by every multiplication and extension of the mass?  It is not without significance, that great empires have uniformly been, or become, despotisms.  Liberty lives only in the life of just principle; and as the weight of an elephant could not be sustained by the skeleton of a gazelle,—­as, moreover, the bones must be made stouter as well as longer,—­so must a vast body politic be permeated by a sturdier element of justice than is required for a diminutive state.  It is, indeed, the chief recommendation of our federative form of government, that this, so far as may be, localizes legislation, and thus, by lessening the number of interests that demand a national consent, lessens equally the strain upon the conscience and judgment of the whole.  Near at hand, the mere good feeling of neighbors, the companionable sentiment of cities and clans, proves a valuable succedaneum for that deeper principle which is good for all places and times.  But this sentiment, like gravitation, diminishes in the ratio of the square of the distance, and at any considerable remove can no longer be reckoned upon as a counter-balance to the lawlessness of egotism.  Athenians could be passably just, or at least not disastrously unjust, to Athenians; Spartans to Spartans; but Sparta must needs oppress the other cities of Laconia, while Athens was at best a fickle ally; and when Grecian liberty could be strong only in Grecian union, the common sentiment was bankrupted by too great a draft upon its resources.  How far beyond the range of egotism of neighborhood a free state may go is determined chiefly by limits in the souls of its constituents.  At that point where equal justice begins to halt, fatigued by too long a journey, the inevitable boundaries of the state are fixed.  Nor is it the mere sentiment of justice alone that suffices; but this must be sustained in its applications by a certain breadth of nature, a certain freedom and flexibility, akin to the dramatic faculty, which enables us to enter into the feelings and wants of others.  Nothing, perhaps, in the world can be so unjust as a narrow and frigid conscience beyond its proper range.  The bounds of the state may, indeed, not pause where the sustenance of its integral life fails.  But then its extension will be purchased with its freedom,—­the quality be debased as the quantity increases.  Jelly-fish, and creatures of the lowest animation, may sustain magnitude of body, not only with a slight skeleton, but with none at all; and society of a cold-blooded or bloodless kind follows the analogy.  But these low grades of social organization, having some show of congruity with the blank levels of Russia, can pretend to none with the continent we inhabit.  Yet some species of arbitrament between man and man is sure to establish itself; if it live not, as a part of freedom, in the bosom of each, then does it inevitably build itself into a Fate over their heads; and despotism, war, or similar brutal and violent instrumentalities of adjustment, supply in their way the demand that love and reason failed to meet.