinibus et tribunis deducebantur." Tacitus also notices this organization of the early colonies, and adds the reason of it, and its happy effect, when contrasting it with the vicious arrangements of the colonizing system in his own days. "Olim," says he, "universæ legiones deducebantur cum tribunis et centurionibus, et sui cujusque ordinis militibus, ut consensu et charitate rempublicam afficerent." Secondly, not only were the troops in this way paid at a time when the public purse was unequal to the expenditure of war-but this pay, being contingent on the successful issue of the war, added the strength of self-interest to that of patriotism in stimulating the soldier to extraordinary efforts. Thirdly, not only did the soldier in this way reap his pay, but also he reaped a reward (and that besides a trophy and perpetual monument of his public services) so munificent as to constitute a permanent provision for a family; and accordingly he was now encouraged, nay enjoined, to marry. For here was an hereditary landed estate equal to the liberal maintenance of a family. And thus did a simple people, obeying its instinct of conquest, not only discover, in its earliest days, the subtle principle of Machiavel-Let war support war; but (which is far more than Machiavel's view) they made each present war support many future wars-by making it support a new off-set from the population, bound to the mother city by indissoluble ties of privilege and civic duties; and in many other ways they made every war, by and through the colonizing system to which it gave occasion, serviceable to future aggrandizement. War, managed in this way, and with these results, became to Rome what commerce or rural industry is to other countries, viz. the only hopeful and general way for making a fortune. Fourthly, by means of colonies it was that Rome delivered herself from her surplus population. Prosperous and well-governed, the Roman citizens of each generation outnumbered those of the gene

been of too slow a growth-too the regular stages of nature herself gradual, and too much according to in its developement, to have any

ration preceding. But the colonies provided outlets for these continual accessions of people, and absorbed them faster than they could arise.* And thus the great original sin of modern states, that heel of Achilles in which they are all vulnerable, and which (generally speaking) becomes more oppressive to the public prosperity as that prosperity happens to be greater (for in poor states, and under despotic governments, this evil does not exist), that flagrant infirmity of our own country, for which no statesman has devised any commensurate remedy, was to ancient Rome a perpetual fountain and well-head of public strength and enlarged resources. With us of modern times, when population greatly outruns the demand for labour, whether it be under the stimulus of upright government, and just laws, justly administered, in combination with the manufacturing system (as in England), or (as in Ireland) under the stimulus of idle habits, cheap subsistence, and a low standard of comfort-we think it much if we can keep down insurrection by the bayonet and the sabre. Lucro ponamus is our cry, if we can effect even thus much; whereas Rome, in her simplest and pastoral days, converted this menacing danger and standing opprobrium of modern statesmanship to her own immense benefit. Not satisfied merely to have neutralized it, she drew from it the vital resources of her martial aggrandizement. For, Fifthly, these colonies were in two ways made the corner-stones of her martial policy 1st, They were looked to as nurseries of their armies; during one generation the original colonists, already trained to military habits, were themselves disposable for this purpose on any great emergency; these men transmitted heroic traditions to their posterity; and, at all events, a more robust population was always at hand in agricultural colonies than could be had in the metropolis. Cato the elder, and all the early writers, notice the quality of such levies as being far superior to those drawn from a population of sedentary habits. 2dly, The Italian colonies, one and all, performed the functions which in our day are assigned to garrisoned towns and frontier fortresses. In the earliest times they discharged a still more critical service, by sometimes entirely displacing a hostile population, and more often by dividing it and breaking its unity. In cases of desperate resistance to the Roman arms, marked by frequent infraction of treaties, it was usual to remove the offending population to a safer situation, separated from Rome by the Tiber; sometimes entirely to disperse and scatter it. But, where these extremities were not called for by expediency or the Roman maxims of justice, it was judged sufficient to interpolate, as it were, the hostile people by colonizations from Rome, which were completely organized† for mutual aid, having officers of all ranks dispersed amongst them, and for overawing the growth of insurrectionary movements amongst their neighbours. Acting on this system, the Roman colonies in some measure resembled the English Pale, as existing at one era in Ireland. This mode of service, it is true, became obsolete in process of time, concurrently with the dangers which it was shaped to meet; for the whole of Italy proper, together with that part of Italy called Cisalpine Gaul, was at length reduced to unity and obedience by the almighty Republic. But in forwarding that great end, and indispensable condition towards all foreign warfare, no one military engine in the whole armoury of Rome availed so much as her Italian colonies. The other use of these colonies, as frontier garrisons, or, at any rate, as interposing between a foreign enemy and the gates of Rome, they continued to perform long after their earlier uses had passed away; and Cicero himself notices their value in this view. "Colonias," says he [Orat. in Rullum], "sic idoneis in locis contra suspicionem periculi collocârunt, ut esse non oppida Italiæ sed propugnacula imperii viderentur.' Finally, the colonies were the best means of promoting tillage, and the culture of vineyards. And though this service, as regarded the Italian colonies, was greatly defeated in succeeding times by the ruinous largesses of corn [frumentationes], and other vices of the Roman policy after the vast revolution effected by universal luxury, it is not the less true that, left to themselves and their natural tendency, the Roman colonies would have yielded this last benefit as certainly as any other. Large volumes exist,

*And in this way we must explain the fact-that, in the many successive numerations of the peo ple continually noticed by Livy and others, we do not find that sort of multiplication which we might have looked for in a state so ably governed. The truth is, that the continual surpluses had been carried off by the colonizing drain, before they could become noticeable or troublesome.

That is indeed involved in the technical term of Deductio; for unless the ceremonies, religious and political, of inauguration and organization, were duly complied with, the colony was not entitled to be considered as deducta-that is, solemnly and ceremonially transplanted from the metropolis,

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