state of things thus big with evils? Ought they not strongly to desire it? What are the means which seem best calculated to attain this end? Shall it be, as some writers have proposed, by establishing an universal monarchy in Europe?'

This monstrous proposition, which has been asserted and defended by some of the less judicious flatterers of the new French dynasty, is ably combated and refuted by M. ANCILLON. He contends that such an expedient is worse than the evil which it proposes to remedy.

It is nothing less,' he says, than to pass sentence of death on all bodies politic, from an apprehension of the maladies and pains to which they are subject! Where is to be found the body politic which would accede to this measure, and voluntarily commit suicide? The existence of a great number of different independent atates, varying in their constitution and laws, is the principle to which Europe owes its pre-eminence in cultivation, industry, and wealth. This diversity has produced useful emulation, and a rich variety of opinions, sentiments, and character, which would all be effaced under the sceptre of one master. National pride, patriotism, and all that is characteristic of a people, would disappear in this amalgamation of heterogeneous clements-But let us suppose this project of universal monarchy to be practicable; even though this expedient did not debase the human species, in order to answer the end, means must be found to render it durable. It has always happened that those large empires, which approached nearest to universal monarchies, have been dismembered with great facility. By long and cruel wars, it has been decided to whom should belong the scattered members of those vast bodies; and even during their ephemeral existence, they have rather vegetated than lived: death has often been in the extremities before the heart ceased to beat.'

The author furnishes additional proofs of the excellence of his understanding, and the soundness of his judgment, in his brief but satisfactory refutation of the plans of perpetual peace that have been projected by St. Pierre and Kant. He clearly demonstrates their impracticability and inefficiency. He observes that the fears and hopes, the passions or calculations, which have produced wars, have been the same in all times and places. The love of glory, a vague disquietude on the part of princes, and the ambitious views of ministers, have caused wars to be declared in monarchies with⚫out reason or justice. In mixed aristocracies, the privileged class has promoted wars in order to obtain employment for the people. In republics, demagogues find means to create imaginary and to exaggerate real dangers; they are able to persuade the multitude that a war is necessary when it is gra tuitous, and they tempt its avidity, or work upon its pride. Man is always an enemy to quiet: but in no state is this en

mity greater than in a democracy, where the human Being is habituated to strong emotions, and where they become as it were a necessary want. Hence the author infers that no changes in the forms of governments will render nations more pacific.

He next examines whether this revolution may not be expected from the progress of reason and morality. He entertains no hope that the moral will ever controul and guide the physical force in political societies. It is not by ideas, he remarks, that the conduct of mankind is influenced, but by wants, propensities, and passions; the passions are immortal because they are renewed in each generation, while the objects which inspire and nourish them remain the same. He observes that,

in the internal constitutions of governments, nothing is trusted to the principle of virtue, but checks are interposed to prevent (as far as may be) the abuse of power, and to confine it within its legitimate bounds.-As a consequence from these results, * he admits that states must continue to cherish reciprocal jealousy; that in their external relations these feelings must prevail; that any power which is able to do us harm, whether by its superior force or geographical position is, our natural enemy; and that a power which can do us no injury, but which is able to annoy our enemy, is our natural ally. On these simple principles, the whole of politics turns, and they have been the rule of conduct in all times;- a sort of instinct suggested them, and caused them to be observed long before reason reduced them to the shape of propositions.

The power of a nation is here represented as founded on its wealth; which the author defines to be the excess of its produce above what it consumes, the surplus of its receipt above its expenditure. In porportion to this excess are its disposeable means, in order to assert its independence and maintain its honor. Riches grow out of labour; and labour consists in the greatest activity, conformably to the best methods, in the pursuits of agriculture, the arts, and commerce. These sources of riches will be more or less abundant, according to the degree in which the law provides for the freedom of individuals and the security of property; to that in which religion enlightens the mind and improves the morals, with the least expence of time and revenue; and to that in which science, by studying nature, is enabled to facilitate the modes of satisfying the wants and administering to the pleasures of mankind.--Nothing, as M. ANCILLON, properly observes, can be less warrantable than to infer that the strength of a state is in proportion to the abundance of its means. We must take into the account its geographical position, moral causes, and even a variety of casualties.

Having shewn on what the energies of a state principally depend, the writer asserts that though princes and people, ministers and demagogues, have unnecessarily multiplied wars, yet wars, in themselves considered, are essentially owing to the state of nature in which nations remain in respect to each other. Unjust wars arise from the want of a general guarantee, while those that are just are a legitimate use of force in order to make right triumph.

After having vindicated his views from the imputations which the uncandid alone would try to fix on them, M. ANCILLON states that, in the system of human affairs, wars are analogous to many other means which nature employs for setting man to labour, and in this manner to put all his powers in activity. Pain, misfortune, and want are our real masters. Volcanoes, inundations, earthquakes, hurricanes, and storms destroy the fruits of man's labour, and force him to fresh exertions. A long peace perfects arts and talents: but war, giving a strong impulse to the mind, incites men to create, invent, and discover: without the latter cause, we should want the force which produces; without the other, the time and labour which complete and finish. In the opulence which peace creates, the mind becomes enervated, and character degenerates; whereas amid the ills that follow in the train of war, the manly and difficult virtues open and flourish; and but for their excitements, courage, patience, firmness, and contempt of death would be unknown among men. Even those who mix not in combat must submit to privations and to sacrifices: while the dangers of the state rouse and strengthen sentiments of public spirit and patriotism.

Such are the views of human affairs entertained by this writer. If they be not splendid in theory por flattering to the fancy, it will be difficult to deny that they are supported by reason, and confirmed by facts.-Equal to the ingenuity and solidity which distinguish this discourse, are the judicious selections and able statements which constitute the summary DOW before us.

It is premised that the object of this work is to set forth the origin, the growth, and the variations in the political system, which the different states of Europe have pursued since the close of the fifteenth century, in order to acquire or preserve an independent existence, by opposing force to force, and power to power. For this purpose, the author divides the period into three epochs. The first embraces the time which intervened: between the wars of Charles VIII. in Italy, and the commencement of the thirty years' war: the second, that between the beginning of the latter event and the death of Louis XIV.; and

I

and the third takes in the space which connects that point with the convocation of the States General by Louis XVI.-In some measure to exemplify the manner of this writer, we shall abstract a part of his account of one of the most remarkable events in modern history, the league of Cambray.

Julius II. a Genoese by birth, had many brilliant qualities, but none of the virtues of his profession. More warlike than pacific, he was formed to conceive and execute vast projects, and had no turn for the peaceable and tranquil life of a priest. He did not want art and dissimulation, but his courage made him prefer open methods and arduous schemes. Having become Pope at a period when the spiritual power had been weakened, he discerned the necessity of extending the basis of his temporal power. Of this object Julius never lost sight; and in all his proceedings through the whole course of his life, his sole aim was to become the first Italian potentate.

• Provoked to see his country by turns the domain of the French, of the Spaniards, and of the Germans, all of whom he designated as barbarians, he proposed to chase them beyond the mountains, and to destroy them by setting them against each other: but he was first desirous of employing them to humble the pride of Venice, and of raising himself at the expence of this power, which had thwarted his schemes in the north. He formed a most daring plan, but it was justified by the event. It seemed an impossibility to unite Maximilian, Louis XII. and Ferdinand, who were rivals and enemies, in opposition to Venice, as it was known that they had much more reason to dread each other than that state. Julius might well have apprehended that, if they succeeded, they would divide the terra firma between them, and thus become more strongly established in Italy. This apprehension was disregarded by him; he found the means of uniting together the heterogeneous elements; and the league was signed at Cambray. Europe saw with astonishment these monarchs, who were natural enemies of each other, lay aside their animosities, in order to assail a power which could be no object of jealousy to either of them. Julius, whom age seemed only to render more violent, felt by anticipation the pleasure of being avenged for some trifling offences given to him by the senate; and he enjoyed already in idea the reduction of the cities of Romagna, which the peace of Cambray secured to him. Maximilian was desirous of resenting the affront offered to him by these proud republicans, who refused him a passage through their state when he went to Rome to be crowned. He regarded already as his own the chief cities of the terra firma. Ferdinand hoped to recover the five ports which the Venetians retained in Naples. Louis XII. was aware of the succours which they had given to the king of Arragon for the reduction of Naples, and calculated on having restored to him the cities which he ceded after the conquest of Milan.'

We are sorry that our limits will not permit us to state the author's account of the means taken by these sage republi

Cans

cans to resist and dissipate the storm, and the successful issue of most of the hardy pians of the military Pontiff. —This learned and philosophical summary is, in fact, less adapted for tyros than for proficients.

The History of France

ART. IV. Histoire de France, &c. from the Revolution in 1789; collected from cotemporary Memorials and Manuscripts lodged in the civil and Military Repositories. By F. E. TOULONGEON. Vol. V. Evo. Paris. Imported by De Boffe.

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1806.

HE character of fairness, diligence, and perspicuity which we were induced to assign to the former volumes of this work, belongs in an equal degree to the present; which embraces what the author denominates the ninth and tenth epochs of the Revolution. The first of these terminates with the extinction of the Jacobins as an existing deliberative body, and the second ends with the dissolution of the National Convention.

History perhaps offers nothing of greater interest than descriptions of the state of the public mind in a country, subsequently to any great crisis. A specimen or two of those which are sketched by this author will prove instructive,, while they serve to display the character of his performance.

• Robespierre and his accomplices, and seventy-one members of the commonalty of Paris, having been guillotined, the axe of the execu tioner was laid down. This terrible hecatomb appeased for a moment the manes of so many victims: but solicitude and dread survived terror, apprehension mixed with general congratulation, anxiety interfered with enjoyment, and the victors durst not decree to themselves the honors of triumph.

Though the criminals were annihilated, their system was still preserved. Their successors dared not decree that the revolutionary regimen was at an end; its existence, on the contrary, was recognized; and the 9th Thermidor (27th of July) was for a long time solely the epoch of the qualification of that system. The actors in the transaction of that day soon found themselves pressed by two opposing parties; and they feared to connect themselves with either; indeed, such an alliance would have proved their destruction. A dread of the old regime balanced the terror which the new had generated. They durst not abolish the tribunal of blood, the horrible engine of the vanquished faction. Three months after the fall of Robespierre, the ashes of Marat were solemnly lodged in the Pantheon by the side of those of Rousseau; and those of Mirabeau were ignominiously withdrawn from their place. The power of the popular societies was still formidable, and balanced that of the Convention. The plans of the opposing parties were similar: each resisted the estabishment of a system of government, the anarchists, because they APP. REV. VOL. LIII. subsisted

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