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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e5f51d0 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #60286 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60286) diff --git a/old/60286-0.txt b/old/60286-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 4cff687..0000000 --- a/old/60286-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,22210 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The collected works of William Hazlitt, -Vol. 03 of 12, by William Hazlitt - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: The collected works of William Hazlitt, Vol. 03 (of 12) - -Author: William Hazlitt - -Editor: A. R. Waller - Arnold Glover - -Other: W. E. Henley - -Release Date: September 12, 2019 [EBook #60286] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF WILLIAM HAZLITT, VOL 3 *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - THE - COLLECTED WORKS OF WILLIAM HAZLITT - IN TWELVE VOLUMES - - - VOLUME THREE - - - - - _All rights reserved_ - -[Illustration: _Milton’s house N^o. 19, York Street, Westminster, -occupied by Hazlitt 1812–1819._] - - - - - THE COLLECTED WORKS OF - WILLIAM HAZLITT - - - EDITED BY A. R. WALLER - AND ARNOLD GLOVER - - WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY - W. E. HENLEY - - ❦ - - Free Thoughts on Public Affairs - - Political Essays - - Advertisement, etc., from The Eloquence of the British Senate - - ❦ - - 1902 - LONDON: J. M. DENT & CO. - McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO.: NEW YORK - - - - - Edinburgh: T. and A. CONSTABLE, (late) Printers to Her Majesty - - - - - CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - FREE THOUGHTS ON PUBLIC AFFAIRS 1 - - POLITICAL ESSAYS 25 - - ADVERTISEMENT, ETC., FROM THE ELOQUENCE OF THE BRITISH SENATE 387 - - NOTES 427 - - - - - FREE THOUGHTS ON PUBLIC AFFAIRS - IN A LETTER ADDRESSED TO - A MEMBER OF THE OLD OPPOSITION - - - - - BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE - - -This pamphlet of 46 8vo pages was published by the author himself in -1806. The title-page was ‘Free Thoughts on Public Affairs, or Advice to -a Patriot; in a Letter addressed to a Member of the Old Opposition. -London, Printed by Taylor & Co., Shoe Lane, and sold by J. Budd, Crown & -Mitre, Pall Mall, 1806.’ Mr. W. C. Hazlitt reprinted the pamphlet from -the author’s own copy in 1885 (Bohn’s Library, _The Spirit of the Age, -etc._), and that reprint forms the text of the present edition. The -pamphlet is exceedingly rare. Mr. Alexander Ireland knew of only one -copy, that which belonged to Mr. W. C. Hazlitt. This he caused to be -transcribed; but it has not been possible to collate the present text -with either the original or Mr. Ireland’s transcription. - - - - - ADVICE TO A PATRIOT; - IN A LETTER ADDRESSED - TO A MEMBER OF THE OLD OPPOSITION - - -Sir, If the opposition of character between the individuals of different -nations is that which attaches every one the most strongly to his own -country; if the love of liberty instilled from our very cradle is any -security for the hatred of oppression; if a spirit of independence, and -a constitutional stubbornness of temper are not forward to crouch under -the yoke of unjust ambition; if to look up with heartfelt admiration to -the great names, whether heroes or sages, which England has produced, -and to be unwilling that the country which gave birth to Shakespear and -Milton should ever be enslaved by a mean and servile foe; if to love its -glory—that virtue, that integrity, that genius, which have distinguished -it from all others, and in which its true greatness consists,—is to love -one’s country, there are few persons who have a better right than myself -(on the score of sincerity) to offer that kind of advice which is the -subject of the following letter, however weak or defective it may be -found. - -To love one’s country is to wish well to it; to prefer its interests to -our own; to oppose every measure inconsistent with its welfare; and to -be ready to sacrifice ease, health, and life itself in its defence. But -there is a false kind of patriotism, loud and noisy, and ever ready to -usurp that name from others, as an honourable covering either for -selfish designs or blind zeal, to which I shall make no pretensions. It -has been called patriotism, to flatter those in power at the expense of -the people; to sail with the stream; to make a popular prejudice the -stalking-horse of ambition, to mislead first and then betray; to enrich -yourself out of the public treasure; to strengthen your influence by -pursuing such measures as give to the richest members of the community -an opportunity of becoming richer, and to laugh at the waste of blood -and the general misery which they occasion; to defend every act of a -party, and to treat all those as enemies of their country who do not -think the pride of a minister and the avarice of a few of his creatures -of more consequence than the safety and happiness of a free, brave, -industrious, and honest people; to strike at the liberty of other -countries, and through them at your own; to change the maxims of a -state, to degrade its spirit, to insult its feelings, and tear from it -its well-earned and proudest distinctions; to soothe the follies of the -multitude, to lull them in their sleep, to goad them on in their -madness, and, under the terror of imaginary evils, to cheat them of -their best privileges; to blow the blast of war for a livelihood in -journals and pamphlets, and by spreading abroad incessantly a spirit of -defiance, animosity, suspicion, distrust, and the most galling contempt, -to make it impossible that we should ever remain at peace or in safety, -while insults and general obloquy have a tendency to provoke those -passions in others which they are intended to excite. - -Being then of opinion, that to flatter is not always the duty of a -friend; that it is no part of the love of one’s country to be blind to -her errors, or to wish her to persist in them; I may take the liberty of -stating freely such observations as have occurred to an unprejudiced but -not indifferent spectator on the present state of things: and there is -at least this advantage in reflections which are not the echo of the -popular cry, that something may be found in them, however unsupported or -frivolous in general, which may be turned to good account by persons of -sounder judgment and more extensive means of information. It has been -said that ‘there is wisdom in a multitude of counsellors;’ but if they -only raise a clamour by repeating all of them the same thing, I do not -see how this advantage can be obtained. - -What I would chiefly remark upon is,—How far the principles and views -acted upon by the late administrations are such as to afford us the -safest and most honourable ground for prosecuting a war which is said to -be carried on for the existence of the empire. - -Had I to engage with an enemy in a struggle of this kind, the ground -which I should choose to occupy would be such a one as that he must feel -himself to be the aggressor. In a conflict which is to decide the fate -of a people, I think the greatest care should be taken to remove all -doubtful or frivolous causes of debate, to suffer no sinister motives to -divert their minds from the great object in which they are engaged or -lessen their steady confidence in the justice of their cause. It is -hardly to be expected that the mass of a people should defend the -patrimony of independence which they inherit from their ancestors with -the reverence, intrepidity, and dauntless zeal required of them, when -they see a minister ready to gamble it away for the first idle object -that excites his cupidity, or opens a door to the spirit of intrigue. -Examining the conduct of those who were the advisers and authors of the -late renewal of hostilities according to these maxims, which seem to me -well founded, it is not easy to imagine any thing more remote from true -dignity, magnanimity, or wisdom, than the manner in which we chose to -enter upon a war on which we were to stake our all. We chose to rest a -dispute, which was to involve every thing near and dear to us, on a -diplomatic ambiguity; on a technical question, as to the manner how and -to whom we were to give up a barren rock which was of no use to us, and -to which we had resigned all pretensions. It was clear that we had -refused to fulfil our share of a treaty which had been formally -ratified; but the reasons which we gave for doing this were by no means -equally clear and satisfactory. They sounded more like the excuses of -those seeking a pretence for the continuance of an unsuccessful contest, -than the remonstrances of persons sincerely anxious for peace, and -opposed by real difficulties. I remember at the time when the design of -retaining Malta was first made known, every one’s remark was,—Had we not -agreed to give it up? And as to the official reasons for this change of -measures, which were afterwards detailed to the public with such pomp -and circumstance, viz., that it was to have been given up to the Order -that formerly possessed it only on the supposition of that Order’s -remaining entire, though no such condition had been expressed, and under -the guarantee of another power whose consent had neither been asked or -obtained, I believe that no one who was not either indifferent to peace -or desirous of war ever thought them of sufficient consequence to -justify us in exposing ourselves to unnecessary reproach and odium, and -plunging into a sea of unknown troubles. It is certain that by the -generality of people they could neither be felt nor understood. On this -tottering foundation did Mr. Addington think proper to take his stand. -Doubt, perplexity, evasion, a general indifference as to the immediate -object of the dispute, and a direct accusation of breach of faith on the -part of the enemy were the auspices under which we were to begin a war, -which ought (from the tremendous consequences attached to it) to have -had no motives but what came home to the bosoms and businesses of men; -to every manly, generous, and honest feeling; that might not have been -uttered boldly without fear of contradiction in the face of an enemy; -that must not have beat in every heart, have strung every arm, and -animated every tongue. If the situation of the country was believed to -be at all precarious; if there was even a chance that the contest might -really lead to the dreadful alternative held out to us, the want either -of cautious prudence or of manly wisdom in ministers was at that time -inexcusable. It is no part of wisdom to hang the fate of kingdoms in the -balance with straws. It is no part of courage to fight, to show that you -are not afraid of fighting. Calm steady courage does not distrust -itself; nor is it afraid that by giving up a trifling or doubtful point, -it may afterwards be bullied into dangerous compliances. Firmness and -moderation seem to me not only not incompatible with each other, but -that the one is a necessary consequence of the other. On the other hand, -meanness and pride are nearly allied together. In common life we should -think that a readiness to seize the first occasion of quarrel shewed a -man to be either a bully or a coward; it would seem as if he was afraid -that by deferring his resentment he should either want courage or -opportunity for shewing it another time. Yet the great excuse for our -going into the war was,—that by yielding any thing to the demands of the -enemy, we should soon lose all power of resistance, and crouch in abject -submission at his feet. This was not a proud confidence in ourselves, -but a mean dread of our own pusillanimity and want of firmness. It was -to suppose that we had no security for our firmness, but in the heat of -our passions and the infliction of mutual injuries. But it may be said, -that whatever was the cause of the war, the consequences were the same. -The critical situation in which we stood, and the threats of the enemy -made it necessary for us to repel force by force, to call forth every -energy of which we were possessed, and to stand forth as one man in -defence of the country. But whatever this might prove as to the conduct -of the people, it forms no justification of the conduct of ministers. It -was not the danger of invasion which produced the taking up arms, but -the determination to take up arms which produced the fear of invasion. -The threatened invasion was not the cause of the war, but the -consequence of it. This reasoning, as applied to the commencement of the -war is preposterous. It is the same absurdity as to give yourself an -infectious disease in order that you may call in the physician, instead -of calling in the physician because you are attacked by the disease. It -is ridiculous, I say, to argue that the war was necessary to repel the -horrors and ravages of invasion; when, if the war had not taken place, -no such evils would have been possible. It was true, that so long as we -determined to carry on the war, it was necessary to guard ourselves -against the consequences of war; but to suppose (which seemed to be -generally the case with the good people of England in the height of -their panic) that to doubt for a moment of the necessity of the war was -the same thing as wishing that the French might come here and put every -one to the sword (when one chief object of peace would be to prevent all -such wild alarms), implies such an intricate confusion of ideas as I am -not able to unravel. At least I can account for it only in one way; by -supposing that this reluctance to distinguish between the necessity of -our going to war, and the necessity of self-defence, brought upon us by -it, arose from a deep consciousness in the human mind of the importance -of the motives by which we have been actuated to the success of our -undertakings, and a belief that he who lessens your confidence in the -grounds of your proceeding, thereby unnerves your resolution, and -lessens your safety. I know that immediate danger, however incurred, -produces the same necessity for self-defence; but it does not produce -the same temper of mind and motives for going through it. It may also -produce the same mechanical courage at the moment; but perseverance, -superiority to fear or disaster, self-confidence, a cheerful determined -submission to the greatest hardships and sufferings from a sense that -they were unavoidable, ‘the unconquerable will, and courage never to -submit or yield, and what else is not to be overcome;’ all these are not -in the gift of fear, or folly, or ignorance, or hatred. It is therefore -of the highest consequence to ascertain the true grounds and motives of -a war, such as the present, and to know the spirit and sentiments by -which it was brought about, and to what part of our character, whether -to its strong or its weak side, whether to our vices or our virtues, -those motives were addressed which called forth our ardour and readiness -to engage in it. It is not from loud boasting, from what we think or say -of ourselves, but from what we really are; not from a pretended, but -real love of justice, of independence, of honour, and of our country’s -welfare, that we can expect the fruits of victory. If we find in those -who lead, no higher principle of action than a wish to serve their own -interests, or gratify their own passions, and in those who are led, only -that zeal which arises from the drunken uproar of an ale-house, the low -credulity of ignorance, or the idle vanity of wearing a red coat and -shouldering a firelock—I will not say that the situation of the country -is desperate indeed, but I think it is not such as to afford the most -solid grounds of confidence in our security against a spirit of -unbounded ambition; the insolence of almost unexampled success, -resentment for supposed injuries, and the most consummate military -skill. ‘The still small voice is wanting.’... It is not in the order of -nature that an administration acting upon such principles as I have here -described should feel, or be capable of inspiring into others, either -true patriotism, a sincere and manly spirit of independence, or any -particle of that high-souled energy, which is necessary to contend with -inordinate ambition, armed with strength and cunning. That -administration is no more: I trust that its spirit has not survived it! - -It seems almost impertinent at present to turn back to the diplomatic -pedantry and legal quibbling by which the retention of Malta was so -gravely justified at the time. After the repeated declarations that have -been made in parliament, and after having witnessed those tragical -events, to which, it seems, it was the necessary prelude, there can be -little doubt as to the real motives of that measure. From these motives -then we are to form our opinion of the conduct of ministers. If it was a -wise and necessary measure to plunge Europe again into the calamities of -war, to bathe it once more in that ‘fountain of blood,’ then and then -only was our refusing to fulfil our engagements a wise and necessary -determination; for the now avowed reason of our going to war was, that -we might not remain at peace! Here then was a war voluntarily undertaken -for its own sake, peace studiously shunned, and all the evils consequent -upon such a step incurred, for the sake of making one more desperate -effort to reduce the power of France and humble it with the dust. We -therefore entered upon this wild Quixotic scheme at our own peril, and -the responsibility of the war devolved upon us. We ought therefore to -have had strong grounds, either from a confidence in the result or from -the justice of the principle, for making such an attempt. But we have -seen what has been the result with respect to the other powers of -Europe, it remains to be seen how it will terminate with respect to -ourselves. As to the justice and generosity of the design, I may perhaps -speak of that hereafter. - -I will not pretend to censure the general practice of obtaining a war -_under false pretences_, I leave it to the politicians to settle the -rules of honour among themselves: but I cannot help thinking that in a -war which is to try the spirit of a people, they ought not to be -tricked, or bullied, or unnecessarily forced into it. With respect to -the suspension of the war in consequence of the treaty of Amiens, it -certainly had this good effect (on the supposition that it was -absolutely necessary to go on with the contest), that it gave those who -had been enemies of the old war, and had been afterwards disgusted by -the conduct of the French, but did not like to relinquish their opinion -while the original cause of dispute remained—it gave all persons of this -class (of which there were great numbers) an opportunity to quit the -ranks of discontent without exposing themselves to the charge of -inconsistency. As it was a new war, they thought they had a fair right -to have a new opinion about it; and they exercised their freedom of -election as eagerly in approving the conduct of ministers in entering -upon the present war, as they had done in condemning their continuance -of the former one. For myself, I confess I have always looked upon the -present war as a continuance of the last, carried on upon the same -principles and for the same purposes, only without any hopes of success, -and therefore infinitely more wanton and foolish. For as, in the -commencement of the last war, it was our intention to conquer France, in -this we can only hope to defend ourselves. Of the necessity of this -defence there can be but one opinion. But to confound this with the -necessity of the war itself, or to argue as if the discontinuance of the -war would increase the dangers arising from it, is an improvement in -political logic, a luminous arrangement of ideas, that must have crept -in with the benefits of the Union. - -The first plea that was made use of to give a colouring of interest to -the renewal of hostilities, before the discovery of that profound train -of policy, the explosion of which has left Europe a heap of ruins, was, -that after the incautious surrender of Malta, it had been found to be of -much greater importance to Great Britain than had been imagined at the -time; and that it could not be suffered to fall into the hands of the -French, or even become subject to their influence, without endangering -one of the chief sources of the wealth and prosperity of this country. -It seems Malta was the enchanted island, into which Buonaparte was to -convey himself by stealth, and thence passing easily into Egypt was, at -another vast stride, to come down _souse_ upon our possessions in India. -With these resting-places, and the help of the thousand-league boots -which our imagination had lent him, the political magician was to take -but a hop, step and a jump, from one hemisphere into the other. Or, in -the language of the day, Malta was the key to Egypt, and Egypt was the -key to our Eastern conquests. Both the points assumed in this statement -were directly denied, and their fallacy exposed at the time by one to -whose authority or reasonings on the subject I can add nothing; but I -may be permitted to make one general remark with respect to this part of -the subject, that if the mere possibility of the loss of an object of -national aggrandisement is to be considered as a sufficient ground of -war, there never could be such a thing as peace among mankind. If one -party is to be kept in a state of perpetual alarm from a distant -apprehension of losing the superiority they possess in wealth, or -luxury, or power, and the other to be perpetually goaded on by the hope -of speculative plunder; if one party is determined to forgo nothing, and -the other to grasp at everything; if future causes of contention are to -be anticipated, and we are to fight now to defend an object that may -never come into dispute hereafter; if we are not to wait till we see and -feel our danger, but to create it out of every fantastic occasion; if -our selfishness must be of that refined calculating comprehensive kind -as to overlook no possibility of danger or advantage however remote or -uncertain, and at the same time so inflexibly disinterested as to think -no sacrifices too great in pursuit of its favourite object—it is easy to -see that the world would soon be dispeopled. It is well for mankind that -our passions naturally circumscribe themselves, and contain their own -antidote within them. The only excuse for our narrow, selfish passions -is their short-sightedness: were it not for this, the jealousies of -individuals and of nations would never leave them a moment’s interval of -rest or quiet. It is well that the headlong passions which make us rush -on our own destruction and that of others are only excited by gross, -palpable objects; and are therefore transient and limited in their -operation. It is well that those motives which owe nothing to reason in -their birth should not afterwards receive either nourishment or support -from it. If in their present desultory state they produce so many -mischiefs, what would be the case if they were to be organized into -systems, and under the direction of pure abstract reason? Any object -that provoked a momentary resentment or excited our jealousy might -plunge us into a war that could only be expiated by seas of blood. But -in a war of mere interest or passion, it is surely allowable to sit down -and count the cost, and to strive to moderate our pride and resentment -instead of inflaming them. Virtue, truth, and patriotism require nothing -of us but an inviolable resolution and integrity in the defence of those -rights which are the common privilege of humanity; the rest is a -calculation of prudence, not a stern command of duty that admits neither -of compromise or delay. To defend at the point of the sword, and at the -risk of every thing valuable, our title to the possessions that are -neither necessary nor durable in their own nature, that are never worth -a hundred years’ purchase, that may crumble to pieces of their own -accord, or slip out of our hands in various ways before the end of the -contest, and which afterwards will be no more secure ‘against infection -and the hand of war,’ against the insidious or desperate designs of the -enemy, against the breath of accident or unforeseen decay than they were -before—is madness and folly. It is to defeat the intended favours of -Fortune, by paying for them before-hand a price much greater than they -can ever be worth. It is to squander away the whole estate of our -present happiness and comfort in purchasing security for that, for which -no security ever was or can be given—the continued smiles of fortune. We -cannot without a presumption that will involve its own punishment think -of placing beyond the reach of chance or fate that which by its own -nature and the fluctuation of human affairs is liable to change. - -But this must be the case with all distant and maritime possessions: -indeed all naval superiority is attended with this necessary -disadvantage; that, though actual power, it is not self-dependent, or -the source of its own permanence. We cannot secure the possession of the -sea in the same manner by taking ships as we can the possession of the -land by taking fortresses and countries. The longer a successful -continental warfare is carried on, the more able is the conqueror to -carry it on: every new conquest that he makes furnishes him with the -means of making more, and secures to him what he has already gained by -striking at the heart of power, by disarming resistance, and by very -liberally rewarding the expence and trouble of keeping it—Whereas the -advantages that are gained at sea are, like that element itself, -infinitely treacherous and uncertain. We may take their ships; but this -will not hinder them from building others. We cannot build forts or -erect passes on the seas, or dig them into trenches to keep out the -enemy. We cannot enter their country and cut down their forests; we -cannot enter their ports and destroy their magazines;—all their means -and sources of power remain untouched. We cannot prevent their -exertions, though we may constantly render them abortive. Thus, while at -an enormous expence we maintain our actual superiority, we make no -advances to our object—which is security; but are rather further from -it. If we ever make peace, which I suppose will happen sooner or later, -we shall find that we have not in any one respect lessened the means or -palsied the energies of our rivals; and while we remain at war we are -teaching them two very dangerous things, resolution and skill. I -conceive no power can be long superior to the attacks of another, unless -where it has the means of crushing its resistance in embryo. Naval -dominion is in this respect what a government would be that should give -to insurgents a free communication with each other, full liberty of -forming plans and of organizing themselves into regular bodies of -troops, and the privilege of never being attacked till they themselves -gave the signal for the onset. Military conquests are therefore in their -nature to a certain degree secure; because in maintaining them we have -to contend with those whom we have bound hand and foot, from whom we -have taken all effectual power of resistance; while in maintaining our -naval superiority, we strengthen our adversary by struggling with him, -since he has the full use of every limb and muscle, has every inducement -as well as opportunity to exert himself to the utmost, and is in no -danger of receiving any material hurt; at least this must be the -consequence where our natural strength and advantages are at all equal. -I know nothing but some such reasoning as this on the inefficiency of -naval advantages, as a means of reducing the enemy to terms of -submission, that could form the least excuse for the late ministers in -their desperate attempt to turn the course of the war from a channel in -which it was sure to be successful, into one in which it was sure to be -disastrous; to throw the game knowingly and wilfully into the enemy’s -hands, and ruin us in our allies. They seemed to anticipate with fatal -apprehension the most splendid success that ever adorned the annals of -the British navy, and to be determined by an inverted ambition to match -it with a pattern, in their own style, of equal horror, discomfiture, -and dismay. They seemed to conspire maliciously with fortune, in -depriving Englishmen of the pure, unalloyed triumph of that day.—For the -present, the errors of the cabinet have entirely defeated whatever -advantages we might have derived from our naval success; and the effect -of our mistaken policy has been, that while we remain undisputed masters -of the seas, and are grasping at the commerce of the world, we see the -ports of Europe about to be shut against us. War on the continent is -therefore hopeless; war at sea useless, or worse than useless: for -methinks there is neither policy nor wisdom nor humanity ‘in resolving -to set no limits to your hostility but with your existence,’ when you -have to contend with a great and formidable foe; when you only know that -_he_ is safe from your attacks; when you can only distress him, when you -gain no advantage yourself in the mean time, and cannot possibly gain -any that can be put in competition with such an alternative; when we -consider that such a resolution (however heroically it may be formed) -cannot be always persisted in (for the desire of peace is natural, and -war revolting to the human mind); that the longer it is adhered to, the -more mischievous it will become, and the more dangerous in its -consequences afterwards, and will render the diminution of that maritime -preponderance, which we have held with such a convulsive grasp, more and -more an object both of policy and revenge to other powers. - -I have promised to say something of the justice of the war in its -principle, not as a war of defence but as a war of interference; though -I think the less is said on this subject the better; it can only open -‘another Iliad of woes.’ It must lead to a train of recollections that -can be of no use to us at present; or revive sentiments and a spirit -that should be recalled only (if it were possible) to be disclaimed. The -less we retain of a spirit of offence, and the sooner we forget -ourselves in the character of aggressors, in however just a cause, the -better shall we be qualified for our present posture of defence: for -there is no ground of resistance so sure as a determined belief, for the -time at least, that all aggression must be wrong. I am far from thinking -that the arbitrary conduct of a government, even where it does not -affect ourselves, is not a just ground of war, or that the conduct of -the French government was not marked by a spirit of violent and unjust -ambition. Of course if that spirit can be resisted with effect, there is -no injustice, and there is a great deal of policy in doing it. But -before we can plead generous indignation and an uncontrolable love of -justice in excuse for our rashness and imprudence, it must be clear that -pride, revenge, and the lust of dominion have had no share in producing -this ardent concern for the rights and liberties of mankind. It is not -the nature or justice of the occasion, but the use intended to be made -of it; the principles and views on which we act, and the character of -those with whom we are associated in a common cause, that gives us a -right to arrogate to ourselves the title of assertors of the liberties -of mankind. If, however, our motives are not such as to be above all -suspicion, it is not enough that we are able to hide them from -ourselves, unless we can at the same time impose upon those who have not -the same interest in being deceived by the thin disguise that covers -them. Instead then of enquiring into the abstract justice of the war (a -sort of enquiry now very nearly exploded, and which would be of little -use in guiding our practical conclusions), let us examine in what manner -our remonstrances would be likely to be received by the government to -whom they were addressed, and how far the common feelings of humanity -would compel them ‘to bow their crested pride’ at the feet of their -accusers. Would they forget then that the undue and dangerous influence -in the affairs of Europe, which was so loudly complained of, had been -the consequence of the combined efforts of all Europe to accomplish -their destruction, and was so far from being the cause of the hostility -of other states, that it was their only security against it? That their -unjust and tyrannical encroachments on the independence of the -neighbouring states had been made in defending their own independence -from the aggressions of which they were made the instruments? They would -say, that to think of restoring the independence of those countries -would be putting into the hands of a mortal enemy, whom you have just -disarmed, the weapons with which he may most surely effect your -destruction; that whatever advantages they had gained had been bought -with their blood, shed for their country; that if there had been any -instance of unjust aggression, or inordinate ambition, it might at least -be _accounted for_ from that natural jealousy of others, and that fierce -impatience of control, that must become habitual to those who had had -every kind of difficulty to encounter, and who had triumphed over all -opposition. The gigantic strength and towering greatness of France had -arisen from her convulsive struggles for existence, and in the cause of -that liberty which was denied her. They, who had insulted her weakness -and blasted her hopes, had no right to complain of her strength or her -despair. Those who had not been able to make their country free and -happy, would be instigated by a just revenge to make her great and -formidable to her enemies. They might say, ‘You left us no choice -between the highest point of glory, and the most abject submission; we -must either be conquerors or slaves. If you gained an advantage, you -pursued it; if you were defeated, you returned to the charge; neither -success nor misfortune inclined you to listen to terms of accommodation: -we saw that we could never hope for peace, but either by giving to -France such an ascendancy as would overawe the rest of Europe, or by -throwing ourselves at last on the mercy of our unrelenting foe. We had -not forgotten the partition of Poland, the massacres of Ismael and -Warsaw; and we could not satisfy ourselves but that those who had had -the chief concern in these events, or had witnessed them without dismay, -might have other objects in view in entering France, besides the -tranquillity of the people, the restoration of order, or a disinterested -regard for the safety of thrones, and the independence of Europe. We -could not conceive that an implacable enmity to France was a full -atonement for all other crimes, or a security for every virtue. Pursued, -hunted down, driven to madness, we turned upon our pursuers, and -trampled them under our feet; and in the career of our fury, and the -plenitude of our triumph, you charge us with excesses, from which we -ourselves were the greatest sufferers; and with not having observed -those rules of justice and moderation, which reason required of us. We -were to have no indemnity, no security: we were to give back every -conquest, as soon as made; to fight every battle over again; to rely -solely on the faith or generosity of our adversaries, as a pledge that -no advantage would be taken of our confidence; or, if it were ten times -betrayed, we were not to complain, as we had no right to advantages -obtained by unjust violence, in a cause that exposed us to the enmity -and detestation of the human race: we were to plead guilty to our own -condemnation; to set the seal on our own infamy, and to receive as a -mark of favour and lenity, whatever implied our admission into the -common rank and privileges of mankind; and, after endless sacrifices and -exertions, we were only to prepare for new struggles and insults, -without ever hoping to end them. But from whom were we to learn this -extreme moderation, or that respect for the rights of justice or the -ties of humanity, which could be no defence to us? Why were we not to -pursue the objects of our ambition, with the same obstinacy as those -with whom we had to contend pursued the objects of their revenge? It -could hardly be expected that all the concessions were to be made by -those who were intoxicated with the pride of victory, in favour of those -who had reaped nothing but disappointment, and who were only urged on by -a sullen despair. In this manner was the war protracted, year after -year, by open hostility, by civil dissentions, and pretended treaties; -lingered out under various pretexts, which were artfully substituted for -each other as occasion required, so as to make it impossible ever to -arrive at any decisive issue to the contest. When defeated, the -continuance of the war was necessary to their own defence and safety; -when flushed with victory for a time, then nothing less than full -indemnity for the past, as well as security for the future would satisfy -them; and then their favourite object, the subjugation of France, and -destruction of the republic, was resumed with fresh ardour, and tempted -them on till their hopes again ended in defeat and ruin: thus adapting -every aspect of affairs to their own purposes, they constantly returned -in the same circle to the point from which they set out, and war was -always necessary, peace always unattainable. Or if at any time the -fainting resolution and exhausted strength of our adversaries seemed to -promise us that repose which was so necessary to us, we saw the dying -embers of war again eagerly rekindled by a country that, standing aloof -from the contagion, shouted from her rocky shores to see the flames that -consumed the vitals of Europe. The bitterest enmity that our early -struggles in the cause of liberty had drawn down upon us was to be shewn -by a people “that had long insulted the slavery of Europe, by the -loudness of its boasts of freedom.” English solicitation and English -gold were always ready to defeat that object, which was to be the reward -of so many triumphs, and of so many years of suffering, of havoc, -uncertainty, and dismay. A reluctant peace was at length extorted from -her: but her jealousy, avarice, and pride made her choose to risk every -thing rather than remain in a state so unnatural to her. Delicate in her -moral sentiments, disinterested in all her proceedings, she was shocked -at some violences of ours, which permitted her no longer to remain an -indifferent spectator of the calamities of other nations, and she sought -the first opportunity of evading the treaty that had been concluded, by -alarming the fears of her merchants for the safety of their Eastern -possessions. She lost no time in rousing to her aid her former -confederates in wrong. By her incantations, the hydra-headed monster, -which we thought we had finally subdued, again feels new life and vigour -restored to it, unites its severed folds, and with its triple crown -moves onward to its prey, and France must submit or perish, that England -may preserve her commerce.’ In some such manner as this would a -Frenchman repel the charges brought against his countrymen; and, if we -allow for the strength of national prejudices, there appears to be some -appearance of reason in what he says.[1] If the present quarrel had been -so managed as to have been completely disentangled from the former one, -we should have been better able to answer their reproaches, and I think -to resist their menaces. Had not Austria been precipitated unwisely into -that quarrel in the manner she was, she could not have fallen to the -ground without a struggle. - -In what further remarks I have to make, I shall consider whether the -system of internal policy pursued by the late minister was in its -general tendency likely to increase the spirit of independence, and -consequently the security of the country. It seems to me a desirable -object to refer as much as possible of our proceedings both at home and -abroad to the influence of that minister’s character on the national -feelings, and to the blind confidence generally placed in his talents -and integrity. The errors that we have been led into by a confidence of -this sort will be sooner retrieved than if they proceeded from a change -in our own habits and dispositions. It is well if we can save the credit -of our national character, a little at the expence of our -understandings; for I cannot think that our confidence in that minister -was well bestowed. I know it is a general maxim, that we are not to war -with the dead. We ought not, indeed, to trample on their bodies; but -with their _minds_ we may and must make war, unless we would be governed -by them after they are dead. They who wish their sentiments to survive -them in the memories of men, must also expect to live in their censures. - -The character of Mr. Pitt was, perhaps, one of the most singular that -ever existed. With few talents, and fewer virtues, he acquired and -preserved in one of the most trying situations, and in spite of all -opposition, the highest reputation for the possession of every moral -excellence, and as having carried the attainments of eloquence and -wisdom as far as human abilities could go. This he did (strange as it -appears) by a negation (together with the common virtues) of the common -vices of human nature, and by the complete negation of every other -talent that might interfere with the only one which he possessed in a -supreme degree, and which indeed may be made to include the appearance -of all others—an artful use of words, and a certain dexterity of logical -arrangement. In these alone his power consisted; and the defect of all -other qualities, which usually constitute greatness, contributed to the -more complete success of these. Having no strong feelings, no distinct -perceptions, his mind having no link, as it were, to connect it with the -world of external nature, every subject presented to him nothing more -than a _tabula rasa_, on which he was at liberty to lay whatever -colouring of language he pleased; having no general principles, no -comprehensive views of things, no moral habits of thinking, no system of -action, there was nothing to hinder him from pursuing any particular -purpose by any means that offered; having never any plan, he could not -be convicted of inconsistency, and his own pride and obstinacy were the -only rules of his conduct. Having no insight into human nature, no -sympathy with the passions of men, or apprehension of their real -designs, he seemed perfectly insensible to the consequences of things, -and would believe nothing till it actually happened. The fog and haze in -which he saw every thing communicated itself to others, and the total -indistinctness and uncertainty of his own ideas tended to confound the -perceptions of his hearers more effectually than the most ingenious -misrepresentation could have done. Indeed, in defending his conduct he -never seemed to consider himself as at all responsible for the success -of his measures, or that future events were in our own power; but that -as the best laid schemes might fail, and there was no providing against -all possible contingencies, this was a sufficient excuse for our -plunging at once into any dangerous or absurd enterprise without the -least regard to consequences. His reserved logic confined itself solely -to the _possible_ and the _impossible_, and he appeared to regard the -_probable_ and _improbable_, the only foundation of moral prudence or -political wisdom, as beneath the notice of a profound statesman; as if -the pride of the human intellect were concerned in never entrusting -itself with subjects, where it may be compelled to acknowledge its -weakness.[2] From his manner of reasoning, he seemed not to have -believed that the truth of his statements depended on the reality of the -facts, but that the things depended on the order in which he arranged -them in words: you would not suppose him to be agitating a serious -question, which had real grounds to go upon, but to be declaiming upon -an imaginary thesis, proposed as an exercise in the schools. He never -set himself to examine the force of the objections that were brought -against his measures, or attempted to establish them upon clear, solid -grounds of his own; but constantly contented himself with first gravely -stating the logical form, or dilemma to which the question reduced -itself, and then, after having declared his opinion, proceeded to amuse -his hearers by a series of rhetorical common-places, connected together -in grave, sonorous, and elaborately constructed periods, without ever -shewing their real application to the subject in dispute. Thus if any -member of the opposition disapproved of any measure, and enforced his -objections by pointing out the many evils with which it is fraught, or -the difficulties attending its execution, his only answer was, ‘that it -was true there might be inconveniences attending the measure proposed, -but we were to remember, that every expedient that could be devised -might be said to be nothing more than a choice of difficulties, and that -all that human prudence could do was to consider on which side the -advantages lay; that for his part he conceived that the present measure -was attended with more advantages and fewer disadvantages than any other -that could be adopted; that if we were diverted from our object by every -appearance of difficulty, the wheels of government would be clogged by -endless delays and imaginary grievances; that most of the objections -made to the measure appeared to him trivial, others of them unfounded -and improbable; or that if a scheme free from all these objections could -be proposed, it might after all prove inefficient; while, in the mean -time, a material object remained unprovided for, or the opportunity of -action was lost.’ This mode of reasoning is admirably described by -Hobbes, in speaking of the writings of some of the Schoolmen, of whom he -says, that ‘they had learned the trick of imposing what they list upon -their readers, and declining the force of true reason by verbal forks, -that is distinctions which signify nothing, but serve only to astonish -the multitude of ignorant men.’ That what I have here stated comprehends -the whole force of his mind, which consisted solely in this evasive -dexterity and perplexing formality, assisted by a copiousness of words -and common-place topics, will, I think, be evident to any one who -carefully looks over his speeches, undazzled by the reputation or -personal influence of the speaker. It will be in vain to look in them -for any of the common proofs of human genius or wisdom. He has not left -behind him a single memorable saying—not one profound maxim—one solid -observation—one forcible description—one beautiful thought—one humourous -picture—one affecting sentiment. He has made no addition whatever to the -stock of human knowledge. He did not possess any one of those faculties -which contribute to the instruction and delight of mankind—depth of -understanding, imagination, sensibility, wit, vivacity, clear and solid -judgment. But it may be asked, If these qualities are not to be found in -him, where are we to look for them? And I may be required to point out -instances of them. I shall answer then, that he had none of the -profound, legislative wisdom, piercing sagacity, or rich, impetuous, -high-wrought imagination of Burke; the manly eloquence, strong sense, -exact knowledge, vehemence and natural simplicity of Fox; the ease, -brilliancy, and acuteness of Sheridan. It is not merely that he had not -all these qualities in the degree that they were severally possessed by -his rivals, but he had not any of them in any degree. His reasoning is a -technical arrangement of unmeaning common-places, his eloquence merely -rhetorical, his style monotonous and artificial. If he could pretend to -any one excellence in an eminent degree, it was to taste in composition. -There is certainly nothing low, nothing puerile, nothing far-fetched or -abrupt in his speeches; there is a kind of faultless regularity -pervading them throughout; but in the confined, mechanical, passive mode -of eloquence which he adopted, it seemed rather more difficult to commit -errors than to avoid them. A man who is determined never to move out of -the beaten road cannot lose his way. However, habit, joined to the -peculiar mechanical memory which he possessed, carried his correctness -to a degree which, in an extemporaneous speaker, was almost miraculous; -he perhaps hardly ever uttered a sentence that was not perfectly regular -and connected. In this respect, he not only had the advantage over his -own contemporaries, but perhaps no one that ever lived equalled him in -this singular faculty. But for this, he would always have passed for a -common man; and to this the constant sameness, and, if I may say so, -vulgarity of his ideas must have contributed not a little, as there was -nothing to distract his mind from this one object of his unintermitted -attention; and as even in his choice of words he never aimed at anything -more than a certain general propriety and stately uniformity of style. -His talents were exactly fitted for the situation in which he was -placed; where it was his business not to overcome others, but to avoid -being overcome. He was able to baffle opposition, not from strength or -firmness, but from the evasive ambiguity and impalpable nature of his -resistance, which gave no hold to the rude grasp of his opponents: no -force could bind the loose phantom, and his mind (though ‘not matchless, -and his pride humbled by such rebuke,’) soon rose from defeat unhurt, - - ‘And in its liquid texture mortal wound - Receiv’d no more than can the fluid air.’[3] - -By this lucky combination of strength and weakness, he succeeded in -maintaining an undiminished influence over the opinions of his own -country for a number of years, in wielding her energies as he pleased, -and guiding the counsels of almost all Europe. With respect to his -influence on the continent, that is an illusion that is past, and not -worth inquiring about; but it may still be of some use to inquire by -what means he strengthened his influence at home, as this may more -immediately concern our future conduct. This I think he effected in two -ways: by lessening the free spirit of the country as much as he could, -and by giving every possible encouragement to its commercial spirit. I -shall not here examine how far both these designs were wise and salutary -at the time; but I conceive that neither a spirit of dependence nor an -unbounded and universal spirit of trade will be the best security for -our safety at present. An indifference to liberty is not likely to -increase the love of independence; nor is an exclusive regard to private -gain likely to produce a disinterested concern for the public welfare. -Mr. Pitt, in making war, always considered peace as an object perfectly -indifferent in itself; and, in securing the prerogative of the crown, -seemed to think that the privileges of the people did not deserve a -moment’s attention. I do not in this mean to condemn his conduct: -perhaps we may suppose that the restrictions which he introduced on the -liberty of the subject, and the spirit of passive obedience and -non-resistance which was every where industriously diffused, the -contempt and obloquy which were poured on the very name of liberty, -might be required by the circumstances of the time, and necessary to -prevent the contagion of a dangerous example, and the mischiefs of civil -anarchy and confusion. The public were perhaps justly surfeited with -metaphysical treatises overturning the foundation of all civil rights, -and the very notion of liberty, with historical disquisitions proving -that the popular spirit of political institutions was the bane of all -internal quiet and happiness, the source of endless violence and -bloodshed, and the final cause of their dissolution; that human -happiness could never reach its utmost point of perfection but under the -mild and tranquil reign of universal despotism; that the forms of all -governments were alike indifferent, provided they secured the same -servile obedience and death-like apathy in the state. Perhaps it was -then necessary that we should be told, _ex cathedrâ_, that the people -had nothing to do with the laws but to _obey_ them: perhaps it was right -that we should be amused with apologies for the corrupt influence of the -crown; that integrity, honour, the love of justice, public spirit, or a -zeal for the interests of the community should be laughed at as absurd -chimeras, and that an ardent love of liberty, or determined resistance -to powerful oppression should be treated as madness and folly. But -however wise or necessary a temporary fashion of this kind might be to -counteract the poison of other views and sentiments, I am sure it can -neither be wise nor safe to continue it at present. We ought to do every -thing in our power to get rid of the effects of so dangerous a habit as -soon as possible. The fewer curbs there are on the spirit of the people, -the more vigorous and determined will it shew itself; the greater the -encouragement that is given to the principles of liberty, and the -greater confidence that is placed in the general disposition of the -country, the greater and more irresistible will be their habitual -attachment to liberty and independence. You give a manifest advantage to -an enemy if you in any way lessen the sources of enthusiasm, or in any -way check the ardour, confine the energy, degrade the sentiments, or -discountenance the erect, manly, independent spirit of your country. It -is dangerous to let any thing fall into disrepute or contempt which may -serve as a watchword to startle the dull ear, or rouse the frozen blood; -but to this purpose it is not enough that the name is retained, if the -habitual feeling is destroyed. A tame acquiescence in every encroachment -of power or exertion of undue influence, a disposition to assert our own -rights or those of others no further than fear or interest permit, a -habit of looking on the welfare of our country or the rights of mankind -as secondary considerations, no further to be regarded than as they are -connected with our own danger or convenience, these are not the symptoms -of the durable greatness and independence of a people. The causes of the -ruin of states have been almost always laid in the relaxation of their -moral habits and political prejudices. No kingdom can be secure in its -independence against a greater power that is not free in its spirit, as -well as in its institutions. I shall be happy if I have been mistaken in -thinking these observations at all applicable to our own country: but -the observations themselves are serious, and worth attending to. They -are such as have been recognised in all nations and ages, except those -indeed where their having been so would have rendered them suspected. - -On the other hand, a commercial spirit is a very weak as well as -dangerous substitute for a spirit of freedom: a sense of self-interest, -of mere mercenary advantage, can but ill supply the place of principle. -The love of gain, however active or persevering this principle may be in -accomplishing its own particular ends, can never be safely trusted to as -an _ally_ in a cause where there are other objects to be attended to. -Men who are actuated by this sole principle will very obstinately, no -doubt, defend their wealth, while they can retain it; but when that is -no longer the case, they will think nothing else worth retaining, and -meanly compromise their independence for their safety. That common -birthright which they receive from nature, in which every Englishman has -an equal interest as such, appears of little value in their eyes. -Liberty is in their eyes a coarse homely figure, but for the jewels that -sparkle in her hair, and the rings on her fingers. It is inconceivable -to them how a man can have any attachment to a simple shed, or can take -any pride in his title to that respect, which is due to him only because -he feels himself to be free. They will defend England as connected with -her colonies, with her proud canopies of Eastern state, her distant -spicy groves and the rich spoils of her Western isles; but will they -defend her as she is England, as their country? Strip her of her -conquests, her slaves, and her plantations, her bales of goods, her gold -and silver, and leave her only herself, what would there be in all the -rest worth the labour of a struggle? Her barren acres, her brave, -simple, generous, honest-hearted, hardy race of men, her liberty, her -fame, her integrity they look upon with the most sovereign contempt and -indifference, and would be ready to sacrifice them all for the purchase -of some new golden settlement, ‘some happier island in the watery waste— - - ‘Where slaves no more their native land behold, - But fiends torment, and Christians thirst for gold.’ - -They would defend their country not as her children, but as her masters; -as a property, not as a state. There may be the same pride and luxury in -other classes of men, but they are accompanied with other feelings, and -drawn from other sources. It has been a customary compliment to consider -those as best entitled to come forward conspicuously in defence of their -country who had what is called the greatest _stake_ in it. This is -perhaps true of the real, old hereditary nobility and gentry, of those -who find their names enrolled high in the annals of their country, whose -affections have grown to her soil as it were in a long course of -centuries, who have an interest in looking forward to posterity, and a -pride in looking back upon their ancestors, who have not only present -possessions and advantages to defend, but feelings of inveterate -prejudice and inbred honour to defend them. The loss of respect, or of -their former privileges, is a change which to them appears like -something out of the course of nature, to which no force or accidental -circumstances can ever reconcile them. They are also men of liberal -education; and this is a great point gained. There is certainly this -advantage in a classical education, if not counteracted by other causes, -that it gives men long views; it accustoms the mind to take an interest -in things foreign to itself, to love virtue for its own sake, to prefer -fame to life, and glory to riches, and to fix our thoughts on the great -and permanent instead of narrow and selfish objects. It teaches us to -believe that there is something really great and excellent in the world, -surviving all the shocks of accident and fluctuations of opinion, and to -feel respect for that which is made venerable by its nature and -antiquity instead of that low and servile dread which bows only to -present power and upstart authority. It is hard to find in minds -otherwise formed either a delicate sense of honour, or an inflexible -regard to truth and justice. But the spirit of trade is the very reverse -of all this. It is the principle of this set of men to cry ‘Long life to -the conqueror,’ to feel a contempt for all obligations that are not -founded in self-interest, and to consider all generous pursuits and the -hope of unfading renown as romance and folly. ‘Virtue is not their -habit, they are out of themselves in any course of conduct recommended -only by conscience and glory.’ They would not give a hundred hogsheads -of sugar or a half-year’s income for all the posthumous fame that was -ever acquired in the world. If things should unhappily ever come to -extremities, they are not the people who will retrieve them, either by -their exertions or example. They have neither grand and elevated views, -nor the warm, genuine feelings of nature. They have no _principles_ of -action. Irresolute, temporizing, every thing is with them made a subject -of selfish calculation. Their friendships as well as their enmities are -the creatures of the occasion. Confident, insolent in the day of -success, and while their cause is triumphant, they are as soon dejected -and driven to despair, when they find the tide turned against them. -Fortune is with them the first of goddesses: success the only title to -authority and respect; and possession the truest right. Accustomed to -all the fluctuations of hope and fear, they consider nothing stable in -human affairs; thrown into the possession of power and affluence by -accidents which they know not how to account for, it can hardly seem -strange to them that they should again be stripped of them. They do not -‘lay the fault upon themselves but on their stars, that they are -underlings.’ If I hear a man say that we are to give up our public -principles whenever circumstances render it necessary, that we are to -inquire upon all occasions not what is right, but what is prudent to be -done, that those feelings, which lead us to adhere to the cause of truth -and justice if at all unpopular, or to incur any personal risk or -inconvenience in defending what is right, are weak and vulgar -prejudices, I know that that man will be first to truckle to an enemy, -and the last voluntarily to risk his life in defence of his -independence. - -The courage of the soldier and the citizen are essentially different. -The one is momentary and involuntary; the other permanent and voluntary. -It is one thing to do all in your power to repel danger when it is -unavoidable, and another to expose yourself to it when you may avoid -going into it. Fear, or rashness, or necessity may be supposed to kindle -all the fury of battle: but principle alone can make us willing to -return to the charge after defeat. It is for this _re-action_ that we -ought to be chiefly prepared. For this nothing can prepare us but a true -love of our country, not taken up as a fashion, but felt as a duty; a -spirit of resistance not measured by our convenience, but by the -strength of our attachment and the real value of the object; but steady -enthusiasm; but a determination never to submit while hope or life -remained, and an indifference to every thing else but that one great -object. - -What resistance has Holland ever made to the power of France from the -first moment? Commerce had spread its sordid mantle completely over her. -Wrapped closely up in this, she fell without resistance and without a -groan: she was not of a temper to fall in love with danger, to court -disasters. Since that time she has not made a struggle or breathed a -sigh for her release, but lies supine, secure, unmoved, and torpid, - - ‘Dull as her lakes that slumber in the storm.’ - -Two hundred years of commerce and riches, which had gone over her, -since, in that noble struggle for thirty years together, she had defied -the whole power and the utmost vengeance of Spain, had prepared her for -this striking change. But England is not yet quite commercial: the -spirit of trade has not spread its poison through the whole mass of our -blood and vital juices! As I do not wish that England (with all her high -hopes, and called to a far different destiny) may _ever_ share the fate -of Holland, I do not wish that she may ever resemble her in herself; -that every other feeling should give way to that of interest alone, but -that she may tremble at ever realizing the warning picture of the poet, - - ——‘When, stript of all her charms, - The land of scholars, and the nurse of arms, - Where noble stems transmit the patriot flame, - Where kings have toil’d and poets wrote for fame, - One sink of level avarice shall lie, - And scholars, soldiers, kings, unhonour’d die.’ - -Though a state cannot look to its commerce for its security, it may be -involved in endless difficulty and danger by the views of commercial -aggrandizement. The views of men wholly engrossed in such pursuits are -altogether low and mechanical. If they see far, it is always in a -straight line before them; their sagacity is confined to what -immediately concerns their own interest. They are so intent upon that -one object that they overlook every thing else; and their eagerness to -accumulate is such, that they would rather hazard all than relinquish a -pursuit which promises them some new acquisition. While they are -successful, it is impossible to persuade them that they ever can be -otherwise, or to restrain their rashness by any considerations of -prudence or humanity. Actuated only by gross, palpable objects, and full -of themselves, they laugh at all distant danger. All general reasonings -on the principles of human nature, or the operation of causes by which -they do not find themselves influenced, appear to them perfectly futile -and visionary. ‘They think there is nothing real but that which they can -handle; which they can measure with a two-foot rule, which they can tell -upon ten fingers.’ As they believe money to be the only substantial -good, they are also persuaded that it is the only instrument of power. -With this they think themselves invulnerable, and that the more of it -they have, the more secure they are. As long as their credit remains -unimpaired, and their remittances are regularly made, they consider the -fate of battles and the intrigues of cabinets as of very little -comparative importance. They look up with more awe and admiration to a -stock-jobbing broker surrounded with his clerks than they do to a -victorious general at the head of his army. The rise and fall of stocks, -and the demand for our manufactures abroad, are in their opinion the -only criterions of national prosperity. On the other hand, whatever -affects their own interest, the loss of an island, or the stopping up of -a port, is found immediately to threaten the ruin of the country. Their -fears are as rash and groundless as their confidence. Every thing in -which they themselves are concerned is viewed through a magnifying -medium, and demands all our vigilance and attention, while every thing -else dwindles into insignificance. I therefore think there ought to be -as little connection as possible between the measures of government and -the maxims of the Exchange, and that the interests of a great empire -ought not to be managed by a company of factors. - -I have thus expressed the sentiments which occurred to me on the present -situation of our affairs, and some of the steps which led to it. I have -done this as freely and unreservedly as I could, because if they are -wrong, it is not likely that they will be much attended to; but if they -are right, they may be of some use. And I conceive that even they who -may think the view I have taken of the measures of the last -administration, and the application of particular observations to our -own conduct altogether unfounded, will not deny the truth of the general -principles on which they are built. Or that the sentiments of justice, -of honour, of reason and liberty, by which I think our views and conduct -_ought_ to have been regulated, can be too deeply impressed on our -minds. - - - End of FREE THOUGHTS ON PUBLIC AFFAIRS - - - - - POLITICAL ESSAYS, - WITH - SKETCHES OF PUBLIC CHARACTERS - - - - - BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE - - -This work was published in 1819 with the following -title-page:—‘Political Essays, with Sketches of Public Characters. By -William Hazlitt. “Come, draw the curtain, shew the picture.” London: -Printed for William Hone, 45, Ludgate Hill. 1819.’ A ‘Second edition,’ -with the same title and motto, ‘published by John Templeman, 39, -Tottenham-Court-Road; and Simpkin and Marshall, Stationers’-court,’ -appeared in 1822, but was probably a mere re-issue. The text of the 1819 -edition is here reprinted. - - - - - TABLE OF CONTENTS - - - PAGE - - Dedication 29 - - Preface 31 - - The Marquis Wellesley 47 - - Mr. Southey, Poet Laureat 48 - - Mr. Southey’s New Year’s Ode 49 - - Dottrel-catching 51 - - The Bourbons and Buonaparte 52 - - Vetus 57 - - On the Courier and Times Newspapers 58 - - Illustrations of Vetus 63 - - On the late War 96 - - Prince Maurice’s Parrot 101 - - Whether the Friends of Freedom can entertain any sanguine hopes of - the Favorable Results of the ensuing Congress 103 - - The Lay of the Laureate 109 - - Mr. Owen’s ‘New View of Society,’ &c. 121 - - Speeches of Charles C. Western, Esq. M.P. and Henry Brougham, Esq. - M.P. 127 - - Mr. Coleridge’s Lay Sermon 138 - - —— —— Statesman’s Manual 143 - - —— —— Lay Sermon 152 - - Buonaparte and Muller 154 - - Illustrations of the Times Newspaper 155 - - Mr. Macirone’s ‘Interesting Facts relating to the Fall and Death - of Joachim Murat, King of Naples’ 177 - - Wat Tyler and the Quarterly Review 192 - - The Courier and Wat Tyler 200 - - Mr. Southey’s Letter to William Smith, Esq. 210 - - On the Spy-System 232 - - On the same subject 234 - - On the Treatment of the State Prisoners 238 - - The Opposition and the Courier 240 - - England in 1798, by S. T. Coleridge 241 - - On the Effects of War and Taxes 243 - - Character of Mr. Burke 250 - - On Court Influence 254 - - On the Clerical Character 266 - - What is the People? 283 - - On the Regal Character 305 - - ‘The Fudge Family in Paris’ 311 - - Character of Lord Chatham 321 - - —— of Mr. Burke 325 - - —— of Mr. Fox 337 - - —— of Mr. Pitt 346 - - ‘Pitt and Buonaparte’ 350 - - An Examination of Mr. Malthus’s Doctrines 356 - - On the Originality of Mr. Malthus’s Essay 361 - - On the Principles of Population as affecting the Schemes of - Utopian Improvement 367 - - On the Application of Mr. Malthus’s Principle to the Poor Laws 374 - - Queries relating to the Essay on Population 381 - - - - - To JOHN HUNT, Esq. - - -_The tried, steady, zealous, and conscientious advocate of the liberty -of his country, and the rights of mankind;_— - -_One of those few persons who are what they would be thought to be; -sincere without offence, firm but temperate; uniting private worth to -public principle; a friend in need, a patriot without an eye to himself; -who never betrayed an individual or a cause he pretended to serve—in -short, that rare character, a man of common sense and common honesty,_ - - _This volume is respectfully and gratefully inscribed by_ - - THE AUTHOR. - - - - - PREFACE - - -I am no politician, and still less can I be said to be a party-man: but -I have a hatred of tyranny, and a contempt for its tools; and this -feeling I have expressed as often and as strongly as I could. I cannot -sit quietly down under the claims of barefaced power, and I have tried -to expose the little arts of sophistry by which they are defended. I -have no mind to have my person made a property of, nor my understanding -made a dupe of. I deny that liberty and slavery are convertible terms, -that right and wrong, truth and falsehood, plenty and famine, the -comforts or wretchedness of a people, are matters of perfect -indifference. That is all I know of the matter; but on these points I am -likely to remain incorrigible, in spite of any arguments that I have -seen used to the contrary. It needs no sagacity to discover that two and -two make four; but to persist in maintaining this obvious position, if -all the fashion, authority, hypocrisy, and venality of mankind were -arrayed against it, would require a considerable effort of personal -courage, and would soon leave a man in a very formidable minority. -Again, I am no believer in the doctrine of _divine right_, either as it -regards the Stuarts or the Bourbons; nor can I bring myself to approve -of the enormous waste of blood and treasure wilfully incurred by a -family that supplanted the one in this country to restore the others in -France. It is to my mind a piece of sheer impudence. The question -between natural liberty and hereditary slavery, whether men are born -free or slaves, whether kings are the servants of the people, or the -people the property of kings (whatever we may think of it in the -abstract, or debate about it in the schools)—in this country, in Old -England, and under the succession of the House of Hanover, is not a -question of theory, but has been long since decided by certain facts and -feelings, to call which in question would be equally inconsistent with -proper respect to the people, or common decency towards the throne. An -English subject cannot call this principle in question without -renouncing his country; an English prince cannot call it in question -without disclaiming his title to the crown, which was placed by our -ancestors on the head of his ancestors, on no other ground and for no -other possible purpose than to vindicate this sacred principle in their -own persons, and to hold it out as an example to posterity and to the -world. An Elector of Hanover, called over here to be made king of -England, in contempt and to the exclusion of the claims of the old, -hereditary possessors and pretenders to the throne, on any other plea -except that of his being the chosen representative and appointed -guardian of the rights and liberties of the people (the consequent -pledge and guarantee of the rights and liberties of other nations) would -indeed be a solecism more absurd and contemptible than any to be found -in history. What! Send for a petty Elector of a petty foreign state to -reign over us from respect to _his_ right to the throne of these realms, -in defiance of the legitimate heir to the crown, and ‘in contempt of the -choice of the people!’ Oh monstrous fiction! Miss Flora Mac Ivor would -not have heard of such a thing: the author of Waverley has well answered -Mr. Burke’s ‘Appeal from the New to the Old Whigs.’[4] Let not our -respect for our ancestors, who fought and bled for their own freedom, -and to aid (not to stifle) the cause of freedom in other nations, suffer -us to believe this poor ideot calumny of them. Let not our shame at -having been inveigled into crusades and Holy Alliances against the -freedom of mankind, suffer us to be made the dupes of it ourselves, in -thought, in word, or deed. The question of genuine liberty or of naked -slavery, if put in words, should be answered by Englishmen with scorn: -if put in any other shape than words, it must be answered in a different -way, unless they would lose the name of Englishmen! An Englishman has no -distinguishing virtue but honesty: he has and can have no privilege or -advantage over other nations but liberty. If he is not free, he is the -worst of slaves, for he is nothing else. If he feels that he has wrongs -and dare not say so, he is the meanest of hypocrites; for it is certain -that he cannot be contented under them.—This was once a free, a proud, -and happy country, when under a constitutional monarchy and a Whig king, -it had just broken the chains of tyranny that were prepared for it, and -successfully set at defiance the menaces of an hereditary pretender; -when the monarch still felt what he owed to himself and the people, and -in the opposite claims which were set up to it, saw the real tenure on -which he held his crown; when civil and religious liberty were the -watch-words by which good men and true subjects were known to one -another, not by the cant of legitimacy; when the reigning sovereign -stood between you and the polluted touch of a bigot and a despot who -stood ready to seize upon you and yours as his lawful prey; when liberty -and loyalty went hand in hand, and the Tory principles of passive -obedience and non-resistance were more unfashionable at court than in -the country; when to uphold the authority of the throne, it was not -thought necessary to undermine the privileges or break the spirit of the -nation; when an Englishman felt that his name was another name for -independence, ‘the envy of less happier lands,’ when it was his pride to -be born, and his wish that other nations might become free; before a -sophist and an apostate had dared to tell him that he had no share, no -merit, no free agency, in the glorious Revolution of 1688, and that he -was bound to lend a helping hand to crush all others, that implied a -right in the people to chuse their own form of government; before he was -become sworn brother to the Pope, familiar to the Holy Inquisition, an -encourager of the massacres of his Protestant brethren, a patron of the -Bourbons, and jailor to the liberties of mankind! Ah, John Bull! John -Bull! thou art not what thou wert in the days of thy friend, Arbuthnot! -Thou wert an honest fellow then: now thou art turned bully and coward. - -This is the only politics I know; the only patriotism I feel. The -question with me is, whether I and all mankind are born slaves or free. -That is the one thing necessary to know and to make good: the rest is -_flocci, nauci, nihili, pili_. Secure this point, and all is safe: lose -this, and all is lost. There are people who cannot understand a -principle; nor perceive how a cause can be connected with an individual, -even in spite of himself, nor how the salvation of mankind can be bound -up with the success of one man. It is in vain that I address to them -what follows.—‘One fate attends the altar and the throne.’ So sings Mr. -Southey. I say, that one fate attends the people and the assertor of the -people’s rights against those who say they have no rights, that they are -their property, their goods, their chattels, the live-stock on the -estate of Legitimacy. This is what kings at present tell us with their -swords, and poets with their pens. He who tells me this deprives me not -only of the right, but of the very heart and will to be free, takes the -breath out of the body of liberty, and leaves it a dead and helpless -corse, destroys ‘at one fell swoop’ the dearest hopes, and blasts the -fairest prospects of mankind through all ages and nations, sanctifies -slavery, binds it as a spell on the understanding, and makes freedom a -mockery, and the name a bye-word. The poor wretch immured in the -dungeons of the Inquisition may breathe a sigh to liberty, may repeat -its name, may think of it as a blessing, if not to himself, to others; -but the wretch imprisoned in the dungeon of Legitimacy, the very tomb of -freedom, that ‘painted sepulchre, white without, but full of ravening -and all uncleanness within,’ must not even think of it, must not so much -as dream of it, but as a thing forbid: it is a profanation to his lips, -an impiety to his thoughts; his very imagination is enthralled, and he -can only look forward to the never-ending flight of future years, and -see the same gloomy prospect of abject wretchedness and hopeless -desolation spread out for himself and his species. They who bow to -thrones and hate mankind may here feast their eyes with blight, mildew, -the blue pestilence and glittering poison of slavery, ‘bogs, dens, and -shades of death—a universe of death.’ This is that true moral atheism, -the equal blasphemy against God and man, the sin against the Holy Ghost, -that lowest deep of debasement and despair to which there is no lower -deep. He who saves me from this conclusion, who makes a mock of this -doctrine, and sets at nought its power, is to me not less than the God -of my idolatry, for he has left one drop of comfort in my soul. The -plague-spot has not tainted me quite; I am not leprous all over, the lie -of Legitimacy does not fix its mortal sting in my inmost soul, nor, like -an ugly spider, entangle me in its slimy folds; but is kept off from me, -and broods on its own poison. He who did this for me, and for the rest -of the world, and who alone could do it, was Buonaparte. He withstood -the inroads of this new Jaggernaut, this foul Blatant Beast, as it -strode forward to its prey over the bodies and minds of a whole people, -and put a ring in its nostrils, breathing flame and blood, and led it in -triumph, and played with its crowns and sceptres, and wore them in its -stead, and tamed its crested pride, and made it a laughing-stock and a -mockery to the nations. He, one man, did this, and as long as he did -this, (how, or for what end, is nothing to the magnitude of this mighty -question) he saved the human race from the last ignominy, and that foul -stain that had so long been intended, and was at last, in an evil hour -and by evil hands, inflicted on it. He put his foot upon the neck of -kings, who would have put their yoke upon the necks of the people: he -scattered before him with fiery execution, millions of hired slaves, who -came at the bidding of their masters to deny the right of others to be -free. The monument of greatness and of glory he erected, was raised on -ground forfeited again and again to humanity—it reared its majestic -front on the ruins of the shattered hopes and broken faith of the common -enemies of mankind. If he could not secure the freedom, peace, and -happiness of his country, he made her a terror to those who by sowing -civil dissension and exciting foreign wars, would not let her enjoy -those blessings. They who had trampled upon Liberty could not at least -triumph in her shame and her despair, but themselves became objects of -pity and derision. Their determination to persist in extremity of wrong -only brought on themselves repeated defeat, disaster, and dismay: the -accumulated aggressions their infuriated pride and disappointed malice -meditated against others, returned in just and aggravated punishment -upon themselves: they heaped coals of fire upon their own heads; they -drank deep and long, in gall and bitterness, of the poisoned chalice -they had prepared for others: the destruction with which they had -threatened a people daring to call itself free, hung suspended over -their heads, like a precipice, ready to fall upon and crush them. -‘Awhile they stood abashed,’ abstracted from their evil purposes, and -felt how awful freedom is, its power how dreadful. Shrunk from the -boasted pomp of royal state into their littleness as men, defeated of -their revenge, baulked of their prey, their schemes stripped of their -bloated pride, and with nothing left but the deformity of their malice, -not daring to utter a syllable or move a finger, the lords of the earth, -who had looked upon men as of an inferior species, born for their use, -and devoted to be their slaves, turned an imploring eye to the people, -and with coward hearts and hollow tongues invoked the name of Liberty, -thus to get the people once more within their unhallowed gripe, and to -stifle the name of Liberty for ever. I never joined the vile and -treacherous cry of spurious humanity in favour of those who have from -the beginning of time, and will to the end of it, make a butt of -humanity, and its distresses their sport. I knew that shameful was this -new alliance between kings and people; fatal this pretended league: that -‘never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate have -pierced so deep.’ I was right in this respect. I knew my friends from my -foes. So did Lord Castlereagh: so did not Benjamin Constant. Did any of -the Princes of Europe ever regard Buonaparte as any thing more than the -child and champion of Jacobinism? Why then should I: for on that point I -bow to their judgments as infallible. Passion speaks truer than reason. -If Buonaparte was a conqueror, he conquered the grand conspiracy of -kings against the abstract right of the human race to be free; and I, as -a man, could not be indifferent which side to take. If he was ambitious, -his greatness was not founded on the unconditional, avowed surrender of -the rights of human nature. But with him, the state of man rose exalted -too. If he was arbitrary and a tyrant, first, France as a country was in -a state of military blockade, on garrison-duty, and not to be defended -by mere paper bullets of the brain; secondly, but chief, he was not, nor -he could not become, a tyrant by right divine. Tyranny in him was not -sacred: it was not eternal: it was not instinctively bound in league of -amity with other tyrannies; it was not sanctioned by all the laws of -religion and morality. There was an end of it with the individual: there -was an end of it with the temporary causes, which gave it birth, and of -which it was only the too necessary re-action. But there are persons of -that low and inordinate appetite for servility, that they cannot be -satisfied with any thing short of that sort of tyranny that has lasted -for ever, and is likely to last for ever; that is strengthened and made -desperate by the superstitions and prejudices of ages; that is enshrined -in traditions, in laws, in usages, in the outward symbols of power, in -the very idioms of language; that has struck its roots into the human -heart, and clung round the human understanding like a nightshade; that -overawes the imagination, and disarms the will to resist it, by the very -enormity of the evil; that is cemented with gold and blood; guarded by -reverence, guarded by power; linked in endless succession to the -principle by which life is transmitted to the generations of tyrants and -slaves, and destroying liberty with the first breath of life; that is -absolute, unceasing, unerring, fatal, unutterable, abominable, -monstrous. These true devotees of superstition and despotism cried out -Liberty and Humanity in their desperate phrenzy at Buonaparte’s sudden -elevation and incredible successes against their favourite idol, ‘that -Harlot old, the same that is, that was, and is to be,’ but we have heard -no more of their triumph of Liberty and their _douce humanité_, since -they clapped down the hatches upon us again, like wretches in a -slave-ship who have had their chains struck off and pardon promised them -to fight the common enemy; and the poor Reformers who were taken in to -join the cry, because they are as fastidious in their love of liberty as -their opponents are inveterate in their devotion to despotism, continue -in vain to reproach them with their temporary professions, woeful -grimaces, and vows made in pain, which ease has recanted; but to these -reproaches the legitimate professors of Liberty and Humanity do not even -deign to return the answer of a smile at their credulity and folly. -Those who did not see this result at the time were, I think, weak; those -who do not acknowledge it now are, I am sure, hypocrites.—To this pass -have we been brought by the joint endeavours of Tories, Whigs, and -Reformers; and as they have all had a hand in it, I shall here endeavour -to ascribe to each their share of merit in this goodly piece of work. It -is, perhaps, a delicate point, but it is of no inconsiderable -importance, that the friends of Freedom should know the strength of -their enemies, and their own weakness as well; for - - ——‘At this day, - When a Tartarean darkness overspreads - The groaning nations; when the impious rule, - By will or by established ordinance, - Their own dire agents, and constrain the good - To acts which they abhor; though I bewail - This triumph, yet the pity of my heart - Prevents me not from owning that the law - By which mankind now suffers, is most just. - For by superior energies; more strict - Affiance to each other; faith more firm - In their unhallowed principles; the bad - Have fairly earned a victory o’er the weak, - The vacillating, inconsistent good.’ - -A Reformer is not a gregarious animal. Speculative opinion leads men -different ways, each according to his particular fancy:—it is prejudice -or interest that drives before it the herd of mankind. That _which is_, -with all its confirmed abuses and ‘tickling commodities,’ is alone solid -and certain: that _which may be_ or _ought to be_, has a thousand shapes -and colours, according to the eye that sees it, is infinitely variable -and evanescent in its effects. Talk of mobs as we will, the only true -mob is that incorrigible mass of knaves and fools in every country, who -never think at all, and who never feel for any one but themselves. I -call any assembly of people a mob (be it the House of Lords or House of -Commons) where each person’s opinion on any question is governed by what -others say of it, and by what he can get by it. The only instance of -successful resistance in the House of Commons to Ministers for many -years was in the case of the Income-Tax; which touched their own pockets -nearly. This was ‘a feeling disputation,’ in which selfishness got the -better of servility, while reason and humanity might have pleaded in -vain. The exception proved the rule; and this evidence was alone wanting -to establish their character for independence and disinterestedness. -When some years ago Mr. Robson brought forward in the House the case of -an Exchequer Bill for 3_l._ 16_s._ which had been refused payment at the -Bank, the Chancellor of the Exchequer (then Mr. Addington, now Lord -Sidmouth) rose, and in a tone of indignation, severely reprimanded Mr. -Robson for having prematurely brought forward a fact which he knew to be -impossible; and the House cheered the Minister, and scouted Mr. Robson -and his motion for inquiry. The next day, Mr. Robson repeated his -charge, and Mr. Addington rose, and in the same tone of official -authority, brow-beat Mr. Robson for having brought forward, as something -reprehensible and extraordinary, what he said happened every day, though -the day before he had undertaken of his own accord to pronounce it -impossible; and the House cheered the Minister, and scouted Mr. Robson -and his motion for inquiry. What was it to them whether Mr. Robson was -right or wrong? It was their cue (I speak this of the House of Commons -of 1803) to support the Minister, whether right or wrong! Every -corporate body, or casual concourse of people, is nothing more than a -collection of prejudices, and the only arguments current with them, a -collection of watch-words. You may ring the changes for ever on the -terms Bribery and Corruption with the people in Palace-yard, as they do -in the Room over the way on Religion, Loyalty, Public Credit, and Social -Order. There is no difference whatever in this respect between the Great -Vulgar and the Small, who are managed just in the same way by their -different leaders. To procure unanimity, to get men to act in _corps_, -we must appeal for the most part to gross and obvious motives, to -authority and passion, to their vices, not their virtues: we must -discard plain truth and abstract justice as doubtful and inefficient -pleas, retaining only the names and the pretext as a convenient salvo -for hypocrisy! He is the best leader of a party who can find out the -greatest number of common-places faced with the public good; and he will -be the stoutest partisan who can best turn the lining to account.—Tory -sticks to Tory: Whig sticks to Whig: the Reformer sticks neither to -himself nor to any body else. It is no wonder he comes to the ground -with all his schemes and castle-building. A house divided against itself -cannot stand. It is a pity, but it cannot be helped. A Reformer is -necessarily and naturally a Marplot, for the foregoing and the following -reasons. First, he does not very well know what he would be at. -Secondly, if he did, he does not care very much about it. Thirdly, he is -governed habitually by a spirit of contradiction, and is always wise -beyond what is practicable. He is a bad tool to work with; a part of a -machine that never fits its place; he cannot be trained to discipline, -for he follows his own idle humours, or drilled into an obedience to -orders, for the first principle of his mind is the supremacy of -conscience, and the independent right of private judgment. A man to be a -Reformer must be more influenced by imagination and reason than by -received opinions or sensible impressions. With him ideas bear sway over -things; the possible is of more value than the real; that which is not, -is better than that which is. He is by the supposition a speculative -(and somewhat fantastical) character; but there is no end of possible -speculations, of imaginary questions, and nice distinctions; or if there -were, he would not willingly come to it; he would still prefer living in -the world of his own ideas, be for raising some new objection, and -starting some new chimera, and never be satisfied with any plan that he -found he could realise. Bring him to a fixed point, and his occupation -would be gone. A Reformer never is—but always to be blest, in the -accomplishment of his airy hopes and shifting schemes of progressive -perfectibility. Let him have the plaything of his fancy, and he will -spoil it, like the child that makes a hole in its drum: set some -brilliant illusion before his streaming eyes, and he will lay violent -hands upon it, like little wanton boys that play with air-bubbles. Give -him one thing, and he asks for another; like the dog in the fable, he -loses the substance for the shadow: offer him a great good, and he will -not stretch out his hand to take it, unless it were the greatest -possible good. And then who is to determine what is the greatest -possible good? Among a thousand pragmatical speculators, there will be a -thousand opinions on this subject; and the more they differ, the less -will they be inclined to give way or compromise the matter. With each of -these, his self-opinion is the first thing to be attended to; his -understanding must be satisfied in the first place, or he will not budge -an inch; he cannot for the world give up a principle to a party. He -would rather have slavery than liberty, unless it is a liberty precisely -after his own fashion: he would sooner have the Bourbons than -Buonaparte; for he truly is for a Republic, and if he cannot have that, -is indifferent about the rest. So (to compare great things with small) -Mr. Place, of Charing-Cross, chose rather that Mr. Hobhouse should lose -his Election than that it should not be accompanied with his -Resolutions; so he published his Resolutions, and lost Mr. Hobhouse his -Election. That is, a patriot of this stamp is really indifferent about -every thing but what he cannot have; instead of making his option -between two things, a good or an evil, within his reach, our exquisite -Sir sets up a third thing as the object of his choice, with some -impossible condition annexed to it,—to dream, to talk, to write, to be -meddlesome and troublesome about, to serve him for a topic of captious -discontent or vague declamation, and which if he saw any hopes of -cordial agreement or practical co-operation to carry it into effect, he -would instantly contrive to mar, and split it into a thousand fractions, -doubts, and scruples, to make it an impossibility for any thing ever to -be done for the good of mankind, which is merely the plaything of his -theoretical imbecility and active impertinence! The Goddess of his -idolatry is and will always remain a cloud, instead of a Juno. One of -these virtuosos, these Nicolas Gimcracks of Reform, full of intolerable -and vain conceit, sits smiling in the baby-house of his imagination, -‘pleased with a feather, tickled with a straw,’ trimming the balance of -power in the looking-glass of his own self-complacency, having every -thing his own way at a word’s speaking, making the ‘giant-mass’ of -things only a reflection of his personal pretensions, approving every -thing that is right, condemning every thing that is wrong, in compliment -to his own character, considering how what he says will affect not the -cause, but himself; keeping himself aloof from party-spirit, and from -every thing that can cast a shade on the fancied delicacy of his own -breast, and thus letting the cause of Liberty slip through his fingers, -and be spilt like water on the ground:—while another, more bold than he, -in a spirit of envy and ignorance, quarrels with all those who are -labouring at the same oar, lays about him like mad, runs a-muck at every -one who has done, or is likely to do, any thing to promote the common -object, and with his desperate club dashes out his neighbour’s brains, -and thinks he has done a good piece of service to the cause, because he -has glutted his own ill-humour and self-will, which he mistakes for the -love of liberty and a zeal for truth! Others, not able to do mischief -enough singly, club their senseless contradictions and unmanageable -humours together, turn their attention to cabal and chicane, get into -committees, make speeches, move or second resolutions, dictate to their -followers, set up for the heads of a party, in opposition to another -party; abuse, vilify, expose, betray, counteract and undermine each -other in every way, and throw the game into the hands of the common -enemy, who laughs in his sleeve, and watches them and their little -perverse, pettifogging passions at work for him, from the high tower of -his pride and strength! If an honest and able man arises among them, -they grow jealous of him, and would rather, in the petty ostracism of -their minds, that their cause should fail, than that another should have -the credit of bringing it to a triumphant conclusion. They criticise his -conduct, carp at his talents, denounce his friends, suspect his motives, -and do not rest, till by completely disgusting him with the name of -Reform and Reformers, they have made him what they wish, a traitor and -deserter from a cause that no man can serve! This is just what they -like—they satisfy their malice, they have to find out a new leader, and -the cause is to begin again! So it was, and so it will be, while man -remains the little, busy, mischievous animal described in Gulliver’s -Travels!—A pretty hopeful set to make head against their opponents—a -rope of sand against a rock of marble—with no centre of gravity, but a -collection of atoms whirled about in empty space by their own levity, or -jostling together by numberless points of repulsion, and tossed with all -their officious projects and airy predictions, by the first breath of -caprice or shock of power, into that Limbo of Vanity, where embryo -statesmen and drivelling legislators dance the hays of Reform, -‘perpetual circle, multiform and mix, and hinder all things,’ proud of -the exclusive purity of their own motives, and the unattainable -perfection of their own plans!—How different from the self-centred, -well-knit, inseparable phalanx of power and authority opposed to their -impotent and abortive designs! A Tory is one who is governed by sense -and habit alone. He considers not what is possible, but what is real; he -gives might the preference over right. He cries Long Life to the -conqueror, and is ever strong upon the stronger side—the side of -corruption and prerogative. He says what others say; he does as he is -prompted by his own advantage. He knows on which side his bread is -buttered, and that St. Peter is well at Rome. He is for going with -Sancho to Camacho’s wedding, and not for wandering with Don Quixote in -the desert, after the mad lover. Strait is the gate and narrow is the -way that leadeth to Reform, but broad is the way that leadeth to -Corruption, and multitudes there are that walk therein. The Tory is sure -to be in the thickest of them. His principle is to follow the leader; -and this is the infallible rule to have numbers and success on your -side, to be on the side of success and numbers. Power is the rock of his -salvation; priestcraft is the second article of his implicit creed. He -does not trouble himself to inquire which is the best form of -government—but he knows that the reigning monarch is ‘the best of -kings.’ He does not, like a fool, contest for modes of faith; but like a -wise man, swears by that which is by law established. He has no -principles himself, nor does he profess to have any, but will cut your -throat for differing with any of his bigotted dogmas, or for objecting -to any act of power that he supposes necessary to his interest. He will -take his Bible-oath that black is white, and that whatever is, is right, -if it is for his convenience. He is for having a slice in the loan, a -share in a borough, a situation in the church or state, or for standing -well with those who have. He is not for empty speculations, but for full -pockets. He is for having plenty of beef and pudding, a good coat to his -back, a good house over his head, and for cutting a respectable figure -in the world. He is _Epicuri de grege porcus_—not a man but a beast. He -is styed in his prejudices—he wallows in the mire of his senses—he -cannot get beyond the trough of his sordid appetites, whether it is of -gold or wood. Truth and falsehood are, to him, something to buy and -sell; principle and conscience, something to eat and drink. He tramples -on the plea of Humanity, and lives, like a caterpillar, on the decay of -public good. Beast as he is, he knows that the King is the fountain of -honour, that there are good things to be had in the Church, treats the -cloth with respect, bows to a magistrate, lies to the tax-gatherer, -nicknames the Reformers, and ‘blesses the Regent and the Duke of York.’ -He treads the primrose path of preferment; ‘when a great wheel goes up a -hill, holds fast by it, and when it rolls down, lets it go.’ He is not -an enthusiast, a Utopian philosopher or a Theophilanthropist, but a man -of business and the world, who minds the main chance, does as other -people do, and takes his wife’s advice to get on in the world, and set -up a coach for her to ride in, as fast as possible. This fellow is in -the right, and ‘wiser in his generation than the children of the light.’ -The ‘servile slaves’ of wealth and power have a considerable advantage -over the independent and the free. How much easier is it to smell out a -job than to hit upon a scheme for the good of mankind! How much safer is -it to be the tool of the oppressor than the advocate of the oppressed! -How much more fashionable to fall in with the opinion of the world, to -bow the knee to Baal, than to seek for obscure and obnoxious truth! How -strong are the ties that bind men together for their own advantage, -compared with those that bind them to the good of their country or of -their kind! For as the Reformer has no guide to his conclusions but -speculative reason, which is a source not of unanimity or certainty, but -of endless doubt and disagreement, so he has no ground of attachment to -them but a speculative interest, which is too often liable to be warped -by sinister motives, and is a flimsy barrier against the whole weight of -worldly and practical interests opposed to it. He either tires and grows -lukewarm after the first gloss of novelty is over, and is thrown into -the hands of the adverse party, or to keep alive an interest in it, he -makes it the stalking-horse of his ambition, of his personal enmity, of -his conceit or love of gossipping; as we have seen. An opinion backed by -power and prejudice, rivetted and mortised to the throne, is of more -force and validity than all the abstract reason in the world, without -power and prejudice. A cause centred in an individual, which is -strengthened by all the ties of passion and self-interest, as in the -case of a king against a whole people, is more likely to prevail than -that of a scattered multitude, who have only a common and divided -interest to hold them together, and ‘screw their courage to the -sticking-place,’ against an influence, that is never distracted or -dissipated; that neither slumbers nor sleeps; that is never lulled into -security, nor tamed by adversity; that is intoxicated with the insolence -of success, and infuriated with the rage of disappointment; that eyes -its one sole object of personal aggrandisement, moves unremittingly to -it, and carries after it millions of its slaves and train-bearers. Can -you persuade a king to hear reason, to submit his pretensions to the -tribunal of the people, to give up the most absurd and mischievous of -his prerogatives? No: he is always true to himself, he grasps at power -and hugs it close, as it is exorbitant or invidious, or likely to be -torn from him; and his followers stick to him, and never boggle at any -lengths they are forced to go, because they know what they have to trust -to in the good faith of kings to themselves and one another. Power then -is fixed and immoveable, for this reason, because it is lodged in an -individual who is driven to madness by the undisputed possession, or -apprehended loss of it; his self-will is the key-stone that supports the -tottering arch of corruption, steadfast as it leans on him:—liberty is -vacillating, transient, and hunted through the world, because it is -entrusted to the breasts of many, who care little about it, and quarrel -in the execution of their trust. Too many cooks spoil the broth. The -principle of tyranny is in fact identified with a man’s pride and the -servility of others in the highest degree; the principle of liberty -abstracts him from himself, and has to contend in its feeble course with -all his own passions, prejudices, interests, and those of the world and -of his own party; the cavils of Reformers, the threats of Tories, and -the sneers of Whigs.[5] - -A modern Whig is but the fag-end of a Tory. The old Whigs were in -principle what the modern Jacobins are, Anti-Jacobites, that is, -opposers of the doctrine of divine right, the one in the soil of -England, the other by parity of reasoning in the soil of France. But the -Opposition have pressed so long against the Ministry without effect, -that being the softer substance, and made of more yielding materials, -they have been moulded into their image and superscription, spelt -backwards, or they differ as concave and convex, or they go together -like substantive and adjective, or like man and wife, they two have -become one flesh. A Tory is the indispensable prop to the doubtful sense -of self-importance, and peevish irritability of negative success, which -mark the life of a Whig leader or underling. They ‘are subdued even to -the very quality’ of the Lords of the Treasury Bench, and have -quarrelled so long that they would be quite at a loss without the -ordinary food of political contention. To interfere between them is as -dangerous as to interfere in a matrimonial squabble. To overturn the one -is to trip up the heels of the other. Their hostility is not directed -against things at all, nor to effectual and decisive opposition to men, -but to that sort of petty warfare and parliamentary _tracasserie_, of -which there is neither end nor use, except making the parties concerned -of consequence in their own eyes, and contemptible in those of the -nation. They will not allow Ministers to be severely handled by any one -but themselves, nor even that: but they say civil things of them in the -House of Commons, and whisper scandal against them at Holland House. -This shews gentlemanly refinement and good breeding; while my Lord -Erskine ‘calls us untaught knaves, unmannerly to come betwixt the wind -and his nobility.’ But the leaden bullets and steel bayonets, the -_ultima ratio regum_, by which these questions are practically decided, -do their business in another-guess manner; they do not stand on the same -ceremony. Soft words and hard blows are a losing game to play at: and -this, one would think, the Opposition, if they were sincere, must have -found out long ago. But they rather wish to screen the Ministry, as -their _locum tenens_ in the receipt of the perquisites of office and the -abuse of power, of which they themselves expect the reversion. - - ‘Strange that such difference should be - Twixt Tweedledum and Tweedledee.’ - -The distinction between a great Whig and Tory Lord is laughable. For -Whigs to Tories ‘nearly are allied, and thin partitions do their bounds -divide.’ So I cannot find out the different drift (as far as politics -are concerned) of the ********* and ********* Reviews, which remind one -of Opposition coaches, that raise a great dust or spatter one another -with mud, but both travel the same road and arrive at the same -destination. When the Editor of a respectable Morning Paper reproached -me with having called Mr. Gifford a cat’s-paw, I did not tell him that -he was a glove upon that cat’s-paw. I might have done so. There is a -difference between a sword and a foil. The Whigs do not at all relish -that ugly thing, a knock-down blow; which is so different from their -endless see-saw way of going about a question. They are alarmed, ‘lest -the courtiers offended should be:’ for they are so afraid of their -adversaries, that they dread the re-action even of successful opposition -to them, and will neither attempt it themselves, nor stand by any one -that does. Any writer who is not agreeable to the Tories, becomes -obnoxious to the Whigs; he is disclaimed by them as a dangerous -colleague, merely for having ‘done the cause some service;’ is -considered as having the malicious design to make a breach of the peace, -and to interrupt with most admired disorder the harmony and mutual good -understanding which subsists between Ministers and the Opposition, and -on the adherence to which they are alone suffered to exist, or to have a -shadow of importance in the state. They are, in fact, a convenient -medium to break the force of popular feeling, and to transmit the rays -of popular indignation against the influence and power of the crown, -blunted and neutralized by as many qualifications and refractions as -possible. A Whig is properly what is called a Trimmer—that is, a coward -to both sides of a question, who dare not be a knave nor an honest man, -but is a sort of whiffling, shuffling, cunning, silly, contemptible, -unmeaning negation of the two. He is a poor purblind creature, who halts -between two opinions, and complains that he cannot get any two people to -think alike. He is a cloak for corruption, and a mar-plot to freedom. He -will neither do any thing himself, nor let any one else do it. He is on -bad terms with the Government, and not on good ones with the people. He -is an impertinence and a contradiction in the state. If he has a casting -weight, for fear of overdoing the mark, he throws it into the wrong -scale. He is a person of equally feeble understanding and passions. He -has some notion of what is right, just enough to hinder him from -pursuing his own interest: he has selfish and worldly prudence enough, -not to let him embark in any bold or decided measure for the advancement -of truth and justice. He is afraid of his own conscience, which will not -let him lend his unqualified support to arbitrary measures; he stands in -awe of the opinion of the world, which will not let him express his -opposition to those measures with warmth and effect. His politics are a -strange mixture of cross-purposes. He is wedded to forms and -appearances, impeded by every petty obstacle and pretext of difficulty, -more tenacious of the means than the end—anxious to secure all -suffrages, by which he secures none—hampered not only by the ties of -friendship to his actual associates, but to all those that he thinks may -become so; and unwilling to offer arguments to convince the reason of -his opponents lest he should offend their prejudices, by shewing them -how much they are in the wrong; ‘letting I dare not wait upon I would, -like the poor cat in the adage;’ stickling for the letter of the -Constitution, with the affectation of a prude, and abandoning its -principles with the effrontery of a prostitute to any shabby Coalition -he can patch up with its deadly enemies. This is very pitiful work; and, -I believe, the public with me are tolerably sick of the character. At -the same time, he hurls up his cap with a foolish face of wonder and -incredulity at the restoration of the Bourbons, and affects to chuckle -with secret satisfaction over the last act of the Revolution, which -reduced him to perfect insignificance. We need not wonder at the -results, when it comes to the push between parties so differently -constituted and unequally matched. We have seen what those results are. -I cannot do justice to the picture, but I find it done to my hands in -those prophetic lines of Pope, where he describes the last Triumph of -Corruption:— - - ‘But ’tis the fall degrades her to a whore: - Let greatness own her, and she’s mean no more. - Her birth, her beauty, crowds and courts confess; - Chaste matrons praise her, and grave bishops bless: - In golden chains the willing world she draws, - And her’s the Gospel is, and her’s the Laws; - Mounts the tribunal, lifts her scarlet head, - And sees pale virtue carted in her stead. - Lo! at the wheels of her triumphal car, - Old England’s genius, rough with many a scar, - Dragg’d in the dust! his arms hang idly round, - His flag inverted trails along the ground: - Our youth, all liveried o’er with foreign gold, - Before her dance, behind her crawl the old! - See thronging millions to the Pagod run, - And offer country, parent, wife, or son! - Hear her black trumpet thro’ the land proclaim, - That _not to be corrupted, is the shame_. - In soldier, churchman, patriot, man in power, - ’Tis avarice all, ambition is no more! - See all our nobles begging to be slaves! - See all our fools aspiring to be knaves! - All, all look up with reverential awe - At crimes that ‘scape or triumph o’er the law; - While truth, worth, wisdom daily they decry: - “Nothing is sacred now but villainy.” - Yet may this verse (if such a verse remain) - Shew there was one who held it in disdain.’ - - - - - POLITICAL ESSAYS, &c. - - - - - THE MARQUIS WELLESLEY - - ‘And such other gambol faculties he hath, as shew a weak mind, and - an able body.’ - - - _April 13, 1813._ - -The Marquis Wellesley’s opening speech on India affairs was chiefly -remarkable for its length, and the manner in which it was delivered. -This nobleman seems to have formed himself on those lines in Pope:— - - ‘All hail him victor in both gifts of song, - Who sings so loudly, and who sings so long.’ - -He aspires with infinite alacrity to the character of a great orator; -and, if we were disposed to take the will for the deed, we should give -him full credit for it. We confess, those of his speeches which we have -heard, appear to us prodigies of physical prowess and intellectual -imbecility. The ardour of his natural temperament, stimulating and -irritating the ordinary faculties of his mind, the exuberance of his -animal spirits, contending with the barrenness of his genius, produce a -degree of dull vivacity, of pointed insignificance, and impotent energy, -which is without any parallel but itself. It is curious, though somewhat -painful, to see this lively little lord always in the full career of his -subject, and never advancing a jot the nearer; seeming to utter volumes -in every word, and yet saying nothing; retaining the same unabated -vehemence of voice and action without any thing to excite it; still -keeping alive the promise and the expectation of genius without once -satisfying it—soaring into mediocrity with adventurous enthusiasm, -harrowed up by some plain matter-of-fact, writhing with agony under a -truism, and launching a common-place with all the fury of a -thunderbolt![6] - - - - - MR. SOUTHEY, POET LAUREAT - - - _Sept. 18, 1813._ - -The laurel is at length destined, unexpectedly, to circle the brows of -this gentleman, where it will look almost like a civic crown. The -patriot and the poet (two venerable names, which we should wish never to -see disunited) is said to owe his intended elevation to the intercession -of Mr. Croker, to whom, it will be recollected, he has dedicated his -Life of Lord Nelson, with an appropriate motto in the title-page, from -the poem of Ulm and Trafalgar. Mr. Croker having applied to the Regent -in favour of his friend, the Prince is understood to have given his -ready assent, observing, that Mr. Southey’s efforts in the Spanish cause -alone, rendered him highly worthy of the situation. As Mr. Croker, -however, was taking his leave, he was met by Lord Liverpool and the -Marquis of Hertford, the latter of whom, as chamberlain, had, it seems, -made an offer of the place to Mr. Walter Scott, who had signified his -acceptance of it. Some little difficulty naturally arose on the -occasion, but it was agreed that the two poets should settle the point -of precedence between themselves. A friendly altercation, unlike that of -the shepherds in Virgil, now took place between Mr. Scott and Mr. -Southey, each waving his own pretensions, and giving the palm of victory -to the other. But it was finally determined, that as Mr. Scott, though -he would not allow himself to be the greatest, was at least the richest -poet of the two, Mr. Southey, who had most need of this post of honour -and of profit, should have it. So ends this important affair; and, -without any ill-will to Mr. Southey, we should not have been -disappointed if it had ended differently. Whatever may be the balance of -poetical merit, Mr. Scott, we are quite sure, has always been a much -better courtier than Mr. Southey; and we are of opinion that the honours -of a Court can nowhere be so gracefully or deservedly bestowed as on its -followers. His acceptance of this mark of court favour would not have -broken in upon that uniformity of character, which we think no less -beautiful and becoming in life than in a poem. But, perhaps, a passion -for new faces extends to the intrigues of politics as well as of love; -and a triumph over the scruples of delicacy enhances the value of the -conquest in both cases. To _have been_ the poet of the people, may not -render Mr. Southey less a court favourite; and one of his old Sonnets to -Liberty must give a peculiar zest to his new Birth-day Odes. His flaming -patriotism will easily subside into the gentle glow of grateful loyalty; -and the most extravagant of his plans of reform end in building castles -in Spain! - - - - - MR. SOUTHEY’S NEW-YEAR’S ODE - - - _Jan. 8, 1814._ - -Mr. Southey’s Ode has at length appeared—not as was announced, under the -title of ‘Carmen Annuum,’ but under that of ‘CARMEN TRIUMPHALE, _for the -Commencement of the Year 1814_.’ We see no reason why the author might -not have adopted the title of Horace’s Ode entire, and have called it -_Carmen Seculare_, which would have been the best account he could give -of it. We fear Mr. Southey will not form a splendid exception to the -numberless instances which prove that there is something in the air of a -court, not favourable to the genius of poetry. He has not deprived -himself of the excuse made by one of his predecessors, of versatile -memory, in extenuation of the degeneracy of his courtly lays,—‘That -poets succeed best in fiction.’ The Ode is in the ballad style, peculiar -to Mr. Southey and his poetical friends. It has something of the rustic -simplicity of a country virgin on her first introduction at Duke’s -Place, or of Pamela on the day of her marriage with Mr. B. Or rather it -resembles a _fancy_ birth-day suit, a fashionable livery worn inside -out, a prince’s feather with a sprig of the tree of liberty added to -it,—the academy of compliments turned into quaint Pindarics,—is a sort -of methodistical rhapsody, chaunted by a gentleman-usher, and exhibits -the irregular vigour of Jacobin enthusiasm suffering strange -emasculation under the hands of a finical lord-chamberlain. It is -romantic without interest, and tame without elegance. It is exactly such -an ode as we expected Mr. Southey to compose on this occasion. We say -this from our respect for the talents and character of this eminent -writer. He is the last man whom we should expect to see graceful in -fetters, or from whom we should look for the soul of freedom within the -_liberties of a court_!—The commencement of the Ode is as follows, and -it continues throughout much as it begins:— - - ‘In happy hour _doth_ he receive - The Laurel, meed of famous bards of _yore_, - Which Dryden and diviner Spenser wore, - _In happy hour_, and well may he rejoice, - Whose earliest task _must be_ - To raise the _exultant_ hymn for _victory_, - And _join_ a nation’s _joy_ with harp and voice, - Pouring the strain of triumph on the wind, - Glory to God, his song—deliverance to mankind! - Wake, lute and harp! &c. &c.’ - -Mr. Southey has not exactly followed the suggestion of an ingenious -friend, to begin his poem with the appropriate allusion, - - ‘Awake, my sack-but!’ - -The following rhymes are the lamest we observed. He says, speaking of -the conflict between the Moors and Spaniards, - - ‘Age after age, from sire to _son_, - The hallowed sword was handed _down_; - Nor did they from that warfare cease, - And sheath that hallowed sword in peace, - Until the work was _done_.’ - -Indeed, if Mr. S. can do no better than this, in his drawing-room -verses, he should get some contributor to the Lady’s Magazine to polish -them for him. - -We have turned over the Ode again, which extends to twenty pages, in the -hope of finding some one vigorous or striking passage for selection, but -in vain. The following is the most likely to please in a certain -quarter:— - - ‘Open thy gates, O Hanover! display - Thy loyal banners to the day! - Receive thy old illustrious line once more! - Beneath an upstart’s yoke oppress’d, - Long has it been thy fortune to deplore - That line, whose fostering and paternal sway - So many an age thy grateful children blest. - The yoke is broken now!—a mightier hand - Hath dash’d—in pieces dash’d—the iron rod. - To meet her princes, the delivered land - Pours her rejoicing multitudes abroad; - The happy bells, from every town and tower, - Roll their glad peals upon the joyful wind; - And from all hearts and tongues, with one consent, - The high thanksgiving strain is sent— - Glory to God! Deliverance to mankind!’ - -In various stanzas, Bonaparte is called an upstart, a ruffian, &c. We -confess, we wish to see Mr. Southey, like Virgil, in his Georgics, -‘scatter his dung with a grace.’ - -We do not intend to quarrel with our Laureat’s poetical politics, but -the conclusion is one which we did not anticipate from the author. We -have always understood that the Muses were the daughters of Memory! - - ‘And France, _restored_ and shaking off her chain, - Shall join the Avengers in the joyful strain— - Glory to God! Deliverance for mankind!’ - -The poem has a few notes added to it, the object of which seems to be to -criticise the political opinions of the Edinburgh Reviewers with respect -to Spain, and to prove that the author is wiser after the event than -they were before it, in which he has very nearly succeeded. - -Mr. Southey announces a new volume of Inscriptions, which must furnish -some curious _parallelisms_. - - - - - DOTTREL-CATCHING - - TO THE EDITOR OF THE MORNING CHRONICLE - - - _Jan. 27, 1814._ - -Sir, The method of taking this bird is somewhat singular, and is -described in an old book in the following terms: - -‘The Dottrel is a foolish bird of the crane species, very tall, awkward, -and conceited. The Dottrel-catcher, when he has got near enough, turns -his head round sideways, and _makes a leg_ towards him: the bird, seeing -this, returns the civility, and makes the same sidelong movement. These -advances are repeated with mutual satisfaction, till the man approaches -near enough, and then the bird is taken.’ - -A poet-laureat or a treasury sophist is often taken much in the same -way. Your Opposionist, Sir, was ever a true _gull_. From the general -want of sympathy, he sets more store by it than it is worth; and for the -smallest concession, is prevailed upon to give up every principle, and -to surrender himself, bound hand and foot, the slave of a party, who get -all they want of him, and then—‘Spunge, you are dry again!’ - -A striking illustration of the common treatment of political drudges has -lately occurred in the instance of a celebrated writer, whose -lucubrations are withheld from the public, because he has declared -against the project of restoring the Bourbons. As the court and city -politicians have spoken out on this subject, permit me, Sir, to say a -word in behalf of the country. I have no dislike whatever, private or -public, to the Bourbons, except as they may be made the pretext for -mischievous and impracticable schemes. At the same time I have not the -slightest enthusiasm in their favour. I would not sacrifice the life or -limb of a single individual to restore them. I have very nearly the same -feelings towards them which Swift has expressed in his account of the -ancient and venerable race of the Struldbruggs. It is true, they might -in some respects present a direct contrast to Bonaparte. A tortoise -placed on the throne of France would do the same thing. The literary -sycophants of the day, Sir, are greatly enamoured (from some cause or -other) with hereditary imbecility and native want of talent. They are -angry, not without reason, that a Corsican upstart has made the princes -of Europe look like wax-work figures, and given a shock to the still -life of kings. They wish to punish this unpardonable presumption, by -establishing an artificial balance of _weakness_ throughout Europe, and -by reducing humanity to the level of thrones. We may perhaps in time -improve this principle of ricketty admiration to Eastern perfection, -where every changeling is held sacred, and that which is the disgrace of -human intellect is hailed as the image of the Divinity! - -It is said that in France the old royalists and the revolutionary -republicans are agreed in the same point. Bonaparte is the point of -union between these opposite extremes, the common object of their hate -and fear. I can conceive this very possible from what I have observed -among ourselves. He has certainly done a great deal to mortify the pride -of birth in the one, and the vanity of personal talents in the others. -This is a very sufficient ground of private pique and resentment, but -not of national calamity or eternal war. I am, Sir, your humble servant, - - EICONOCLASTES SATYRANE. - - - - - THE BOURBONS AND BONAPARTE - - - _Dec. 6, 1813._ - -The following paragraph in a daily paper is equally worthy of notice for -magnificence of expression and magnanimity of sentiment:— - -‘When or under what circumstances the great Commander may think fit to -carry his forces against the large military or commercial depôts of the -south of France, we do not pretend to form conjectures. We are -confident, that as nothing will disturb the calm and meditative prudence -of his plans, so nothing will arrest the rapidity of their execution. We -trust alike in his caution and in his resolution: but, perhaps, there -may be in store for him a higher destination than the capture of a town -or the reduction of a province. What if the army opposed to him should -resolve to avenge the cause of humanity, and to exchange the bloody and -brutal tyranny of a Bonaparte for the mild paternal sway of a Bourbon? -Could a popular French general open to himself a more glorious career at -the present moment, than that which Providence seemed to have destined -to the virtuous Moreau? Or is it possible that any power now existing in -France could stop such a general and such an army, supported by the -unconquered Wellington and his formidable legions, if they were to -resolve boldly to march to Paris, and bring the usurper to the block! -Every disposable soldier in France is on the Adour, or on the Rhine. In -the case we are supposing, there would be no enemy to encounter, unless -the northern frontier were at once denuded of troops, and the road to -Paris on that side laid open to the allies. This is no question of the -attachment of the French nation to one dynasty or to another: it is a -question of military enterprise, in the minds of military adventurers. -The simple possibility, not to say the high moral probability, that in a -moment of general defection, an army which has so much in its hands may -run with the stream of popular feeling throughout Europe, is enough to -make the tyrant tremble on his throne. Lord Wellington is doubtless -prepared to take advantage of so desirable an occurrence, in case it -should happen without his previous interference: but we wish him to -interfere; we wish that he were authorised plainly and openly to offer -his mighty co-operation to any body of men who would shake off the -Tyrant’s yoke in France, as has been done in Italy, in Germany, and in -Holland!’ - -This is a fair specimen of that kind of declamation which has for a long -time swayed the affairs of Europe, and which, if the powers of Europe -are wise by experience, will not influence them much longer. It is this -spirit of treating the French people as of a different species from -ourselves—as a monster or a non-entity—of disposing of their government -at the will of every paragraph-monger—of arming our hatred against them -by ridiculous menaces and incessant reproaches—of supposing that their -power was either so tremendous as to threaten the existence of all -nations, or so contemptible that we could crush it by a word,—it is this -uniform system, practised by the incendiaries of the press, of inflaming -our prejudices and irritating our passions, that has so often made us -rush upon disaster, and submit to every extremity rather than forego the -rancorous and headstrong desire of revenge. - -The writer of the paragraph talks familiarly of marching to Paris, and -bringing Bonaparte to the block. He seems to wonder at the delay which -has already taken place. This is the very style of ancient Pistol, ‘Bid -him prepare, for I will cut his throat.’ This high tone of impotent -menace and premature triumph always ‘reverbs its own hollowness.’ It is -the echo of fear. Instead of a proud repose on our own strength and -courage, these writers only feel secure in the destruction of an -adversary. The natural intoxication of success is heightened into a sort -of delirium by the recollection of the panic into which they had been -thrown. _The Times’_ editor thinks that nothing can be so easy as for an -army ‘to run with the stream of popular feeling’ from one end of Europe -to the other. Strange that these persons, like desperate adventurers, -are incorrigible to experience. They are always setting out on the same -forlorn hope. The tide of fortune, while it sets in strong against us, -they prove to be the most variable of all things; but it no sooner -changes in our favour, than it straight - - ‘Flows on to the Propontic, - And knows no ebb.’ - -To encourage themselves in the extravagance of their voluntary -delusions, they are as prodigal of titles of honour as the college of -heralds, and erect a standard of military fame, with all the authority, -but not with the impartiality of history. Lord Wellington is ‘the great -commander,’ and ‘the unconquered general,’ while ‘the little captain,’ -and ‘the hero’ or ‘the deserter of Smorgonne,’ are the only -qualifications of Bonaparte. If such are the true denominations and -relative proportions of these two generals, then it is quite right to -give to each of them the honour due;—if they are not, then it is quite -wrong to stake the welfare of nations on a turn of expression—to put -little equivocal scraps of paper into false scales, and decide the fate -of Europe by nicknames. The scales in which Sir Humphrey Davy weighs the -500th part of a drachm, are not so slight nor insignificant as those in -which his vilifiers, _The Times_, balance the destinies of the world. - -‘What,’ it is asked with a certain air of profundity and mystery, ‘What -if the army opposed to him [Lord Wellington] should resolve to exchange -the bloody tyranny of Bonaparte for the paternal sway of a Bourbon!’ - -Why, if the French wish to shake off the galling yoke of a military -Usurper, we say, let them do it in God’s name. Let them, whenever they -please, imitate us in our recal of the Stuarts; and, whenever they -please, in our banishment of them thirty years afterwards. But let them -not, in the name of honour or of manhood, receive the royal boon of -liberty at the point of the bayonet. It would be setting a bad -precedent—it would be breaking in upon a great principle—it would be -making a gap in the general feeling of national independence. For we are -to observe, that this rational, popular, patriotic preference of the -mild paternal sway of the Bourbons is to be enforced upon them by the -powerful co-operation of the unconquered Wellington and his formidable -legions. This is, in fact, returning to the original ground of the whole -quarrel, and the question for them to consider, is whether all the evils -and miseries which they may have endured in resisting these forcible -appeals from foreign powers, are the strongest reasons why they should -at length gratefully resign themselves to that tender concern for their -sufferings, which so much persevering kindness, and disinterested -preference of their interests to our own unequivocally proves. The -impression produced by these formidable emissaries of mild paternity -must, indeed, be only that of filial love and reverence. The constant -_role_ of these same Bourbons, now recognized, now disowned by the -surrounding states, now held up as bugbears to frighten, and now brought -forward as decoys to allure them, for awhile kept entirely in the -back-ground, and then again set over them like puppets, in every reverse -of fortune, must excite, one would suppose, some very pleasant -associations, and give them some little insight into the nature of the -machinery which is played off against them. In other nations, at least, -these sort of _tentatives_ would lead not to submission, but to -indignation. It cannot be denied, however, that the French character has -peculiar susceptibilities. France, like a modern coquet, may be -fascinated once more by the courtly graces of discarded royalty; or, on -the other hand, recollecting the malice and the impotence of which she -was so long the victim, like Hellenore, entertained by the jolly satyrs, -may wisely refuse to return to the cold and irksome embraces of the -drivelling Malbecco. But our politician wishes all this not to be left -to their own free will, but that we should interfere. We can easily -believe it; ‘it was ever the fault of our English nation’ to wish to -interfere with what did not concern them, for the very reason that they -could interfere with comparative impunity. What is sport to them is -death to others. The writer also draws a parallel, as if it were a -feasible case, between Holland, Spain, and Germany throwing off a -foreign yoke, and the French throwing off their own; in other words, -submitting to a foreign one. We beg pardon of these acute -discriminators. We know they have an answer. We leave them in possession -of the nice distinction—between a foreign yoke, and a yoke imposed by -foreigners! - -‘This,’ says the writer in _The Times_, ‘is not a question of attachment -to one dynasty or another, but a question of military enterprize between -military adventurers.’ Does our speculator mean by this to confer the -privileges of military adventurers, _en plein droit_, on the Emperor -Alexander and the Crown Prince of Sweden? But whatever he means, it is -clear that he is not consistent in what he says; for he has said just -before, that the object of this so often repeated march to Paris is ‘to -bring the Usurper to the block!’ Here, then, it is a question, not -between contending generals, but between a usurper and a lawful monarch. -So true it is that those who have most need of their assistance have the -worst memories! ‘What,’ exclaims our enthusiast, ‘would there be to -oppose such a general and such an army, aided by the unconquered -Wellington,’ &c. First, ‘this is the very coinage of his brain.’ There’s -no such general and no such army. - -But granting the supposition to be true, the patriotic general, who -should open to himself a glorious passage through the heart of his -country, and attempt to make it the vassal of England, under the -monstrous pretence of allegiance to his Sovereign, might perhaps meet -the fate which Providence destined for the virtuous Moreau. Perhaps the -French may think that as their affected loyalty could be only a cover -for the most dastardly submission, so their hypocrisy and treachery to -themselves might be justly retaliated upon them, by making the -restoration of thrones a mask for the dismemberment of kingdoms. They -may have acquired by experience some knowledge of that enlargement of -view and boldness of nerve, which is inspired by the elevation of -success. They may consider, that ‘when the wild and savage passions are -set afloat, they are not so easily regulated’ according to the dictates -of justice or generosity. Some of them may even go so far as to think -that all the respect of the Emperor of Russia for the talents and -virtues of Moreau might be insufficient to deter him from memorizing -another Warsaw at Paris! Of this we are tolerably certain, that there -are not wanting staunch friends of order and civilization in this -country who would advise and applaud such a catastrophe ‘to the very -echo,’ as a masterpiece of political justice, chaunt _Te Deum_ over the -ruins, and very seriously invite the good people of France to join in -the chorus! But we are not ‘the echo that shall applaud again.’ We shall -not hail such a catastrophe, nor such a triumph. For out of the -desolation would arise a poisoned stench that would choak almost the -breath of life, and one low, creeping fog of universal despotism, that -would confound the Eastern and the Western world together _in darkness -that might be felt_. We do not wish for this final consummation, because -we do not wish the pulse of liberty to be quite destroyed, or that the -mass of our common nature should become a lifeless corpse, unable to -rouse itself against never-ending wrongs, or that the last spark of -generous enthusiasm should be extinguished in that moral atheism, which -defaces and mangles the image of God in man. We do not wish that liberty -should ever have a deer’s heart given her, to live in constant fear of -the fatal, inevitable venal pack behind her; but that she may still have -the heart of a lioness, whose mighty roar keeps the hunters at bay, and -whose whelps revenge their parent’s death! - -Rather than such an event should take place, if such an extremity were -possible, we should even wish that a general and an army of our own, -devoted by _The Times_ to a far different service, might be empowered to -make a firm stand against it: to stop the tide of barbarous despotism as -they had already rolled back that of ungovernable ambition, and to say, -Hitherto shalt thou come, and no further. Such an interference in such a -cause would indeed give to Great Britain the character which she claims -of being the Vindicator of the World. It would be to assume an attitude -and a port indeed, loftier than she ever yet presented to the admiration -of mankind; and would create a bulwark of strength round her, that would -encircle her as with ‘impaling fire’! - - - - - VETUS - - - _Nov. 19, 1813._ - -This patriot and logician in a letter in _The Times_ of Friday, labours -to stifle the most distant hope of peace in its birth. He lays down -certain general principles which must for ever render all attempts to -restore it vain and abortive. With the watchword of _Eternal war with -Bonaparte_ blazoned on his forehead, in the piety of his pacific zeal, -he challenges Bonaparte as the wanton, unprovoked, implacable enemy of -the peace of mankind. We will also venture to lay down a maxim, which -is—That from the moment that one party declares and acts upon the avowed -principle that peace can never be made with an enemy, it renders war on -the part of that enemy a matter of necessary self-defence, and holds out -a plea for every excess of ambition or revenge. If we are to limit our -hostility to others only with their destruction, we impose the adoption -of the same principle on them as their only means of safety. There is no -alternative. But this is probably the issue to which Vetus wishes to -bring the question. This writer not only outlaws Bonaparte, but in a -summary way, disfranchises the French nation at large of the right of -making peace or war. ‘Who,’ he exclaims in wanton defiance of common -sense, ‘are the French nation? To us a rank non-entity. We have only to -do with Napoleon Bonaparte—with his rights, his interests, his honour. -Who are to be the sole judges of his rights? We and our allies!’ -Admirable politician! - -The events which have lately taken place on the Continent, and the -moderate and manly tone in which those events have been received by -Ministers, have excited the utmost degree of uneasiness and alarm in the -minds of certain persons, who redouble the eagerness of their cries for -war. The cold blooded fury and mercenary malice of these panders to -mischief, can only be appeased by the prospect of lasting desolation. -They rave, foam at the mouth, and make frantic gestures at the name of -peace. These high-priests of Moloch daily offer up to their grim idol -the same nauseous banquet of abuse and lies. Round them ‘a cry of -hell-hounds never ceasing bark,’ that with greedy appetite devour the -offal. Every day they act over the same foul imposture, and repeat their -monstrous masque. These mighty soothsayers look forward to another -restoration of Europe after another twenty years of havoc and -destruction. After urging her to the very edge of the precipice from -which she has only just recovered, breathless and affrighted, they wish -to goad her on once more to the same mad career. The storm is for the -moment over-past, but they will not suffer the vessel of the state to -enter the harbour, in the hope that they may still plunder the wreck, -and prey upon the carcases. The serpent’s hiss, the assassin’s yell, the -mowing and chattering of apes, drown the voice of peace; and Vetus, like -the solemn owl, joins in the distance, and prolongs the dreary note of -death! - - - - - ON THE COURIER AND TIMES NEWSPAPERS - - - _Jan. 21, 1814._ - -The following passage, among others of the same _calibre_, has lately -appeared in _The Courier_:— - - ‘The party call upon us to speak out. We thought it not very easy - for any charge of not speaking out to be urged against us. However, - we obey their call most willingly. “Does _The Courier_, they ask, - mean to insinuate, that because the South of France is more inclined - to favour their pretensions, the Bourbons ought to have frigates - allotted them to traverse the Bay of Biscay, and join the standard - of Lord Wellington?” To this we reply, yes; decisively yes!—We say - we would have a Bourbon proceed to the South of France. We hope we - have spoken out on this point. One more remains;—Would we “set up - some new obstacle to the progress of the negociation that is on - foot?” _Yes, if we thought there was any negociation on foot with - Bonaparte. But we trust there is not—we trust there never will be._’ - -And this at a time when it has been formally signified from the throne -that there was no objection on the part of England to treat with the -French Ruler; when Lord Liverpool has said publicly that no conditions -of peace would be insisted on, which we, placed in the situation of -France, should not think it reasonable to grant; when we, in concert -with the Allies, have announced to France, that it is neither our -intention nor our wish to interfere with their internal government, but -to secure the independence and safety of the continent; and when Lord -Castlereagh has gone from this country for the purpose, avowed and -understood, of giving effect to that declaration, and of fixing the -basis of a peace to be recognized by the common powers of Europe. To -produce such a passage, at such a moment, required that union of -impudence and folly which has no parallel elsewhere. From the quarter -from which it comes, it could not surprize us; it is consistent; it is -in keeping; it is of a piece with the rest. It is worthy of those -harpies of the press, whose business is to scare away the approach of -peace by their obscene and dissonant noises, and to tear asunder the -olive-branch, whenever it is held out to us, with their well-practised -beaks; who fill their hearts with malice, and their mouths with -falsehood; who strive to soothe the dastard passion of their employers -by inflaming those of the multitude; creatures that would sell the lives -of millions for a nod of greatness, and make their country a by-word in -history, to please some punk of quality. - -We are to understand from no less an authority than that of _The -Courier_, that Lord Castlereagh is sent out professedly to make peace, -but in reality to hinder it: and we learn from an authority equally -respectable (_The Times_) that nothing can prevent the destruction of -Bonaparte but this country’s untimely consenting to make peace with him. -And yet we are told in the same breath, that the charge of eternal war -which we bring against these writers, is the echo of the French -war-faction, who, at the commencement of every series of hostilities, -and at the conclusion of every treaty, have accused this country of a -want of good faith and sincere disposition to peace. We are told, that -if the French do not force Bonaparte to make peace now, which yet these -writers are determined to prevent him from doing, ‘they are sunk beneath -the worshippers of cats and onions.’ These ‘knavish but keen’ -politicians tell the French people in so many words—‘We will not make -peace with your government, and yet, if it does not make peace with us, -we will force what Government we please upon you.’ What effect this -monstrous and palpable insult must have upon the French nation, will -depend upon the degree of sense and spirit they have left among them. -But with respect to ourselves, if the line of policy pointed out by -these juggling fiends is really meant to be pursued, if a pretended -proposal to treat for peace on certain grounds is only to be converted -into an insidious ground of renewed war for other purposes, if this -offensive and unmanly imposture is to be avowed and practised upon us in -the face of day, then we know what will be the duty of Parliament and of -the country. The wars, in which the Governments of Europe have been -engaged, have not succeeded the worse when the people took an effective -share in them. We should hope that the interference of the people will -not be necessary to effect the restoration of peace. - -It is curious to hear these systematic opponents of peace, (with -infuriate and insensate looks scattering firebrands and death,) at the -same time affecting the most tender concern for the miseries of war; or -like that good-natured reconciler of differences, _Iago_, hypocritically -shifting the blame from themselves—‘What, stab men in the dark!’ They -ask with grave faces, with _very_ grave faces, ‘Who are the authors, the -propagators, and practisers of this dreadful war system? who the -aggressors? who the unrelenting persecutors of peace?’ War is their -everlasting cry, ‘one note day and night;’ during war, during peace, -during negociation, in success, in adversity; and yet they dare to tax -others as the _sole_ authors of the calamities which they would render -eternal, sooner than abate one jot of their rancorous prejudices. One of -these writers (the Editor of _The Times_) asserts with an air of great -confidence, while he himself is hallooing as loud as he can among the -indefatigable war-pack, that Bonaparte is the cause, the _sole author_ -of all the calamities of Europe for the last fourteen years; and what is -remarkable, he brings as a proof of this sweeping assertion, a state -paper, written under the Pitt Administration of _pacific memory_, -deprecating _all_ conciliation with the French at the very period from -which the writer dates the wanton, unprovoked aggressions of Bonaparte, -and which paper he quotes at length, as an admirable description of the -mode by which we are to avert the calamities of Europe for the next -fourteen years, as we have done for the last. Better late than never. So -industrious an inquirer need not despair of effectually averting our -future miseries, and pacifying the world, if it is to be done by -referring back to state papers of this description, or by resuming the -principles of those good old anti-jacobin times, or by finishing the war -as it was begun. There would be no end of precedents and documents for -prosecuting the war with vigour under every variety of circumstances, in -order never to bring it to a conclusion. As a proof of the aggressions -and implacable hatred of France, he might cite that monument of romantic -and disinterested generosity ‘of heroic sentiment and manly enterprise,’ -on the part of the Allies, the treaty of Pilnitz.[7] He might proceed to -those pacific manifestations—Lord Hawkesbury’s march to Paris—the -_Bellum internecinum_ of Mr. Windham, and his consistent phrenzy at the -treaty of Amiens—Mr. Pitt’s abstract impossibility of maintaining the -relations of peace and amity with the French Republic, or with the child -and champion of Jacobinism—Mr. Burke’s Regicide Peace—the project of -starving France in 1796—of hurling her down the gulph of bankruptcy in -1797—the coalitions of different periods in which England saved herself -and Europe _from peace_ by her energy, or her example—the contemptuous -rejection of every offer of negociation in every situation, the -unwearied prosecution of the war on the avowed principle that we were -never to leave it off as long as we could carry it on, or get any one to -carry it on for us, or till we had buried ourselves under the ruins of -the civilized world (a prediction which we narrowly escaped -verifying)—all these undeniable proofs and substantial demonstrations of -our fond desires, our longings after peace, and of the determination of -France to aggrandize herself by war and conquest, would, indeed, with -the ingenious glosses of our well-meaning commentator form a very -entertaining volume, and would at least teach us, if not what to follow, -what we ought to shun, in our future advances to this first of earthly -blessings, so long and studiously and systematically withheld from -us—only to render its attainment more certain and more precious! - -To the other solid grounds of an indefinite prolongation of this war, -religious, moral, political, commercial, constitutional, continental, -Jacobinical, Revolutionary, Corsican, foreign or domestic—our apologist, -in the true spirit of the French _petit maitre_ in _Roderic Random_, has -now added a ground of his own, of equal efficacy and validity with the -former, viz. that we are to carry it on in the character of gentlemen -and men of honour. We are to fight for the restoration of the Bourbons, -say _The Times_, ‘that we may have gentlemen and men of honour to fight -with.’ There is some prudence in this resolution; it goes on the old -principle, that we are not to fight except with our _match_. Don -Quixote, after he had been soundly drubbed by the Yanguesian carriers, -recollected that he ought not to have engaged with plebeians. The writer -whom we have here quoted, told us, some time ago, from a greater -authority certainly than that of _The Times_, the true grounds of war, -or ‘that we might spill our blood for our country, for our liberty, for -our friends, for our kind;’ but we do not remember, among these -legitimate sources of the waste of human blood, that we were to shed it -for a punctilio. If war were to be decided by the breaking of white and -black sticks among gentlemen-ushers, or even by the effusion of courtly -phrases in _The Courier_ and _The Times_, we should have no objection to -this fastidious refinement; but we cannot consent to shed the best blood -of Europe, nor that of ‘the meanest peasant in this our native land,’ in -order that the delicate honour of the Carlton House Minority may not be -stained, nor the purity of their moral taste perverted, by an -intercourse with any but gentlemen and men of honour. And thou, Carl -John, what hast thou to say to this new plea of the old school?—Or why, -not being clad with the inherent right to ‘monarchize, be feared, and -kill with looks,’—dost thou insult over the King of Denmark, menace -Holstein, and seize upon Norway, and yet tellest thy little son, that -the time is coming, when conquerors shall be no more?—_The Times’_ -editor scornfully rejects our practical opinion on the probability of -restoring the Bourbons, because it seems we always reject every -proposition that makes the continuance of war necessary. Be it so. But -do not these persons also attach the highest degree of probability, or, -when they are so inclined, moral certainty, to every thing that tends to -make peace unattainable? It is true we did not, as they say, anticipate -the reverses of the French Emperor before they happened. If we did not -anticipate them before, it was because we had nothing in past experience -to guide us to such a conclusion, except, indeed, the constant -unverified predictions of _The Times_ and _The Courier_. If these -inspired writers had the slightest intimation of them one moment before -they happened, we are willing to bow down to them, and they shall be our -Gods. But of this we are sure, from all experience, that the way to -render the fruits of those reverses uncertain, or to defeat them -altogether, is the very mode of proceeding recommended by the ceaseless -partizans of interminable hostilities. If the French are a nation of -men—if they have the common faculties of memory, of understanding, and -foresight; if they are, as they have been pronounced by one no ways -favourable to them, ‘the most civilized, and with one exception, the -most enlightened people in Europe,’ surely, if any thing can kindle in -their minds ‘the flame of sacred vehemence, and move the very stones to -mutiny,’ it is the letting loose upon them the mohawks of Europe, the -Cossacks, with General Blucher’s manifesto in their hands. It is -restoring to Bonaparte the very weapon which we had wrested from him, -the mighty plea of the independence of nations; it is reclothing his -power with those adamantine scales ‘which fear no discipline of human -hands,’ the hearts and wills of a whole people, threatened with -emasculation of their moral and physical powers, by half a dozen -libellers of the human species, and a horde of barbarians scarcely -human. Even the writer in _The Times_ acknowledges that the Cossacks -entering France as a sort of masters of the ceremonies to the Bourbons, -is only better, and less likely to excite horror and dismay, than their -entering it in their own rights and persons. It may be so. The bear -bringing in the monkey on his back may be more inviting than the bear -alone. But we should think that either portent must be fatal, that -neither hieroglyphic will be favourably interpreted. - - - - - ILLUSTRATIONS OF VETUS - - ‘Those nauseous harlequins in farce may pass, - But there goes more to a substantial ass; - Our modern wits such monstrous fools have shewn, - They seem not of Heaven’s making but their own.’—DRYDEN. - - - _Dec. 2, 1813._ - -There is a degree of shameless effrontery which disarms and baffles -contempt by the shock which it gives to every feeling of moral rectitude -or common decency; as there is a daring extravagance in absurdity which -almost challenges our assent by confounding and setting at defiance -every principle of human reasoning. The ribald paragraphs, which fill -the columns of our daily papers, and disgrace the English language, -afford too many examples of the former assertion; the Letters of Vetus -are a striking instance of the latter. - -It would have been some satisfaction to us, in the ungrateful task which -we had imposed upon ourselves, if, in combating the conclusions of -Vetus, we could have done justice to the ingenuity of his arguments, or -the force of his illustrations. But his extreme dogmatism is as -destitute of proofs, as it is violent in itself. His profound axioms are -in general flat contradictions; and he scarcely makes a single statement -in support of any proposition which does not subvert it. In the -Parliamentary phrase, he constantly _stultifies_ himself. The glaring -and almost deliberate incongruity of his conclusion is such as to imply -a morbid defect of comprehension, a warped or overstrained -understanding. Absorbed in an inveterate purpose, bent on expanding some -vapid sophism into a cumbrous system, he is insensible to the most -obvious consequences of things; and his reason is made the blind pander -to his prejudices. - -We are not converts to this author’s style, any more than to his -reasoning. Indeed the defects of the one very much assist those of the -other, and both have the same character. There is a perpetual effort to -make something out of nothing, and to elevate a common-place into -sublimity. The style of Vetus is not very different from that of Don -Adriano de Armado; every word is as who should say, ‘I am Sir Oracle.’ -Like the hero of Cervantes, haranguing the shepherds, he assaults the -very vault of Heaven with the arrogance of his tone, and the loudness of -his pretensions. Nothing can exceed the pompous quaintness, and -laborious foolery of many of his letters. He unfolds the book of fate, -assumes the prophet or historian, by virtue of alliteration and -antithesis;—sustains the balance of power by well-poised periods, or -crushes a people under a ponderous epithet. The set style of Vetus does -not conform easily to the march of human affairs; and he is often forced -to torture the sense to ‘hitch it’ in a metaphor. While he is -marshalling his words, he neglects his arguments, which require all his -attention to connect them together; and in his eagerness to give -additional significance to his sentences, he loses his own meaning. - -We shall proceed to the task we at first proposed, viz. that of -supplying marginal notes to the voluminous effusions of Vetus, and shall -continue our comments as often as he furnishes us with the text. - -We agree with the sentiment with which he commences his last Letter, -that it is ‘particularly desirable to follow up the question of peace’ -at the present crisis, but not with the reason which he assigns for his -extreme anxiety to enter upon the question, ‘because this is just the -moment to dread the entertainment of a pacific overture.’ We can readily -believe that at no other moment than when he dreads its approach, would -Vetus ever breathe a syllable on the subject of peace, and then only to -avert it. Whenever ‘a spurious and mawkish beneficence’ gives an alarm -of peace, the dogs of war stand ready on the slip to hunt it down. - -‘I have stated to you’ (_To the Editor of the Times_) ‘as the only -legitimate basis of a treaty, if not on the part of the continental -Allies, at least for England herself, that _she should conquer all she -can, and keep all she conquers_. This is not by way of retaliation, -_however just_, upon so obdurate and rapacious an enemy—but as an -indispensable condition of her own safety and existence.’ - -That which is here said to be the _only_ legitimate basis of a treaty is -one, which if admitted and acted upon, would make it impossible that any -treaty should ever be formed. It is a basis, not of lasting peace, but -of endless war. To call that the basis of a treaty which precludes the -possibility of any concession or compensation, of every consideration -either of the right or power of each party to retain its actual -acquisitions, is one of those misnomers which the gravity of Vetus’s -manner makes his readers overlook. After the imposing and guarded -exordium which ushers in the definition of our only legitimate basis of -a treaty, we are not prepared to expect Vetus’s burlesque solution of -the difficulty—‘that we are not to treat at all.’ The human mind is -naturally credulous of sounding professions, and reluctantly admits the -existence of what is very common, and common for that reason—_pompous -nonsense_. It seems, however, that this basis of a treaty is to apply -only to one of the contracting powers, namely, England, it is equivocal -as to the Allies, and with respect to France, it is, we suppose, meant -to be altogether null. For in a former letter, after asking, ‘Who are to -be the judges of his (Bonaparte’s) rights?’ he answers emphatically, ‘We -and our Allies!’ Bobadil did not come up to this exquisite pacificator -of the world! To make common sense of Vetus’s axiom with reference to -any state whatever, ‘that it should keep all it conquers,’ it seems -necessary to add this trifling condition, ‘if it can.’ And with respect -to Great Britain in particular, if from her peculiar situation she has -the power to keep all she conquers without being amenable to any other -tribunal than her own will, this very circumstance proves that the -exercise of that power is not _necessary to her safety and existence_. -Again, if England has an interest of her own, quite independent on and -separate from that of the continent, what has she to do with continental -Allies? If her interests may be and are interwoven with those of the -rest of Europe, is it too much to expect from her a common sacrifice to -the common cause? We quarrel with France on continental grounds; we -strip her of her colonies to support the quarrel; and yet we refuse to -restore any part of them, in order to secure peace. If so, we are only -ostensible parties in the contest, and in reality robbers. - -‘The first policy of a wise people is to make rival nations afraid to -disturb them, to impress their enemies with a _terrific sense_,’ (how -magnificent is this epic mode of expression) ‘that to attack them is to -suffer not only transient defeats, but deep, grievous, and -_irrecoverable losses_; and to hold in abhorrence any peace which shall -not be a living record of _their own superiority_, and a monument worthy -of those warriors, through whose noble blood it was obtained.’ - -If the losses sustained in war were to be irrecoverable, it is easy to -foresee that the seat of empires would be very soon changed in almost -all cases whatever. But Vetus here, as is customary with him when it -tends to enforce the hyperbolical effect of his style, assumes as a -broad ground of national wisdom, a physical impossibility. It is not in -the nature of things that the losses of rival States should be -irrecoverable. Vetus would do better to decree at once that the -possessions of nations are _unassailable_ as well as _irrecoverable_, -which would prevent war altogether. But still more preposterous is the -madness or malice of the assertion, that no peace can be made by a wise -nation, which is not a living record of _their own superiority_. ‘This -is the key-stone which makes up the arch’ of Vetus’s indestructible -war-system. Can it have escaped even the short-sighted logic of this -writer, that to make superiority an indispensable condition of a wise -peace is to proscribe peace altogether, because certainly this -superiority cannot belong at the same time to both parties, and yet we -conceive that the consent of both parties is necessary to a peace? Any -other peace, we are told, than that which is at all times impracticable -between rival states, ought not only never to be made, but it ought to -be held in abhorrence, we ought to shudder at its approach as the last -of evils, and throw it to an immeasurable distance from us. This is -indeed closing up the avenues to peace, and shutting the gates of mercy -on mankind, in a most consummate and scientific manner. Our philosophic -rhetorician appears also to forget, in that high tone in which he speaks -of the _monuments raised by the noble blood of warriors_, that these -sort of monuments are cemented by the blood of others as well as by our -own, and tell the survivors a double story. His heated imagination seems -to have been worked up into a literal belief of his own assertion, that -the French nation are a rank non-entity; or he supposes that there is -some celestial ichor in our veins, which we alone shed for our country, -while other nations neither bleed nor suffer from war, nor have a right -to profit by peace. This may be very well in poetry, or on the stage, -but it will not pass current in diplomacy. Vetus, indeed, strains hard -to reconcile inconsistencies, and to found the laws of nations on the -sentiments of exclusive patriotism. But we should think that the common -rules of peace and war, which necessarily involve the rights, interests, -and feelings of different nations, cannot be dictated by the heroic -caprices of a few hair-brained egotists, on either side of the question. - - - ILLUSTRATIONS OF VETUS - - (CONTINUED) - - ‘He is indeed a person of great acquired follies.’ - SIR FOPLING FLUTTER - - _Dec. 10, 1813._ - -‘Nothing,’ continues Vetus, ‘can be more opposite to this great policy, -than to fight and to render back the fruits of our successes. We may be -assured, that those with whom we contend are ready enough to improve -_their_ victories. If we are not equally so, _we shall never be at -rest_. If the enemy beats us, he wins our provinces.—[_What provinces of -ours?_]—If we beat him, we restore all. What more profitable game could -he desire! Truly, at this rate, our neighbours must be arrant fools if -they leave us one week’s repose!’ - -There is a spirit of Machiavelian policy in this paragraph which is very -commendable. It reminds us of the satirist’s description of ‘fools -aspiring to be knaves.’ It is, in fact, this fear of being outwitted by -the French, that constantly makes us the dupes of our suspicions of -them, as it is a want of confidence in our own strength or firmness, -that leads us to shew our courage by defiance. True courage, as well as -true wisdom, is not distrustful of itself. Vetus recommends it to us to -act upon the maxims of the common disturbers of mankind, of ‘this -obdurate and rapacious foe,’ as the only means to secure general -tranquillity. He wishes to embody the pretended spirit and principles of -French diplomacy in a code,—the acknowledged basis of which should be -either universal conquest, or endless hostility. We have, it seems, no -chance of repelling the aggressions of the French, but by retaliating -them not only on themselves, but on other states. At least, the author -gives a pretty broad hint of what he means by the improvement of _our_ -victories, when he talks of annexing Holland and Danish Zealand to -Hanover, as ‘her natural prey,’ _instead_ of their being the -dependencies of France. This is certainly one way of trimming the -balance of power in Europe, and placing the independence of nations in a -most happy dilemma. The inventor of this new and short way with foreign -states only laments that Hanover, ‘under British auspices,’ has not been -before-hand with France in imitating Prussia in her seizure of the -Austrian province on one side, and her partition of Poland on the other. -He can scarcely express his astonishment and regret, that Holland and -Denmark should so long have escaped falling into our grasp, after the -brilliant example of ‘rapacity and obduracy’ set to our phlegmatic, -plodding, insipid, _commercial_ spirit by Prussia and Russia. But now -that we have rescued ‘our natural prey’ from the French, it is to be -hoped, that we shall make sure of it. Vetus’s great principles of -morality seem to be borrowed from those of Peachum, and his -acknowledgements of merit to flow much in the same channel:—‘A good -clever lad, this Nimming Ned—there’s not a handier in the whole gang, -nor one more industrious to save goods from the fire!’—His chief -objection to that ‘revolutionist,’ Bonaparte, (Vetus too is a projector -of revolutions) is not, evidently, to his being a robber, but because he -is at the head of a different gang; and we are only required to bestir -ourselves as effectually as he does, _for the good of mankind_! But -Vetus, whose real defect is a contraction of intellectual vision, sees -no alternative between this rapacious and obdurate policy, and -unconditional submission, between ‘restoring all’ or none. This is not -sound logic. He wishes by a _coup sur_ to prevent an unfair and -dishonourable peace, by laying down such rules as must make peace -impossible, under any circumstances, or on any grounds that can enter -into human calculation. According to him, our only security against the -most wild and extravagant concessions, is the obstinate determination to -make none; our only defence against the fascinations of our own folly, -is to take refuge from the exercise of our discretion in his impregnable -paradoxes.—‘The same argument which goes to justify a war, prescribes -war measures of the most determined and active character.’ Good; because -the nature and essence of war is _a trial of strength_; and, therefore, -to make it as advantageous to ourselves as possible, we ought to exert -all the strength that we possess. ‘The very object,’ continues Vetus, -‘that of weakening the enemy, for which we pursue those vigorous -measures, and strip him of his possessions, renders it _necessary_ to -keep him in that state of weakness by which he will be deterred from -repeating his attack; and, _therefore, to hold inflexibly_ what we have -acquired.’ Here again Vetus confounds himself, and, involving a plain -principle in the mazes of a period, represents war not as a trial of -strength between contending states, each exerting himself to the utmost, -but as a voluntary assumption of superiority on the part of one of them. -He talks of stripping the enemy of his possessions, and holding them -inflexibly—as matters of course, as questions of will, and not of power. - -It is neither the actual possession, nor _the will_ to keep certain -acquisitions, but the _power_ to keep them, and, _at the same time_, to -extort other concessions from an enemy, that must determine the basis of -all negociations, that are not founded on verbal chimeras. - -‘We are taught, indeed, to take for granted, that a peace, whose -conditions bear hard on either party, will be the sooner broken by that -party; and, therefore, that we have an indirect interest in sacrificing -a portion of our conquests.’ The general principle here stated is -self-evident, and one would think indisputable. For the very ground of -war is a peace whose conditions are thought to _bear hard_ on one of the -parties, and yet, according to Vetus, the only way to make peace -durable, to prevent the recurrence of an appeal to force, is to impose -such hard conditions on an enemy, as it is his interest, and must be his -inclination, to break _by force_. An opinion of the disproportion -between our general strength, and our actual advantages, seems to be the -necessary ground of war, but it is here converted into the permanent -source of peace. The origin of the common prejudice is, however, very -satisfactorily illustrated in the remainder of the paragraph. ‘This -language is in favour with the two extremes of English faction. The -blind opponents of every minister _who happens to be engaged in -conducting a war_’ [_Is war then a mere affair of accident?_] ‘can see -no danger in national dishonour; and cry out for peace with double -vehemence, whenever it is least likely to be concluded well. The -dependents, on the other hand, of any feeble government, will strive to -lower the expectations of the country—to exclaim against _immoderate_ -exertion—to depreciate her powers in war, and her pretensions at a -peace:—thus preparing an oblique defence for their employers, and -undermining the honest disappointment’ [_Quere expectations_] ‘of the -people when they reflect how little has been done by war, and how much’ -[of that little] ‘undone by negociation. But besides being a factious -expedient, it is a principle of action equally false and absurd. I deny -that we affect any thing more by granting an enemy what are _called -favourable terms_, than convince him that he may go to war with England, -gratis. The conditions he obtains will encourage him to try the chance -of another war, in the hope of a still more advantageous treaty.’ Here -Vetus entirely shifts the state of the question. The terms of a peace, -if _not hard_, must be immediately _favourable_! Because we grant an -enemy such terms as he has a right to expect, it is made a conclusion -that we are also to grant him such as he has no right to expect, and -which will be so decidedly advantageous as to induce him to try his -fortune still farther against so generous an adversary. That is, Vetus -has no idea of the possibility of a just, fair, or honourable peace; his -mind refuses to dwell for a moment on any arrangement of terms, which, -by bearing hard on one party or another, will not be sure to end -speedily, from the desire on one side to retrieve its affairs, and on -the other to improve its advantages, in a renewal of war. ‘The only -valid security for peace is the accession to our own strength, and the -diminution of our rival’s, by the resources and dominions we have -wrested from him.’ First, this security can be good only on one side: -secondly, it is not good at all: the only security for peace is not in -the actual losses or distresses incurred by states, but in the settled -conviction that they cannot _better_ themselves by war. But all these -contradictions are nothing to Vetus, who alone does not fluctuate -between the extremes of faction, but is still true to war—and himself. - -But there is, in our opinion, a third extreme of English faction (if -Vetus will spare us the anomaly) not less absurd, and more mischievous -than either of the others: we mean those who are the blind adherents of -every minister who happens to be engaged in a war, however unnecessarily -or wantonly it may have been begun, or however weakly and wickedly -carried on: who see no danger in repeated disgraces, and impending ruin, -provided we are obstinately bent on pursuing the same dreadful career -which has led to them; who, when our losses come thronging in upon us, -urge us to persist till we recover the advantages we have lost, and, -when we recover them, force us on till we lose all again: with whom -peace, in a time of adverse fortune, is dishonour, and in the pride of -success, madness: who only exaggerate ‘our pretensions at a peace,’ that -they may never be complied with: who assume a settled unrelenting -purpose in our adversary to destroy us, in order to inspire us with the -same principle of never-ending hostility against him: who leave us no -alternative but eternal war, or inevitable ruin: who irritate the hatred -and the fears of both parties, by spreading abroad incessantly a spirit -of defiance, suspicion, and the most galling contempt: who, adapting -every aspect of affairs to their own purposes, constantly return in the -same circle to the point from which they set out: with whom peace is -always unattainable, war always necessary! - -We shall pass over Vetus’s historic researches, the wars of the Romans -and Carthaginians (the formal latitude of Vetus’s pen delights in these -great divisions of human affairs), and come to what is more to our -purpose. - -In modern times he first comes to the treaty of 1763, only (as far as we -can find) to affix the epithet ‘American rebels’ as a sort of Pragmatic -Sanction to our colonists, with whom, he says, France joined a few years -afterwards, and, ‘in spite of her ruined finances and her peaceful king, -aimed a mortal blow at the British monarchy.’ Yet, notwithstanding this -long-standing and inveterate animosity of the French court to this -country, we find the same France, in the next paragraph but one, -stigmatized as _republican_ and _Corsican_, ‘with centric and eccentric -scribbled o’er,’ as if these were important distinctions, though Vetus -himself ‘would prefer for France the scourge of Bonaparte, to the -_healthier_, and to England _not less hostile_, sovereignty of the -banished house of Bourbon.’ Why then pertinaciously affix these -obnoxious epithets? They are bad ornaments of style—they are worse -interpreters of truth. - -To prove his general axiom, that in order to be stable, ‘the conditions -of peace must bear hard on one of the parties,’ Vetus asks, ‘Were the -powers that partitioned unhappy Poland so conciliated by her -acquiescence in their first encroachments, as to abstain from offering -her any second wrong?’ Now this is an instance precisely in point to -prove the direct reverse of Vetus’s doctrine: for here was a treaty in -which the terms bore exceedingly hard on one of the parties, and yet -this only led to accumulated wrongs by a renewal of war. We say that -hard conditions of peace, in all cases, will lead to a rupture. If the -parties are nearly equal, they will lead to resistance to unfounded -claims; if quite unequal—to an aggravation of oppression. But would -Russia and Prussia have been more lenient or deterred from their -encroachments, if Poland had pretended to impose hard conditions of -peace on them? These governments partitioned Poland, not in consequence -of any treaty good or bad, but because they had the will and the power -to do so. Vetus would terrify the French into moderation by hard -conditions of peace, and yet he supposes us to be in the same relation -to France as Poland to its implacable enemies. - -‘Did the wretched complaisance of the leading continental courts in -their several treaties with France, ensure their tranquillity even for a -moment?’ This is still altering the record. The question is not about -submitting to hard conditions, but about imposing them. Besides, ‘the -aggravated and multiplied molestations, injuries, and insults, which -these courts were doomed to suffer,’ might be accounted for from those -which they had in vain attempted to inflict on France, and from their -still more wretched complaisance in being made the tools of a court -which was not continental. - -‘Then comes the peace of Amiens, our peace of Amiens—a peace born, -educated, nourished, and matured in this very philanthropic spirit of -gentleness and forgiveness. In the war which preceded _the truce_ of -which I am speaking, _the French government_ involved _us_ in -considerably more than two hundred millions of debt.’ Vetus then -proceeds to state that we made peace without any liquidation of this -claim, without satisfaction, without a bond, (_what else?_) without a -promise, without a single guinea! ‘I will have ransom, most egregious -ransom.’ Why was it ever heard of that one government paid the debts in -which another had involved itself in making war upon it? - -‘The language of England,’ says our author, ‘was correctly what -follows:—You, Monsieur, have loaded _me_ with unspeakable distresses and -embarrassments,’ (_all this while, be it recollected, our affairs were -going on most prosperously and gloriously in the cant of The Times_) -‘you have robbed me of half my fortune, and reduced me to the brink of -beggary,’ (_the French by all accounts were in the gulph of bankruptcy_) -‘you have torn away and made slaves of my friends and kindred,’ -(_indeed_) ‘you have dangerously wounded me, and murdered my beloved -children, who armed to defend their parent.’—This is too much, even for -the dupes of England. Stick, Vetus, to your statistics, and do not make -the pathetic ridiculous! Sophistry and affectation may confound common -sense to a certain degree, but there is a point at which our feelings -revolt against them. - -We have already remarked on what Vetus says of Hanover; he probably will -not wish us to go farther into it. Of Bonaparte he says, of course, that -nothing short of unconditional submission will ever satisfy that -revolutionist, and that he will convert the smallest concession made to -him into a weapon for our destruction. That is, we have it in our power -to set him at defiance, to insult him, to ‘bring him to the block,’ -etc., whenever we please; and yet we are so completely in his power, so -dependent on him, that the smallest concession must be fatal to us, will -be made the instrument of our inevitable destruction. Thus is the public -mind agitated and distracted by incredible contradictions, and made to -feel at once ‘the fierce extremes’ of terror and triumph, of rashness -and despair. ‘Our safety lies in his weakness, not in his will.’ If so, -or if it depends on either of the conditions here stated, we are in no -very pleasant situation. But our real safety depends on our own -strength, and steady reliance on it, and not on the arguments of Vetus. - - - ILLUSTRATIONS OF VETUS - - (CONTINUED) - - ‘Madmen’s epistles are no gospels.’ - - _Dec. 16, 1813._ - -The last Letter of Vetus begins with an allusion to the events which -have lately taken place in Holland. He then proceeds—‘What final effect -this popular movement by the Dutch may have upon the future interests -and prosperity of England is a question to be discussed with deliberate -caution—with extreme solicitude—and with the chance, I trust, the -distant chance, of its conducting us to no very gratifying conclusion!’ -There is something in this passage truly characteristic, and well worthy -of our notice. Vetus is, it seems, already jealous of the Dutch. The -subtle venom of his officious zeal is instantly put in motion by the -prospect of their national independence and commercial prosperity; and -his pen is, no doubt, prepared, on the slightest provocation of -circumstances, to convert them from an ally to be saved, into a rival -and an enemy to be crushed. He, however, waives for the present the -solemn discussion, till he can find some farther grounds to confirm him -in his extreme solicitude and mysterious apprehensions. The perverse -readiness of Vetus to pick a quarrel out of everything, or out of -nothing, is exactly described in Spenser’s Allegory of _Furor_ and -_Occasion_, which if we thought him ‘made of penetrable stuff,’ we would -recommend to his perusal. - -The introductory comment on the Revolution in Holland is a clue to the -whole of our author’s political system, which we shall here endeavour to -explain. He looks askance with ‘leer malign’ on the remotest prospect of -good to other nations. Every addition to the general stock of liberty or -happiness, is to him so much taken from our own. He sees nothing -gratifying in that prosperity or independence, which is shared (or any -part of it) with foreign nations. He trembles with needless apprehension -at the advantages in store for them, which he anticipates only to -prevent, and is indifferent to our own welfare, interests, honour—except -as they result from the privations, distress, and degradation of the -rest of the world. Hatred, suspicion, and contempt for other nations are -the first and last principles of the love which ‘an upright Englishman’ -bears to his country. To prevent their enjoying a moment’s repose, or -indulging even in a dream of future comfort, he would involve his own -country in incessant distraction and wretchedness, and risk its final -ruin on the cast of a die!—Vetus professes, with some reason, not to be -enamoured of quotation: but he may, perhaps, allow us to refer to an -author, who, though not so deep read in Vattel and the writings of the -jurists, had just and penetrating views of human nature. ‘Think, there’s -livers out of England. What’s England in the world’s map? In a great -pool a swan’s nest.’ Now this ‘swan’s nest’ is indeed to us more than -all the world besides—to cherish, to protect, to love, and honour it. -But if we expect it to be so to the rest of the world—if we do not allow -them to cultivate their own affections, to improve their own advantages, -to respect their own rights, to maintain their own independence—if in -the blindness of our ignorance, our pride, and our presumption, we think -of setting up our partial and local attachments as the law of nature and -nations—if we practise, or so much as tolerate in theory that ‘exclusive -patriotism’ which is inconsistent with the common privileges of -humanity, and attempt to dictate our individual caprices, as paramount -and binding obligations on those, to whose exaction of the same claims -from us we should return only loud scorn, indignation, and defiance—if -we are ever so lost to reason, as Vetus would have us, who supposes that -we cannot serve our country truly and faithfully but by making others -the vassals of her avarice or insolence; we shall then indeed richly -deserve, if we do not meet with, the natural punishment of such -disgraceful and drivelling hypocrisy. - -Vetus, who is extremely dissatisfied with our application of the term -‘exclusive patriotism’ to him, is nevertheless ‘at a loss to understand -the patriotism which is not exclusive. The word _implies_ a preference -of the rights and welfare of our own country to those of other (and -above all other) of rival countries. This is not indeed the philanthropy -of Anacharsis Cloots—it is not the dreary jargon of metaphysics, nor the -shop-boy philosophy of a printer’s devil—nor the _sans-culotterie_ of -scholastic virtue.’ We will tell Vetus what we mean by exclusive -patriotism, such as (we say) his is. We mean by it then, not that -patriotism which implies a preference of the rights and welfare of our -own country, but that which professes to annihilate and proscribe the -rights of others—not that patriotism which supposes us to be the -creatures of circumstance, habit, and affection, but that which divests -us of the character of reasonable beings—which fantastically makes our -interests or prejudices the sole measure of right and wrong to other -nations, and constitutes us sole arbiters of the empire of the world—in -short, which, under the affectation of an overweening anxiety for the -welfare of our own country, _excludes_ even the shadow of a pretension -to common sense, justice, and humanity. It is this wretched solecism -which Vetus would fain bolster up into a system, with all the logic and -rhetoric he is master of. It is true, this kind of patriotism is not the -philanthropy of Anacharsis Cloots; it has nothing to do with -philanthropy in any shape, but it is a vile compound of ‘the jargon of -metaphysics, with the vulgar notions of a printer’s devil.’ It is an -intense union of the grossness and narrowness of ignorance with the -dangerous refinement of the most abstracted speculation. It is passion -and prejudice, inflamed by philosophy, and philosophy distorted by -passion and prejudice. - -Alter his cold exordium on the Revolution in Holland, our consistent -politician enters with warmth on Lord Castlereagh’s speech on the -subsidiary treaties, in which he finds a _But_ before the word _Peace_, -which has a most happy efficacy in healing the wounds inflicted on his -tortured apprehensions, by the explicit, unqualified declaration of Lord -Liverpool in the other House. ‘After describing the laudable solicitude -of Ministers for the attainment of that _first_ of earthly goods, -peace,’ (we thought it had ranked last in the mind of Vetus) ‘his -Lordship added _what was worth all the rest_—BUT we must have a _secure_ -peace. We must not only recollect with whom we contend, but with whom we -negociate, and never grant to _such_ an enemy conditions, which under -the name of peace, would disarm this nation, and expose her to -_contingent_ dangers.’ (To place any nation out of the reach of -contingent dangers in peace or war is, we imagine, an undertaking beyond -even the _calibre_ of Lord Castlereagh’s talents as a statesman.) -‘These,’ proceeds Vetus, ‘were nearly the words; they certainly do not -compromise his meaning.’ (Our author cannot be much mistaken in -attributing to his Lordship any words which seeming to have some -meaning, in reality have none.) ’ Here then the noble Secretary has -_chased away every doubtful expression_ of his colleague.’ (‘Why -so,—this horrible shadow’ of peace ‘being gone,’ Vetus ‘is himself -again.’) - -‘The sentiment delivered by the sovereign on the throne is now given to -us with a construction, at which we need no longer be alarmed. _I_ ask -only that _secure_ peace,—a peace consistent with English safety—_void -of the shadow of regard or indulgence to the pretensions and honour, -otherwise the ambition and arrogance of Bonaparte_, which, as compared -with _the relief of one day’s hunger to the meanest peasant in this our -native land_, are baubles not worth a name!’—This is undoubtedly one of -the most remarkable specimens we ever met with of that figure in -rhetoric, designated by an excellent writer as ‘the figure of -_encroachment_.’[8] Vetus, by a series of equations (certainly not -mathematical ones) at length arrives at a construction of peace at which -he is no longer alarmed; at the identical peace which he wants, and the -only one he will admit,—a peace preposterous in its very terms, and in -its nature impracticable,—a peace ‘void of the shadow of regard or -indulgence to the pretensions and honour’ of the enemy, which are to -pass with them as well as with us, for so much ‘arrogance and ambition.’ -This is the only peace consistent with English safety—this is the secure -peace of Lord Castlereagh—the fair and honourable peace announced from -the throne—the very peace which Lord Liverpool meant to describe when he -startled Vetus by the doubtful expression of a peace ‘consistent with -the honour, rights, and interests of France’—‘of such a peace as we in -her situation should be disposed to grant.’ To the mind of Vetus, which -is indeed the very receptacle for contradictions ‘to knot and gender -in,’ these two sorts of peace appear to be perfectly compatible, and the -one a most happy explanation of the other, viz. a peace void of every -shadow of regard to the rights and honour of a rival nation, and a peace -consistent with those rights and that honour. If this is not ‘mere -midsummer madness,’ we do not know what is. Or if any thing can surpass -it (‘for in this lowest deep of absurdity a lower deep still opens to -receive us, gaping wide’) it is the forlorn piece of sentimental mummery -by which it is attempted to protract this endless war of proscription -against the pretensions of France, under the mask of relieving the wants -and distresses of the meanest peasant of this our native land! Compared -with the tears and blood of our countrymen, all the sophistries of Vetus -by which he would make them victims of his own vanity and egotism, not -less than of the arrogance and ambition of Bonaparte, are indeed -contemptible and mischievous baubles. - -‘What means the impious cry raised by degenerate Englishmen against the -mere chance—nay, the remotest possibility of a peace, whose terms should -be honourable to their country? Whence arises this profligate and -abandoned yell with which these traitors insult us? _Are they still in -pay? Is their patron still rich enough to bribe them?_ When we demand -compensation for our _dreadful sufferings_, it is but what justice -grants. When we call for security, it is what our existence requires. -Yet, when these undoubted rights and essential safeguards of an injured -people are asserted, it is nothing less than blaspheming the holy -supremacy of Bonaparte!’ - -First, when Vetus demands compensation for our sufferings, it would -perhaps hardly be sufficient to refer him to the satisfaction which the -patriotic contributors to _The Times_, _The Courier_, _The Morning -Post_, _The Sun_, and _The Star_, must have had in writing, and their -admirers in reading the daily paragraphs, of which those sufferings were -the dreadful price, and the inevitable result. When we demand -compensation for what we have suffered, it is but _justice_, if we can -at the same time make compensation for what we have made others suffer; -but at all events, it is no compensation for past sufferings, to make -them perpetual. When we call for security, we are right; but when we -tell the enemy that our only security is in his destruction, and call -upon him for this pledge and safeguard of our undoubted rights, we shew, -by asking for what we know we cannot have, that not security, but -defiance is our object. As to the terms of abuse which are introduced in -this paragraph (we suppose, to vary the general gravity and decorum of -Vetus’s style) we shall answer them by a very short statement of what we -conceive to be the truth. Europe has been for the last twenty years -engaged in a desperate and (for some reason or other) an unequal -struggle against France;—by playing at double or quits, she has just -recovered from the very brink of destruction; and the keepers of our -political E.O. tables treat us as traitors and miscreants, who would -dissuade her from sitting down once more to finish the game, and ruin -her adversary. - -‘—It is asked,—“Do we propose to humble France? Do we propose to destroy -her? If so, we breathe _eternal_ war; if so, we convert the aggressor -into the sufferer, and transfer all the dignity and authority of justice -to the enemy against whom we arm!”’ Yes, against whom we arm for the -avowed purpose of his destruction. From the moment that we make the -destruction of an enemy (be he who he may) the indispensable condition -of our safety, our destruction from that moment _becomes_ necessary to -his, and an act of self-defence. Not much liking this dilemma from which -our author has more than once ‘struggled to get free,’ he in the next -passage makes a wide career indeed, in order, no doubt, to return to the -charge with better effect hereafter. ‘The question of peace or eternal -war is not a _naked question_ of right and wrong. It is a question, -whose morality is determined by its reference to our preservation as a -people. To such interrogatories I answer without reserve, that we ought -to exact _precisely_ that measure of humiliation from France, and that -we do recommend _that critical advance towards her destruction_, that -may combine the utmost _attainable_ satisfaction for our past grievances -with a solid protection to our future interest and welfare. From France, -since the _fatal_ battle of Hastings, what has _this nation of Saxon -warriors_’—(We hardly know ourselves in the learned livery of Vetus’s -style. He himself is doubtless descended from some very old family -settled here before the Conquest)—‘What has this nation of Saxon -warriors ever yet endured from France but injury and affliction?’ Yet we -have made a shift to exist as a nation under all this load of calamity. -We still breathe and live notwithstanding some intervals of repose, some -short resting places afforded us, before this morbid inspector of -health, like another Doctor Pedro Positive, injoined his preposterous -regimen of incessant war as necessary to lasting peace, and to our -preservation as a people! - -‘Modern France’ continues Vetus, rising in his argument, has no -principle so deeply rooted as that of everlasting enmity to England. ‘I -confess for this reason that in my uncorrupted judgment _the best -security_ for Great Britain, and therefore, _if practicable, her most -imperious duty_, would be _the absolute conquest of France_. But since -that, _unfortunately_, is an event which _at present_ we are not likely -to accomplish, _the second best security_ is’ (one would think not to -attempt it at all; no, but) ‘to reduce her, _if we can_, to a degree of -weakness consistent _with our immediate repose_.’ After thus modestly -postponing the absolute conquest of France to a more convenient -opportunity, he adds the following incredible sentence. ‘If the enemy -should be so far borne away by _his hatred_, as to command _his -emissaries_ in London to announce that he prefers waging eternal war to -the acceptance of conditions, which _his own persevering and atrocious -outrages_ have rendered in the mind of every Englishman indispensable to -the safety of these islands, the woeful alternative of perpetual war -very plainly originates not with Great Britain but with Bonaparte!’ That -is to say, _The Times_ not long ago laid it down as a fixed, unalterable -maxim, without reference to terms of one sort or another, that we were -never to make peace with Bonaparte; Vetus in this very letter enters -into an elaborate apology, for that multitude of wise, honest, and -virtuous persons who think his existence as a sovereign _at all times_ -threatens our existence as a nation, and it is because we entered our -protest against this ‘frantic outcry raised by degenerate Englishmen,’ -that Bonaparte is here made to charge his emissaries in London to -announce that he prefers eternal war to the acceptance of conditions, -the moderation of which conditions or of _our second best security_ may -be judged of when we are told that the best, and indeed only real -security for Great Britain, and therefore her most imperious duty, would -be the absolute conquest of France. Vetus is, however, contented with -such terms of peace as will imply only a _critical advance to her -destruction_, and if Bonaparte is not contented with the same terms, the -alternative of eternal war, it seems, originates with him and not with -Vetus.[9] - -But we deny that though this best security for Great Britain, the -absolute conquest of France, were in her power, that it would be her -most imperious duty to effect it. And we deny it, because on the same -ground a better security still for Great Britain would be the conquest -or destruction of Europe and the world; and yet we do not think it her -imperious duty, even if she could, to accomplish the one, or to make a -_critical_ advance to the other. For if it is once laid down and acted -upon as a maxim in national morality, that the best and most desirable -security of a state is in the destruction of its neighbours, or that -there is to be an unrelenting ever watchful critical approximation to -this object as far as possible, there is an end of civil society. The -same principle of not stopping short of this _maximum_ of selfish -security will impose the same imperious duty of rankling jealousy, and -inexorable hostility on others. Our speculator’s ‘best possible -security’ for the independence of states, is nothing but a watchword for -mutual havoc, and wide-spreading desolation. Terrified with the phantom -of imaginary danger, he would have us rush headlong on the reality. We -are obstinately to refuse the enjoyment of a moment’s repose, and -proceed to commit wilful dilapidation on the estate of our happiness, -because it is not secured to us by an everlasting tenure. Placed at the -mercy of the malice or hypocrisy of every venal alarmist, our only -resource must be to seek a refuge from our fears in our own destruction, -or to find the gratification of our revenge in that of others. But a -whole nation is no more justified in obtaining this best of all possible -securities for itself, by the immediate subversion of other states, than -the assassin is justified in taking the life of another, to prevent the -possibility of any future attempt upon his own. For in proportion as a -state is weak and incapable of subjugating us, is the manifest injustice -of any such precaution;—and in proportion as a state is formidable, and -likely to excite serious apprehension for our own safety, is the danger -and folly of setting an example which may be retaliated with so much -greater effect, and ‘like a devilish engine, recoil upon ourselves.’ -That exclusive patriotism which claims for our country an exemption from -‘contingent danger,’ which would place its wealth, its power, or even -its safety beyond the reach of chance and the fluctuation of human -affairs, claims for it an exemption from the common lot of human nature. -That exclusive patriotism which seeks to enforce this claim (equally -impious and unwise) by the absolute conquest of rival states, tempts the -very ruin it professes to avert. - -But Vetus mistakes the nature of patriotism altogether. He would -transform that principle which was intended for the tutelary genius of -nations, into the destroying demon of the world. He ransacks past -history to revive old grudges; he anticipates the future to invent new -ones. In his whole system, there is not room for ‘so small a drop of -pity as a wren’s eye.’ His patriotism is the worm that dies not; a viper -gnawing at the heart. He would strip this feeling of everything but the -low cunning, and brutal ferocity of the savage state, and then arm it -with all the refinements of scholastic virtue, and the most rigid logic. -The diverging rays of human reason which should be diffused to cheer and -enlighten the moral world, are in him collected into a focus of raging -zeal to burn and destroy. It is well for mankind that in the order of -the universe, our passions naturally circumscribe themselves, and -contain their own antidote within them. The only justification of our -narrow, selfish passions, is their short-sightedness:—were it not for -this, the jealousies of individuals and of nations would not leave them -the smallest interval of rest. It is well that the ungovernable impulses -of fear and hatred are excited only by gross, palpable objects; and are -therefore transient, and limited in their operation. It is well that -those motives which do not owe their birth to reason, should not -afterwards receive their nourishment and support from it. If in their -present desultory state, they produce so many mischiefs, what would be -the case, if they were to be organized into systems, and elevated into -abstract principles of right and wrong? - -The whole of Vetus’s reasoning is founded on the false notions of -patriotism which we have here pointed out, and which we conceive to be -totally inconsistent with ‘the just principles of negociation.’ The -remainder of his letter, which unfolds his motives for a pacific -arrangement with Bonaparte, is founded entirely on the same jaundiced -and distempered views. Many wise, many honest, many virtuous persons, he -says, have maintained, not without reason, ‘the incompetency of _this -Corsican_ under any circumstances to discharge the obligations of a -state of peace.’ But he, more wise, more honest, more virtuous, sees a -hope, a shadow of peace, rising like a cloudy speck out of a quarter -where it was least expected. ‘The stone which the builders rejected, is -become the corner-stone of his Temple of Peace.’—‘It does not appear to -Vetus, that a peace with Bonaparte is now unattainable on terms -sufficient for our safety.’ He thinks there is no man so proper to make -peace with as this Corsican, this Revolutionist,—no one so proper to -govern France—to the complete exclusion of the Bourbons, whose -pretensions he scouts analytically, logically, and chronologically, and -who, it seems, had always the same implacable animosity against this -country as Bonaparte, _without a tythe of his ability_. [Surely this -circumstance might plead a little in their favour with Vetus.] And why -so? Whence arises this unexpected partiality shewn to Bonaparte? Why it -is ‘from the strong conviction that by no other means so decisive as the -existence of this man, with his consuming, depressing and degrading -system of government, can we hope to see France _crushed and ground down -below the capacity of contending for ages to come_ with the force of the -British Empire, _moved by the spirit of freedom_! Regarding France under -every known form of government as the irreconcileable foe of England, _I -have beheld with almost unmingled joy the growth and accumulation of -this savage despotism_!’ To be sure ‘while there appeared to some -persons,’ [Vetus was not one of them] ‘a _chance_ of his enslaving the -Continent, and hurling the mass of subjugated nations against our -shores—then, indeed, those who entertained such fears were justified in -seeking his _personal_ and political destruction. But once released from -the terror of his arm, _what genuine Englishman_ can fail to rejoice in -the privilege of consigning Bonaparte and the French people, for better -for worse, to the paradise of each other’s embraces?’ Vetus then -proceeds to inveigh at great length against the persons and pretensions -of the Bourbons. Leaving them to the mercy of this good-natured -remembrancer, we shall only observe, that he decides the impolicy of -restoring the Bourbons, by asking, whether their restoration would not -be advantageous to France, and consequently (he infers very consistently -with himself) _injurious to this country_. Looking forward but half a -century, he sees France gradually regain under the old regime ‘her -natural ascendancy over Great Britain, from which she falls, and must -fall every hour more rapidly from the necessary operation of those -principles on which the Corsican dynasty is founded.’ Nay, looking on -farther than the expiration of the same half century, he sees ‘sloth, -weakness, and poverty, worse than ever sprung from Turkish policy, -proceeding from this odious, self-dissolving power, and a gulph of -irretrievable destruction, already yawning for our eternal foe.’ - -It is not long ago since Vetus drew an historical parallel between this -country and Carthage, encouraging us to expect the same fate from France -which Carthage received from Rome, and to act upon this fanciful -comparison as a solid ground of wisdom. Now all at once ‘this mendicant -in argument, this perfect juggler in politics,’ inverts the perspective, -takes a prophetic view of the events of the next fifty years, and France -is seen dwindling into another Turkey, which the genius of British -freedom grinds to powder, and crushes beneath her feet! These great -statesmen-like views of things, ‘this large discourse of reason, looking -before and after,’ are, we confess, beyond us. We recollect indeed a -similar prophecy to that of Vetus, couched in nearly the same terms, -when in the year 1797, the French were said to be ‘on the verge, nay, in -the very gulph of bankruptcy,’ and that their finances could not hold -out six months longer. Vetus however, taught by the failure of past -prognostics, constructs his political calculations for the ensuing -century, instead of the ensuing year, and puts off the day of reckoning -to a period when he and his predictions will be forgotten. - -Such are the charitable grounds on which our author wishes to secure -Bonaparte on the throne of France, and thinks that peace may at present -be made with him, on terms consistent with our safety. He is not, like -others, ‘ready to shake hands with the Usurper over the tomb of the -murdered D’Enghien, provided he will _return to the paths of religion -and virtue_;’ but he will shake hands with him over the ruins of the -liberty and happiness of France, on the express condition that ‘he never -returns to the paths of religion and morality.’ Vetus is willing to -forget the injuries which Bonaparte may have done to England, for the -sake of the greater mischiefs he may do to France. These are the -‘obligations’ which Vetus owes to him—this the source of his gratitude, -the sacred pledge that reconciles him to ‘that monster whom England -detests.’ He is for making peace with the ‘tyrant,’ to give him an -opportunity to rivet on the chains of France, and fix her final doom. -But is Vetus sincere in all this? His reasoning comes in a very -questionable shape; and we the more doubt it, because he has no sooner -(under the auspices of Bonaparte) hurled France down the gulf of -irretrievable destruction, than he immediately resumes the old topic of -eternal war or perpetual bondage, as the only alternative which this -country can look to. Why, if he is in earnest, insist with Lord -Castlereagh on the caution with which we must grant terms to ‘such an -enemy,’ to this disabled and paralyzed foe? Why assert, as Vetus did in -his very last letter, that ‘nothing short of unconditional submission -will ever satisfy that revolutionist, and that any concession made to -him will be instantly converted into a weapon for our destruction?’ Why -not grant to him such terms as might be granted to the Bourbons, since -they would be granted to a much less dangerous and powerful rival? Why -not subsist, as we have hitherto done, without the fear of perpetual war -or perpetual bondage before our eyes, now that the crown of France has -lost its original brightness, and is shorn of those beams which would -again sparkle round it, if fixed on the head of a Bourbon? We suspect -that our author is not quite in earnest in his professions, because he -is not consistent with himself. Is it possible that his anxiety to keep -out the Bourbons arises from his fear that peace might creep in with -them, at least as a sort of compliment of the season? Is our veteran -politician aware, in his own mind, that the single epithets, Corsican, -republican, revolutionary, will have more effect in stirring up the -embers of war, than all the arguments which he might use to demonstrate -the accumulating dangers to be apprehended from the mild paternal sway -of the ancient dynasty? - -We cannot help saying, however, that we think the elaborate attempt of -Vetus to prove the necessary extinction of the power of France under the -government of Bonaparte, a total failure. What is the amount of his -argument? That in a period when the French were to owe their existence -and their power to war, Bonaparte has made them a warlike people, and -that they did not sit down quietly to ‘the cultivation of arts, -luxuries, and letters,’ when the world was beleaguered against them. Is -it for Vetus, who reprobates the peace of Amiens, _that hollow truce_ -(as he justly calls it), that intermission of war but for a moment, to -say of Bonaparte, ‘His application of public industry is only to the -arts of death—all other perishes for want of wholesome nourishment’? -What then becomes of the long-resounded charge against him on his -exclamation ‘for ships, colonies, and commerce’? We suspect, that energy -in war is not an absolute proof of weakness in peace. He lays down, -indeed, a general principle (true enough in itself) that a government, -in its nature and character at variance with the people, must be -comparatively weak and insecure; yet, in applying this maxim, he proves -not that the French people and government are at irreconcileable -variance, but that the one has become entirely subdued and assimilated -to the other. But hear him speak for himself. ‘The causes of the -overthrow of the old government are foreign to our present purpose. The -consequence has been the birth of _this bloody and scorching -despotism_,—this giant, armed from his mother’s womb with sweeping -scimitar and consuming fire. Can such a government be fit for such a -people? Can a tyranny, operating by direct violence and characteristic -of the earliest periods in the most barbarous condition of mankind, have -any quality adapted to the wants or feelings of a nation, grown _old in -arts_, luxuries, and letters? Is it not plain to the least acute -observer, that where the principles of such a government, and such a -stage of society, are so vehemently contrasted, there can be no -immediate alliance; but that an incessant counteraction must ensue—that -the government or the people must change their character before a just -harmony and co-operation can exist between them; _in other words, that -one of them must yield_!’ - -[Well, this is the very thing which, in the next sentence, he shews has -actually taken place.] ‘And _from whom_ are we to infer this ultimate -submission to its rival? Has the tyrant loosed his chains?—has he -relaxed his hold, or flung aside the whip of scorpions? No! it is -_France herself which has given way_. It is the French nation who -gradually recede from the rest of the civilized world.’ That is, it is -France who, contrary to Vetus’s argument, in receding gradually from the -rest of the civilized world, has been identified with the government, -and become that whip of scorpions in the hands of Bonaparte, which has -been the scourge and dread of all Europe. It is thus that our author -always defeats himself. He is fond of abstruse reasoning and deep -investigation in exact proportion to his incapacity for them—as eunuchs -are amorous through impotence! - -But though he fails in his argument, the moral is not less instructive. -He teaches us on what grounds a genuine English patriot goes to war, and -on what terms he will make peace. A patriot of this exclusive stamp, who -is troubled with none of the symptoms of a ‘spurious and mawkish -beneficence,’ threatens France with the restoration of the Bourbons, -only to throw her into the convulsions of anarchy, and withdraws that -kindly interference, only that she may sink into the more fatal lethargy -of despotism. It is the same consistent patriot who kindles the fires of -La Vendée, and whenever it suits his purpose, is no longer borne away by -the ‘torrent of royal, flaming, unreflecting sympathies!’ It is the same -tried friend of his country, who carries on a twenty years’ war for the -preservation of our trade and manufactures, and when they are mentioned -as inducements for peace, disdains ‘all gross, commercial calculations.’ -It is the same conscientious politician, who at one time makes war for -the support of social order, and the defence of our holy religion;—who, -at another, hails the disappearance of ‘the last glimmering of education -among a people grown old in arts and letters,’ and who rejoices ‘to see -the Christian religion made studiously contemptible by the poverty and -debasement of its professors!’ It is the same true patriot, the same -Vetus, who ‘beholds with unmingled joy, the growth and accumulation of a -savage despotism, which is to crush and bow down France under our -feet;’—who holds ‘the whip of scorpions over her head;’—who ‘arms a -scorching tyranny with sweeping scimitar and consuming fire’ against -her;—who pushes her headlong down ‘the yawning gulf of irretrievable -destruction;’ it is the same Vetus, who, suddenly recovering all the -severity of justice, and all the tenderness of humanity, makes a piteous -outcry about ‘the dreadful sufferings we have endured,’ in attempting to -heap coals of fire on our adversary, demands the payment of ‘two hundred -millions of debt, in which her government have wantonly involved us,’ -complains of our being ‘driven to beggary and want’ in this unnatural -conflict, calls for the release of our countrymen, ‘sent into hopeless -captivity,’ and invokes the murdered names of those children of the -state, who ‘armed to defend a beloved parent, and an injured country!’ -Even Vetus shrinks from the enormity of such inconsistencies, and -excuses himself by saying, ‘Do I feel the spontaneous and unprovoked -desire that such a mass of evil should be perpetuated for any portion of -mankind? _God forbid._ But it is, _I conscientiously_ believe, a -question, _which of these countries shall destroy the other_. In that -case, my part is taken—France must be ruined, to save our native country -from being ruined. If this be perpetual war, I cannot help it. -_Perpetual war has little terror, when perpetual bondage threatens us._’ -Here then our bane and antidote are both before us: perpetual war or -perpetual bondage;—a pleasant alternative!—but it is an alternative of -Vetus’s making, and we shall not, _if we can help it_, submit to either -of his indispensable conditions. We shall not learn of him, for ‘his -yoke is not easy, nor his burden light.’ If this be our inevitable lot, -‘he cannot help it.’ No; but he can help laying the blame of his own -irritable and mischievous conclusions on Nature and Providence; or at -least we think it our duty to guard ourselves and others against the -fatal delusion. - - - - - ILLUSTRATIONS OF VETUS - - ‘Take him, and cut him out in little stars.’ - - - _Jan. 3, 1814._ - -We undertook, some time ago, the task of ascertaining the true value of -this writer’s reasoning, by removing the cumbrous load of words which -oppress his understanding, as well as that of his readers; and we find -that ‘our occupation is not yet gone.’ His last letter, indeed, -furnishes us with comparatively slender materials. His style is -considerably abated. With Bottom in the play, he may be said to -‘aggravate his voice so, that he roars you an ’twere any sucking dove.’ -His swaggering paradoxes dwindle into unmeaning common-places; his -violent dogmas into tame equivocations. There is scarcely an attempt -made to defend his own extreme opinions, or to repel the charge of gross -and glaring inconsistency which we brought against them. He makes indeed -a faint effort to screen certain general positions from the odium and -contempt they deserve, by explaining them away, and to shift off the -responsibility of others, by directly denying them. Vetus has, in fact, -marched boldly on in a fog of splendid words, till he unexpectedly finds -himself on the edge of a precipice, and he seems willing to retreat from -it as well as his accustomed solemnity, and the incumbrances of his -style will permit. It may, perhaps, be some consolation, if we remind -him that he is not the first enthusiast on record, who mistook a cloud -for a goddess. His present situation is certainly no very pleasant one: -it a good deal resembles that of Parolles, when he undertook the -recovery of his drum. - -The most striking part of Vetus’s last letter is his gratuitous _tirade_ -against what has been called the modern philosophy, as if this were the -only alternative (whereas it is in truth the antithesis or converse) of -his system of exclusive patriotism. Our contradiction of his first -principle, that the basis of a peace with France is to be one which does -not leave a shadow of regard to her honour, rights, or interest, and -that the terms of peace to which she is in duty bound to accede, must be -such as to imply a _critical advance_ to her destruction—our utter -rejection of this new-fangled theory of negociation he considers as ‘a -sucker from the root of that poisonous vegetable, the doctrine of -universal benevolence,’ and deprecates our reasoning on the subject as -‘a blossom which threatens the desolation of the moral world!’ We really -cannot attribute to our opinions any such power or any such tendency as -the morbid imagination of our political hypochondriac lends to them. The -arguments of Vetus on this question seem a sort of transcript of Dr. -Parr’s Spital Sermon, or of one of Sir James Mackintosh’s lectures at -Lincoln’s Inn; and are very tolerable, dull, common-place declamation—a -little bordering on fustian. But, as is the invariable fate of Vetus’s -arguments, they contain a flat contradiction to the principle he is -aiming to establish. Though the passage has little to do with the -immediate question, we shall give it as a literary curiosity. It is an -instance of one of those lapses of thought, of that epilepsy of the -mind, which we have already pointed out as the distinguishing -characteristic of this author’s understanding. His object is to exclude -all general reasoning, or the seeds of what he absurdly calls -‘theo-philanthropy’ from the feelings of patriotism; and in his -eagerness to do this, he effectually explodes and laughs to scorn all -patriotism, as a branch of the same theo-philanthropy, as impracticable -and romantic folly. His words are these:— - -‘One of these patriots enacts the part of a drawling hypocritical -projector, whom no natural affection can move, nor individual happiness -enliven. He is a regular brother of a well known sect, which we of this -generation have had the misfortune to behold in high activity—and which, -having seen, it is but wisdom to remember. The men I speak of were those -who in some degree precipitated the French revolution, and who entirely -perverted its possible uses, the mongrel race of metaphysical -enthusiasts, who undertook to change the objects of human feeling, that -they might disappoint more effectually the ends for which it was -bestowed. Such were the worshippers of the strumpet goddess Reason; a -deity, in herself, and in the prostitute who represented her, -convertible to purposes equally abandoned. The next step, after -acknowledging this divinity, was to make a display of her power. Mankind -were to be _reasoned_ out of _all_ human sensibilities; but the loss was -to be supplied by reasoning them into a new assortment of human -sensibilities, on a larger and nobler scale. Brotherly regard was a puny -sentiment; what was a single brother to him who felt that millions of -freemen were his brothers! Marriage, too, that holy and heavenly[10] and -heart-sustaining institution, what with its graceful and beautiful -assemblage of bland obligations and virtuous sympathies—how stood the -fixed relation of husband and wife? Why, treason to natural -liberty!—“exclusive tenderness”—a bar to the performance of those -unconfined embraces, which spoke the reign of universal love. Parental -affection, and filial piety, also, were still less worthy to escape the -blight of this ruthless philosophical reform. How narrow was the -father’s mansion! How diminutive the mind that could look with reverence -to the beings that gave it birth, when the republic, sole heiress of -philanthropy and freedom—the great republic, offered herself as the fond -and universal parent. Nor could the sire, who argued logically, bewail -the sacrifice of his devoted offspring. His children—not his, but their -country’s children—were to be educated by and for that country. His -paternal feelings were not to be extinguished—no, nothing more than -transferred to the state, and ennobled by the magnitude of the object. -This same republic was a perfect “Scrub.” She was to play the sister, -husband, wife, son, and mother—confiscating and appropriating the -individual duties, rights, and charities of mankind—ransacking the -deepest recesses of the heart, and seizing as prizes to her sovereign -will the royalties and wrecks of human nature. - -‘_But the phrenzy did not terminate here._ It was not enough that all -the relations of life should merge in that of citizen: even “exclusive -patriotism” was a vulgar thought. In the paroxysms of disorder, it was -sometimes proposed, that the citizen himself should evaporate into a -citizen of the world. The universal republic—the vast family of -mankind—the deputations from the human race—became instruments with the -knaves who led, and visions for the dupes who admired. There can really -be no objection to this superfine theory, but that it is inconsistent -with the order of Providence, and destructive of the nature of man—that -it unfixes our moral land-marks—melts into air every practical virtue -and definite duty—substitutes words for salutary deeds—and by directing -our most natural and useful passions to objects indistinct or -unattainable, leaves these powerful agents afloat, and ends by abusing -them to the production of crime and misery. Such were the results of -that system of speculation, which assumed for its basis the existence of -a species of beings far above the pitch of humanity, and which, in its -application to human affairs, reduces them to the level of brutes. - -‘A sucker from the root of this poisonous vegetable is again in blossom, -and threatens the desolation of the moral world. We are called upon to -abdicate the right and obligation of preferring and protecting our -native country, that is, of enjoying our proper advantages, and of -discharging our specific trusts—and for what? Why, that we may undertake -the preposterous office, and execute the factitious duty of handing over -to a mortal enemy the greatness to which we have waded through blood and -fire, and raising his empire on the ruins of our own. Beware, we are -warned, of neglecting the rights of the adversary. It is our peculiar -business to guard the rights of France.’[11] - -The whole of this pompous episode is a mere diversion to the question. -Vetus, some time ago, asked, in a tone which could not be mistaken, ‘Who -are the French nation? A rank non-entity. Who are to be the sole judges -of the rights and pretensions of what once was France? We, and our -allies!’—and when we protest against this unheard-of basis of a -negociation between rival states, he answers with a tedious -prize-dissertation on the doctrine of universal benevolence, and the -perfectibility of man. Vetus insists on a peace (the only peace fit for -a wise nation) that shall remain a proud monument of its own -superiority,—that is, a peace which can never be made between any two -states, a peace that does not admit of the shadow of regard to the -rights, interests, or honour of the enemy, a peace that implies a -critical advance to the destruction of France. But it seems, that all -this proud display of pedantic phraseology, by which he attempted to -‘confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed the very faculties of eyes and -ears,’ now means nothing more than that we are to guard and protect our -native country, and not surrender our own rights to the enemy. There -needed no oracle to tell us that. But Vetus, having set out on the -forlorn hope of political paradox, is himself ashamed to turn back to a -trite truism, and contends that there is no safety for this country but -in the destruction of the enemy, and no patriotism which is not -inconsistent with the rights, liberties, and even existence of other -countries. We deny it. We say there is a patriotism consistent with the -claims of reason, justice, and humanity; and another _exclusive_ of -them. The latter is Vetus’s patriotism; the former is ours. This we have -stated before. We do not wonder that Vetus has not answered it; for it -does not admit of an answer. - -It seems, however, that the view we have taken (in common with all -civilized nations) of this subject, is ‘a sucker from the poisonous root -of universal benevolence’; and Vetus’s prejudices, coupling with that -_strumpet_ Reason, beget in his mind a sort of ‘mongrel metaphysical -enthusiasm,’ in which he sees visions, and has revelations of the -general nature of man. He tells us, we are regular adepts in that school -which, under the direction of the goddess, or the strumpet, Reason, (for -with him they are both the same) trampled on all human sensibilities, -and the charities of private life, to offer them up as a sacrifice to -that _monstrous fiction_, their country, and then to that _more -monstrous fiction_, their kind. This is the most curious defence of -patriotism we ever met with, and a striking instance of the pains which -this laborious reasoner takes to confute himself. Our country, according -to this patriotic writer, is ‘a perfect Scrub,’ a kind of Sin and Death -business, a contradiction, and a dire chimera, ‘confiscating and -appropriating the individual duties, rights, and charities of -mankind—ransacking the deepest recesses of the heart, and seizing as -prizes to her sovereign will the royalties and wrecks of human nature.’ -It is ‘a superfine theory, inconsistent with the order of Providence, -and destructive of the nature of man, and which, by pretending to raise -us far above the pitch of humanity, degrades us below the level of -brutes.’ But then ‘there is a phrenzy still greater’ than this, which is -the love of mankind. This is the consummation of enormity, and the -triumph of the strumpet-goddess. Vetus has here fallen into a more -desperate dilemma than any he has yet encountered in his perilous way. -We present him with the choice of a pair of alternatives: either he must -mean that the love of the republic, or our country, which he treats with -such profound contempt and abhorrence, is only bad when it destroys the -private and natural affections, or he must exclude at once every shadow -of regard to the rights, liberties, and happiness of mankind, and then -the same thing will follow of patriotism itself, which, as he says -truly, is an emanation from the same impure source, human reason, and so -to establish his favourite principle of _exclusive_ patriotism, he gets -rid of it altogether. ‘The latter end of this writer’s reasoning always -forgets the beginning.’ We will tell Vetus the hinge on which this whole -controversy turns, and what is the radical error of the system of -general philanthropy, which he has attempted to expose. It is, that it -is an _exclusive_ system, and is therefore unfitted for the nature of -man, who is a mixed being, made up of various principles, faculties, and -feelings. All these are good in their place and degree, as well as the -affections that spring from them—natural affection, patriotism, -benevolence: it is only _exclusive_ selfishness, _exclusive_ patriotism, -_exclusive_ philanthropy, that are inconsistent with the order of -Providence, and destructive of the nature of man: Vetus in avoiding one -extreme has fallen into another, for the extremes not only ‘of faction’ -but of folly meet; though we should be loth to compare the splendid -dreams of the philosophical enthusiast, who wished to raise man above -the pitch of his common nature, to the groveling, sordid, shuffling -paradoxes of Vetus, who would degrade him below the level of the brutes, -and whose maxims are as repugnant to common sense, and the practical -rules of life, as they are devoid of every thing elegant in imagination, -or consistent in reasoning. - - - ILLUSTRATIONS OF VETUS - - (CONCLUDED) - - ‘What do you read, my lord?—Words, words, words. - What is the matter?——_Nothing_.’ - - _Jan. 5, 1814._ - -We gave in our last article Vetus’s quaint denunciation of the -principles of patriotism and philanthropy. It appears by this, that the -same ‘jargon of metaphysics,’ and the same vapid rhetoric may be -employed against both these sacred and inviolable feelings, by any one -who is weak and vain enough to suppose that language was given us, not -to communicate truth to others, but to impose falsehood on ourselves. -Does Vetus mean to assert, that his _topics_ are fatal to all -patriotism, as well as all philanthropy? Or (which is the alternative) -that they are fatal to neither, properly understood,—that there is a -true and a false patriotism, a true and a false philanthropy? What will -‘the acknowledged saviours of Europe, the magnanimous defenders of the -commonwealth of nations, the liberators of Spain, the recreators of -Portugal, the regenerators of Germany,’ say to Vetus’s exclusive -patriotism? Or, we would ask, whether the abuse of reason, of which he -complains in certain moderns, is a sufficient cause that we should -explode it altogether? In the dialect of Don Quixote’s books of -chivalry, must ‘the unreasonableness of their reason so unreason our -reason,’ that we are to reject the faculty, both root and branch? Shall -we impiously renounce the goddess, because she has been personated by a -strumpet? Reason is the queen of the moral world, the soul of the -universe, the lamp of human life, the pillar of society, the foundation -of law, the beacon of nations, the golden chain, let down from heaven, -which links all animated and all intelligent natures in one common -system—and in the vain strife between fanatic innovation, and fanatic -prejudice we are exhorted to dethrone this queen of the world, to blot -out this light of the mind, to deface this fair column, to break in -pieces this golden chain! We are to discard and throw from us, with loud -taunts and bitter imprecations, that reason, which has been the lofty -theme of the philosopher, the poet, the moralist, and the divine, whose -name was not first named to be abused by the enthusiasts of the French -revolution, or to be blasphemed by the madder enthusiasts, their -opponents, but is coeval with, and inseparable from the nature and -faculties of man,—is the image of his Maker stamped upon him at his -birth, the understanding breathed into him with the breath of life, and -in the participation of which alone he is raised above the brute -creation, and his own physical nature!—Vetus labours hard to persuade -us, that the goddess and the strumpet are really one person, equally -‘convertible to the same abandoned purposes;’ that reason and sophistry -are the same thing. He may find his account in endeavouring to confound -them; but his indifference betrays the hollowness of his claims to true -reason, as the false mother was detected by her willingness to -compromise her own pretensions, only to be revenged on her rival. - -Vetus has, however, without knowing it, stumbled on an important truth, -which is, that patriotism, in modern times, and in great states, is and -must be the creature of reason and reflection, rather than the offspring -of physical or local attachment. Our country is a complex abstract -existence, known only to the understanding. It is an immense riddle, -containing numberless modifications of reason and prejudice, of thought -and passion. Patriotism is not, in a strict or exclusive sense, a -natural or personal affection, but a law of our rational and moral -nature, strengthened and determined by particular circumstances and -associations, but not born of them, nor wholly nourished by them. It is -not possible that we should have an individual attachment to sixteen -millions of men, any more than to sixty millions. We cannot be attached, -except rationally and ‘logically,’ to places we never saw, and people we -never heard of. Is not the name of Englishman a general term, as well as -that of man? How many varieties does it not combine within it? Are the -opposite extremities of the globe our native place, because they are a -part of that geographical and political denomination, our country? Does -natural affection expand in circles of latitude and longitude? What -personal or instinctive sympathy has the English peasant with the -African slave-driver, or East India nabob? None but the most ‘drawling -hypocritical’ sophist will say that there is any. These wretched -bunglers in metaphysics would fain persuade us to discard all public -principle, and all sense of abstract justice, as a violation of natural -affection, and yet do not see that the love of our country is itself in -the order of our general affections, except, indeed, that exclusive sort -which consists in a mere negation of humanity and justice. The common -notions of patriotism are, in fact, transmitted to us from the savage -tribes, or from the states of Greece and Rome, where the fate and -condition of all was the same, or where the country of the citizen was -the town in which he was born. Where this is no longer the case, where -our country is no longer contained within the narrow circle of the same -walls, where we can no longer behold its glimmering horizon from the top -of our native mountains—beyond these limits it is not a natural but an -artificial idea, and our love of it either an habitual dictate of -reason, or a cant term. It was said by an acute observer, and eloquent -writer, that the love of mankind was nothing but the love of justice: -the same might be said, with considerable truth, of the love of our -country. It is little more than another name for the love of liberty, of -independence, of peace and social happiness. We do not say, that other -indirect and collateral circumstances do not go to the superstructure of -this sentiment, (as language,[12] literature, manners, national -customs,) but this is the broad and firm basis. All other patriotism, -not founded on, or not consistent with truth, justice, and humanity, is -a painted sepulchre, fair without, but full of ravening and all -uncleanness within. ‘It leaves our passions afloat, and ends with -abusing them to crime and misery.’ It is the watchword of faction, the -base pander of avarice and pride, the ready tool in the hands of those -who, having no sense of public duty, and disclaiming all pretensions to -common humanity, sacrifice the lives of millions to the madness of one, -and are eager to offer up their country a devoted victim at the shrine -of power, as the miserable slave is yoked to the foul Eastern idol,[13] -and crushed beneath its chariot wheels! Thus the hired scribbler of a -profligate newspaper sits secure and self-satisfied at his desk—with a -venomed word, or a lie that looks like truth, sends thousands of his -countrymen to death,—receives his pay, and scribbles on, regardless of -the dying and the dead!—And this is patriotism. - -The _tempora mollia fandi_ do not belong to Vetus any more than to -ourselves. He is, like us, but an uncouth courtier, a rough, sturdy, -independent politician, who thinks and speaks for himself. He complains -of ‘the soft nonsense whispered in the higher circles,’ and gossipped in -_The Morning Post_, in favour of peace. Be it so, for once, that these -soft whispers are fraught with ruin, dishonour, and slavery to this -country. Yet, if the effeminate and dastard sound once floats through -the air, borne on the downy wing of fashion—if it is whispered from the -prince to the peer, and from lords to ladies, from ministers to their -clerks, from their clerks to the treasury-prints, and from the knaves -who write to the dupes who read—even the warning voice of Vetus will not -be able to prevent the Syren sound from spreading in gentle murmurs, and -‘smoothing the raven down of discord, till it smiles.’ And will Vetus -pretend such ignorance both of the court and of the country, as not to -know, that whether the word is war or peace, the same effect will -follow—that whether the breath of kings breathe ‘airs from heaven or -blasts from hell,’ the same well-attuned system of undulating sounds -will disperse them wide in eddying circles, and the same round of smiles -and whispers and significant shrugs will be repeated, whether the -country bleeds or starves, is enslaved within, or conquered without? All -those who do not catch the soft whisper, and mimic the gracious smile, -and join the magic circle, are no better than hypocrites, madmen, and -traitors to _their country_! We know it well. - -Vetus in vain attempts to repel the charge which we brought against _The -Times_, whose profession of eternal war with Bonaparte we said was -incompatible with the possibility of his making peace with us, by -asserting that this doctrine is ‘an audacious plagiarism, from the -portfolio of the French Minister.’ We have not such near access to the -portfolio of the French Government as this writer; but we have access to -_The Times_, and there we find this audacious plagiarism written in -large letters in almost every page. We say that wherever the doctrine is -found (whoever invented or whoever adopted it), there is an insuperable -bar to peace. If it is found on one side, that is the responsible side; -if it is found on both, neither can reproach the other with the -continuance of hostilities. This statement is plain and unanswerable. -Does Vetus think to ‘thrust us from a level consideration by a confident -brow, and the throng of words which come with such affected gravity from -him’? He disclaims the doctrine for himself. Why then is he so eager to -justify it in _The Times_? They are caught in the fact; they are taken -with the _manner_; and Vetus would divert us from executing summary -justice on them, by offering himself as security that they are only the -receivers of the stolen goods; ‘the audacious plagiarists,’ instead of -the atrocious inventors of this mischievous doctrine. Besides, the -answer is a wretched evasion, and makes the assertion itself senseless -and nugatory. The principle of _The Times_ was and is (if they have not -retracted it) that we are never to make peace with Bonaparte at all, -that is, though he would make peace with us, (otherwise the words have -no meaning) and then comes the gloss of Vetus, which is, that we will -not make peace with him, only because he will not make peace with us. -Ridiculous!—Vetus asks, ‘Who has been the founder of this shocking -creed—who the aggressor—who the unrelenting enemies of peace?’ May we -not answer—‘The incessant war-faction of England’? Why would Vetus strip -‘these acknowledged saviours of Europe’ of the praise which is so justly -due to them, or degrade them from that proud eminence which they have -maintained with so much persevering fortitude? We cannot withhold from -these persons our sincere conscientious thanks for all the benefits -which this war has conferred on our country, on Europe, and the world. -While France strove insidiously to ruin us by peace, these firm patriots -have always been determined to save us by war—from ‘England’s greatest -and most magnanimous politician,’ down to the last desperate incendiary -of _The Times_, who is only willing to conclude ‘a Regicide Peace’ by -celebrating ‘the condign and solemn punishment of Bonaparte!’[14] - -Vetus says, that ‘eternal war is no expression of his, and that it is a -deliberate falsehood in us who assert that he has used it, or that this -country has no alternative between eternal war and eternal bondage.’ ‘It -is not England,’ he says, ‘but France—not Vetus, but the French -government—who has broached the creed, and one of the two countries must -in the end destroy the other.’ - -If it is a falsehood, it is a deliberate one, for we do deliberately -assert that he uses these words, and inculcates this doctrine -incessantly. But instead of contradicting Vetus, it is better to let him -contradict himself; no one else can do it so effectually. In his last -letter but one he has these words:—‘It is, I conscientiously believe, a -question, _which of these two countries shall destroy the other_. In -that case my part is taken.—France must be ruined to save our native -country from being ruined.—If this be perpetual war, I cannot help -it.—Perpetual war has little terror, when perpetual bondage threatens -us.’ Either the interpretation of this passage is that which we have -given to it, or, as Vetus says, ‘the English language must be -constructed anew.’ - -He now, indeed, mitigates the dread sentence he had passed upon us, by -saying, not that we have no alternative but either war, or slavery, or -_peace_. We are glad that Vetus has introduced this new clause in our -favour into the codicil; it was not in the original will, or expressed -in such faint characters, that we, with the rest of the public, missed -the intended benefaction. Just in the same manner, that profound -politician and humane writer, the author of the Essay on Population, -found out that the only possible checks to excessive population, were -vice and misery, which were, therefore, to be considered as the greatest -blessings of mankind, and having gained a vast reputation by this -singular discovery, he then recollected what every one knew before, that -there was another check to this principle, viz. _moral restraint_, and -that consequently vice and misery were not the greatest blessings of -society. - -We did not state it as an inconsistency in Vetus, that he held out -_France_ as an object of terror, and yet recommended a negociation with -Bonaparte, because his government tended to weaken France, but we did -state it as a rank inconsistency in Vetus to hold up _Bonaparte_ as an -object of peculiar terror to this country, and yet to represent his -government as tottering on the brink of deplorable weakness and -unavoidable ruin. Vetus could not meet the objection, and he has altered -the terms. - -Vetus concludes his letter with the following note:— - -‘_The stupid impertinence_’ (charged on the attacks made upon him) ‘has -no relation to _The Morning Chronicle_, with which I am disposed to part -in peace. One feels a tolerance towards that paper, for the talents -which once adorned it; and of the continuance of which I should rejoice -to see more proof in its late attacks on Vetus. We have little common -faith in politics, but we have, I trust, a common stake in the spirit -and dignity of the press.’ - -We are obliged to Vetus for this amicable offer, of the sincerity of -which we entertain no doubt. As to the talent shown in our attacks on -him, we are ready to admit that it is little enough; but we at the same -time think that if it had been greater, it would have been more than the -occasion required. We have no enmity to Vetus, but to his extravagance, -and if he will correct that, he will save us the trouble of correcting -it for him. We are ready to believe that this writer has talents and -acquirements which might be made useful to the public, if he would -forego his mistaken pretensions to extraordinary wisdom and eloquence. -The qualities of profound thought and splendid imagery are seldom found -singly in the same person, and the union of both together is an -undertaking much beyond the capacity of Vetus. And now we leave him to -return to his indigestions with ‘what appetite he may.’[15] - - - - - ON THE LATE WAR - - - _April 3, 1814._ - -The systematic patrons of eternal war are always returning, when they -dare, to the point from which they set out twenty years ago; the war -with them has not yet lost its original character: they have long -memories: they never lose sight of their objects and principles. We -cannot but admire their candour as well as their consistency, and would -wish to imitate it. It is deemed necessary by the everlasting -war-faction to prove in their own justification, ‘that the march to -Paris was not chimerical in 1793,’ by carrying it into effect now, and -to blot France out of the map of Europe, three-and-twenty years after -the event had been announced by that great prophet and politician, Mr. -Burke. This splendid reverie is not yet accomplished. The triumph of the -Pitt-school over the peace-faction is not yet complete; but we are put -in complete possession of what is required to make it so. As the war -with them was a war of extermination, so the peace, not to fix a lasting -stigma on their school and principles, must be a peace of extermination. -This is what we always said and thought of those principles and that -school. This is their triumph, their _only_ triumph—the true crown of -their hopes, the consummation of their utmost wishes, nothing short of -which can satisfy their proud pretensions, or finish this just and -necessary war, as it was begun. Otherwise, no peace for them; otherwise, -they will have failed in both branches of that happy dilemma, hit upon -by the beneficent genius of ‘the great statesman, now no more,’ the -necessity of destroying France, or being ourselves destroyed in the -attempt. If they succeed in neither experiment, all that they have done -is surely lost labour. They have then a right to their revenge, ‘their -pound of carrion-flesh’—‘’tis theirs, ’tis dearly bought, and they will -have it.’ Be it so. But we shall let them feast alone: we are not -_man-eaters_. We shall not join the barbarous yell of this worse than -Thracian rout, nor figure in at the close of their dance of death, nor -applaud the catastrophe of their twenty years’ tragedy. We did not -approve it in its commencement or progress; nor will we hail its -threatened conclusion. We have had, and we will have, no hand in the -plot, the execution, the scene-shifting, or the decoration. We leave the -full credit of it to the original authors; and, in spite of all the -puffing of the Bayes’s of the Pitt-school, the only answer they will get -from us is, ‘’Tis an indifferent piece of work: would ’twere done!’ -Though the torch of _The Times_ blazes over Paris, ‘fierce as a comet’; -though _The Sun_ sees the lilied banner of the Bourbons floating before -Lord Wellington in the plains of Normandy; though _The Courier_ is -setting out post-haste to break up the negociations at Chatillon; and -_The Morning Herald_ sheds tears of joy over the fashionable virtues of -the rising generation, and finds that we shall make better -man-milliners, better lacqueys, and better courtiers than ever—we remain -sceptical as to the success, and more than sceptical as to the necessity -of this last cast of our political dicers, and desperate venture of our -licenced dealers and chapmen in morality and massacre. In our opinion, -lives enough have been thrown away to prove, that the survivors are only -born to _bear fardels_. This is the moral of the piece, if it succeeds -on the principles of the Pitt-school, and all short of that is mere -gratuitous mischief. The war, conducted on those principles and for -those purposes, ‘was not, and it cannot come to good.’ Its failure, or -its success, must be fatal. - -The war, as it was carried on from the first by the Pitt-school, and as -they would now revive it, was not a national quarrel, but a question -about a political principle. It had no more to do with France or England -as geographical denominations, than the wars between the Guelphs and -Gibelines. It was not a war of mercantile advantage, or a trial of -strength between two countries, which must be decided by the turn of -events, by the probable calculation of loss and profit, but a war -against an opinion, which could, therefore, never cease, but with the -extirpation of that opinion. Hence there could be neither safety, nor -honour, nor justice, in any terms of peace with the French government, -because, by the supposition, it was not with its power or its conduct, -but with its existence, that we were at war. Hence the impossibility of -maintaining the relations of peace and amity with France. Hence Mr. -Burke’s regicide war. Hence the ridiculousness asserted by _The -Courier_, of even attempting negociation with this hated power. Hence -the various and contradictory aspects which the war assumed after its -first outset, and all of which answered the purpose equally well, -because there was another pivot on which the whole turned, the -sheet-anchor which never loosed its hold, and which enabled ‘the pilot -to weather the storm.’ It was not a temporary or local question of the -boundaries, the possessions, or particular rights of rival states, but a -question, in which all states are at all times equally interested, of -the internal right of any people to choose its own form of government. -Whether this was a just ground of war or not, is another question; but -it was the true one—that which gave its character to the war, and -accounts for all its consequences. It was a war of proscription against -a great and powerful state, for having set the example of a people -ridding itself of an odious and despicable tyranny. It was the question -of the balance of power between kings and people; a question, compared -with which the balance of power in Europe is petty and insignificant. -That what we have here stated, are the real and paramount grounds of -this bloody and inveterate contest in the minds of the war-faction is, -what we apprehend they will not, in their present state of frenzy, deny. -They are the only ones that always survive the shock of accident and the -fluctuation of circumstances, and which are always recurred to when all -others fail, and are constantly avowed in the face of day, whenever the -least probability of success attends them. It has been declared again -and again, month after month, and year after year, that no peace should -be made with France till the last remaining effort had been tried to -attain this object. We were to bury ourselves with our great -war-minister, under the ruins of the civilized world, sooner than relax -in our exertions, or recede from our object. No sacrifices were to be -held too dear—no sufferings too great in the prosecution of this sacred -cause. No other than the last extremity was to force peace from us. -Nothing short of the complete subjugation of France was to satisfy -us—nothing short of our own ruin was to drive us to despair. We were -like wrestlers, struggling on the edge of a precipice, one (or both) of -whom must be certain of destruction. Such were the mad, mischievous, and -unprincipled terms, on which a pampered crew of sycophants have played -away the welfare, the repose, the liberties, and happiness of mankind, -and on which they would now urge us to stake our all again, to realize -their favourite scheme of the march to Paris, and the annihilation of -the French people. - -The consequences of the Pitt project were inevitable. From the moment -that the existence of France as a nation was declared to be incompatible -with that of the surrounding states—that she was denounced as a nuisance -which must be abated, and set up as a mark for the vengeance of the rest -of the world, the struggle necessarily became convulsive, and the -re-action terrible. Is it then a matter of wonder, that in this -unnatural strife, France, proscribed, hunted down, put out of the pale -of nations, endeavoured rather to reduce others to the last extremity -than to be reduced to it herself? Or are we entitled to wreak that -vengeance upon her which we could not at first execute, because the -engine which we had prepared to crush her has recoiled with the greatest -violence upon ourselves? It has been said that we less easily forgive -the injuries we do or meditate against others, than those we receive -from them. There are, we know, persons to whom the celebrated line of -the historian is, at all times, applicable: _Odia in longum jaciens, quæ -conderet, auctaque promeret_. We are not surprised to find that the good -intentions of these persons towards France, though she did not submit to -the original tender made to her of their kind interference and paternal -care, have not spoiled by keeping. If Titus complained with so much -bitterness, that he had lost a day to virtue, what must not some modern -friends to mankind feel, when they reflect that they have lost so many -years in the execution of their just and beneficent plans!—In spite of -Mr. Southey’s reasoning in his _Carmen Triumphale_, about joining ‘the -avengers of mankind,’ we conceive that the wheel has gone once round -already, ‘full circle home,’ and that now it had better stand still. - -But it may be said, do we mean to apply these remarks to Bonaparte? As -far as relates to any merits of the war-faction. It was they who -implicated him with the cause of the French people, as ‘the child and -champion of Jacobinism.’ We cannot express our opinion better than in -the words of Mr. Whitebread, ‘that England had made Bonaparte, and he -had undone himself.’ He was the creature of the Pitt-school. Was the -iron scourge which he has held over Europe put into his hands by the -peace-party? Were the battles of Austerlitz and Jena—were the march to -Vienna, the possession of Berlin, the invasion of Spain, the expedition -to Russia, and the burning of Moscow, the consequences of the signing or -of the breaking of the treaty of Amiens? - -The author of the letters of Vetus, (who we suppose is silenced by _The -Times_, for asserting that the Bourbons have no more a lawful right to -the throne of France, at this moment, than the Stuarts had to the throne -of England twenty years after the Revolution of 1688,) is of opinion, -that this war is merely national, merely the old grudge between the two -countries; and that the Bourbons, the Republic, and Bonaparte, are -equally hostile to England, and we to them. In this, as in most things -else, our opinion is the opposite of his. There is only one period of -the history of the two countries, which, reversed, furnishes an exact -counterpart to the present contest, both in its avowed principles and -secret motives—we mean the war waged by Louis XIV. against this country -and its allies, for nearly as long a period after the English -Revolution. The difference in the results of these two revolutions has -been this: that from the insular situation of this country, which -enables us to do either right or wrong, nearly with impunity, and which -makes our means of defence greater, and our means of offence -proportionably less—that from this collateral cause, the internal -struggle, in proportion to the danger, was less bloody in our own case, -and the re-action of our efforts to defend ourselves from the imposition -of a foreign yoke and of hereditary slavery, less violent and fatal to -other states. All the differences have arisen from the character of the -two nations, and from local and accidental circumstances: there was none -in the abstract political principle. We gave them the example of their -Revolution; we also gave them an example of ‘national fortitude’ in -maintaining it. We—the people of England, (not an upstart jacobite -faction in the Hanoverian line,) are proud of having imitators; and we -think it not unlikely that the French, if forced upon it, may behave on -this occasion as the English behaved, when an hereditary pretender came -over to us, backed by the aid of foreign arms, to assert his lawful -claim to the throne—that is, in other words, to be the natural -proprietor of a whole people. We twice sent him back again with all his -myrmidons; we would not be made a property of. We felt that in not doing -so we should be traitors, not only to our country, but to our kind—the -worst species of treason to our country. It is curious that the ‘deepest -enmity which the French people have drawn down upon them by their early -struggles in the same cause, should be shewn by that government who had -long insulted the slavery of Europe by the loudness of its boasts of -freedom.’ We do not know how it is, but so it has happened, that in the -thirty years of war which have graced the annals of the present reign, -there has been a considerable want of sympathy between the crown and the -people, as if the quarrel were merely the cause of kings, in which the -people had no concern. Has this circumstance arisen from any unpleasant -sense of obligation, or consciousness of a little irregularity and -deviation from the right line in the descent of the crown, no more -accounted for in Mr. Burke’s Reflections, than the declination of atoms -in Epicurus’s philosophy? The restoration of the Bourbons in France will -be the re-establishment of the principles of the Stuarts in this -country.[16] - - - - - PRINCE MAURICE’S PARROT - - OR, FRENCH INSTRUCTIONS TO A BRITISH PLENIPOTENTIARY - - - _Sept. 18, 1814._ - -1. That the French people were so deeply implicated in the Slave trade, -as not even to know that it had been abolished by this country. - -2. That the French press had been so long under the complete despotic -control of Bonaparte, that the present government must despair of making -any immediate impression on the independence of the political opinions, -or the energetic firmness of the individual feelings of the people, -lately consigned to their protection. - -3. That such were their blind and rooted prejudices against the English, -that we could only hope to convince them of our entire sincerity and -disinterestedness in abolishing the Slave Trade ourselves, by lending a -helping hand to its revival by others. - -4. That if we consented to give up our colonial conquests to the French, -on conditions dictated only by the general principles of humanity, this -would be a proof that we intended to keep them in our hands from the -most base and mercenary motives. - -5. That the French government simply wished to begin the Slave Trade -again as the easiest way of leaving it off, that so they might combine -the experiment of its gradual restoration with that of its gradual -abolition, and, by giving the people an interest in it, more effectually -wean their affections from it. - -6. That it is highly honourable in us to have proposed, and in the -French to have agreed to, the abolition of the Slave Trade, at the end -of five years, though it would have been insulting in us to have -proposed, and degrading in them to have submitted to, any stipulation on -the subject. - -7. That to rob and murder on the coast of Africa is among the internal -rights of legislation and domestic privileges of every European and -Christian state. - -8. That we are not to teach the French people religion and morality at -the point of the sword, though this is what we have been professing to -teach them for the last two and twenty years. - -9. That his most Christian Majesty Louis XVIII. is so fully impressed -with the humane and benevolent sentiments of Great Britain and the -allies in favour of the abolition of the Slave Trade, that he was ready -to have plunged all Europe into a war for its continuance. - -10. That we could not possibly make the abolition, (though the French -government would certainly have made the revival) of the Slave Trade a -_sine qua non_ in the treaty of peace, and that they would otherwise -have gone to war to recover by force of arms what they can only owe to -the credulity or complaisance of our negociators. - -Lastly. That by consenting to the re-establishment of the Slave Trade in -France, we were most effectually preparing the way for its abolition all -over the world. - -‘With so little a web as this will I ensnare so great a fly as -_Cassio_!’—Such were the formidable barriers, the intricate lines of -circumvallation, drawn by the French round the abolition of the Slave -Trade, as strong as those which they threw up to defend their capital: -yet we think, that after our political missionary had overleaped the -one, he might have broken through the other. Where there is a will, -there is a way. But there are some minds to which every flimsy pretext -presents an insurmountable obstacle, where only the interests of justice -and humanity are at stake. These persons are always impotent to -save—powerful only to oppress and to betray. Their torpid faculties and -amiable apathy are never roused but by the calculations of -self-interest, or the thirst of revenge. The glossy sleekness of the -panther’s skin does not blunt the sharpness of his fangs, and his -fawning eye dooms his victim while it glitters. But to come to Lord -Castlereagh. In the present instance, he appears to have been cajoled -into acquiescence from his well-known indifference to the object. His -speech contained nothing but a story of a cock and a bull, told by M. -Talleyrand with great grace and gravity, assented to by his Lordship -with equal affability and address, and repeated to the House of Commons -with hesitating volubility and plausible negligence of manner. It is -well to sacrifice to the graces; but it is too much to have sacrificed a -whole continent to the graces of M. Talleyrand’s person, or the purity -of his French accent. We can imagine how the scene took place. This -question of Africa, being considered as an idle question, in which -neither courts nor ministers were concerned, would be naturally left as -a sort of _carte-blanche_ for all the flourishes of national -_politesse_, as a kind of _no man’s ground_ for a trial of diplomatic -skill and complaisance. So Lord Castlereagh, drawing on his gloves, -hemmed once or twice, while the French minister carelessly took snuff: -he then introduced the question with a smile, which was answered by a -more gracious smile from M. Talleyrand: his Lordship then bowed, as if -to bespeak attention; but the Prince of Benevento bowing still lower, -prevented what he had to say; and the cries of Africa were lost amidst -the nods and smile and shrugs of these demi-puppets. The Ex-bishop of -Autun may in future hope to find a successful representative in the -English Ambassador from Paris; for the noble secretary _mistified_ the -house, as he had himself been _mistified_ by his highness of -Benevento.—Count Fathom, after his defeat by the French abbé, practised -in this his adopted country with great applause! We may take this -opportunity of remarking, that we do not think his Lordship at all -improved during his stay in France. He performs the arc of his -oscillation from the treasury bench to the table, and from the table -back again, in a second less time than he used to do. He commits dulness -with greater vivacity, and flounders more briskly in an argument. He has -enhanced the loose dangling slip-shod manner which so well accords with -his person and understanding, into something positive and dogmatical; -and is even grown tenacious of the immaculateness of his maiden treaty, -which he will not have so much as suspected: In this alteration of tone -we think him wrong. We have always looked upon Lord Castlereagh as an -excellent taffeta lining to a court dress; but he should leave the -buckram of office to his friend the secretary of the Admiralty. - - - - - WHETHER THE FRIENDS OF FREEDOM CAN ENTERTAIN ANY SANGUINE HOPES OF THE - FAVOURABLE RESULTS OF THE ENSUING CONGRESS? - - - _Oct. 23, 1814._ - -An excellent article appeared in the EXAMINER of last week, giving a -general outline of the views and principles which ought to actuate the -allied powers at the approaching Congress, and of the leading -arrangements with respect to the different subjects to be brought under -consideration, which ought to follow from those principles. Cordially as -we agree with this respectable writer in the several points which he has -stated, we are, we confess, far from feeling any strong assurances that -even any one of these points will be amicably adjusted. They are briefly -these:—1. That Poland should be restored to her independence. 2. That -the other powers of Europe should no longer co-operate with Sweden in -the subjugation of Norway. 3. That the Slave Trade should be immediately -and generally abolished. 4. That Saxony should not share a fate similar -to that of Poland. 5. That Austria should relinquish her views of unjust -aggrandisement in Italy. 6. and last, That some concessions should -probably be made by England as to her exclusive claims to maritime -supremacy, as far as those claims are found to be rather galling to the -feelings of other nations, than essential to her own security. All of -the objects here recommended are, we should imagine, every way -practicable as well as desirable, if there were any thing like a hearty -good-will to avail themselves of the present favourable situation of the -world in those who have the power to decide its fate. Armed with -sovereign authority, seconded by public opinion, with every obstacle -removed from their dread of the overwhelming power of France, they have -all the means at their disposal to rear a splendid, lofty, and lasting -monument to justice, liberty, and humanity. Are the views then of the -allied sovereigns solely directed to these objects? That is the simple -question; and we are afraid it would be great presumption to answer it -in the affirmative. It would be supposing that the late events have -purified the hearts of princes and nations; that they have been taught -wisdom by experience, and the love of justice from the sense of injury; -that mutual confidence and good-will have succeeded to narrow prejudices -and rankling jealousy; that the race of ambitious and unprincipled -monarchs, of crafty politicians, and self-interested speculators is at -an end; that the destructive rivalry between states has given way to -liberal and enlightened views of general safety and advantage; and that -the powers of Europe will in future unite with the same zeal and -magnanimity for the common good, as when they were bound in a common -cause against the common enemy. All this appears to us quite as Utopian -as any other scheme which supposes that the human mind can change. Happy -should we be, if instead of those magnificent and beneficial projects in -which some persons seem still to indulge their imaginations as the -results of this meeting, the whole should not turn out to be no better -than a compromise of petty interests, of shallow policy, and flagrant -injustice. - -We forbore for a long time from saying any thing on this ungrateful -subject: but our forbearance has not hitherto, at least, been rewarded. -We shall therefore speak out plainly on the subject; as we should be -sorry to be thought accomplices in a delusion, which can only end in -disappointment. The professions of justice, moderation, and the love of -liberty, made by the powers of Europe at the end of the last, and at the -beginning of the present year, were certainly admirable: they were -called for at the time, and were possibly sincere. But we are all of us -apt to forego those good resolutions which are extorted from us by -circumstances rather than from reason or habit, and to recant ‘vows made -in pain as violent and void.’ Without meaning any indirect allusion to -the person into whose mouth these words are put, we believe this, that -princes are princes, and that men are men; and that to expect any great -sacrifices of interest or passion from either in consequence of certain -well-timed and well-sounding professions, drawn from them by necessity, -when that necessity no longer exists, is to belie all our experience of -human nature. We remember what modern courts and ministers were before -the dreaded power of Bonaparte arose; and we conceive this to be the -best and only ground to argue what they will be, now that that power has -ceased. ‘Why so, being gone, they are themselves again.’ It appears to -us, that some very romantic and extravagant expectations were -entertained from the destruction of the tyranny of Bonaparte. It is -true, his violence and ambition for a while suspended all other projects -of the same kind. ‘The right divine of kings to govern wrong’ was -wrested from the puny hands of its legitimate possessors, and strangely -monopolized by one man. The regular professors of the regal art were set -aside by the superior skill and prowess of an adventurer. They became in -turn the tools, or the victims of the machinations of the maker and -puller-down of kings. Instead of their customary employment of annoying -their neighbours, or harassing their subjects, they had enough to do to -defend their territories and their titles. The aggressions which they -had securely meditated against the independence of nations, and their -haughty contempt for the liberties of mankind, were retorted on their -own heads. The poisoned chalice was returned to their own lips. They -then first felt the sting of injustice, and the bitterness of scorn. -They saw how weak and little they were in themselves. They were roused -from the still life of courts, and forced to assume the rank of men. -They appealed to their people to defend their thrones; they called on -them to rally round the altar of their country; they invoked the name of -liberty, and in that name they conquered. Plans of national -aggrandisement or private revenge were forgotten in the intoxication of -triumph, as they had been in the agony of despair. This sudden -usurpation had so overpowered the imaginations of men, that they began -to consider it as the only evil that had ever existed in the world, and -that with it, all tyranny and ambition would cease. War was talked of as -if it had been an invention of the modern Charlemagne, and the Golden -age was to be restored with the Bourbons. But it is hard for the great -and mighty to learn in the school of adversity: emperors and kings bow -reluctantly to the yoke of necessity. When the panic is over, they will -be glad to drink of the cup of oblivion. The false idols which had been -set up to Liberty and Nature, to Genius and Fortune, are thrown down, -and they have once more ‘all power given them upon earth.’ How they are -likely to use it, whether for the benefit and happiness of mankind, or -to gratify their own prejudices and passions, we have, in one or two -instances, seen already. No one will in future look for ‘the milk of -human kindness’ in the Crown Prince of Sweden, who is a monarch of the -new school; nor for examples of romantic generosity and gratitude in -Ferdinand of Spain, who is one of the old. A jackal or baboon, dandled -in the paws of a royal Bengal tiger, may not be very formidable; but it -would be idle to suppose, if they should providentially escape, that -they would become tame, useful, domestic animals. - -The King of Prussia has recovered the sword of the Great Frederick, his -humane, religious, moral, and unambitious predecessor, only, as it -appears, to unsheath it against the King of Saxony, his old companion in -arms. The Emperor of Austria seems eager to catch at the iron crown of -Italy, which has just fallen from the brows of his son-in-law. The King -of France, _our_ King of France, Louis the Desired, and who by the ‘all -hail hereafter,’ is to receive the addition of Louis the Wise, has -improved his reflections during a twenty years’ exile, into a humane and -amiable sanction of the renewal of the Slave Trade for five years only. -His Holiness the Pope, happy to have escaped from the clutches of the -arch-tyrant and impostor, employs his leisure hours in restoring the -order of the Jesuits, and persecuting the Freemasons. Ferdinand, the -grateful and the enlightened, who has passed through the same discipline -of humanity with the same effect, shuts up the doors of the Cortes, (as -it is scandalously asserted, at the instigation of Lord Wellington), and -throws open those of the Inquisition. At all this, the romantic admirers -of patriot kings, who fondly imagined that the hatred of the oppressor -was the same thing as the hatred of oppression, (among these we presume -we may reckon the poet-laureat,) hang their heads, and live in hope of -better times. To us it is all natural, and in order. From this grand -gaol-delivery of princes and potentates, we could expect nothing else -than a recurrence to their old habits and favourite principles. These -observations have not been hastily or gratuitously obtruded: they have -been provoked by a succession of disgusting and profligate acts of -inconsistency and treachery, unredeemed by a single effort of heroic -virtue or generous enthusiasm. Almost every principle, almost every -profession, almost every obligation, has been broken. If any proof is -wanting, look at Norway, look at Italy, look at Spain, look at the -Inquisition, look at the Slave Trade. The mask of liberty has been taken -off by most of the principal performers; the whining cant of humanity is -no longer heard in _The Courier_ and _The Times_. What then remains for -us to build a hope upon, but the Whig principles of the Prince Regent, -inherited from his ancestors, and the good nature of the Emperor of -Russia, the merit of which is entirely his own? Of the former of these -personages, our opinion is so well known, that we need not repeat it -here. Again, of the good intentions of the last-mentioned sovereign, we -declare that we have as full a persuasion. We believe him to be docile -to instruction, inquisitive after knowledge, and inclined to good. But -it has been said by those who have better means of information than -ourselves, that he is too open to the suggestions of those about him; -that, like other learners, he thinks the newest opinion the best, and -that his real good-nature and want of duplicity render him not -sufficiently proof against the selfish or sinister designs of others. He -has certainly a character for disinterestedness and magnanimity to -support in history: but history is a glass in which few minds fashion -themselves. If in his late conduct there was any additional impulse -given to the natural simplicity of his character, it probably arose from -an obvious desire to furnish a contrast to the character of Bonaparte, -and also to redeem the Russian character, hitherto almost another name -for barbarity and ferociousness, in the eyes of civilized Europe. In -this point of view, we should not despair that something may be -attempted, at least with respect to Poland, by the present autocrat of -all the Russias, to blot out certain stains on the reputation of his -grand-mother, the Empress Catherine. - -With regard to Norway, the only hope of the suspension of its fate seems -to arise out of a very natural, if not laudable jealousy and distaste, -which have been conceived by some of the old-standing sovereigns of -Europe against the latest occupier and most forward pretender to -thrones. An adventurer who has made a fortune by gaining a prize in the -lottery, or by laying _qui tam_ informations against his accomplices, -cannot expect to be admitted, on an equality, into the company of -persons of regular character and family estates. The Emperor of Austria, -in particular, may have additional motives of dislike to Bernadotte, -connected with late events; and we agree with the _Examiner_, that he -may, in the end, ‘have to regret the length to which he was hurried -against a man, who was the key-stone of all the new power which had been -built on the ruin of thrones.’ - -As to any immediate adjustment of the maritime rights of this country, -on general principles, satisfactory to all parties, we see no reason to -expect it. We think the following paragraph justifies us in this -opinion. ‘We are told,’ says the _Morning Chronicle_, ‘that on the day -when the capture of the city of Washington, and the demolition of its -public buildings reached Paris, the Duke of Wellington had a ball: not -one public ambassador of the potentates of Europe, our good allies, -presented himself to congratulate his grace on the event.’ We here see, -on one side, the most absurd expectations of disinterested sympathy with -our national feelings, and as little disposition to enter into them on -the other. It is strange that the above paragraph should have found its -way into a paper which makes an almost exclusive profession of liberal -and comprehensive views. - -Nor can we indulge in any serious expectations of ‘the immediate and -general abolition of the Slave Trade.’ Africa has little to hope from -‘the prevailing gentle arts’ of Lord Castlereagh. However sturdy he may -be in asserting our maritime rights, he will, we imagine, go to sleep -over those of humanity, and waking from his _doux sommeil_, find that -the dexterous prince of political jugglers has picked his pocket of his -African petitions, if, indeed, he chuses to carry the credentials of his -own disgrace about with him. There are two obstacles to the success of -this measure. In the first place, France has received such forcible -lessons from this country on the old virtues of patriotism and loyalty, -that she must feel particularly unwilling to be dictated to on the new -doctrines of liberality and humanity. Secondly, the abolition of the -Slave Trade, on our part, was itself the act of Mr. Fox’s -administration—an administration which we should suppose there is no -very strong inclination to relieve from any part of the contempt or -obloquy which it has been the fashion to pour upon it, by extending the -benefit of its measures, or recommending the adoption of its principles. - -There is another point, on which, though our doubts are by no means -strong or lasting, we do not at all times feel the same absolute -confidence—the continuance of the present order of things in France. The -principles adhered to in the determination of some of the preceding -arrangements, and the permanent views which shall appear to actuate the -other powers of Europe, may have no inconsiderable influence on this -great question. Whatever tends to allay the ferment in men’s minds, and -to take away just causes of recrimination and complaint, must, of -course, lessen the pretexts for change. We should not, however, be more -disposed to augur such a change from the remaining attachment of -individuals, or of the army, to Bonaparte, than from the general -versatility and restlessness of the French character, and their total -want of settled opinion, which might oppose a check to military -enthusiasm. Even their present unqualified zeal, in the cause of the -Bourbons, is ominous. How long this sudden fit of gratitude, for -deliverance from evils certainly brought upon them by their slowness to -admit the remedy, may continue, it is impossible to say. A want of -_keeping_ is the distinguishing quality of the French character. A -people of this sort cannot be depended on for a moment. They are blown -about like a weathercock, with every breath of caprice or accident, and -would cry _vive l’empereur_ to-morrow, with as much vivacity and as -little feeling, as they do _vive le roi_ to-day. They have no fixed -principle of action. They are alike indifferent to every thing: their -self-complacency supplies the place of all other advantages—of virtue, -liberty, honour, and even of outward appearances. They are the only -people who are vain of being cuckolded and being conquered.—A people -who, after trampling over the face of Europe so long, fell down before -their assailants without striking a blow, and who boast of their -submission as a fine thing, are not a nation of men, but of women. The -spirit of liberty, at the Revolution, gave them an impulse common to -humanity; the genius of Bonaparte gave them the spirit of military -ambition. Both of these gave an energy and consistency to their -character, by concentrating their natural volatility on one great -object. But when both of these causes failed, the Allies found that -France consisted of nothing but ladies’ toilettes. The army are the -muscular part of the state; mere patriotism is a pasteboard visor, which -opposes no resistance to the sword. Whatever they determine will be -done; an effeminate public is a non-entity. They will not relish the -Bourbons long, if they remain at peace; and if they go to war, they will -want a monarch who is also a general. - - - - - THE LAY OF THE LAUREATE, CARMEN NUPTIALE, _by Robert Southey, Esq., - Poet-Laureate, Member of the Royal Spanish Academy, and of the Royal - Spanish Academy of History_.—London, Longmans, 1816. - - - _Examiner_, _July 7, 1816_. - -The dog which his friend Launce brought as a present to Madam Silvia in -lieu of a lap-dog, was something like ‘The Lay of the Laureate,’ which -Mr. Southey has here offered to the Princess Charlotte for a Nuptial -Song. It is ‘a very currish performance, and deserves none but currish -thanks.’ Launce thought his own dog, Crab, better than any other; and -Mr. Southey thinks his own praises the fittest compliment for a lady’s -ear. His Lay is ten times as long, and he thinks it is therefore ten -times better than an Ode of Mr. Pye’s. - -Mr. Southey in this poem takes a tone which was never heard before in -a drawing-room. It is the first time that ever a Reformist was made a -Poet-laureate. Mr. Croker was wrong in introducing his old friend, the -author of ‘Joan of Arc,’ at Carlton-House. He might have known how it -would be. If we had doubted the good old adage before, ‘Once a Jacobin -and always a Jacobin,’ since reading ‘The Lay of the Laureate,’ we are -sure of it. A Jacobin is one who would have his single opinion govern -the world, and overturn every thing in it. Such a one is Mr. Southey. -Whether he is a Republican or a Royalist,—whether he hurls up the red -cap of liberty, or wears the lily, stained with the blood of all his -old acquaintance, at his breast,—whether he glories in Robespierre or -the Duke of Wellington—whether he pays a visit to Old Sarum, or makes -a pilgrimage to Waterloo,—whether he is praised by _The Courier_, or -parodied by Mr. Canning,—whether he thinks a King the best or the -worst man in his dominions,—whether he is a Theophilanthropist or a -Methodist of the church of England,—whether he is a friend of -Universal Suffrage and Catholic Emancipation, or a Quarterly -Reviewer,—whether he insists on an equal division of lands, or of -knowledge,—whether he is for converting infidels to Christianity, or -Christians to infidelity,—whether he is for pulling down the kings of -the East or those of the West,—whether he sharply sets his face -against all establishments, or maintains that whatever is, is -right,—whether he prefers what is old to what is new, or what is new -to what is old,—whether he believes that all human evil is remediable -by human means, or makes it out to himself that a Reformer is worse -than a housebreaker,—whether he is in the right or the wrong, poet or -prose-writer, courtier or patriot,—he is still the same pragmatical -person—every sentiment or feeling that he has is nothing but the -effervescence of incorrigible overweening self-opinion. He not only -thinks whatever opinion he may hold for the time infallible, but that -no other is even to be tolerated, and that none but knaves and fools -can differ with him. ‘The friendship of the good and wise is his.’ If -any one is so unfortunate as to hold the same opinions that he himself -formerly did, this but aggravates the offence by irritating the -jealousy of his self-love, and he vents upon them a double portion of -his spleen. Such is the constitutional slenderness of his -understanding, its ‘glassy essence,’ that the slightest collision of -sentiment gives an irrecoverable shock to him. He regards a Catholic -or a Presbyterian, a Deist or an Atheist, with equal repugnance, and -makes no difference between the Pope, the Turk, and the Devil. He -thinks a rival poet a bad man, and would suspect the principles, -moral, political, and religious, of any one who did not spell the word -_laureate_ with an _e_ at the end of it.—If Mr. Southey were a bigot, -it would be well; but he has only the intolerance of bigotry. His -violence is not the effect of attachment to any principles, -prejudices, or paradoxes of his own, but of antipathy to those of -others. It is an impatience of contradiction, an unwillingness to -share his opinions with others, a captious monopoly of wisdom, -candour, and common sense. He is not an enthusiast in religion, but he -is an enemy to philosophers; he does not respect old establishments, -but he hates new ones; he has no objection to regicides, but he is -inexorable against usurpers; he will tell you that ‘the re-risen cause -of evil’ in France yielded to ‘the Red Cross and Britain’s arm of -might,’ and shortly after he denounces this Red Cross as the scarlet -whore of Babylon, and warns Britain against her eternal malice and -poisoned cup; he calls on the Princess Charlotte in the name of the -souls of ten thousand little children, who are without knowledge in -_this age of light_, ‘SAVE OR WE PERISH,’ and yet sooner than they -should be saved by Joseph Fox or Joseph Lancaster, he would see them -damned; he would go himself into Egypt and pull down ‘the barbarous -kings’ of the East, and yet his having gone there on this very errand -is not among the least of Bonaparte’s crimes; he would ‘abate the -malice’ of the Pope and the Inquisition, and yet he cannot contain the -fulness of his satisfaction at the fall of the only person who had -both the will and the power to do this. Mr. Southey began with a -decent hatred of kings and priests, but it yielded to his greater -hatred of the man who trampled them in the dust. He does not feel much -affection to those who are born to thrones, but that any one should -gain a throne as he has gained the laureate-wreath, by superior merit -alone, was the unpardonable sin against Mr. Southey’s levelling Muse! - -The poetry of the Lay is beneath criticism; it has all sorts of obvious -common-place defects, without any beauties either obvious or recondite. -It is the Namby-Pamby of the Tabernacle; a Methodist sermon turned into -doggrel verse. It is a gossipping confession of Mr. Southey’s political -faith—the ‘Practice of Piety’ or the ‘Whole Duty of Man’ mixed up with -the discordant slang of the metaphysical poets of the nineteenth -century. Not only do his sentiments every where betray the old -Jacobinical leaven, the same unimpaired desperate unprincipled spirit of -partisanship, regardless of time, place, and circumstance, and of every -thing but its own headstrong will; there is a gipsey jargon in the -expression of his sentiments which is equally indecorous. Does our -Laureate think it according to court-etiquette that he should be as -old-fashioned in his language as in the cut of his clothes?—On the -present occasion, when one might expect a truce with impertinence, he -addresses the Princess neither with the fancy of the poet, the -courtier’s grace, nor the manners of a gentleman, but with the air of an -inquisitor or father-confessor. Geo. Fox, the Quaker, did not wag his -tongue more saucily against the Lord’s Anointed in the person of Charles -II., than our Laureate here assures the daughter of his Prince, that so -shall she prosper in this world and the next, as she minds what he says -to her. Would it be believed (yet so it is) that, in the excess of his -unauthorized zeal, Mr. Southey in one place advises the Princess -conditionally to rebel against her father? Here is the passage. The -Angel of the English church thus addresses the Royal Bride:- - - ‘Bear thou that great Eliza in thy mind, - Who from a wreck this fabric edified; - And HER who to a nation’s voice resigned, - When Rome in hope its wiliest engines plied, - _By her own heart and righteous Heaven approved, - Stood up against the Father whom she loved_.’ - -This is going a good way. Is it meant, that if the Prince Regent, ‘to a -nation’s voice resigned,’ should grant Catholic Emancipation in defiance -of the ‘Quarterly Review,’ Mr. Southey would encourage the Princess in -standing up against her father, in imitation of the pious and patriotic -daughter of James II.? - -This quaint effusion of poetical fanaticism is divided into four parts, -the Proem, the Dream, the Epilogue, and L’Envoy. The Proem opens thus:— - - ‘There was a time when all my youthful thought - Was of the Muse; and of the Poet’s fame, - How fair it flourisheth and fadeth not, ... - Alone enduring, when the Monarch’s name - Is but an empty sound, the Conqueror’s bust - Moulders and is forgotten in the dust.’ - -This may be very true, but not so proper to be spoken in this place. Mr. -Southey may think himself a greater man than the Prince Regent, but he -need not go to Carlton-House to tell him so. He endeavours to prove that -the Prince Regent and the Duke of Wellington (put together) are greater -than Bonaparte, but then he is by his own rule greater than all three of -them. We have here perhaps the true secret of Mr. Southey’s excessive -anger at the late Usurper. If all his youthful thought was of his own -inborn superiority to conquerors or kings, we can conceive that -Bonaparte’s fame must have appeared a very great injustice done to his -pretensions; it is not impossible that the uneasiness with which he -formerly heard the names of Marengo, of Austerlitz, of Jena, of Wagram, -of Friedland, and of Borodino, may account for the industrious -self-complacency with which he harps upon those of Busaco, Vimiera, -Salamanca, Vittoria, Thoulouse, and Waterloo; and that the Iron Crown of -Italy must have pressed upon his (Mr. Southey’s) brows, with a weight -most happily relieved by the light laureate-wreath! We are justified in -supposing Mr. Southey capable of envying others, for he supposes others -capable of envying him. Thus he sings of himself and his office:— - - ‘Yea in this now, while malice frets her hour, - Is foretaste given me of that meed divine; - Here undisturbed in this sequestered bower, - The friendship of the good and wise is mine; - And that green wreath which decks the Bard when dead, - That laureate garland crowns my living head. - That wreath which in Eliza’s golden days - My master dear, divinest Spenser, wore, - That which rewarded Drayton’s learned lays, - Which thoughtful Ben and gentle Daniel[17] bore ... - Grin, Envy, through thy ragged mask of scorn! - In honour it was given, with honour it is worn!’ - -Now we do assure Mr. Southey, that we do not envy him this honour. Many -people laugh at him, some may blush for him, but nobody envies him. As -to Spenser, whom he puts in the list of great men who have preceded him -in his office, his laureateship has been bestowed on him by Mr. Southey; -it did not ‘crown his living head.’ We all remember his being refused -the hundred pounds for his ‘Fairy Queen.’ Poets were not wanted in those -days to celebrate the triumphs of princes over the people. But why does -he not bring his list down nearer to his own time—to Pye and Whitehead -and Colley Cibber? Does Mr. Southey disdain to be considered as the -successor even of Dryden? That green wreath which decks our author’s -living head, is so far from being, as he would insinuate, an -anticipation of immortality, that it is no credit to any body, and least -of all to Mr. Southey. He might well have declined the reward of -exertions in a cause which throws a stigma of folly or something worse -on the best part of his life. Mr. Southey ought not to have received -what would not have been offered to the author of ‘Joan of Arc.’ - -Mr. Southey himself maintains that his song has still been ‘to Truth and -Freedom true’; that he has never changed his opinions; that it is the -cause of French liberty that has left him, not he the cause. That may be -so. But there is one person in the kingdom who has, we take it, been at -least as consistent in his conduct and sentiments as Mr. Southey, and -that person is the King. Thus the Laureate emphatically advises the -Princess:— - - ‘Look to thy Sire, and _in his steady way, - As in his Father’s he_, learn thou to tread.’ - -Now the question is, whether Mr. Southey agreed with his Majesty on the -subject of the French Revolution when he published ‘Joan of Arc.’ Though -Mr. Southey ‘as beseems him well’ congratulates the successes of the -son, we do not recollect that he condoled with the disappointments of -the father in the same cause. The King has not changed, therefore Mr. -Southey has. The sun does not turn to the sun-flower; but the sun-flower -follows the sun. Our poet has thoughtlessly committed himself in the -above lines. He may be right in applauding that one sole purpose of his -Majesty’s reign which he formerly condemned: that he can be consistent -in applauding what he formerly condemned, is impossible. That his -majesty King George III. should make a convert of Mr. Southey rather -than Mr. Southey of George III. is probable for many reasons. The King -by siding with the cause of the people could not, like King William, -have gained a crown: Mr. Southey, by deserting it, has got a hundred -pounds a-year. A certain English ambassador, who had a long time resided -at the court of Rome, was on his return introduced at the levee of Queen -Caroline. This lady, who was almost as great a prig as Mr. Southey, -asked him why in his absence he did not try to make a convert of the -Pope to the Protestant religion. He answered, ‘Madam, the reason was -that I had nothing better to offer his Holiness than what he already has -in his possession.’ The Pope would no doubt have been of the same way of -thinking. This is the reason why kings, from sire to son, pursue ‘their -steady way,’ and are less changeable than canting cosmopolites. - - - THE LAY OF THE LAUREATE, CARMEN NUPTIALE, _by Robert Southey, Esq. - Poet-Laureate, Member of the Royal Spanish Academy, and of the Royal - Spanish Academy of History_.—London: Longmans, 1816. - - (CONCLUDED.) - - ‘_Queen._ Hamlet, thou hast thy Father much offended. - - ‘_Hamlet._ Madam, you have my Father much offended.’ - - - _July 14, 1816._ - -Though we do not think Mr. Southey has been quite consistent, we do not -think him a hypocrite. This poem proves it. How should he maintain the -same opinion all his life, when he cannot maintain it for two stanzas -together? The weakness of his reasoning shews that he is the dupe of it. -He has not the faculty of perceiving contradictions. He is not -accountable for his mistakes. There is not a single sentiment advanced -in any part of the _Lay_, which is not flatly denied in some other part -of it. Let us see:— - - ‘Proudly I raised the high thanksgiving strain - Of victory in a rightful cause achieved: - For which _I long had looked and not in vain, - As one who with firm faith and undeceived, - In history and the heart of man could find - Sure presage of deliverance for mankind_.’ - -Mr. Southey does not inform us in what year he began to look for this -deliverance, but if he had looked for it long, he must have looked for -it long in vain. Does our poet then find no presage of deliverance for -‘conquered France’ in the same principles that he found it for ‘injured -Germany’? But he has no principles; or he does not himself know what -they are. He praises Providence in this particular instance for having -conformed to his hopes; and afterwards thus gives us the general results -of his reading in history and the human heart. In the Dream he says, -speaking of Charissa and Speranza— - - ‘This lovely pair unrolled before the throne - “Earth’s melancholy map,” whereon to sight - Two broad divisions at a glance were shown, - The empires these of darkness and of light. - Well might the thoughtful bosom sigh to mark - How wide a portion of the map was dark. - Behold, Charissa cried, how large a space - Of earth lies unredeemed! Oh grief to think - That countless myriads of immortal race - In error born, in ignorance must sink, - Trained up in customs which corrupt the heart - And following miserably the evil part! - Regard the expanded Orient from the shores - Of scorched Arabia and the Persian sea, - To where the inhospitable Ocean roars - Against the rocks of frozen Tartary; - Look next at those Australian isles which lie - Thick as the stars which stud the wintry sky. - Then let thy mind contemplative survey - That spacious region where in elder time - Earth’s unremembered conquerors held the sway - And Science trusting in her skill sublime, - With lore abstruse the sculptured walls o’erspread, - Its import now forgotten with the dead. - From Nile and Congo’s undiscovered springs - To the four seas which gird the unhappy land, - Behold it left a prey to barbarous Kings, - The Robber and the Trader’s ruthless hand; - Sinning and suffering, everywhere unblest, - Behold her wretched sons, oppressing and opprest!’ - -This is ‘a pretty picture’ to be drawn by one who finds in the past -history of the world the sure presage of deliverance for mankind. We -grant indeed that Mr. Southey was right in one thing, viz. in expecting -from it that sort of ‘deliverance of mankind,’ bound hand and foot, into -the power of Kings and Priests, which has actually come to pass, and -which he has celebrated with so much becoming pomp, both here and -elsewhere. The doctrine of ‘millions made for one’ has to be sure got a -tolerable footing in the East. It has attained a very venerable old age -there—it is mature even to rottenness, but without decay. ‘Old, old, -Master Shallow,’ but eternal. It is transmitted down in unimpaired -succession from sire to son. Snug’s the word. Legitimacy is not there -militant, but triumphant, as the Editor of _The Times_ would wish. It is -long since the people had any thing to do with the laws but to obey -them, or any laws to obey but the will of their taskmasters. This is the -necessary end of legitimacy. The Princes and Potentates cut one -another’s throats as they please, but the people have no hand in it. -They have no French Revolutions there, no rights of man to terrify -barbarous kings, no republicans or levellers, no weathercock deliverers -and re-deliverers of mankind, no Mr. Southeys nor Mr. Wordsworths. In -this they are happy. Things there are perfectly settled, in the state in -which they should be,—still as death, and likely to remain so. Mr. -Southey’s exquisite reason for supposing that a crusade to pull down -divine right would succeed in the East, is that a crusade to prop it up -has just succeeded in the West. That will never do. Besides, what -security can he give, if he goes on improving in wisdom for the next -five and twenty years as he has done for the last, that he would not in -the end be as glad to see these ‘barbarous kings’ restored to their -rightful thrones, as he is now anxious to see them tumbled from them? -The doctrine of ‘divine right’ is of longer standing and more firmly -established in the East than in the West, because the Eastern world is -older than ours. We might say of it, - - ‘The wars it well remembers of King Nine, - Of old Assaracus and Inachus divine.’ - -It is fixed on the altar and the throne, safe, quite safe against Mr. -Southey’s enthusiasm in its second spring, his Missionary Societies, and -his Schools for All. It overlays that vast continent, like an ugly -incubus, sucking the blood and stopping up the breath of man’s life. -That detestable doctrine, which in England first tottered and fell -headless to the ground with the martyred Charles; which we kicked out -with his son James, and kicked twice back with two Pretenders, to make -room for ‘Brunswick’s fated line,’ a line of our own chusing, and for -that reason worth all Mr. Southey’s lines put together; that detestable -doctrine, which the French, in 1793, ousted from their soil, -thenceforward sacred in the eyes of humanity, which they ousted from it -again in 1815, making it doubly sacred; and which (oh grief, oh shame) -was borne into it once more on English shoulders, and thrust down their -throats with English bayonets; this detestable doctrine, which would, of -right and with all the sanctions of religion and morality, sacrifice the -blood of millions to the least of its prejudices; which would make the -rights, the happiness, and liberty of nations, from the beginning to the -end of time, dependent on the caprice of some of the lowest and vilest -of the species; which rears its bloated hideous form to brave the will -of a whole people; that claims mankind as its property, and allows human -nature to exist only upon sufferance; that haunts the understanding like -a frightful spectre, and oppresses the very air with a weight that is -not to be borne; this doctrine meets with no rubs, no reverses, no ups -and downs, in the East. It is there fixed, immutable. The Jaggernaut -there passes on with its ‘satiate’ scythe over the bleeding bodies of -its victims, who are all as loyal, as pious, and as thankful as Mr. -Southey. It meets with no opposition from any ‘re-risen cause of evil’ -or of good. Mankind have there been delivered once for all! - -In the passage above quoted, Mr. Southey founds his hope of the -emancipation of the Eastern world from ‘the Robber and the Trader’s -ruthless hand’ on our growing empire in India. This is a conclusion -which nobody would venture upon but himself. His last appeal is to -scripture, and still he is unfortunate:— - - ‘Speed thou the work, Redeemer of the World! - _That the long miseries of mankind may cease!_ - Where’er the Red Cross banner is unfurled, - There let it carry truth, and light, and peace! - _Did not the Angels who announced thy birth, - Proclaim it with the sound of Peace on Earth?_’ - -From the length of time that this prediction has remained unfulfilled, -Mr. Southey thinks its accomplishment must be near. His Odes will not -hasten the event. - -Again, we do not understand the use which Mr. Southey makes of Red Cross -in this poem. For speaking of himself he says, - - ‘And when that last and most momentous hour - Beheld the re-risen cause of evil yield - To the Red Cross and England’s arm of power, - I sung of Waterloo’s unrivalled field, - Paying the tribute of a soul embued - With deepest joy, devout and awful gratitude.’ - -This passage occurs in the Proem. In the Dream the Angel of the English -Church is made to warn the Princess— - - ‘Think not that lapse of ages shall abate - The inveterate malice of that Harlot old; - Fallen tho’ thou deemest her from her high estate, - She proffers still the envenomed cup of gold, - And her fierce Beast, whose names are blasphemy, - The same that was, is still, and still must be.’ - -It is extraordinary that both these passages relate to one and the same -thing, namely, Popery, which our author in the first identifies with the -Christian religion, thus invoking to his aid every pure feeling or pious -prejudice in the minds of his readers, and in the last denounces as that -Harlot old, ‘whose names are blasphemy,’ with all the fury of plenary -inspiration. This is a great effort of want of logic. Mr. Southey will -hardly sing or say that it was to establish Protestantism in France that -England’s arm of power was extended on this occasion. Nor was it simply -to establish Popery. That existed there already. It was to establish -‘the inveterate malice of that Harlot old,’ her ‘envenomed cup,’ to give -her back her daggers and her fires, her mummeries, her holy oil, her -power over the bodies and the minds of men, to restore her ‘the same -that she was, is still, and still must be,’ that that celebrated fight -was fought. The massacres of Nismes followed hard upon the triumph of -Mr. Southey’s Red Cross. The blood of French Protestants began to flow -almost before the wounds of the dying and the dead in that memorable -carnage had done festering. This was the most crying injustice, the most -outrageous violation of principle, that ever was submitted to. What! has -John Bull nothing better to do now-a-days than to turn bottle-holder to -the Pope of Rome, to whet his daggers for him, to light his fires, and -fill his poisoned bowl; and yet, out of pure complaisance (a quality -John has learnt from his new friends the Bourbons) not venture a -syllable to say that we did not mean him to use them? It seems Mr. -Southey did not think this a fit occasion for the interference of his -Red Cross Muse. Could he not trump up a speech either for ‘divine -Speranza,’ or ‘Charissa dear,’ to lay at the foot of the throne? Was the -Angel of the English Church dumb too—‘quite chopfallen?’ Yet though our -Laureate cannot muster resolution enough to advise the Prince to protect -Protestants in France, he plucks up spirit enough to urge him to -persecute Catholics in this country, and pretty broadly threatens him -with the consequences, if he does not. “’Tis much,” as Christopher Sly -says. - -There is another subject on which Mr. Southey’s silence is still more -inexcusable. It was understood to be for his exertions in the cause of -Spanish liberty that he was made Poet-Laureate. It is then high time for -him to resign. Why has he not written a single ode to a single Spanish -patriot who has been hanged, banished, imprisoned, sent to the galleys, -assassinated, tortured? It must be pleasant to those who are suffering -under the thumb-screw to read Mr. Southey’s thoughts upon that ingenious -little instrument of royal gratitude. Has he discovered that the air of -a Court does not very well agree with remonstrances against acts of -oppression and tyranny, when exercised by those who are born for no -other purpose? Is his patriotism only a false cover, a Carlton-House -convenience? His silence on this subject is not equivocal. Whenever Mr. -Southey shews the sincerity of his former professions of zeal in behalf -of Spanish liberty, by writing an elegy on the death of Porlier, or a -review of the conduct of Ferdinand VII. (he is a subject worthy of Mr. -Southey’s prose style), or by making the lame tailor of Madrid (we -forget his name) the subject of an epic poem, we will retract all that -we have said in disparagement of his consistency—_But not till then_. - -We meant to have quoted several other passages, such as that in which -old Praxis, that is, Experience, recommends it to the Princess to -maintain the laws by keeping all that is old, and adding all that is new -to them—that in which he regrets the piety and learning of former times, -and then promises us a release from barbarism and brutishness by the -modern invention of Sunday Schools—that in which he speaks of his own -virtues and the wisdom of his friends—that in which he undertakes to -write a martyrology.—But we are very tired of the subject, and the -verses are not worth quoting. There is a passage in Racine which is; and -with that, we take our leave of the Laureate, to whom it may convey some -useful hints in explanation of his ardent desire for the gibbeting of -Bonaparte and the burning of Paris:— - - _Nabal._—Que peut vous inspirer une haine si forte? - Est-ce que de Baal le zèle vous transporte? - Pour moi, vous le savez, descendu d’Ismaël, - Je ne sers ni Baal ni le Dieu d’Israel. - - _Mathan._—Ami, peux-tu penser que d’un zèle frivole - Je me laisse aveugler pour une vaine idole! - Né ministre du Dieu qu’en ce temple on adore, - Peut-être que Mathan le serviroit encore, - Si l’amour des grandeurs, la soif de commander, - Avec son joug étroit pouvoient s’accommoder. - Qu’est-il besoin, Nabal, qu’à tes yeux je rappelle - De Joad et de moi la fameuse querelle? - Vaincu par lui j’entrai dans une autre carrière, - Et mon âme à la cour s’attacha tout entière. - J’approchai par degrés l’oreille des rois; - Et bientôt en oracle on érigea ma voix. - J’étudiai leur cœur, je flattai leurs caprices, - Je leur semai de fleurs le bord des précipices: - Près de leurs passions rien ne me fut sacré; - De mesure et de poids je changeois à leur gré, - Autant que de Joad l’inflexible rudesse - De leur superbe oreille offensoit la mollesse; - Autant je les charmois par ma dextérité, - Dérobant à leurs yeux la triste vérité, - Prêtant à leur fureur des couleurs favorables, - Et prodigue surtout du sang des misérables.[18] - * * * * * - - Déserteur de leur loi, j’approuvai l’entreprise, - Et par là de Baal méritai la prêtrise; - Par là je me rendis terrible à mon rival, - Je ceignis la tiare, et marchai son égal. - Toutefois, je l’avoue, en ce comble de gloire, - De Dieu que j’ai quitté l’importune mémoire - Jette encore en mon âme un reste de terreur; - Et c’est ce qui redouble et nourrit ma fureur. - Heureux, si sur son temple achevant ma vengeance, - Je puis convaincre enfin sa haine d’impuissance, - Et parmi les débris, les ravages, et les morts, - A force d’attentats perdre tous mes remords.[19] - - - TO THE EDITOR OF THE EXAMINER - -Sir,—I hope you will not omit to notice two passages in Mr. Southey’s -poem, in which, to try his talent at natural description, he gives an -account of two of ‘the fearfullest wild-fowl living’—a British Lion and -a Saxon one. Both are striking likenesses, and would do to hang on the -outside of Exeter-‘Change to invite the curious. The former (presumed -not to be indigenous) is described to be in excellent case, well-fed, -getting in years and corpulent, with a high collar buried in the fat of -the neck, false mane, large haunches (for which this breed is -remarkable), paws like a shin of beef, large rolling eyes, a lazy, -lounging animal, sleeping all day and roaring all night, a great -devourer of carcases and breaker of bones, pleased after a full meal, -and his keepers not then afraid of him. Inclined to be uxorious. Visited -by all persons of distinction, from the highest characters abroad down -to the lowest at home.—The other portrait of the Saxon Lion is a -contrast to this. It is a poor lean starved beast, lord neither of men -nor lands, galled with its chain, which it has broken, but has not got -off from its neck. This portrait is, we understand, to be dedicated to -Lord Castlereagh.—Your constant reader, - - NE QUID NIMIS. - - - - -‘A NEW VIEW OF SOCIETY; or, _Essays on the Principle of the Formation of -the Human Character, and the Application of the Principle to Practice_.’ -Murray, 1816.—‘AN ADDRESS TO THE INHABITANTS OF NEW LANARK, _on opening -an Institution for the Formation of Character.’ By_ Robert Owen, _one of - his Majesty’s Justices of the Peace for the County of - Lanark_.’—Hatchard, 1816. - - [‘Dedicated to those who have no Private Ends to accomplish, who are - honestly in search of Truth, for the purpose of ameliorating the - Condition of Society, and who have the firmness to follow the - Truth wherever it may lead, without being turned aside from the - Pursuit by the Prepossessions or Prejudices of any part of - Mankind;—to Mr. Wilberforce, the Prince Regent,’ &c.] - - - _August 4, 1816._ - -‘A _New_ View of Society’—No, Mr. Owen, that we deny. It may be true, -but it is not new. It is not coeval, whatever the author and proprietor -may think, with the New Lanark mills, but it is as old as the royal -borough of Lanark, or as the county of Lanark itself. It is as old as -the ‘Political Justice’ of Mr. Godwin, as the ‘Oceana’ of Harrington, as -the ‘Utopia’ of Sir Thomas More, as the ‘Republic’ of Plato; it is as -old as society itself, and as the attempts to reform it by shewing what -it ought to be, or by teaching that the good of the whole is the good of -the individual—an opinion by which fools and honest men have been -sometimes deceived, but which has never yet taken in the knaves and -knowing ones. The doctrine of Universal Benevolence, the belief in the -Omnipotence of Truth, and in the Perfectibility of Human Nature, are not -new, but ‘Old, old,’ Master Robert Owen;—why then do you say that they -are new? They are not only old, they are superannuated, they are dead -and buried, they are reduced to mummy, they are put into the catacombs -at Paris, they are sealed up in patent coffins, they have been dug up -again and anatomised, they have been drawn, quartered and gibbetted, -they have become black, dry, parched in the sun, loose, and rotten, and -are dispersed to all the winds of Heaven! The chain in which they hung -up the murdered corse of human Liberty is all that remains of it, and my -Lord Shallow keeps the key of it! If Mr. Owen will get it out of his -hands, with the aid of Mr. Wilberforce and the recommendation of _The -Courier_, we will ‘applaud him to the very echo, which shall applaud -again.’ Till then, we must content ourselves with ‘chaunting remnants of -old lauds’ in the manner of Ophelia:— - - ‘No, no, he is gone, and we cast away moan, - And will he not come again, - And will he not come again?’ - -Perhaps, one of these days, he may ... ‘like a cloud over the Caspian’: -then if ever, and never till then, human nature will hold up its head -again, and the holy and Triple Alliance will be dissolved. But as to -this bald spectre of Liberty and Necessity conjured up by Mr. Owen from -the falls of the Clyde, with a primer in one hand, and a spinning-jenny -in the other, coming down from the Highlands in a Scotch mist, and -discoverable only by second-sight, we may fairly say to it— - - ‘Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold; - Thou hast no speculation in those eyes, - Which thou dost glare with.’ - -Why does Mr. Owen put the word ‘New,’ in black-letter at the head of the -advertisements of his plan of reform? In what does the New Lanark differ -from the old Utopia? Is Scotland, after all, the true Lubber-land? Or -must the whole world be converted into a cotton-factory? Does not Mr. -Owen know that the same scheme, the same principles, the same philosophy -of motives and actions, of causes and consequences, of knowledge and -virtue, of virtue and happiness, were rife in the year 1793, were noised -abroad then, were spoken on the house-tops, were whispered in secret, -were published in quarto and duodecimo, in political treatises, in -plays, poems, songs, and romances—made their way to the bar, crept into -the church, ascended the rostrum, thinned the classes of the -universities, and robbed ‘Durham’s golden stalls’ of their hoped-for -ornaments, by sending our aspiring youth up to town to learn philosophy -of the new teachers of philosophy; that these ‘New Views of Society’ got -into the hearts of poets and the brains of metaphysicians, took -possession of the fancies of boys and women, and turned the heads of -almost the whole kingdom: but that there was one head which they never -got possession of, that turned the heads of the whole kingdom round -again, stopped the progress of philosophy and necessity by wondrous -fortitude, and that ‘thus repelled, _philosophy_ fell into a sadness, -then into a fast, thence to a watching, then into a weakness, thence to -a lightness, and by this declension, to the lamentable state wherein it -now lies,’ hooted by the boys, laughed at by the women, spit at by -fools, trod upon by knaves, damned by poet-laureates, whined over by -maudlin metaphysicians, rhymed upon by mincing ballad-makers, ridiculed -in romances, belied in histories and travels, pelted by the mob, sneered -at by the court, driven from the country, kicked out of society, and -forced to take refuge and to lie snug for twenty years in the New Lanark -mills, with the connivance of the worthy proprietor, among the tow and -spindles; from whence he lets us understand that it is coming up again -to Whitehall-stairs, like a spring-tide with the full of the moon, and -floating on the blood that has flowed for the restoration of the -Bourbons, under the patronage of the nobility, the gentry, Mr. -Wilberforce, and the Prince Regent, and all those who are governed, like -these great personages, by no other principle than truth, and no other -wish than the good of mankind! This puff will not take with us: we are -old birds, not to be caught with chaff: we shall not purchase in this -new lottery, where there are all prizes and no blanks! We are inclined -to throw Mr. Owen’s ‘New View,’ behind the fire-place, as we believe -most people do the letter they receive from the proprietors of the lucky -lottery-office, informing them that their ticket was drawn a blank the -first day, and in the postscript soliciting their future favours! - -Mr. Owen may think that we have all this while been jesting, when we -have been in sad and serious earnest. Well, then, we will give him the -reason why we differ with him, out of ‘an old saw,’ as good as most -‘modern instances.’ It is contained in this sentence:—‘If to do were as -easy as to teach others what were good to be done, chapels had been -churches, and poor men’s cottages princes’ palaces.’ Our author has -discovered no new theory; he has advanced no new reasons. The former -reasons were never answered, but the plan did not succeed. Why then does -he think _his_ must? All that he has done has been to leave out the -reasons for his paradoxes, and to give his conclusions in capitals. This -may take for a time with Mr. Wilberforce and the Methodists, who like -hieroglyphics, but it cannot last. Here is a plan, strange as it may -seem, ‘a new View of Society,’ published by two of our most loyal -booksellers, and what is still more extraordinary, puffed in _The -Courier_ as an extremely practical, practicable, solid, useful, and good -sort of work, which proposes no less than to govern the world without -religion and without law, by the force of reason alone! This project is -in one of its branches dedicated to the Prince Regent, by which (if -carried into effect) he would be stuck up in his life-time as ‘a useless -piece of antiquity’; and in another part is dedicated to Mr. -Wilberforce, though it would by the same rule convert that little vital -member of the community into ‘a monkey preacher,’ crying in the -wilderness with no one to hear him, and sneaking about between his -character and his conscience, in a state of ludicrous perplexity, as -indeed he always appears to be at present! What is most remarkable is, -that Mr. Owen is the first philosopher we ever heard of, who recommended -himself to the great by telling them disagreeable truths. A man that -comes all the way from the banks of the Clyde acquires a projectile -force that renders him irresistible. He has access, we understand, to -the men in office, to the members of parliament, to lords and gentlemen. -He comes to ‘pull an old house about their ears,’ to batter down all -their establishments, new or old, in church or in state, civil, -political, and military, and he quietly walks into their houses with his -credentials in his pocket, and reconciles them to the prospect of the -innumerable Houses of Industry he is about to erect on the site of their -present sinecures, by assuring them of the certainty of his principles -and the infallibility of his practice, in building up and pulling down. -His predecessors were clumsy fellows; but he is an engineer, who will be -sure to do their business for them. He is not the man to set the Thames -on fire, but he will move the world, and New Lanark is the place he has -fixed his lever upon for this purpose. To shew that he goes roundly to -work with great people in developing his formidable system of the -formation of character, he asks, p. 7 of the second Essay,— - -‘How much longer shall we continue to allow generation after generation -to be taught crime from their infancy, and when so taught, hunt them -like beasts of the forest, until they are entangled beyond escape in the -toils and nets of the law? When, if the circumstances from youth of -these poor unpitied sufferers had been reversed with those who are even -surrounded with the pomp and dignity of justice, these latter would have -been at the bar of the culprit, and the former would have been in the -judgment-seat. - -‘Had the present Judges of these realms, whose conduct compels the -admiration of surrounding states, been born and educated in St. Giles’s, -or some similar situation, is it not reasonable to conclude, as they -possess native energies and abilities, that ere this they would have -been at the head of their _then_ profession, and in consequence of that -superiority and proficiency, have already suffered imprisonment, -transportation, or death? Or can we for a moment hesitate to decide, -that if some of those men whom our laws, dispensed by the present -Judges, have doomed to suffer capital punishment, had been born, -trained, and surrounded as these Judges were born, trained, and -surrounded; that some of those so imprisoned, transported, or hanged, -would have been the identical individuals who would have passed the same -awful sentences _on our present highly esteemed dignitaries of the -law_?’ - -This is a delicate passage. So then according to the author of the ‘New -View of Society,’ the Prince Regent of these realms, instead of being at -the head of the allied sovereigns of Europe, might, in other -circumstances, have been at the head of a gang of bravoes and assassins; -Lord Castlereagh, on the same principle, and by parity of reasoning, -without any alteration in his nature or understanding, but by the mere -difference of situation, might have been a second _Count Fathom_; Mr. -Vansittart, the chancellor of the exchequer, might, if he had turned his -hand that way in time, have succeeded on _the snaffling lay_, or as a -pickpocket; Lord Wellington might have entered houses, instead of -entering kingdoms, by force; the Lord-chancellor might have been a -Jew-broker; the Marquis of —— or Lord —— a bawd, and their sons, -tapsters and bullies at bagnios; the Queen (God bless her) might have -been an old washer-woman, taking her snuff and gin among her gossips, -and her daughters, if they had not been princesses, might have turned -out no better than they should be! Here’s a levelling rogue for you! The -world turned inside out, with a witness!—Such are Mr. Owen’s general -principles, to which we have nothing to say, and such his mode of -illustrating them in his prefaces and dedications, which we do not think -the most flattering to persons in power. We do not, however, wish him to -alter his tone: he goes swimmingly on at present, ‘with cheerful and -confident thoughts.’ His schemes thus far are tolerated, because they -are remote, visionary, inapplicable. Neither the great world nor the -world in general care any thing about New Lanark, nor trouble themselves -whether the workmen there go to bed drunk or sober, or whether the -wenches are got with child before or after the marriage ceremony. Lanark -is distant, Lanark is insignificant. Our statesmen are not afraid of the -perfect system of reform he talks of, and, in the meantime, his cant -against reform in parliament, and about Bonaparte, serves as a practical -diversion in their favour. But let the good which Mr. Owen says he has -done in one poor village be in danger of becoming general,—let his plan -for governing men by reason, without the assistance of the dignitaries -of the church and the dignitaries of the law, but once get wind and be -likely to be put in practice, and his dreams of elevated patronage will -vanish. Long before he has done as much to overturn bigotry and -superstition in this country, as he says Bonaparte did on the continent, -(though he thinks the restoration of what was thus overturned also a -great blessing) Mr. Wilberforce will have cut his connection. When we -see Mr. Owen brought up for judgment before Lord Ellenborough, or -standing in the pillory, we shall begin to think there is something in -this _New Lanark Scheme_ of his. On the other hand, if he confines -himself to general principles, steering clear of practice, the result -will be the same, if ever his principles become sufficiently known and -admired. Let his ‘New View of Society’ but make as many disciples as the -‘Enquiry concerning Political Justice,’ and we shall soon see how the -tide will turn about. There will be a fine hue and cry raised by all -_the good and wise_, by all ‘those acute minds’ who, Mr. Owen tells us, -have not been able to find a flaw in his reasonings, but who will soon -discover a flaw in his reputation. Dr. Parr will preach a Spital sermon -against him; lectures will be delivered in Lincoln’s Inn Hall, to prove -that a perfect man is such another chimera as a golden mountain; Mr. -Malthus will set up his two checks of vice and misery as insuperable -bars against him; Mr. Southey will put him into the ‘Quarterly Review’; -his name will be up in the newspapers, _The Times_, _The Courier_, and -_The Morning Post_; the three estates will set their faces against him; -he will be marked as a Jacobin, a leveller, an incendiary, in all parts -of the three kingdoms; he will be avoided by his friends, and become a -bye-word to his enemies; his brother magistrates of the county of Lanark -will refuse to sit on the bench with him; the spindles of his -spinning-jennies will no longer turn on their soft axles; he will have -gone out for wool, and will go home shorn; and he will find that it is -not so easy or safe a task as he imagined to make fools wise, and knaves -honest; in short, to make mankind understand their own interests, or -those who govern them care for any interest but their own. Otherwise, -all this matter would have been settled long ago. As it is, things will -most probably go on as they have done, till some comet comes with its -tail; and on the eve of some grand and radical reform, puts an end to -the question. - - - - -THE SPEECH OF CHARLES C. WESTERN, Esq. M.P. _on the Distressed State of -the Agriculture of the Country, delivered in the House of Commons, March - 7, 1816_. - -THE SPEECH OF HENRY BROUGHAM, Esq. M.P. _on the same subject, delivered - in the same place, April 9, 1816_. - - -This is a sore subject; and it is here handled with much tenderness and -delicacy. It puts one in mind of the traveller’s nose, and the nuns of -Strasburgh, in the tale of Slaukenbergius. ‘I will touch it, said one; I -dare not touch it, said another; I wish I had touched it, said a third; -let me touch it, said a fourth.’ While the gentlewomen were debating the -point, the traveller with the great nose rode on. It would be no -ungracious task to treat of the distresses of the country, if all were -distressed alike; but that is not the case; nor is it possible to trace -the necessities of one part of the community to their source, or to hint -at a remedy, without glancing invidiously at the superfluities of -others. ‘Aye, there’s the rub, that makes calamity of so long life.’ The -speeches before us are to the subject what a veil is to a lady’s face, -or a blind to a window. Almost all that has been said or written upon it -is a palpable delusion—an attempt to speak out and say nothing; to -oppose something that might be done, and propose something that cannot -be done; to direct attention to the subject, and divert it from it; to -do something and nothing; and to come to this potent conclusion, that -while nothing _is done_, nothing _can be done_. ‘But have you then any -remedy to propose instead?’ What sort of a remedy do you mean? ‘Oh, one -equally safe and efficacious, that shall set every thing to rights, and -leave every thing just as it is, that does not touch either the tythes -or the national debt, nor places and pensions, nor property of any kind, -except the poor’s fund; _that_ you may take from them to make them -independent of the rich, as you leave Lord Camden in possession of -thirty thousand a year to make him independent of the poor.’—Why, then, -what if the Lord Chancellor and the Chancellor of the Exchequer were to -play a game at push-pin on the top of St. Paul’s; or if Mr. Brougham and -Mr. Horner were to play at cat’s-cradle on the top of the Monument; or -if the little garden between the Speaker’s house and the river-side were -to be sown with pearls and cockle-shells? Or if——Pshaw! Patience, and -shuffle the cards. - -The great problem of our great problem-finders appears to be, _to take -nothing from the rich, and give it to the poor_. That will never do. We -find them and their schemes of diversion well described in Rabelais, -book v. chap. xxii. - - - ‘_How Queen Whim’s Officers were employed, and how the said Lady - retained us among her Abstractors._ - - ‘I then saw a great number of the Queen’s officers, who made - blackamoors white, as fast as hops, just rubbing their bellies with - the bottom of a pannier. - - ‘Others, with three couples of foxes in one yoke, ploughed a sandy - shore, and did not lose their seed. - - ‘Others washed burnt tiles, and made them lose their colour. - - ‘Others extracted water out of pumice-stones, braying them a good - while in a mortar, and changed their substance. - - ‘Others sheered asses, and thus got long fleece wool. - - ‘Others gathered off of thorns grapes, and figs off of thistles. - - ‘Others stroked he-goats by the dugs, and saved their milk, and much - they got by it. - - ‘Others washed asses’ heads, without losing their soap. - - ‘Others taught cows to dance, and did not lose their fiddling. - - ‘Others pitched nets to catch the wind, and took cock lobsters in - them. - - ‘Others out of nothing made great things, and made great things - return to nothing. - - ‘Others made a virtue of necessity, and the best of a bad market; - which seemed to me a very good piece of work. - - ‘I saw two Gibroins by themselves, keeping watch on the top of a - tower; and we were told they guarded the moon from the wolves.’ - -The war has cost the country five or six hundred millions of money. This -has not been a nominal expense, a playing at ducks and drakes with the -King’s picture on the water, or a manufacturing of bank-notes, and then -lighting our pipes with them, but a real _bonâ fide_ waste of the means, -wealth, labour, produce, or resources of the country, in the carrying on -of the war. About one hundred of these five or six hundred millions have -been sent directly out of the country in loans to our Allies, from the -year 1793 to the year 1815, inclusive, during which period there is not -a single year in which we did not (from our desire of peace with the -legitimate government of that country) subsidise one or all of the -powers of Europe, to carry on war against the rebels, regicides, -republicans, and usurpers of France. Now the interest of this money -alone would be five millions yearly, which would be nearly enough to pay -the amount of the poor-rates of the whole country, which is seven -millions of our yearly taxes, or might at least be applied to mitigate -the mild severity of Mr. Malthus’s sweeping clauses on that defenceless -part of the subject. Here is a hundred millions then gone clean out of -the country: there are four or five hundred millions more which have -been sunk in the expenses of the war, and which might as well have been -sunk in the sea; or what has been saved out of the wreck by those who -have been most active in running the vessel aground, is in the hands of -persons who are in no hurry that the public should go snacks with them -in their excessive good fortune. In all three cases, and under each -several head of loans, waste, or monopoly, John Bull pays the piper, or -the interest of the whole money in taxes. He is just so many hundred -millions the worse for the war, (whoever may be the better for it) not -merely in paper, which would be nothing, nor in golden guineas, which -would be something; but in what is better and more substantial than -either, in goods and chattels, in the produce of the soil, and the work -of his hands—in the difference between what the industry of man, left to -itself, produces in time of peace for the benefit of man, and what the -same industry, under the direction of government, produces in time of -war for the destruction of others, without any benefit to himself, real, -imaginary, or pretended; we mean in a physical and economical point of -view, which is here the question—a question, which seems to last when -the religion, politics, and morality of the affair are over. We have -said that the expenses of the war might as well have been sunk in the -sea; and so they might, for they have been sunk in unproductive labour, -that is, in maintaining large establishments, and employing great -numbers of men in doing nothing or mischief; for example, in making -ships to destroy other ships, guns and gunpowder to blow out men’s -brains, pikes and swords to run them through the body, drums and fifes -to drown the noise of cannon and the whizzing of bullets; in making caps -and coats to deck the bodies of those who live by killing others; in -buying up pork and beef, butter and cheese, to enable them to do this -with more effect: in barracks, in transport-ships, in baggage and -baggage-waggons, in horses, bridles and saddles, in suttlers and -followers of the camp, in chaplains of the regiment, in common trulls, -and the mistresses of generals and commanders in chief; in contractors, -in army and navy agents, their partners, clerks, relations, dependants, -wives, families, servants in and out of livery, their town and country -houses, coaches, curricles, parks, gardens, grottos, hot-houses, -green-houses, pictures, statues, libraries; in treasury scribes, in -secretaries and under-secretaries of state, of the foreign, colonial, -and war departments, with their swarms of underlings, all of whom are -maintained out of the labour and sweat of the country, and for all of -whom, and for all that they do (put together) the country is not one pin -the better, or at least, one penny more in pocket, than if they were at -the bottom of the Channel. The present may have been the most just and -necessary war, in a political, moral, and religious point of view, that -ever was engaged in; but it has also been the most expensive; and what -is worse, the expense remains just the same, though it may have been the -most unjust and unnecessary in the world. We have paid for it, and we -must pay for it equally in either case, and wholly out of our own -pockets. The price of restoring the Pope, the Inquisition, the Bourbons, -and the doctrine of Divine Right, is half of our nine hundred millions -of debt. That is the amount of the government bill of costs, presented -to John Bull for payment, not of the principal but the interest; that is -what he has got by the war; the load of taxes at his back, with which he -comes out of his glorious five and twenty years’ struggle, like -Christian’s load of sins, which whether it will not fall off from his -back like Christian’s, into the Slough of Despond, will be seen before -long. The difference between the expense of a war or a peace -establishment is just the difference between a state of productive and -unproductive labour. Now this whole question, which from its complexity -puzzles many people, and has given rise to a great deal of partly wilful -and partly shallow sophistry,[20] may be explained in two words.—Suppose -I give a man five shillings a day for going out in a boat and catching -fish for me. This is paying for productive labour: that is, I give him -so much for what he does, or a claim upon so much of the public stock: -but in taking so much from the stock by laying out his five shillings, -he adds so much to it by his labour, or the disposal of his time in -catching fish. But if I, having the money to do what I please with, give -him five shillings a day for shooting at crows, he is paid equally for -his trouble, and accordingly takes so much from the public stock, while -he adds nothing to it but so much carrion. So if the government pay him -so much a-day for shooting at Frenchmen and Republicans, this is a tax, -a loss, a burthen to the country, without any thing got by it; for we -cannot, after all, eat Frenchmen and Republicans when we have killed -them. War in itself is a thriving, sensible traffic only to cannibals! -Again—if I give a man five shillings for making a pair of shoes, this is -paying for productive labour, viz. for labour that is useful, and that -must be performed by some one; but if I give the same man five shillings -for standing on his head or behind my chair while I am picking my teeth, -or for running up a hill and down again for a wager—this is unproductive -labour, nothing comes of it, and though the man who is thus idly -employed lives by it, others starve, upon whose pittance and whose -labour he lives through me. Such is the nature and effect of war; all -the energies of which tend to waste, and to throw an additional and -heavy burthen upon the country, in proportion to the extent and length -of time that it is carried on. It creates so many useless members of the -community: every man paid by the war out of the taxes paid by the -people, is, in fact, a dead body fastened to a living one, that by its -weight drags it to the earth. A five and twenty years’ war, and nine -hundred millions of debt, are really a couple of millstones round the -neck of a country, that must naturally press her down a little in the -scale of prosperity. That seems to be no riddle. We defy any sophist to -answer this statement of the necessary tendency of war in its general -principle to ruin and impoverish a country. We are not to wonder, when -it does so; but when other causes operate to counteract or retard this -tendency. What is extraordinary in our own case is, that the pernicious -effects of war have been delayed so long, not that they have come upon -us at last.[21]—That money laid out in war is thrown away is -self-evident from this single circumstance, that government never -refund. The reason is, because they never do any thing with their money -that produces money again. They are the worst bankers in the world. The -Exchequer is a true Sinking Fund. If you lend money to a farmer, a -manufacturer, a merchant, he employs it in getting something done, for -which others will pay, because it is useful; as in raising corn, in -weaving cotton, in bringing home sugar or tobacco. But money sunk in a -war brings in no returns—except of killed and wounded. What will any one -give the government for the rotten bones that lie buried at Walcheren, -or the dry ones at Waterloo? Not a six-pence. They cannot make a -collection of wooden legs or dangling sleeves from the hospitals at -Greenwich or Chelsea to set up a raffle or a lottery. They cannot bring -the fruits of the war to auction, or put up the tottering throne of the -Bourbons to the best bidder. They can neither bring back a drop of the -blood that has been shed, nor recover a shilling of the treasure that -has been wasted. If the expenses of the war are not a burden to the -people, which must sink it according to their weight, why do not -government take the whole of this thriving concern into their own hands, -and pay the national debt out of the Droits of Admiralty? In short, the -way to ascertain this point is, by the old method of _reductio ad -absurdum_: Suppose we had to pay the expenses of such another -peace-establishment and such another war. Who does not see that they -would eat up the whole resources of the country, as the present -peace-establishment and actual debt do just one half? - - - SPEECHES IN PARLIAMENT ON THE DISTRESSES OF THE COUNTRY, _by_ MR. - WESTERN _and_ MR. BROUGHAM. - - (CONCLUDED) - - ‘Come, let us leave off children’s play, and go to push-pin.’ - _Polite Conversation._ - - _Aug. 18, 1816._ - -The war has wasted the resources of the country in foolery, which the -country has now to pay for in a load of taxes on its remaining -resources, its actual produce and labour. The tax-gatherer is a -government-machine that takes sixty-five millions a-year from the -bankrupt pockets of the nation, to give to those who have brought it -into that situation; who takes so much from the necessaries of life -belonging to the poor, to add to the superfluities of the rich; who adds -so much to the hard labour of the working part of the community, to -‘relieve the killing languor and over-laboured lassitude of those who -have nothing to do’; who, in short, out of the grinding poverty and -ceaseless toil of those who pay the taxes, enables those who receive -them to live in luxury and idleness. - -Mr. Burke, whom we have just quoted, has said, that ‘if the poor were to -cut the throats of the rich, they would not have a meal the more for -it.’ First, (for truth is the first thing in our thoughts, and not to -give offence the second) this is a falsehood; a greater one than the -answer of a Bond-street lounger, who coming out of a confectioner’s -shop, where he has had a couple of basons of turtle-soup, an ice, some -jellies, and a quantity of pastry, as he saunters out picking his teeth -and putting the change into his pocket, says to a beggar at the door, ‘I -have nothing for you.’ We confess, we have always felt it an aukward -circumstance to be accosted in this manner, when we have been caught in -the act of indulging a sweet tooth, and it costs us an additional penny. -The rich and poor may at present be compared to the two classes of -frequenters of pastry-cooks’ shops, those on the outside and those on -the in. We would seriously advise the latter, who see the gaunt faces -staring at them through the glass-door, to recollect, that though -custard is nicer than bread, bread is the greatest necessary of the -two.—We had forgot Mr. Burke’s sophism, to which we reply in the second -place, that the cutting of throats is a figure of speech, like the -dagger which he produced in the House of Commons, not necessary to the -speculative decision of the question. The most civil, peaceable, and -complaisant way of putting it is this—whether if the rich were to give -all that they are worth to the poor, the latter would be none the richer -for it? If so, the rich would be none the poorer, and so far could be no -losers on Mr. Burke’s own hypothesis, which supposes, with that -magnanimity of contempt for plain matter of fact which distinguished the -author’s theories, that the rich have nothing, and the poor have every -thing? Had not Mr. Burke a pension of 4000_l._ a-year? Was this nothing? -But even this is not the question neither. It is not, whether if the -rich were to part with all they have to the poor (which is a mere -absurdity) but whether if the rich do not take all they have left from -the poor (which we humbly hope is a proposition that has common sense in -it) the latter may not be the better off with something to live upon -than with nothing? Whether, if the whole load of taxes could be taken -off from them, it would not be a relief to them? Whether, if half the -load of taxes were taken off from them, it would not be a relief to -them? Whether, if any part of the load of taxes that can be taken off -from them were taken off, it would not in the same proportion be a -relief to them? We will venture to say, that no one will deny these -propositions who does not receive so much a year for falsehood and -impudence. The resistance which is made to the general or abstract -principle is not intended to prevent the extreme sweeping application of -that principle to the plundering or (as Mr. Burke will have it) to the -cutting the throats of the rich, but it is a manœuvre, by getting rid of -the general principle altogether, viz. that the extravagance and luxury -of the rich, war, taxes, &c., have a tendency to increase the distresses -of the poor, or measures of retrenchment and reform to lighten those -distresses—to give _carte-blanche_ to the government to squander the -wealth, the blood, the happiness of the nation at pleasure; to grant -jobs, places, pensions, sinecures, reversions without end, to grind -down, to starve and impoverish the country with systematic impunity. It -is a legerdemain trick played off by hireling politicians, to enable -their patrons and employers to pick our pockets and laugh in our faces -at the same time. - -It has been said by such persons that taxes are not a burthen to the -country; that the wealth collected in taxes returns through those who -receive to those who pay them, only divided more equally and -beneficially among all parties, just (they say) as the vapours and -moisture of the earth collected in the clouds return to enrich the soil -in soft and fertilizing showers. We shall set ourselves to shew that -this is not true. - -Suppose a society of ten persons, without taxes to pay, and who live on -their own labour, on the produce of the ground, and the exchange of one -commodity among themselves for another. Some of these persons will be -naturally employed in tilling the ground, others in tending cattle, -others, in making instruments of husbandry, others in weaving cloth, -others in making shoes, others in building houses, others in making -roads, others in buying and selling, others in fetching and carrying -what the others want. All will be employed in something that they want -themselves, or that others want. In such a state of society, nothing -will be given for nothing. If a man has a bushel of wheat, and only -wants half of it, he will give the other half to some one, for making -him a coat or a pair of shoes. As every one will be paid for what he -does out of the earnings of the labour of others, no one will waste his -time or his strength in doing any thing that is not wanted by some one -else, that is not as useful and necessary, to his subsistence and -comfort, and more so, than the commodity which he gives in exchange for -it. There will be no unproductive labour. What each person gets will be -either in proportion to what he has done for himself, or what he has -added to the comforts of others. Exchange there will be no robbery. The -wealth of all will be the result of the exertions of each individual, -and will circulate equally and beneficially, because those who produce -that wealth will share it among themselves. This is an untaxed state of -society, where wealth changes hands indeed, but finds its level, -notwithstanding.—Now suppose two other individuals to be fastened upon -this society of ten persons—a government-man and a fund-holder. They -change the face of it in an instant. The equilibrium, the balance is -upset. The amount of the wealth of the society before was a thousand -pounds a-year, suppose. The two new-comers take a writ out of their -pockets, by which they quietly lay hands on five hundred of it as their -fair portion. Where are the ten persons now? Mr. Burke, Mr. Coleridge, -Mr. Vansittart, _The Courier_, say—Just where they were before! We say, -No such thing. For three reasons: 1. It cannot be denied that the -interlopers, the government-man and his friend, the fund-holder, who has -lent him money to sport with on all occasions, are substantial _bonâ -fide_ persons, like other men, who live by eating, drinking, &c., and -who, if they only shared equally with the other ten what they had got -amongst them, (for they add nothing to the common stock) must be a -sufficient burthen upon the rest, that is, must diminish the comforts or -increase the labour of each person one-fifth. To hear the other side -talk, one would suppose that those who raise and are paid out of the -taxes never touch a farthing of them, that they have no occasion for -them, that they neither eat nor drink, nor buy clothing, or build houses -with them; that they live upon air, or that harmless food, bank notes (a -thing not to speak of), and that all the money they are so anxious to -collect is distributed by them again for the sole benefit of others, or -passes back through the Exchequer, as if it were a conduit-pipe or empty -tunnel, into the hands of the original proprietors, without diminution -or diversion. Now this is not so. 2. Not only do our government-man and -his friend live like other people upon their means, but they live better -than other people, for they have better means, that is, these two take -half of what the other ten get. They would be fools if they gave it back -to them; no, depend upon it, they lay out their five hundred a-year upon -themselves, for their own sole use, benefit, pleasure, mirth, and -pastime. For each of these gentlemen has just five times as much to -spend as any of those that he lives upon at free cost, and he has -nothing to do but to think how he shall spend it. He eats and drinks as -much as he can, and always of the best and most costly. It is pretended -that the difference in the consumption of the produce of the soil is -little or nothing, for a poor man’s belly will hold as much as a rich -man’s. But not if the one is full and the other empty. The man who lives -upon the taxes, feasts upon venison and turtle, and crams himself to the -throat with fish, flesh, and fowl; the man who pays the taxes, upon a -crust of mouldy bread, and fat rusty bacon: the man who receives the -taxes drinks rich and sparkling wines, hock and canary; the man who pays -them, sour small beer. If the poor man gets drunk and leads an idle -life, his family starve: the rich man drinks his three bottles a day and -does nothing, while his family live on the fat of the land. If the poor -man dies of hard labour and poor living, his family comes to the parish; -if the rich man dies of hard living and want of exercise, he leaves his -family to be provided for by the state. But, 3. All that the -government-man and the fund-holder do not spend upon their bellies, in -revelling and gormandising, they lay out upon their backs, their houses, -their carriages, &c., in inordinate demands upon the labour of the -former ten persons, who are now employed, not in working for one -another, but in pampering the pride, ostentation, vanity, folly, or -vices, of our two gentlemen comers. After glutting their physical -appetites, they take care to apply all the rest to the gratification of -their factitious, arbitrary, and fantastic wants, which are unlimited, -and which the universe could not supply. ‘They toil not, neither do they -spin, and yet even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of -these:’—while the poor are clothed in rags, and the dogs lick up their -sores. The money that is taken from you and me, or the more industrious -members of the community, and that we should have laid out in having -snug, comfortable houses built for us all, or two bed-rooms for our -families instead of one, is employed, now that it has got into the -tax-gatherer’s hands, in hiring the same persons to build two enormous -houses for the government-man and the fund-holder, who live in palaces -while we live in hovels. What are we, the people, the original ten men, -the better for that? The taxes enable those who receive them to pay our -masons, carpenters, &c., for working for them. If we had not been forced -to pay the money in taxes, the same persons would have been employed by -us for our common benefit. Suppose the government-man takes it into his -head to build a colossus, a rotunda, a pyramid, or anything else equally -absurd and gigantic, it would, we say, be a nuisance in proportion to -its size. It would be ten times as great a nuisance if it was ten times -bigger. If it covered a whole county, it would ruin the landed interest. -If it was spread over the whole country, the country must starve. When -the government-man and the fund-holder have got their great houses -built, they must next have them furnished with proportionable -magnificence, and by the same means; with Persian and Turkey carpets, -with Egyptian sofas, down beds, silk curtains, china vases, services of -plate, tables, chairs, stoves, glasses, mirrors, chandeliers, paper -hangings, pictures, busts, ornaments, kickshaws without number, while -you and I live on a mud floor, with bare walls, stuck with a penny -ballad, with a joint-stool to sit upon, a tea-pot without a tea-spout to -drink out of, a truckle-bed or some straw and a blanket to lie upon! Yet -Mr. Burke says, that if we were suddenly converted into state-pensioners -with thirty-thousand a year, we could not furnish our houses a bit the -better for it. This is like Lord Peter, in the Tale of a Tub. Then the -government-man and his friend must have their train of coaches, horses, -dogs, footmen dressed in blue, green, yellow, and red, lazy rascals, -making work for the taylor, the hatter, the shoemaker, the button-maker, -the hair-dresser, the gold and silver laceman, to powder, dress, and -trick them out, that they may lounge behind their mistresses’ coaches, -walk before their sedan chairs, help on their master’s stockings, block -up his doors, and perform a variety of little nameless offices, much to -the ease and satisfaction of the great, but not of the smallest benefit -to any one else. With respect to the article of dogs and horses, a word -in Mr. Malthus’s ear. They come under the head of consumption, and a -swinging item they are. They eat up the food of the children of the -poor. The pleasure and coach-horses kept in this kingdom consume as much -of the produce of the soil as would maintain all the paupers in it. Let -a tax be laid upon them directly, to defray the expense of the -poor-rates, and to suspend the operation of Mr. Malthus’s geometrical -and arithmetical ratios. We see no physical necessity why that ingenious -divine should put a stop to the propagation of the species, that he may -keep two sleek geldings in his stable. We have lately read Swift’s -account of the Houynhyms and Yahoos. There is some truth in it; but -still it has not reconciled us to Mr. Malthus’s proposal of starving the -children of the poor to feed the horses of the rich. But no more of -that! We have said enough at present to shew how the taxes fly away with -the money of a nation; how they go into the hands of the government-man -and the fund-holder, and do not return into the pockets of the people, -who pay them. For the future, Mr. Burke’s assertion, that the taxes are -like the vapours that ascend into the clouds and return to the earth in -fertilizing showers, may pass for an agreeable metaphor, but for nothing -more. A pretty joke truly, this, of the people’s receiving their taxes -back again in payment for what the rich want of them. It is as if I -should buy a pound of beef in a butcher’s shop, and take the money out -of his own till to pay him! It is as if a bill is presented to me for -payment, and I ask the notary for the money to take it up with! It is as -if a Noble Earl was to win 50,000_l._ of a Noble Duke over-night, and -offer to return it to him the next morning, for one of his estates! It -is as if Mr. Burke had been robbed of a bond for 4000_l._ and the -fortunate possessor had offered to restore it, on receiving in lieu his -house and gardens at Beaconsfield! Having thus pointed out the nature of -the distress, we need not inquire far for the remedy. - - - - -A LAY-SERMON ON THE DISTRESSES OF THE COUNTRY, _addressed to the Middle - and Higher Orders_. _By_ S. T. Coleridge, _Esq._ Printed for Gale and - Fenner, price 1_s._[22] - - ——‘Function - Is smother’d in surmise, and nothing is - But what is not.’ - ‘Or in Franciscan think to pass disguis’d.’ - - - _Sept. 8, 1816._ - -This Lay-Sermon puts us in mind of Mahomet’s coffin, which was suspended -between heaven and earth, or of the flying island at Laputa, which -hovered over the head of Gulliver. The ingenious author, in a preface, -which is a masterpiece in its kind, having neither beginning, middle, -nor end, apologizes for having published a work, not a line of which is -written, or ever likely to be written. He has, it seems, resorted to -this expedient as the only way of appearing before the public in a -manner worthy of himself and his genius, and descants on the several -advantages to be derived from this original mode of composition;—That as -long as he does not put pen to paper, the first sentence cannot -contradict the second; that neither his reasonings nor his conclusions -can be liable to objection, _in the abstract_; that _omne ignotum pro -magnifico est_, is an axiom laid down by some of the best and wisest men -of antiquity; that hitherto his performance, in the opinion of his -readers, has fallen short of the vastness of his designs, but that no -one can find fault with what he does not write; that while he merely -haunts the public imagination with obscure noises, or by announcing his -spiritual appearance for the next week, and does not venture out _in -propria persona_ with his shroud and surplice on, the Cock-lane Ghost of -mid-day, he may escape in a whole skin without being handled by the mob, -or uncased by the critics; and he considers it the safest way to keep up -the importance of his oracular communications, by letting them remain a -profound secret both to himself and the world. - -In this instance, we think the writer’s modesty has led him into a -degree of unnecessary precaution. We see no sort of difference between -his published and his unpublished compositions. It is just as impossible -to get at the meaning of the one as the other. No man ever yet gave Mr. -Coleridge ‘a penny for his thoughts.’ His are all maiden ideas; -immaculate conceptions. He is the ‘Secret Tattle’ of the press. Each -several work exists only in the imagination of the author, and is quite -inaccessible to the understandings of his readers—‘Yet virgin of -Proserpina from Jove.’—We can give just as good a guess at the design of -this Lay-Sermon, which is not published, as of _the Friend_, the -Preliminary Articles in _the Courier_, _the Watchman_, _the Conciones ad -Populum_, or any of the other courtly or popular publications of the -same author. Let the experiment be tried, and if, on committing the -manuscript to the press, the author is caught in the fact of a single -intelligible passage, we will be answerable for Mr. Coleridge’s loss of -character. But we know the force of his genius too well. What is his -_Friend_ itself but an enormous title-page; the longest and most -tiresome prospectus that ever was written; an endless preface to an -imaginary work; a table of contents that fills the whole volume; a huge -bill of fare of all possible subjects, with not an idea to be had for -love or money? One number consists of a grave-faced promise to perform -something impossible in the next; and the next is taken up with a -long-faced apology for not having done it. Through the whole of this -work, Mr. Coleridge appears in the character of the Unborn Doctor; the -very Barmecide of knowledge; the Prince of preparatory authors! - - ‘He never is—but always to be _wise_.’ - -He is the Dog in the Manger of literature, an intellectual Mar-Plot, who -will neither let any body else come to a conclusion, nor come to one -himself.[23] This gentleman belongs to the class of eclectic -philosophers; but whereas they professed to examine different systems, -in order to select what was good in each, our perverse critic ransacks -all past or present theories, to pick out their absurdities, and to -abuse whatever is good in them. He takes his notions of religion from -the ‘sublime piety’ of Jordano Bruno, and considers a belief in a God as -a very subordinate question to the worship of the Three Persons of the -Trinity. The thirty-nine articles and St. Athanasius’s creed are, upon -the same principle, much more fundamental parts of the Christian -religion than the miracles or gospel of Christ. He makes the essence of -devotion to consist in Atheism, the perfection of morality in a total -disregard of consequences. He refers the great excellence of the British -Constitution to the prerogative of the Crown, and conceives that the old -French Constitution must have been admirably defended by the -States-General, which never met, from the abuses of arbitrary power. He -highly approves of _ex officio_ informations and special juries, as the -great bulwarks of the liberty of the press; taxes he holds to be a -providential relief to the distresses of the people, and war to be a -state of greater security than peace. He defines Jacobinism to be an -abstract attachment to liberty, truth, and justice; and finding that -this principle has been abused or carried to excess, he argues that -Anti-jacobinism, or the abstract principles of despotism, superstition, -and oppression, are the safe, sure, and undeniable remedy for the -former, and the only means of restoring liberty, truth, and justice in -the world. Again, he places the seat of truth in _the heart_, of virtue -in _the head_; damns a tragedy as shocking that draws tears from the -audience, and pronounces a comedy to be inimitable, if nobody laughs at -it; labours to unsettle the plainest things by far-fetched sophistry, -and makes up for the want of proof in matters of fact by the mechanical -operations of the spirit. He judges of men as he does of things. He -would persuade you that Sir Isaac Newton was a money-scrivener, Voltaire -dull, Bonaparte a poor creature, and the late Mr. Howard a misanthrope; -while he pays a willing homage to the Illustrious Obscure, of whom he -always carries a list in his pocket. His creed is formed not from a -distrust and disavowal of the exploded errors of other systems, but from -a determined rejection of their acknowledged excellences. It is a -transposition of reason and common sense. He adopts all the vulnerable -points of belief as the triumphs of his fastidious philosophy, and holds -a general retainer for the defence of all contradictions in terms and -impossibilities in practice. He is at cross-purposes with himself as -well as others, and discards his own caprices if ever he suspects there -is the least ground for them. Doubt succeeds to doubt, cloud rolls over -cloud, one paradox is driven out by another still greater, in endless -succession. He is equally averse to the prejudices of the vulgar, the -paradoxes of the learned, or the habitual convictions of his own mind. -He moves in an unaccountable diagonal between truth and falsehood, sense -and nonsense, sophistry and common-place, and only assents to any -opinion when he knows that all the reasons are against it. A matter of -fact is abhorrent to his nature: the very _air_ of truth repels him. He -is only saved from the extremities of absurdity by combining them all in -his own person. Two things are indispensable to him—to set out from no -premises, and to arrive at no conclusion. The consciousness of a single -certainty would be an insupportable weight upon his mind. He slides out -of a logical deduction by the help of metaphysics: and if the labyrinths -of metaphysics did not afford him ‘ample scope and verge enough,’ he -would resort to necromancy and the cabbala. He only tolerates the -science of astronomy for the sake of its connection with the dreams of -judicial astrology, and escapes from the _Principia_ of Newton to the -jargon of Lily and Ashmole. All his notions are floating and unfixed, -like what is feigned of the first forms of things flying about in search -of bodies to attach themselves to; but _his_ ideas seek to avoid all -contact with solid substances. Innumerable evanescent thoughts dance -before him, and dazzle his sight, like insects in the evening sun. Truth -is to him a ceaseless round of contradictions: he lives in the belief of -a perpetual lie, and in affecting to think what he pretends to say. His -mind is in a constant estate of flux and reflux: he is like the -Sea-horse in the Ocean; he is the Man in the Moon, the Wandering -Jew.—The reason of all this is, that Mr. Coleridge has great powers of -thought and fancy, without will or sense. He is without a strong feeling -of the existence of any thing out of himself; and he has neither -purposes nor passions of his own to make him wish it to be. All that he -does or thinks is involuntary; even his perversity and self-will are so. -They are nothing but a necessity of yielding to the slightest motive. -Everlasting inconsequentiality marks all that he attempts. All his -impulses are loose, airy, devious, casual. The strongest of his purposes -is lighter than the gossamer, ‘that wantons in the idle summer-air’: the -brightest of his schemes a bubble blown by an infant’s breath, that -rises, glitters, bursts in the same instant:— - - ‘Or like the Borealis race, - That flit ere you can mark their place: - Or like the snow falls in the river, - A moment white, then gone for ever.’ - -His mind has infinite activity, which only leads him into numberless -chimeras; and infinite resources, which not being under the guidance of -his will, only distract and perplex him. His genius has angel’s wings; -but neither hands nor feet. He soars up to heaven, circles the empyrean, -or dives to the centre of the earth, but he neither lays his hands upon -the treasures of the one, nor can find a resting place for his feet in -the other. He is no sooner borne to the utmost point of his ambition, -than he is hurried away from it again by the same fantastic impulse, or -his own specific levity. He has all the faculties of the human mind but -one, and yet without that one, the rest only impede and interfere with -each other—‘Like to a man on double business bound who both neglects.’ -He would have done better if he had known less. His imagination thus -becomes metaphysical, his metaphysics fantastical, his wit heavy, his -arguments light, his poetry prose, his prose poetry, his politics -turned—but not to account. He belongs to all parties and is of service -to none. He gives up his independence of mind, and yet does not acquire -independence of fortune. He offends others without satisfying himself, -and equally by his servility and singularity, shocks the prejudices of -all about him. If he had had but common moral principle, that is, -sincerity, he would have been a great man; nor hardly, as it is, appears -to us— - - ‘Less than arch-angel ruined, and the excess - Of glory obscur’d.’ - -We lose our patience when we think of the powers that he has wasted, and -compare them and their success with those, for instance, of such a -fellow as the ——, all whose ideas, notions, apprehensions, -comprehensions, feelings, virtues, genius, skill, are comprised in the -two words which _Peachum_ describes as necessary qualifications in his -gang, ‘To stand himself and bid others stand!’ - -When his six Irish friends, the six Irish gentlemen, Mr. Makins, Mr. -Dunkley, Mr. Monaghan, Mr. Gollogher, Mr. Gallaspy, and Mr. O’Keeffe, -after an absence of several years, discovered their old acquaintance -John Buncle, sitting in a mixed company at Harrowgate Wells, they -exclaimed with one accord—‘There he is—making love to the finest woman -in the universe!’ So we may say at a venture of Mr. Coleridge—‘There he -is, at this instant (no matter where) talking away among his gossips, as -if he were at the Court of Semiramis, with the Sophi or Prestor John.’ -The place can never reach the height of his argument. He should live in -a world of enchantment, that things might answer to his descriptions. -His talk would suit the miracle of the Conversion of Constantine, or -Raphael’s Assembly of the Just. It is not short of that. His face would -cut no figure there, but his tongue would wag to some purpose. He is fit -to take up the deep pauses of conversation between Cardinals and -Angels—his cue would not be wanting in presence of the beatific vision. -Let him talk on for ever in this world and the next; and both worlds -will be the better for it. But let him not write, or pretend to write, -nonsense. Nobody is the better for it. It was a fine thought in Mr. -Wordsworth to represent Cervantes at the day of judgment and -conflagration of the world carrying off the romance of Don Quixote under -his arm. We hope that Mr. Coleridge, on the same occasion, will leave -‘the Friend’ to take its chance, and his ‘Lay Sermon’ to get up into the -Limbo of Vanity, how it can. - - - - -THE STATESMAN’S MANUAL; _or the Bible the best Guide to Political Skill - and Foresight_. _A Lay Sermon, addressed to the Higher Classes of - Society._ _By_ S. T. Coleridge, _Esq._ Gale and Fenner. - - - _Dec. 29, 1816._ - -Here is the true Simon Pure. We have by anticipation given some account -of this Sermon. We have only to proceed to specimens in illustration of -what we have said. - -It sets out with the following sentence:— - -‘If our own knowledge and information concerning the Bible had been -confined to the one fact of its immediate derivation from God, we should -still presume that it contained rules and assistances for all conditions -of men under all circumstances; and therefore for communities no less -than for individuals.’ - -Now this is well said; ‘and ’tis a kind of good deed to say well.’ But -why did not Mr. Coleridge keep on in the same strain to the end of the -chapter, instead of himself disturbing the harmony and unanimity which -he here very properly supposes to exist on this subject, or questioning -the motives of its existence by such passages as the following, p. 23 of -the Appendix: - -‘Thank heaven! notwithstanding the attempts of Mr. Thomas Paine and his -compeers, it is not so bad with us. _Open infidelity_ has ceased to be a -means even of gratifying vanity; for the leaders of the gang themselves -turned apostates to Satan, as soon as the number of their proselytes -became _so large_, that Atheism ceased to give distinction. Nay, it -became a mark of original thinking to defend the Belief and the Ten -Commandments; so the _strong minds_ veered round, and religion came -again into fashion.’ - -Now we confess we do not find in this statement much to thank heaven -for; if religion has only come into fashion again with the strong -minds—(it will hardly be denied that Mr. Coleridge is one of the -number)—as a better mode of gratifying their vanity than ‘open -infidelity.’ Be this as it may, Mr. Coleridge has here given a true and -masterly delineation of that large class of Proselytes or their -teachers, who believe any thing or nothing, just as their vanity prompts -them. All that we have ever said of modern apostates is poor and feeble -to it. There is however one error in his statement, inasmuch as Mr. -Thomas Paine never openly professed Atheism, whatever some of his -compeers might do. - -It is a pity that with all that fund of ‘rules and assistances’ which -the Bible contains for our instruction and reproof, and which the author -in this work proposes to recommend as the Statesman’s Manual, or the -best Guide to Political Skill and Foresight, in times like these, he has -not brought forward a single illustration of his doctrine, nor referred -to a single example in the Jewish history that bears at all, in the -circumstances, or the inference, on our own, but one, and that one he -has purposely omitted. Is this to be credited? Not without quoting the -passage. - -‘But do you require some one or more particular passage from the Bible -that may at once illustrate and exemplify its application to the changes -and fortunes of empires? Of the numerous chapters that relate to the -Jewish tribes, their enemies and allies, before and after their division -into two kingdoms, it would be more difficult to state a single one, -from which some guiding light might _not_ be struck.’ [Oh, very well, we -shall have a few of them. The passage goes on.] ‘And in nothing is -Scriptural history more strongly contrasted with the histories of -highest note in the present age, than in its freedom from the hollowness -of abstractions.’ [Mr. Coleridge’s admiration of the inspired writers -seems to be very much mixed with a dislike of Hume and Gibbon.]—‘While -the latter present a shadow-fight of Things and Quantities, the former -gives us the history of Men, and balances the important influence of -individual minds with the previous state of national morals and manners, -in which, as constituting a specific susceptibility, it presents to us -the true cause, both of the influence itself, and of the Weal or Woe -that were its consequents. _How should it be otherwise?_ The histories -and political economy of the present and preceding century partake in -the general contagion of its mechanic philosophy.’ [“still harping on my -daughter”] ‘and are the _product_ of an unenlivened generalizing -understanding. In the Scriptures they are the living _educts_ of the -Imagination; of that reconciling and mediatory power, which -incorporating the reason in Images of the Sense, and organising (as it -were) the flux of the Senses by the permanence and self-circling -energies of the Reason, gives birth to a system of symbols, harmonious -in themselves, and consubstantial with the truths, of which they are the -_conductors_. These are the Wheels which Ezekiel beheld when the hand of -the Lord was upon him, and he saw visions of God as he sat among the -captives by the river of Chebar. _Whither soever the Spirit was to go, -the wheels went, and thither was their spirit to go; for the spirit of -the living creature was in the wheels also._ The truths and the symbols -that represent them move in conjunction, and form the living chariot -that bears up (for us) the throne of the Divine Humanity. _Hence by a -derivative, indeed, but not a divided influence, and though in a -secondary, yet in more than a metaphorical sense, the Sacred Book_ is -worthily entitled the Word of God,’ p. 36. - -So that, after all, the Bible is not the immediate word of God, except -according to the German philosophy, and _in something between a literal -and metaphorical sense_. Of all the cants that ever were canted in this -canting world, this is the worst! The author goes on to add, that ‘it is -among the miseries of the present age that it recognises no medium -between _literal_ and _metaphorical_,’ and laments that ‘the mechanical -understanding, in the blindness of its self-complacency, confounds -SYMBOLS with ALLEGORIES.’—This is certainly a sad mistake, which he -labours very learnedly to set right, ‘in a diagonal sidelong movement -between truth and falsehood.’—We assure the reader that the passages -which we have given above are given in the order in which they are -strung together in the Sermon; and so he goes on for several pages, -concluding his career where the Allies have concluded theirs, with the -doctrine of Divine Right; which he does not however establish quite so -successfully with the pen, as they have done with the sword. ‘Herein’ -(says this profound writer) ‘the Bible differs from all the books of -Greek philosophy, and in a two-fold manner. It doth not affirm a Divine -Nature only, but a God; and not a God only, but the living God. _Hence -in the Scriptures alone is the_ JUS DIVINUM _or direct Relation of the -State and its Magistracy to the Supreme Being, taught as a vital and -indispensable part of_ ALL MORAL AND ALL POLITICAL WISDOM, _even as the -Jewish alone was a true theocracy!_’ - -Now it does appear to us, that as the reason why the _Jus Divinum_ was -taught in the Jewish state was, that that alone was a true theocracy, -this is so far from proving this doctrine to be a _part of all moral and -all political wisdom_, that it proves just the contrary. This may -perhaps be owing to our mechanical understanding. Wherever Mr. C. will -shew us the theocracy, we will grant him the _Jus Divinum_. Where God -really pulls down and sets up kings, the people need not do it. Under -the true Jewish theocracy, the priests and prophets cashiered kings; but -our lay-preacher will hardly take this office upon himself as a part of -the _Jus Divinum_, without having any thing better to shew for it than -his profound moral and political wisdom. Mr. Southey hints at something -of the kind in verse, and we are not sure that Mr. Coleridge does not -hint at it in prose. For after his extraordinary career and interminable -circumnavigation through the heaven of heavens, after being wrapt in the -wheels of Ezekiel, and sitting with the captives by the river of Chebar, -he lights once more on English ground, and you think you have him. - -‘But I refer to the demand. Were it my object to touch on the present -state of public affairs in this kingdom, or on the prospective measures -in agitation respecting our Sister Island, I would direct your most -serious meditations to the latter period of the reign of Solomon, and -the revolutions in the reign of Rehoboam his son. _But I tread on -glowing embers._ I will turn to a subject on which all men of reflection -are at length in agreement—the causes of the Revolution and fearful -chastisement of France.’—Here Mr. Coleridge is off again on the wings of -fear as he was before on those of fancy.—This trifling can only be -compared to that of the impertinent barber of Bagdad, who being sent for -to shave the prince, spent the whole morning in preparing his razors, -took the height of the sun with an astrolabe, sung the song of Zimri, -and danced the dance of Zamtout, and concluded by declining to perform -the operation at all, because the day was unfavourable to its success. -As we are not so squeamish as Mr. Coleridge, and do not agree with him -and all other men of reflection on the subject of the French Revolution, -we shall turn back to the latter end of the reign of Solomon, and that -of his successor Rehoboam, to find out the parallel to the present reign -and regency which so particularly strikes and startles Mr. -Coleridge.—Here it is for the edification of the curious, from the First -Book of Kings:— - -‘And the time that Solomon reigned over all Israel was forty years. And -Solomon slept with his fathers, and was buried in the city of David his -father: and Rehoboam his son reigned in his stead. And Rehoboam went to -Shechem: _for all Israel were come to Shechem to make him king_.[24] And -Jeroboam and all the congregation of Israel came and spake unto -Rehoboam, saying, Thy father (Solomon) made our yoke grievous; now, -therefore, make thou the grievous service of thy father, and his heavy -yoke which he put upon us, lighter, _and we will serve thee_. And he -said unto them, Depart yet for three days, then come again to me. And -the people departed. And King Rehoboam consulted with the old men that -stood before Solomon his father while he yet lived, and said, How do ye -advise, that I may answer this people? And they spake unto him, saying, -_If thou wilt be a servant unto this people_ this day, and wilt serve -them, and answer them, and speak good words unto them, _then_ they will -be thy servants for ever. But he forsook the counsel of the old men, -which they had given him, _and consulted with the young men that were -grown up with him, and which stood before him_: And he said unto them, -What counsel give ye, that we may answer this people, who have spoken to -me, saying, Make the yoke which thy father did put upon us lighter? And -the young men that were grown up with him spake unto him, saying, Thus -shalt thou speak unto this people that spake unto thee, saying, Thy -father made our yoke heavy, but make thou it lighter unto us; thus shalt -thou say unto them, _My little finger shall be thicker than my father’s -loins. And now, whereas my father did lade you with a heavy yoke, I will -add to your yoke: my father hath chastised you with whips: but I will -chastise you with scorpions._ So Jeroboam and all the people came to -Rehoboam the third day, as the king had appointed, saying, come to me -again the third day. And the king _answered the people roughly_, and -forsook the old men’s counsel that they gave him: And spake to them -after the counsel of the young men, saying, _My father made your yoke -heavy, and I will add to your yoke; my father also chastised you with -whips, but I will chastise you with scorpions._ Wherefore the king -hearkened not unto the people; _for the cause was from the Lord_, that -he might perform his saying which the Lord spake by Ahijah, the -Shilonite, unto Jeroboam the son of Nebat.’ [We here see pretty plainly -how the principle of ‘a true theocracy’ qualified the doctrine of _Jus -Divinum_ among the Jews; but let us mark the sequel.] ‘_So when all -Israel saw that the King hearkened not unto them, the people answered -the king, saying, What portion have we in David: neither have we -inheritance in the son of Jesse: to your tents, O Israel: now see to -thine own house, David. So Israel departed unto their tents._ Then king -Rehoboam sent Adoram, who was over the tribute; and all Israel stoned -him with stones that he died; therefore king Rehoboam made speed to get -him up to his chariot to flee to Jerusalem. So Israel rebelled against -the house of David unto this day. And it came to pass when all Israel -heard that Jeroboam was come again, that they sent and called him unto -the congregation, and made him king over all Israel.’ - -Here is the doctrine and practice of divine right, with a vengeance. We -do not wonder Mr. Coleridge was shy of instances from his Statesman’s -Manual, as the rest are like this. He does not say (neither shall we, -for we are not salamanders any more than he, _to tread on glowing -embers_) whether he approves of the conduct of all Israel in this case, -or of the _grand_, _magnificent_, _and gracious_ answer of the son of -Solomon; but this we will say, that his bringing or alluding to a -passage like this immediately after his _inuendo_ (addressed to the -higher classes) that the doctrine of divine right is contained _par -excellence_ in the Scriptures alone, is we should suppose, an instance -of a power of voluntary self-delusion, and of a delight in exercising it -on the most ticklish topics, greater than ever was or ever will be -possessed by any other individual that ever did or ever will live upon -the face of the earth. ‘Imposture, organised into a comprehensive and -self-consistent whole, forms a world of its own, in which inversion -becomes the order of nature.’ Compared with such powers of inconceivable -mental refinement, hypocrisy is a great baby, a shallow dolt, a gross -dunce, a clumsy devil! - -Among other passages, unrivalled in style and matter by any other -author, take the following:— - -‘When I named this Essay a Sermon, I sought to prepare the inquirers -after it for the absence of all the usual softenings _suggested by -worldly prudence_, of all compromise between truth and courtesy. But not -even as a Sermon would I have addressed the present Discourse to a -promiscuous audience: and for this reason I likewise announced it in the -title-page, as exclusively _ad clerum_, i.e. (in the old and wide sense -of the word[25]) to men of _clerkly_ acquirements, of whatever -profession.’ [All that we know is, that there is no such title-page to -our copy.] ‘I would that the greater part of our publications could be -thus _directed_, each to its appropriate class of readers. But this -cannot be! For among other odd burs and kecksies, the misgrowth of our -luxuriant activity, we have a READING PUBLIC, as strange _a phrase_, -methinks, as ever forced a splenetic smile on the staid countenance of -meditation; and yet _no fiction_! For our readers have, in good truth, -multiplied exceedingly, and have waxed proud. It would require the -_intrepid accuracy_ of a Colquhoun’—[Intrepid and accurate applied to a -Colquhoun! It seems that whenever an objection in matter of fact occurs -to our author’s mind, he instinctively applies the flattering unction of -words to smooth it over to his conscience, as you apply a salve to a -sore]—‘to venture at the precise number of that vast company only, whose -heads and hearts are dieted at the two public _ordinaries_ of -literature, the circulating libraries and the periodical press. But what -is the result? Does the _inward man_ thrive on this regimen? Alas! if -the average health of the consumers may be judged of by the articles of -largest consumption’—[Is not this a side-blow at the _Times_ and -_Courier_?]—‘if the secretions may be conjectured from the ingredients -of the dishes that are found best suited to their palates; from all that -I have seen, either of the banquet or the guests, I shall utter my -_profaccia_’—[‘Oh thou particular fellow!‘]—‘with a desponding sigh: -From a popular philosophy, and philosophic populace, good sense deliver -us!’ - -Why so, any more than from a popular religion or a religious populace, -on Mr. Coleridge’s own principle, p. 12, ‘Reason and religion are their -own evidence’? We should suspect that our unread author, the ‘Secret -Tattle’ of the Press, is thus fastidious, because he keeps an ordinary -himself which is not frequented. He professes to be select: but we all -know the secret of ‘seminaries for a limited number of pupils.’ Mr. -Coleridge addresses his Lay-Sermon ‘to the higher classes,’ in his -printed title-page: in that which is not printed he has announced it to -be _directed ad clerum_, which might imply the clergy, but no: he issues -another EXTENT for the benefit of the Reading Public, and says he means -by the annunciation _ad clerum_, all persons of clerkly acquirements, -that is, who can read and write. What wretched stuff is all this! We -well remember a friend of his and ours saying, many years ago, on seeing -a little shabby volume of _Thomson’s Seasons_ lying in the window of a -solitary ale-house, at the top of a rock hanging over the British -Channel,—‘_That is true fame!_’ If he were to write fifty Lay-Sermons, -he could not answer the inference from this one sentence, which is, that -there are books that make their way wherever there are readers, and that -there ought every where to be readers for such books! - -To the words READING PUBLIC, in the above passage, is the following -note, which in wit and humour does not fall short of Mr. Southey’s -‘Tract on the Madras System’:— - -‘Some participle passive in the diminutive form, _eruditorum natio_ for -instance, might seem at first sight a fuller and more exact designation: -but the superior force and humour of the former become evident whenever -the phrase occurs, as a step or stair in the climax of irony.... Among -the revolutions worthy of notice, the change in the introductory -sentences and prefatory matter in serious books is not the least -striking. The same gross flattery, which disgusts us in the dedications -to individuals, in the elder writers, is now transferred to the nation -at large, or the READING PUBLIC; while the Jeremiads of our old -moralists, and their angry denunciations against the ignorance, -immorality, and irreligion of the _people_ appear (_mutatis mutandis_, -and with an appeal to the worst passions, envy, discontent, scorn, -vindictiveness,[26] &c.) in the shape of bitter libels on ministers, -parliament, the clergy; in short, on the state and church, and all -persons employed in them. Likewise, I would point out to the reader’s -attention the marvellous predominance at present of the words, _Idea_ -and Demonstration. Every talker now-a-days has an Idea; aye, and he will -demonstrate it too! A few days ago, I heard one of the READING PUBLIC, a -thinking and independent smuggler, euphonise the latter word with much -significance, in a tirade against the planners of the late African -expedition: “_As to Algiers, any man that has half an_ IDEA _in his -skull must know, that it has been long ago dey-monstered, I should say, -dey-monstrified_,” _&c._ But the phrase, which occasioned this note, -brings to my mind the mistake of a lethargic Dutch traveller, who, -returning highly gratified from a showman’s caravan, which he had been -tempted to enter by the words LEARNED PIG, gilt on the pannels, met -another caravan of a similar shape, with the READING FLY on it, in -letters of the same size and splendour. “Why, dis is voonders above -voonders,” exclaims the Dutchman, takes his seat as first comer, and -soon fatigued by waiting, and by the very hush and intensity of his -expectation, gives way to his constitutional somnolence, from which he -is roused by the supposed showman at Hounslow, with a “_In what name, -Sir, was your place taken? are you booked all the way for Reading?_” Now -a Reading Public is (to my mind) more marvellous still, and in the third -tier of “Voonders above voonders.“‘ - -A public that could read such stuff as this with any patience would -indeed be so. We do not understand how, with this systematic antipathy -to the Reading Public, it is consistent in Mr. Coleridge to declare of -‘Dr. Bell’s original and unsophisticated plan,’ that he ‘himself regards -it as an especial gift of Providence to the human race, as an -incomparable machine, a vast moral steam-engine.’ Learning is an old -University mistress, that he is not willing to part with, except for the -use of the church of England; and he is sadly afraid she should be -debauched by the ‘liberal ideas’ of Joseph Lancaster! As to his aversion -to the prostitution of the word _Idea_ to common uses and in common -minds, it is no wonder, from the very exalted _idea_ which he has given -us of this term. - -‘What other measures I had in contemplation it has been my endeavour to -explain elsewhere.... O what treasures of practical wisdom would be once -more brought into open day by the solution of this problem,’ to wit, ‘a -thorough recasting of the moulds in which the minds of our gentry, the -characters of our future land-owners, magistrates, and senators, are to -receive their shape and fashion. Suffice it for the present to hint the -master-thought. _The first man, on whom the light of an IDEA dawned did -in that same moment receive the spirit and the credentials of a -Lawgiver_; and as long as man shall exist, so long will the possession -of that antecedent knowledge which exists only in the power of an -_idea_, be the one lawful qualification for all dominion in the world of -the senses,’ p. 52. Now we do think this a shorter cut towards the -undermining of the rotten boroughs, and ousting the present ministry, -than any we have yet heard of. One of the most extraordinary ideas in -this work is where the Author proves the doctrine of free will from the -existence of property; and again, when he recommends the study of the -Scriptures, from the example of Heraclitus and Horace. To conclude this -most inconclusive piece of work, we find the distant hopes and doubtful -expectations of the writer’s mind summed up in the following rare -rhapsody. ‘Oh what a mine of undiscovered treasures, what a new world of -power and truth would the Bible promise to our future meditation, if _in -some gracious moment one solitary text of all its inspired contents_ -should but dawn upon us in the pure untroubled brightness of an IDEA, -that most glorious birth of the godlike within us, which even as the -light, its material symbol, reflects itself from a thousand surfaces, -and flies homeward to its parent mind, enriched with a thousand forms, -itself above form, and still remaining in its own simplicity and -identity! O for a flash of that same light, in which the first position -of geometric science that ever loosed itself from the generalizations of -a groping and insecure experience, did for the first time reveal itself -to a human intellect in all its evidence and in all its fruitfulness, -Transparence without Vacuum, and Plenitude without Opacity! O! that a -single gleam of our own inward experience would make comprehensible to -us the rapturous EUREKA, and the grateful hecatomb of the philosopher of -Samos: or that vision which, from the contemplation of an arithmetical -harmony, rose to the eye of Kepler, presenting the planetary world, and -all their orbits in the divine order of their ranks and distances; or -which, in the falling of an apple, revealed to the ethereal intuition of -our own Newton the constructive principle of the material universe. The -promises which I have ventured to hold forth concerning the hidden -treasures of the Law and the Prophets will neither be condemned as -paradox, or as exaggeration, by the mind that has learnt to understand -the possibility that the reduction of the sands of the sea to number -should be found a less stupendous problem by Archimedes than the simple -conception of the Parmenidean ONE. What, however, is achievable by the -human understanding without this light may be comprised in the epithet -κενόσπουδοι and _a melancholy comment on that phrase would the history -of the human Cabinets and Legislatures for the last thirty years -furnish_! The excellent Barrow, the last of the disciples of Plato and -Archimedes among our modern mathematicians, shall give the description -and state the value; and, in his words, I shall conclude:— - -‘_Aliud agere, to be impertinently busy, doing that which conduceth to -no good purpose, is, in some respect, worse than to do nothing. Of such -industry we may understand that of the Preacher, “The labour of the -foolish wearieth every one of them.”_’ - -A better conclusion could not be found for this Lay-Sermon: for greater -nonsense the author could not write, even though he were inspired -expressly for the purpose. - - - - - MR. COLERIDGE’S LAY-SERMON - TO THE EDITOR OF THE EXAMINER - - - _Jan. 12, 1817._ - - Sir, - -Your last Sunday’s ‘Literary Notice’ has given me some uneasiness on two -points. - -It was in January, 1798, just 19 years ago, that I got up one morning -before day-light to walk 10 miles in the mud, and went to hear a poet -and a philosopher preach. It was the author of the ‘Lay-Sermon.’ Never, -Sir, the longest day I have to live, shall I have such another walk as -this cold, raw, comfortless one in the winter of the year 1798. Mr. -Examiner, _Il y a des impressions que ni le tems ni les circonstances -peuvent effacer. Dusse-je vivre des siècles entiers, le doux tems de ma -jeunesse ne peut renaître pour moi, ni s’effacer jamais dans ma -mémoire._ When I got there, Sir, the organ was playing the 100th psalm, -and when it was done, Mr. C. rose and gave out his text, ‘And he went up -into the mountain to pray, HIMSELF, ALONE. As he gave out this text, his -voice ‘rose like a steam of rich distill’d perfumes,’ and when he came -to the last two words, which he pronounced loud, deep, and distinct, it -seemed to me, Sir, who was then young, as if the sounds had echoed from -the bottom of the human heart, and as if that prayer might have floated -in solemn silence through the universe. The idea of St. John came into -my mind, ‘of one crying in the wilderness, who had his loins girt about, -and whose food was locusts and wild honey.’ The preacher then launched -into his subject, like an eagle dallying with the wind. _That_ sermon, -like _this_ Sermon, was upon peace and war; upon church and state—not -their alliance, but their separation—on the spirit of the world and the -spirit of Christianity, not as the same, but as opposed to one another. -He talked of those who had ‘inscribed the cross of Christ on banners -dripping with human gore.’ He made a poetical and pastoral -excursion,—and to shew the fatal effects of war, drew a striking -contrast between the simple shepherd boy, driving his team afield, or -sitting under the hawthorn, piping to his flock, as though he should -never be old, and the same poor country-lad, crimped, kidnapped, brought -into town, made drunk at an ale-house, turned into a wretched -drummer-boy, with his hair sticking on end with powder and pomatum, a -long cue at his back, and tricked out in the loathsome finery of the -profession of blood. - - ‘Such were the notes our once-lov’d poet sung.’ - -And for myself, Sir, I could not have been more delighted if I had heard -the music of the spheres. Poetry and Philosophy had met together, Truth -and Genius had embraced, under the eye and with the sanction of -Religion. This was even beyond my hopes. I returned home well satisfied. -The sun that was still labouring pale and wan through the sky, obscured -by thick mists, seemed an emblem of the _good cause_: and the cold dank -drops of dew that hung half melted on the beard of the thistle, had -something genial and refreshing in them; for there was a spirit of hope -and youth in all nature, that turned everything into good. The face of -nature had not then the brand of JUS DIVINUM on it; - - ‘Like to that sanguine flower inscrib’d with woe.’ - -Now, Sir, what I have to complain of is this, that from reading your -account of the ‘Lay-Sermon,’ I begin to suspect that my notions formerly -must have been little better than a deception: that my faith in Mr. -Coleridge’s great powers must have been a vision of my youth, that, like -other such visions, must pass away from me; and that all his genius and -eloquence is _vox et preterea nihil_: for otherwise how is it so lost to -all common sense upon paper? - -Again, Sir, I ask Mr. Coleridge, why, having preached such a sermon as I -have described, he has published such a sermon as you have described? -What right, Sir, has he or any man to make a fool of me or any man? I am -naturally, Sir, a man of a plain, dull, dry understanding, without -flights or fancies, and can just contrive to plod on, if left to myself: -what right, then has Mr. C., who is just going to ascend in a balloon, -to offer me a seat in the parachute, only to throw me from the height of -his career upon the ground, and dash me to pieces? Or again, what right -has he to invite me to a feast of poets and philosophers, fruits and -flowers intermixed,—immortal fruits and amaranthine flowers,—and then to -tell me it is all vapour, and, like _Timon_, to throw his empty dishes -in my face? No, Sir, I must and will say it is hard. I hope, between -ourselves, there is no breach of confidence in all this; nor do I well -understand how men’s opinions on moral, political, or religious subjects -can be kept a secret, except by putting them in _The Correspondent_.[27] - - SEMPER EGO AUDITOR. - - - - - BONAPARTE AND MULLER - THE CELEBRATED HISTORIAN OF SWITZERLAND - - [_From Müller’s Posthumous Works._] - - -‘On the 19th May I was informed by the Minister Secretary of State, -Maret, that at seven o’clock of the evening of the following day I must -wait on the Emperor Napoleon. I waited accordingly on this Minister at -the appointed hour, and was presented. The Emperor sat on a sofa: a few -persons whom I did not know stood at some distance in the apartment. The -Emperor began to speak of the History of Switzerland; told me that I -ought to complete it; that even the more recent times had their -interest. He came to the work of mediation, discovered a very good will, -if we do not meddle with any thing foreign, and remain quietly in the -interior. He proceeded from the Swiss to the old Greek Constitution and -History, to the Theory of Constitutions, to the complete diversity of -those of Asia, (and the causes of this diversity in the climate, -polygamy, &c.) the opposite characters of the Arabian (which the Emperor -highly extolled), and the Tartarian Races (which led to the irruptions -that all civilization had always to dread from that quarter, and the -necessity of a bulwark): the peculiar value of European culture (never -greater freedom, security of property, humanity, and better laws in -general, than since the 15th century); then how every thing was linked -together, and in the inscrutable guidance of an invisible hand; and how -he himself had become great through his enemies: the great confederation -of nations, the idea of which Henry the Fourth never had: the foundation -of all religion and its necessity; that man could not well bear -completely clear truth, and required to be kept in order; the -possibility, however, of a more happy condition, if the numerous feuds -ceased, which were occasioned by too complicated constitutions (such as -the German), and the intolerable burden suffered by States from -excessive armies. A great deal more besides was said, and indeed we -spoke of almost every country and nation. The Emperor spoke at first in -his usual manner; but the more interesting our conversation became, he -spoke in a lower and lower tone, so that I was obliged to bend myself -quite down to his face; and no man can have understood what he said (and -therefore many things I will not repeat).—I opposed him occasionally, -and he entered into discussion. Quite impartially and truly, as before -God, I must say, that the variety of his knowledge, the acuteness of his -observations, the solidity of his understanding (not dazzling wit), his -grand and comprehensive views, filled me with astonishment, and his -manner of speaking to me, with love for him. A couple of Marshals, and -also the Duke of Benevento, had entered in the mean time; he did not -break off. After five quarters, or an hour, and an half, he allowed the -concert to begin; and I know not, whether accidentally or from goodness, -he desired pieces, which, one of them especially, had reference to -pastoral life and the Swiss (_Rans des Vaches_). After this, he bowed in -a friendly manner and left the room.—Since the audience with Frederick -(1782), I never had a conversation on such a variety of subjects, at -least with any Prince: if I can judge correctly from recollection, I -must give the Emperor the preference in point of solidity and -comprehension; Frederick was somewhat Voltairian. Besides, there is in -his tone much firmness and vigour, but in his mouth something as -attractive and fascinating as in Frederick. It was one of the most -remarkable days of my life. By his genius and his disinterested goodness -he has also conquered me.’ - - - - - ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE TIMES NEWSPAPER - ON MODERN APOSTATES - - —— —— ——‘Out of these convertites - There is much matter to be heard and learnt.’—_As you like it._ - - - _Dec. 15, 1816._ - -This is an age in which, to hear some people talk, you would suppose -there is no such thing as literary prostitution or political apostacy, -in the sense in which those vices used formerly to be practised and -condemned. We live in a liberal age; and a very different and much more -liberal turn has been given to the whole matter. Men do indeed change -sides, but then it is proper at present that they should. They go from -one extreme to another, they proceed to the utmost lengths of violence -and abuse, both against the principles they formerly held and the -persons they formerly agreed with; but then this is entirely owing to -the force of reason and honest conviction. ‘All honourable men’—no -hypocrites amongst them— - - ‘But all is conscience and tender heart.’ - -They have deserted the cause of liberty in as far as it deserted them; -but no farther. No sinister motives, no disappointed expectations from a -new order of things, no places to be got under the old, no laureatships, -no editorships, no popular odium to contend with, no court-smiles to -inveigle, have had any weight with them, or can be supposed to have had -any. They could not tolerate wrong on any side, on the side of kings, or -of the people. That’s all. They have changed sides to preserve the -integrity of their principles and the consistency of their characters. -They have gone over to the strong side of the question, merely to shew -the conscious purity of their motives; and they chose the moment of the -total failure of all hopes from the weaker side to desert to the -stronger, to put the matter out of all doubt. They are not only above -corruption, but above suspicion. They have never once been at fault, -have neither sneaked nor shuffled, botched or boggled, in their -politics. They who were loud against the abuses of a principle which -they set out with considering as sacred, the right of a people to chuse -their own form of government, have not turned round to flatter and to -screen, with the closeness of their fulsome embraces, the abuses of a -power which they set out with treating as monstrous, the right of a -discarded family to reign over a nation in perpetuity by the grace of -God. They ‘whose love of liberty was of that dignity that it went hand -in hand even with the vow they made this virgin bride,’ have not stooped -to ‘commit whoredom greedily’ with that old harlot, Despotism. They ‘who -struck the foremost man of all this world but for supporting robbers,’ -have not contaminated their fingers with base bribes, nor turned -receivers of stolen goods for paltry knaves and licensed freebooters. -Nice, scrupulous, firm, inflexible, uncorrupted, incapable of injustice -or disguise; patriots in 1793, and royalists in 1816; at all times -extreme and at all times consistent in their opinions; converts to the -cause of kings, only because kings were converts (unaccountable -converts) to the cause of the people: they have not become, nor are they -in danger of becoming, thorough-paced time-servers, regular-bred -courtiers, trammelled tools of despotism, hired pimps and panders of -power. Nothing of the sort. They have not been made (not they) the -overweening dupes of their own conceit and cunning. These political -innocents have not, like the two poor devils in the _Recruiting -Officer_, been laid hold of, entrapped, kidnapped, by that fell -serjeant, Necessity, and then, in the height of their admiration of ‘the -wonderful works of nature’ and the King’s picture, been enlisted for -life in his Majesty’s service, by some Court crimp, some Treasury scout -in the shape of a well-bred baronet or booby Lord. Our maiden poets, -patriots, and philanthropists, have not, it is to be hoped, like _Miss -Lucy Lockitt_, been bilked of their virtue, ‘bamboozled and bit.’ They -have got into a house of ill fame in the neighbourhood of Pall-Mall, -like _Miss Clarissa Harlowe_, but they will defend their honour to the -last gasp with their pens against that old bawd, Legitimacy, as she did -hers with a pen-knife against the old Lady in Duke’s place; or if the -opiates and provocatives unfairly administered, and almost unavoidable -when people get into such company and such situations, should for an -instant rob them of what they hold most dear, their immaculate purity, -they will, like Richardson’s heroine, die a lingering death of grief and -shame for the trick that has been played upon their unsuspecting -credulity!—See, here comes one of them to answer for himself. It is the -same person who in the year 1800 was for making an example of the whole -House of Commons (in spite of the humble petition and remonstrance of -the writer of this article in favour of a small minority), for being the -echoes of the King’s speeches for carrying on the war against the French -Revolution. What is that _thing_ he has in his hand? It is not, nor it -cannot be, a sonnet to the King, celebrating his ‘royal fortitude,’ in -having brought that war to a successful close fourteen years after! - - ‘Such recantation had no charms for him, - ‘Nor could he brook it.’ - -Nor is it the same consistent person whose deep-toned voice rebellows -among the mountain echoes with peals of ideot rage and demon laughter— - - ‘Proud Glaramara northward caught the sound, - ‘And Kirkstone tossed it from his misty head, - ‘That there was strange commotion in the hills,’— - -at the infamy and madness of Sir Robert Wilson’s gallant conduct in -having rescued one of its victims from the fangs of that Bourbon -despotism which that royal fortitude had restored.—Is not _that_ Mr. -Southey, with something of the glow on his cheek which he had in writing -_Joan of Arc_, and with the beaked curl of his nose which provoked him -to write the _Inscription on Old Sarum_, returning in disgrace from the -Prince’s Levee, for having indignantly noticed in one of his Birth-day -Odes, Ferdinand’s treatment of the Spanish Patriots?—Just yonder, at the -corner of Paternoster-row, you may see Mr. Coleridge, the author of the -eclogue called FIRE, FAMINE, AND SLAUGHTER, who has been to his -bookseller’s to withdraw his ‘Lay Sermon,’ or Statesman’s Manual in -praise of Fire, Slaughter, and Famine! But who is he ‘whose grief - - ‘Bears such an emphasis, whose phrase of sorrow - ‘Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand - ‘Like wonder-wounded hearers?’ - -’Tis the editor of _The Times_, (poor man, his virtuous indignation must -cost him a great deal of pains and trouble!) as hard at it as ever, -about liberty and independence without respect of persons; in a most -_woundy_ passion, we warrant now, at finding legitimacy at some of its -old tricks, caught _flagranti delicto_, so that the poor gentleman could -not hush the matter up, if he would, and would not, if he could, he is a -man of such a nice morality, and such high notions of honour;—thrown -into daily and hourly cold sweats and convulsions at the mention of -daily and hourly acts of tyranny and base submission to it; flying into -the same heats and hysterics as ever, for he has all the reason now, -that he used to say he had; laying it on, thick and threefold, upon the -magnanimous deliverers of Europe; still in the old King Cambyses’ vein, -‘horrors on horror’s head accumulating’; heaping up epithets and -compound epithets of abuse against his new friends, as he used to do -against his old ones, till Mr. Koenig’s new press groans under the -weight of both together; ordering in a new set of types with a new set -of unheard-of nicknames to be applied everlastingly to the present -candidates for newspaper fame, as the worn-out, feeble, and now -insignificant ones of Monster, Tyrant, Fiend, Upstart, Usurper, Rebel, -Regicide, Traitor, Wretch, Villain, Knave, Fool, Madman, Coward, -Impostor, Unnatural Monster, Bloody Tyrant, Hellish Fiend, Corsican -Upstart, Military Usurper, Wicked Rebel, Impious Regicide, Perfidious -Traitor, Vile Wretch, Base Villain, Low-born Knave, Rank Fool, Egregious -Madman, Notorious Coward, Detestable Impostor, were applied to the old; -swearing as he picks his way to court along the streets, (so that the -people ask who the honest, angry gentleman is) that Ferdinand alone has -done more acts of baseness, treachery, cruelty, oppression, infamy, and -ingratitude, in one year, than Napoleon did in his whole reign; teaching -a parrot to call jade and rogue to all legitimate princes and princesses -that deserve it, as he used himself to rail at all the illegitimate -ones, whether they deserved it or not; repeating over and over, till he -is black in the face, Dr. Slop’s curse upon the Allies and their -proceedings; cursing them in Spain, cursing them in Italy, cursing them -in Genoa, cursing them in Saxony, cursing them in Norway, cursing them -in Finland, cursing them in Poland, cursing them in France, cursing them -every where as they deserve, and as the people every where curse them; -sending the Pope and the Inquisition to the Devil; swooning at the -extinction of Spanish liberty under the beloved Ferdinand; going into a -shivering fit at the roasting of Protestants under Louis the Desired; -biting his lips at Lord Castlereagh’s Letter to _Mon Prince_; -horror-struck at the transfer of so many thousand souls, like so many -head of horned cattle, from one legitimate proprietor of the species to -another, after all his vapouring about the liberties of the people and -the independence of states; learned and lofty, sad and solemn, on the -Convention of Paris; looking big at the imposing attitude of Russia, and -going stark staring mad at the application of the torture and the -thumb-screw to the brave Cortes; gnashing his teeth, rolling his eyes, -and dashing his head against the wall, at the total falsification, and -overthrow of every one of his hopes and his prognostics in every corner -of Europe where the Allies have got footing, and there is no corner -which they have not got under their feet, like a toad under a harrow; -and roaring out like Perillus’s bull against the partitions and -repartitions of the coalesced Sovereigns, their invasions, conquests, -seizures, transfers of men and lands; the murders, massacres, -imprisonments, pillagings, frauds, treacheries, breaches of written -treaties and of verbal promises; usurpations, pretensions, and overt -acts of legitimacy, since it was restored to itself, to one and the -self-same tune that he used to lift up his voice, ‘his most sweet -voice,’ against Bonaparte’s wars and conquests, till the Stock Exchange -was stunned with the clamour, and Mr. Walter well-nigh fainted! The only -fault of this account is, that not one word of it is true. - - ‘Thy stone, oh Sisyphus, stands still: - ‘Ixion rests upon his wheel!’ - -_Once a Jacobin and always a Jacobin_, is a maxim, which, -notwithstanding Mr. Coleridge’s see-saw reasoning to the contrary, we -hold to be true, even of him to this day. _Once an Apostate and always -an Apostate_, we hold to be equally true; and the reason why the last is -true, is that the first is so. A person who is what is called a Jacobin -(and we apply this term in its vulgarest sense to the persons here -meant) that is, who has shaken off certain well known prejudices with -respect to kings or priests, or nobles, cannot so easily resume them -again, whenever his pleasure or his convenience may prompt him to -attempt it. And it is because he cannot resume them again in good -earnest, that he endeavours to make up for his want of sincerity by -violence, either by canting till he makes your soul sicken, like the -author of _The Friend_, or by raving like a Bedlamite, as does the -Editor of _The Times_. Why does he abuse Bonaparte and call him an -upstart? Because he is himself, if he is any thing at all, an upstart; -and because Bonaparte having got the start of him one way, he turned -back to gain the race another, by trying for a court-livery, and to -recommend himself to the house of Brunswick, by proclaiming the -principles of the house of Stuart. Why does he make such a route about -Kings and Queens, and Dukes and Duchesses, and old women of all ages and -both sexes? Because he cares no more for them in his heart than we do. -How should he? ‘What’s Hecuba to him or he to Hecuba?’ What motive has -he, or what ground of passion, that he should - - ‘Cleave the general ear with horrid speech, - ‘And, like a whore, unpack his heart with words!’ - -None in the world, any more than the poor player in _Hamlet_, who tried -to ‘work his soul to his conceit, tears in his eyes, distraction in his -looks,’ because it was his cue to do so. He blusters and hectors, and -makes a noise to hide his want of consistency, as cowards turn bullies -to hide their want of courage. He is virulent and vulgar in proportion -as he is insincere; and yet it is the only way in which he can seem -himself not to be a hypocrite. He has no blind prejudices to repose on; -no unshaken principles to refer to; no hearty attachment to altars or to -thrones. You see the Jacobinical leaven working in every line that he -writes, and making strange havoc with his present professions. He would -cashier Louis and Ferdinand, Alexander and Frederick, to-morrow, and -hurl them headlong from their thrones with a stroke of his pen, for not -complying with any one of his favourite dogmas. He has no regard for any -thing but his own will; no feeling of any thing but of hatred to the -cause he has deserted, and of the necessity of keeping from his mind, by -every demonstration of outward scorn and horror, whatever might recal -his old, unprofitable, exploded errors. His hatred and dread of the -principles of others, proceeds from his greater hatred and dread of his -own. The spectre of his former opinions glares perpetually near him, and -provokes his frantic zeal. For close behind him stalks the ghost of the -French Revolution, _that unfortunate Miss Bailey_ of modern politicians, -their mistress and their saint, what time - - ——‘Society became their glittering bride - ‘And airy hopes their children,’— - -which, if he was once to turn round, would stare him in the face with -self-conviction, and make his pen drop from his hands. It is this morbid -conflict with his own feelings that many persons do not know what to -make of, and which gives such a tragic, and at the same time, ludicrous -air to his writings. He is obliged to wink and shut his apprehension up, -so that he is blind, stupidly blind to all that makes against him, and -all that makes for him. His understanding seems to labour under a -quinsy; and instead of the little _bonnet rouge_ of 1793, wears a huge -pair of Bourbon blinkers for 1816. Hence the endless inconsistencies in -which he involves himself; and as it is his self-will that makes him -insensible to all objections, it is the same headstrong obstinacy which -makes him regardless of contradictions, and proof against conviction. - -In a word, to conclude this part of the subject, the writer of _The -Times_ is governed entirely by his will; and this faculty is strong, and -bears sway in him, as all other principles are weak. He asserts a fact -the louder, as he suspects it to be without proof: and defends a measure -the more lustily, as he feels it to be mischievous. He listens only to -his passions and his prejudices, not to truth or reason. Prove to him -that any thing is the most idle fiction that ever was invented, and he -will swear to it: prove to him that it is fraught with destruction to -the liberties of mankind in all places and in all time to come, and he -is your own for ever. _Sed hæc hactenus._ Goethe has given to one of his -heroes this motto—‘Mad but wise.’ We would give the following to the -hero of _The Times_—Mad but not wise. - - - ILLUSTRATIONS OF ‘THE TIMES’ NEWSPAPER - ON MODERN LAWYERS AND POETS - - —— —— ——‘Facilis descensus Averni; - Noctes atque dies patet atri janua Ditis; - Sed revocare gradum superasque evadere ad auras, - Hoc opus, hic labor est.’ - - _December 22, 1816._ - -The meaning of which passage is, that it is easier to sail with the -stream, than to strive against it. Our classical reformers should have -known this passage in Virgil. They should have known themselves too; but -they did not. ‘Let no man go about to cozen honesty,’ or to be a knave -by halves. The man, as well as the woman, who deliberates between his -principle and the price of its sacrifice, is lost. The same rule holds -with respect to literary as to any other kind of prostitution. It is the -first false step that always costs the most; and which is, for that -reason, always fatal. It requires an effort of resolution, or at least -obstinate prejudice, for a man to maintain his opinions at the expense -of his interest. But it requires a much greater effort of resolution for -a man to give up his interest to recover his independence; because, with -the consistency of his character, he has lost the habitual energy of his -mind, and the indirect aid of prejudice and obstinacy, which are -sometimes as useful to virtue as they are to vice. A man, in adhering to -his principles in contradiction to the decisions of the world, has many -disadvantages. He has nothing to support him but the supposed sense of -right; and any defect in the justice of his cause, or the force of his -conviction, must prey on his mind, in proportion to the delicacy and -sensitiveness of its texture: he is left alone in his opinions; and, -like _Sam Sharpset_, in Mr. Morton’s new comedy (when he gets into -solitary confinement in the spunging-house,) grows nervous, melancholy, -fantastical, and would be glad of _somebody_ or _anybody_ to sympathize -with him; but when he has once gone over to the strong side of the -question (perhaps from these very scruples of conscience, suggested by -weakness and melancholy, as ‘the Devil is very potent with such spirits, -and abuses them to damn them’) our wavering sceptic no longer finds the -same scruples troublesome; the air of a court promotes their digestion -wonderfully; the load on his conscience falls off at the foot of the -throne. The poet-laureate, standing with his laurel-wreath amidst -‘Britain’s warriors, her statesmen, and her fair,’ thinks no more or -says no more about the patriots of Spain pining in dungeons or consigned -to the torture, though it was his zeal, his virtuous, patriotic, -romantic, disinterested zeal for them, which brought _them_ there, and -him to court. His Prince’s smile soothes the involuntary pang of -sympathy rising in his breast; and Mr. Croker’s whispers drown their -agonizing shrieks. When we are at Rome, we must do as the people at Rome -do. A man in a crowd must go along with the crowd, and cannot stop to -pick his way; nor need he be so particular about it. He has friends to -back him: appearances are for him; the world is on his side; his -interest becomes surety for his honour, his vanity makes him blind to -objections, or overrules them, and he is not so much ashamed of being in -the wrong in such good company. It requires some fortitude to oppose -one’s opinion, however right, to that of all the world besides; none at -all to agree with it, however wrong. Nothing but the strongest and -clearest conviction can support a man in a losing minority: any excuse -or quibble is sufficient to salve his conscience, when he has made sure -of the main chance, and his understanding has become the stalking-horse -of his ambition. It is this single circumstance of not being answerable -for one’s opinions one’s-self, but being able to put them off to other -men’s shoulders in all crowds and collections of men, that is the reason -of the violence of mobs, the venality of courts, and the corruption of -all corporate bodies. It is also the reason of the degeneracy of modern -apostates and reformed Jacobins, who find the applause of their king and -country doubly cheering after being so long without it, and who go all -lengths in adulation and servility, to make up for their former awkward -singularity. - -Many of the persons we have known, who have deserted the cause of the -people to take a high tone against those who did not chuse to desert it, -have been lawyers or poets. The last took their leave of it by a poetic -license; the first slunk out of it by some loop-hole of the law. We -shall say a word of each. - -‘Our’s is an honest employment,’ says _Peachum_; ‘and so is a lawyer’s.’ -It is a lawyer’s business to confound truth and falsehood in the minds -of his hearers; and the natural consequence is, that he confounds them -in his own. He takes his opinion of right and wrong from his brief: his -soul is in his fee. His understanding is _upon the town_, and at the -service of any cause that is paid for before-hand. He is not a hired -suborner of _facts_, but of _reasons_; and though he would not violate -the sacred obligation of an oath, as Lord Ellenborough calls it, by -swearing that black is white, he holds himself at all times in readiness -and bound in duty, to prove it so. He will not swear to an untruth to -get himself hanged, but he will assert it roundly by the hour together -to hang other persons, however innocent,—if he finds it in his retainer. -We do not wish to say any thing illiberal of any profession or set of -men in the abstract. But we think it possible, that they who are -employed to argue away men’s lives at a venture in a court of justice, -may be tempted to write them away deliberately in a newspaper. They who -find it consistent with their honour to do this under the sanction of -the court, may find it to their interest to do the same thing at the -suggestion of a court. A lawyer is a sophist by profession; that is, a -person who barters his opinion, and speaks what he knows to be false in -defence of wrong, and to the prejudice of right. Not only the confirmed -habit of looking at any side of a question with a view to make the worse -appear the better reason, from a motive always foreign to the question -itself, must make truth and falsehood sit loose upon him, and lead him -to ‘look on both indifferently,’ as his convenience prompts; but the -quibbles and quillets of the law give a handle to all that is petty and -perverse in his understanding, and enable him to tamper with his -principles with impunity. Thus the intricacy and verbal distinctions of -the profession promote the practical duplicity of its professors; and -folly and knavery become joint securities for one another. The bent of a -lawyer’s mind is to pervert his talents, if he has any, and to keep down -his feelings, if they are at all in his way. He lives by forging and -uttering counterfeit pretexts; he says not what he believes to be true, -but any thing that by any trick or sleight he can make others believe; -and the more petty, artificial, and far-fetched the contrivance, the -more low, contemptible, and desperate the shift, the more is he admired -and cried up in his profession. A perfect lawyer is one whose -understanding always keeps pace with the inability of words to keep pace -with ideas: who by natural conformation of mind cannot get beyond the -letter to the spirit of any thing; who, by a happy infirmity of soul, is -sure never to lose the form in grasping at the substance. Such a one is -sure to arrive at the head of his profession! Look at the lawyers in the -House of Commons (of course at the head of their profession)—look at -Garrow. We have heard him stringing contradictions there with the -fluency of water, every third sentence giving the lie to the two former; -gabbling folly as if it were the last opportunity he might ever have, -and as regularly put down as he rose up—not for false statements, not -for false reasoning, not for common-place absurdities or vulgar -prejudices, (there is enough of these to be found there without going to -the bar), but for such things as nobody but a lawyer could utter, and as -nobody (not even a lawyer) could believe. The only thing that ever gave -us a good opinion of the House of Commons was to see the contempt with -which they treat lawyers there. The reason is, that no one there but a -lawyer fancies himself holding a brief in his hand as a _carte-blanche_ -for vanity and impertinence—no one else thinks he has got an _ad -libitum_ right to express any absurd or nonsensical opinions he pleases, -because he is not supposed to hold the opinions he expresses—no one else -thinks it necessary to confound the distinctions of common-sense to -subject them to those of the law (even Lord Castlereagh would never -think of maintaining it to be lawful to detain a person kidnapped from -France, on the special plea, that the law in that case _not provided_ -had _not declared_ it lawful to detain persons so kidnapped, if not -reclaimed by their own country)—no one else thinks of huddling -contradictions into self-evident truths by legal volubility, or of -sharpening nonsense into sense by legal acuteness, or of covering -shallow assumptions under the solemn disguises of the long robe. The -opinions of the gentlemen of the bar go for nothing in the House of -Commons: but their votes tell; and are always sure—in the end! The want -of principle makes up for the want of talent. What a tool in the hands -of a minister is a whole profession, habitually callous to the -distinctions of right and wrong, but perfectly alive to their own -interest, with just ingenuity enough to be able to trump up some fib or -sophistry for or against any measure, and with just understanding enough -to see no more of the real nature or consequences of any measure than -suits their own or their employer’s convenience! What an acquisition to -‘the tried wisdom of parliament’ in the approaching hard season! - -But all this, though true, seems to fall short of the subject before us. -The weak side of the professional character is rather an indifference to -truth and justice, than an outrageous and inveterate hatred to them. -They are chargeable, as a general class of men, with levity, servility, -and selfishness; but it seems to be quite out of their character to -commence furious and illiberal fanatics against those who have more -principle than themselves. But not when this character is ingrafted on -that of a true Jacobin renegado. Such a person (and no one else) would -be fit to write the leading article in _The Times_. It is this union of -rare accomplishments (there seems, after all, to be nothing -contradictory in the coalition of the vices) that enables that -nondescript person to blend the violence of the bravo with the subtlety -of a pettifogging attorney—to interlard his furious appeals to the -lowest passions of the middle and upper classes, with nice points of -law, reserved for the opinion of the adepts in the profession—to appeal -to the passions of his city readers when any thing wrong is to be done, -and to their cooler and dispassionate judgments when any thing right is -to be done—that makes him stick (spell-bound) to the letter of the law -when it is in his favour, and set every principle of justice and -humanity at defiance when it interferes with his pragmatical -opinion—that makes him disregard all decency as well as reason out of -‘the lodged hatred’ he bears to the cause he has deserted, and to all -who have not, like himself, deserted it—that made him urge the foul -death of the brave Marshal Ney, by putting a legal interpretation on a -military convention—that tempted him to make out his sanguinary list of -proscribed rebels and regicides (he was not for making out any such list -in the year 1793, nor long after the event he now deplores with such -well-timed indignation)—that makes him desperately bent on hanging -wretches at home in cobweb chains spun from his own brains—that makes -him stake the liberty of nations or the independence of states on a -nickname or a law-quillet, as his irritable humour or professional -habits prevail—that sets him free from all restraints or deference to -others in forming his own opinions, and which would induce him to -subject all the rest of the world to his unprincipled and frantic -dogmas, by entangling them in the quirks and technicalities of the law! -No one else would heroically consign a whole continent to the most -odious and despicable slavery in the world, on the strength of a flaw in -a proclamation: or call that piece of diplomatic atrocity, the -declaration of the 25th of March, a _delicious_ declaration. Such a man -might sell his country, or enslave his species, and justify it to his -conscience and the world by some law-term! Such men are very dangerous, -unless when they are tied up in the forms of a profession, where form is -opposed to form, where no-meaning baffles want of sense, and where no -great harm is done, because there is not much to do: but when chicane -and want of principle are let loose upon the world, ‘with famine, sword, -and fire at their heels, leashed in like hounds,’ when they have their -prey marked out for them by the passions, when they are backed by -force—when the pen of the Editor of _The Times_ is seconded by eleven -hundred thousand bayonets—then such men are very mischievous. - -‘My soul, turn from them: turn we to survey’ where poetry, joined hand -in hand with liberty, renews the golden age in 1793, during the reign of -Robespierre, which was hardly thought a blot in their escutcheon, by -those who said and said truly, for what we know, that he destroyed the -lives of hundreds, to save the lives of thousands: (Mark; then, as now, -‘Carnage was the daughter of Humanity.’ It is true, these men have -changed sides, but not parted with their principles, that is, with their -presumption and egotism)—let us turn where Pantisocracy’s equal hills -and vales arise in visionary pomp, where Peace and Truth have kissed -each other ‘in Philarmonia’s undivided dale’; and let us see whether the -fictions and the forms of poetry give any better assurance of political -consistency than the fictions and forms of law. - -The spirit of poetry is in itself favourable to humanity and liberty: -but, we suspect, not in times like these—not in the present reign. The -spirit of poetry is not the spirit of mortification or of martyrdom. -Poetry dwells in a perpetual Utopia of its own, and is, for that reason, -very ill calculated to make a Paradise upon earth, by encountering the -shocks and disappointments of the world. Poetry, like the law, is a -fiction; only a more agreeable one. It does not create difficulties -where they do not exist; but contrives to get rid of them, whether they -exist or not. It is not entangled in cobwebs of its own making, but -soars above all obstacles. It cannot be ‘constrained by mastery.’ It has -the range of the universe; it traverses the empyreum, and looks down on -nature from a higher sphere. When it lights upon the earth, it loses -some of its dignity and its use. Its strength is in its wings; its -element the air. Standing on its feet, jostling with the crowd, it is -liable to be overthrown, trampled on, and defaced; for its wings are of -a dazzling brightness, ‘heaven’s own tinct,’ and the least soil upon -them shews to disadvantage. Sunk, degraded as we have seen it, we shall -not insult over it, but leave it to time to take out the stains, seeing -it is a thing immortal as itself. ‘Being so majestical, we should do it -wrong to offer it but the shew of violence.’ But the best things, in -their abuse, often become the worst; and so it is with poetry when it is -diverted from its proper end. Poets live in an ideal world, where they -make every thing out according to their wishes and fancies. They either -find things delightful, or make them so. They feign the beautiful and -grand out of their own minds, and imagine all things to be, not what -they are, but what they ought to be. They are naturally inventors, -creators not of truth but beauty: and while they speak to us from the -sacred shrine of their own hearts, while they pour out the pure -treasures of thought to the world, they cannot be too much admired and -applauded: but when, forgetting their high calling, and becoming tools -and puppets in the hands of others, they would pass off the gewgaws of -corruption and love-tokens of self-interest, as the gifts of the Muse, -they cannot be too much despised and shunned. We do not like novels -founded on facts, nor do we like poets turned courtiers. Poets, it has -been said, succeed best in fiction: and they should for the most part -stick to it. Invention, not upon an imaginary subject, is a lie: the -varnishing over the vices or deformity of actual objects, is hypocrisy. -Players leave their finery at the stage-door, or they would be hooted: -poets come out into the world with all their bravery on, and yet they -would pass for _bonâ fide_ persons. They lend the colours of fancy to -whatever they see: whatever they touch becomes gold, though it were -lead. With them every Joan is a lady: and kings and queens are human. -Matters of fact they embellish at their will, and reason is the -plaything of their passions, their caprice, or interest. There is no -practice so base of which they will not become the panders: no sophistry -of which their understanding may not be made the voluntary dupe. Their -only object is to please their fancy. Their souls are effeminate, half -man and half woman: they want fortitude, and are without principle. If -things do not turn out according to their wishes, they will make their -wishes turn round to things. They can easily overlook whatever they do -not approve, and make an idol of any thing they please. The object of -poetry is to please: this art naturally gives pleasure, and excites -admiration. Poets, therefore, cannot do well without sympathy and -flattery. It is, accordingly, very much against the grain that they -remain long on the unpopular side of the question. They do not like to -be shut out when laurels are to be given away at court—or places under -government to be disposed of, in romantic situations in the country. -They are happy to be reconciled on the first opportunity to prince and -people, and to exchange their principles for a pension. They have not -always strength of mind to think for themselves; nor honesty enough to -bear the unjust stigma of the opinions they have taken upon trust from -others. Truth alone does not satisfy their pampered appetites, without -the sauce of praise. To prefer truth to all other things, it requires -that the mind should have been at some pains in finding it out, and that -it should feel a severe delight in the contemplation of truth, seen by -its own clear light, and not as it is reflected in the admiring eyes of -the world. A philosopher may perhaps make a shift to be contented with -the sober draughts of reason: a poet must have the applause of the world -to intoxicate him. Milton was however a poet, and an honest man; he was -Cromwell’s secretary. - -We have here described the spirit of poetry when it comes in contact -with the spirit of the world. Let us see what results from it when it -comes in contact with the spirit of Jacobinism. The spirit of Jacobinism -is essentially at variance with the spirit of poetry: it has ‘no figures -nor no fantasies,’ which the prejudices of superstition or the world -draw in the brains of men: ‘no trivial fond records’: it levels all -distinctions of art and nature: it has no pride, pomp, or circumstance, -belonging to it; it converts the whole principle of admiration in the -poet (which is the essence of poetry) into admiration of himself. The -spirit of Jacobin poetry is rank egotism. We know an instance. It is of -a person who founded a school of poetry on sheer humanity, on ideot boys -and mad mothers, and on Simon Lee, the old huntsman. The secret of the -Jacobin poetry and the anti-jacobin politics of this writer is the same. -His lyrical poetry was a cant of humanity about the commonest people to -level the great with the small; and his political poetry is a cant of -loyalty to level Bonaparte with kings and hereditary imbecility. As he -would put up the commonest of men against kings and nobles, to satisfy -his levelling notions, so for the same reason, he would set up the -meanest of kings against the greatest of men, reposing once more on the -mediocrity of royalty. This person admires nothing that is admirable, -feels no interest in any thing interesting, no grandeur in any thing -grand, no beauty in any thing beautiful. He tolerates nothing but what -he himself creates; he sympathizes only with what can enter into no -competition with him, with ‘the bare earth and mountains bare, and grass -in the green field.’ He sees nothing but himself and the universe. He -hates all greatness, and all pretensions to it but his own. His egotism -is in this respect a madness; for he scorns even the admiration of -himself, thinking it a presumption in any one to suppose that he has -taste or sense enough to understand him. He hates all science and all -art; he hates chemistry, he hates conchology; he hates Sir Isaac Newton; -he hates logic, he hates metaphysics, which he says are unintelligible, -and yet he would be thought to understand them; he hates prose, he hates -all poetry but his own; he hates Shakespeare, or what he calls ‘those -interlocutions between Lucius and Caius,’ because he would have all the -talk to himself, and considers the movements of passion in _Lear_, -_Othello_, or _Macbeth_, as impertinent, compared with the Moods of his -own Mind; he thinks every thing good is contained in the ‘Lyrical -Ballads,’ or, if it is not contained there, it is good for nothing; he -hates music, dancing, and painting; he hates Rubens, he hates Rembrandt, -he hates Raphael, he hates Titian, he hates Vandyke; he hates the -antique; he hates the Apollo Belvidere; he hates the Venus de Medicis. -He hates all that others love and admire but himself. He is glad that -Bonaparte is sent to St. Helena, and that the Louvre is dispersed for -the same reason—to get rid of the idea of any thing greater, or thought -greater than himself. The Bourbons, and their processions of the Holy -Ghost, give no disturbance to his vanity; and he therefore gives them -none. - - - THE TIMES NEWSPAPER - ON THE CONNEXION BETWEEN TOAD-EATERS AND TYRANTS - - ‘Doubtless, the pleasure is as great - ‘In being cheated as to cheat.’ - - _Jan. 12, 1817._ - -We some time ago promised our friend, Mr. Robert Owen, an explanation of -some of the causes which impede the natural progress of liberty and -human happiness. We have in part redeemed this pledge in what we said -about _Coriolanus_, and we shall try in this article to redeem it still -more. We grant to our ingenious and romantic friend, that the progress -of knowledge and civilization is in itself favourable to liberty and -equality, and that the general stream of thought and opinion constantly -sets in this way, till power finds the tide of public feeling becoming -too strong for it, ready to sap its rotten foundations, and ‘bore -through its castle-walls’; and then it contrives to turn the tide of -knowledge and sentiment clean the contrary way, and either bribes human -reason to take part against human nature, or knocks it on the head by a -more summary process. Thus, in the year 1792, Mr. Burke became a -pensioner for writing his book against the French Revolution, and Mr. -Thomas Paine was outlawed for his _Rights of Man_. Since that period, -the press has been the great enemy of freedom, the whole weight of that -immense engine (for the purposes of good or ill) having a fatal bias -given to it by the two main springs of fear and favour. - -The weak sides of human intellect, by which power effects its conversion -to the worst purposes, when it finds the exercise of free opinion -inconsistent with the existence and uncontrouled exercise of arbitrary -power, are these four, viz. the grossness of the imagination, which is -seduced by outward appearances from the pursuit of real ultimate good; -the subtlety of the understanding itself, which palliates by flimsy -sophistry the most flagrant abuses; interest and advancement in the -world; and lastly, the feuds and jealousies of literary men among one -another. There is no class of persons so little calculated to act in -_corps_ as literary men. All their views are recluse and separate (for -the mind acts by individual energy, and not by numbers): their motives, -whether good or bad, are personal to themselves, their vanity exclusive, -their love of truth independent; they exist not by the preservation, but -the destruction of their own species; they are governed not by the -spirit of unanimity, but of contradiction. They will hardly allow any -thing to be right or any thing to be wrong, unless they are the first to -find out that it is so; and are ready to prove the best things in the -world the worst, and the worst the best, from the pure impulse of -splenetic overweening self-opinion, much more if they are likely to be -well paid for it—not that interest is their ruling passion, but still it -operates, silent and unseen, with them as with other men, when it can -make a compromise with their vanity. This part of the character of men -of letters is so well known, that Shakespear makes _Brutus_ protest -against the fitness of _Cicero_ to be included in their enterprize on -this very principle:— - - ‘Oh, name him not: let us not break with him; - For he will never follow any thing, - That other men begin.’ - -The whole of Mr. Burke’s _Reflections on the French Revolution_[28] is -but an elaborate and damning comment on this short text. He quarrelled -with the French Revolution out of spite to Rousseau, the spark of whose -genius had kindled the flame of liberty in a nation. He therefore -endeavoured to extinguish the flame—to put out the light; and he -succeeded, because there were others like himself, ready to sacrifice -every manly and generous principle to the morbid, sickly, effeminate, -little, selfish, irritable, dirty spirit of authorship. Not only did -such persons, according to Mr. Coleridge’s valuable and competent -testimony (see his _Lay Sermon_) make the distinction between Atheism -and Religion a mere stalking-horse for the indulgence of their idle -vanity, but they made the other questions of Liberty and Slavery, of the -Rights of Man, or the Divine Right of Kings to rule millions of men as -their Slaves for ever, they made these vital and paramount questions -(which whoever wilfully and knowingly compromises, is a traitor to -himself and his species), subordinate to the low, whiffling, -contemptible gratification of their literary jealousy. We shall not go -over the painful list of instances; neither can we forget them. But they -all or almost all contrived to sneak over one by one to the side on -which ‘empty praise or solid pudding’ was to be got; they could not live -without the smiles of the great (not they), nor provide for an -increasing establishment without a loss of character; instead of going -into some profitable business and exchanging their lyres for ledgers, -their pens for the plough (the honest road to riches), they chose rather -to prostitute their pens to the mock-heroic defence of the most -barefaced of all mummeries, the pretended alliance of kings and people! -We told them how it would be, if they succeeded; it has turned out just -as we said; and a pretty figure do these companions of Ulysses -(_Compagnons du Lys_), these gaping converts to despotism, these -well-fed victims of the charms of the Bourbons, now make, nestling under -their laurels in the stye of Corruption, and sunk in torpid repose (from -which they do not like to be disturbed by calling on their former names -or professions), in lazy sinecures and good warm berths! Such is the -history and mystery of literary patriotism and prostitution for the last -twenty years.—Power is subject to none of these disadvantages. It is one -and indivisible; it is self-centered, self-willed, incorrigible, -inaccessible to temptation or entreaty; interest is on its side, passion -is on its side, prejudice is on its side, the name of religion is on its -side; the qualms of conscience it is not subject to, for it is -iron-nerved; humanity it is proof against, for it sets itself up above -humanity; reason it does not hearken to, except that reason which -panders to its will and flatters its pride. It pursues its steady way, -its undeviating everlasting course, ‘unslacked of motion,’ like that -foul Indian idol, the Jaggernaut, and crushes poor upstart poets, -patriots, and philosophers (the beings of an hour) and the successive -never-ending generations of fools and knaves, beneath its feet; and -mankind bow their willing necks to the yoke, and eagerly consign their -children and their children’s children to be torn in pieces by its -scythe, or trampled to death by the gay, gaudy, painted, bloodstained -wheels of the grim idol of power! - -Such is the state of the Eastern world, where the inherent baseness of -man’s nature, and his tendency to social order, to tyrannize and to be -tyrannized over, has had full time to develope itself. Our turn seems -next. We are but just setting out, it is true, in this bye-nook and -corner of the world—but just recovering from the effects of the -Revolution of 1688, and the defeated Rebellions of the years 1715 and -1745, but we need hardly despair under the auspices of the Editor of -_The Times_, and with the example of the defeat ‘of the last successful -instance of a democratic rebellion,’ by the second restoration of the -Bourbons, before our eyes and close under our noses. Mr. Owen may think -the example of New Lanark more inviting, but the persons to whom he has -dedicated his work turn their eyes another way![29] - -Man is a toad-eating animal. The admiration of power in others is as -common to man as the love of it in himself: the one makes him a tyrant, -the other a slave. It is not he alone, who wears the golden crown, that -is proud of it: the wretch who pines in a dungeon, and in chains, is -dazzled with it; and if he could but shake off his own fetters, would -care little about the wretches whom he left behind him, so that he might -have an opportunity, on being set free himself, of gazing at this -glittering gewgaw ‘on some high holiday of once a year.’ The slave, who -has no other hope or consolation, clings to the apparition of royal -magnificence, which insults his misery and his despair; stares through -the hollow eyes of famine at the insolence of pride and luxury which has -occasioned it, and hugs his chains the closer, because he has nothing -else left. The French, under the old regime, made the glory of their -_Grand Monarque_ a set-off against rags and hunger, equally satisfied -with _shows or bread_; and the poor Spaniard, delivered from temporary -to permanent oppression, looks up once more with pious awe, to the -time-hallowed towers of the Holy Inquisition. As the herd of mankind are -stripped of every thing, in body and mind, so are they thankful for what -is left; as is the desolation of their hearts and the wreck of their -little all, so is the pomp and pride which is built upon their ruin, and -their fawning admiration of it. - - ‘I’ve heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds - With coldness still returning: - Alas! the gratitude of men - Has oftener set me mourning.’[30] - -There is something in the human mind, which requires an object for it to -repose on; and, driven from all other sources of pride or pleasure, it -falls in love with misery, and grows enamoured of oppression. It gazes -after the liberty, the happiness, the comfort, the knowledge, which have -been torn from it by the unfeeling gripe of wealth and power, as the -poor debtor gazes with envy and wonder at the Lord Mayor’s show. Thus is -the world by degrees reduced to a spital or lazar-house, where the -people waste away with want and disease, and are thankful if they are -only suffered to crawl forgotten to their graves. Just in proportion to -the systematic tyranny exercised over a nation, to its loss of a sense -of freedom and the spirit of resistance, will be its loyalty; the most -abject submission will always be rendered to the most confirmed -despotism. The most wretched slaves are the veriest sycophants. The -lacquey, mounted behind his master’s coach, looks down with contempt -upon the mob, forgetting his own origin and his actual situation, and -comparing them only with that standard of gentility which he has -perpetually in his eye. The hireling of the press (a still meaner slave) -wears his livery, and is proud of it. He measures the greatness of -others by his own meanness; their lofty pretensions indemnify him for -his servility; he magnifies the sacredness of their persons to cover the -laxity of his own principles. He offers up his own humanity, and that of -all men, at the shrine of royalty. He sneaks to court; and the bland -accents of power close his ears to the voice of freedom ever after; its -velvet touch makes his heart marble to a people’s sufferings. He is the -intellectual pimp of power, as others are the practical ones of the -pleasures of the great, and often on the same disinterested principle. -For one tyrant, there are a thousand ready slaves. Man is naturally a -worshipper of idols and a lover of kings. It is the excess of individual -power, that strikes and gains over his imagination: the general misery -and degradation which are the necessary consequences of it, are spread -too wide, they lie too deep, their weight and import are too great, to -appeal to any but the slow, inert, speculative, imperfect faculty of -reason. The cause of liberty is lost in its own truth and magnitude; -while the cause of despotism flourishes, triumphs, and is irresistible -in the gross mixture, the _Belle Alliance_, of pride and ignorance. - -Power is the grim idol that the world adore; that arms itself with -destruction, and reigns by terror in the coward heart of man; that -dazzles the senses, haunts the imagination, confounds the understanding, -and tames the will, by the vastness of its pretensions, and the very -hopelessness of resistance to them. Nay more, the more mischievous and -extensive the tyranny—the longer it has lasted, and the longer it is -likely to last—the stronger is the hold it takes of the minds of its -victims, the devotion to it increasing with the dread. It does not -satisfy the enormity of the appetite for servility, till it has slain -the mind of a nation, and becomes like the evil principle of the -universe, from which there is no escape. So in some countries, the most -destructive animals are held sacred, despair and terror completely -overpowering reason. The prejudices of superstition (religion is another -name for fear) are always the strongest in favour of those forms of -worship which require the most bloody sacrifices; the foulest idols are -those which are approached with the greatest awe; for it should seem -that those objects are the most sacred to passion and imagination, which -are the most revolting to reason and common sense. No wonder that the -Editor of _The Times_ bows his head before the idol of Divine Right, or -of Legitimacy, (as he calls it) which has had more lives sacrificed to -its ridiculous and unintelligible pretensions, in the last twenty-five -years, than were ever sacrificed to any other idol in all preceding -ages. Never was there any thing so well contrived as this fiction of -Legitimacy, to suit the fastidious delicacy of modern sycophants. It -hits their grovelling servility and petulant egotism exactly between -wind and water. The contrivers or re-modellers of this idol, beat all -other idol-mongers, whether Jews, Gentiles or Christians, hollow. The -principle of an idolatry is the same: it is the want of something to -admire, without knowing what or why: it is the love of an effect without -a cause; it is a voluntary tribute of admiration which does not -compromise our vanity: it is setting something up over all the rest of -the world, to which we feel ourselves to be superior, for it is our own -handy-work; so that the more perverse the homage we pay to it, the more -it pampers our self-will: the meaner the object, the more magnificent -and pompous the attributes we bestow upon it; the greater the lie, the -more enthusiastically it is believed and greedily swallowed:— - - ‘Of whatsoever race his godhead be, - Stock, stone, or other homely pedigree, - In his defence his servants are as bold - As if he had been made of beaten gold.’ - -In this inverted ratio, the bungling impostors of former times, and less -refined countries, got no further than stocks and stones: their utmost -stretch of refinement in absurdity went no further than to select the -most mischievous animals or the most worthless objects for the adoration -of their besotted votaries: but the framers of the new law-fiction of -legitimacy have started a non-entity. The ancients sometimes worshipped -the sun or stars, or deified heroes and great men: the moderns have -found out the image of the divinity in Louis XVIII.! They have set up an -object for their idolatry, which they themselves must laugh at, if -hypocrisy were not with them the most serious thing in the world. They -offer up thirty millions of men to it as its victims, and yet they know -that it is nothing but a scare-crow to keep the world in subjection to -their renegado whimsies and preposterous hatred of the liberty and -happiness of mankind. They do not think kings gods, but they make -believe that they do so, to degrade their fellows to the rank of brutes. -Legitimacy answers every object of their meanness and malice—_omne tulit -punctum_.—This mock-doctrine, this little Hunchback, which our -resurrection-men, the Humane Society of Divine Right, have foisted on -the altar of Liberty, is not only a phantom of the imagination, but a -contradiction in terms; it is a prejudice, but an exploded prejudice; it -is an imposture, that imposes on nobody; it is powerful only in -impotence, safe in absurdity, courted from fear and hatred, a dead -prejudice linked to the living mind; the sink of honour, the grave of -liberty, a palsy in the heart of a nation; it claims the species as its -property, and derives its right neither from God nor man; not from the -authority of the Church, which it treats cavalierly, and yet in contempt -of the will of the people, which it scouts as opposed to its own: its -two chief supporters are, the sword of the Duke of Wellington and the -pen of the Editor of _The Times_! The last of these props has, we -understand, just failed it. - -We formerly gave the Editor of _The Times_ a definition of a true -Jacobin, as one ‘who had seen the evening star set over a poor man’s -cottage, and connected it with the hope of human happiness.’ The -city-politician laughed this pastoral definition to scorn, and nicknamed -the person who had very innocently laid it down, ‘the true Jacobin who -writes in the Chronicle,’—a nickname by which we profited as little as -he has by our Illustrations. Since that time our imagination has grown a -little less romantic: so we will give him another, which he may chew the -cud upon at his leisure. A true Jacobin, then, is one who does not -believe in the divine right of kings, or in any other _alias_ for it, -which implies that they reign ‘in contempt of the will of the people’; -and he holds all such kings to be tyrants, and their subjects slaves. To -be a true Jacobin, a man must be a good hater; but this is the most -difficult and the least amiable of all the virtues: the most trying and -the most thankless of all tasks. The love of liberty consists in the -hatred of tyrants. The true Jacobin hates the enemies of liberty as they -hate liberty, with all his strength and with all his might, and with all -his heart and with all his soul. His memory is as long, and his will as -strong as theirs, though his hands are shorter. He never forgets or -forgives an injury done to the people, for tyrants never forget or -forgive one done to themselves. There is no love lost between them. He -does not leave them the sole benefit of their old motto, _Odia in longum -jaciens quæ conderet auctaque promeret_. He makes neither peace nor -truce with them. His hatred of wrong only ceases with the wrong. The -sense of it, and of the barefaced assumption of the right to inflict it, -deprives him of his rest. It stagnates in his blood. It loads his heart -with aspics’ tongues, deadly to venal pens. It settles in his brain—it -puts him beside himself. Who will not feel all this for a girl, a toy, a -turn of the dice, a word, a blow, for any thing relating to himself; and -will not the friend of liberty feel as much for mankind? The love of -truth is a passion in his mind, as the love of power is a passion in the -minds of others. Abstract reason, unassisted by passion, is no match for -power and prejudice, armed with force and cunning. The love of liberty -is the love of others; the love of power is the love of ourselves. The -one is real; the other often but an empty dream. Hence the defection of -modern apostates. While they are looking about, wavering and distracted, -in pursuit of universal good or universal fame, the eye of power is upon -them, like the eye of Providence, that neither slumbers nor sleeps, and -that watches but for one object, its own good. They take no notice of it -at first, but it is still upon them, and never off them. It at length -catches theirs, and they bow to its sacred light; and like the poor -fluttering bird, quail beneath it, are seized with a vertigo, and drop -senseless into its jaws, that close upon them for ever, and so we see no -more of them, which is well. - -‘And we saw three poets in a dream, walking up and down on the face of -the earth, and holding in their hands a human heart, which, as they -raised their eyes to heaven, they kissed and worshipped; and a mighty -shout arose and shook the air, for the towers of the Bastile had fallen, -and a nation had become, of slaves, freemen; and the three poets, as -they heard the sound, leaped and shouted, and made merry, and their -voice was choked with tears of joy, which they shed over the human -heart, which they kissed and worshipped. And not long after, we saw the -same three poets, the one with a receipt-stamp in his hand, the other -with a laurel on his head, and the third with a symbol which we could -make nothing of, for it was neither literal nor allegorical, following -in the train of the Pope and the Inquisition and the Bourbons, and -worshipping the mark of the Beast, with the emblem of the human heart -thrown beneath their feet, which they trampled and spit upon!’—This -apologue is not worth finishing, nor are the people to whom it relates -worth talking of. We have done with them. - - - - -INTERESTING FACTS _relating to the Fall and Death of Joachim Murat, King -of Naples; the Capitulation of Paris in 1815; and the Second Restoration -of the Bourbons: Original Letters from King Joachim to the Author, with - some Account of the Author, and of his Persecution by the French - Government_. _By_ Francis Macirone, _late Aid-de-camp to King Joachim; - Knight of the Order of the Two Sicilies_, &c. &c. London: Ridgways, - 1817. - - ‘Come, draw the curtain; shew the picture.’ - - - _February 2, 1817._ - -We have here a pretty peep behind ‘the dark blanket’ of Legitimacy. We -thank Mr. Macirone for having introduced us once more to the old lady of -that name in her dressing-room. What a tissue of patches and of paint! -What a quantity of wrinkles and of proud flesh! What a collection of -sickly perfumes and slow poisons, with her love-powders and the -assassin’s knife placed side by side! What treacheries and lies upon her -tongue! What meanness and malice in her heart! What an old hypocritical -hag it is! What a vile canting, mumbling, mischievous witch! ‘Pah! and -smells so.’ The very wind that kisses all it meets, stops the nose at -her. We wonder how any prince should take a fancy to such an old rotten -demirep! Yet this is the heroine of all heroines (Mr. Southey will tell -you in hobbling illegitimate verse), a greater heroine than even _his_ -Joan of Arc—the heroine of Leipsic, of Saragossa, and of Waterloo! It is -indeed the same. Look at her again, look at her well, look at her -closely, and you will find that it is ‘that harlot old,’ - - ‘The same that was, that is, and is to be;’— - -the mother of abominations, the daughter of lies. Dig up the bones of a -few of her wretched favourites you may, in Carmelite dresses or any -other trumpery; but can you dig up the bones of the men that she has -murdered, from the earliest time? can you collect the blood of the -millions of men that she has sacrificed in the last twenty-five years -alone, and pour it into the Thames, while our merchant-men ride -freighted with gold upon the gory stream, and the Editor of _The Times_ -(without being called to account for it) applauds with the ‘sweet -thunder’ of his pen the proud balance of our exports and our imports, -blood and gold? or can you collect the sighs and dried-up tears of -wretches that she, Legitimacy, has doomed to pine without a cause in -dungeons, to prove that she is the dread sovereign of the human heart? -or the groans and shrieks of victims stretched on the rack, or consumed -by slow fire, to prove that the minds of men belong to her? or the cries -of hunger and pinching cold, the sweat, the rags, the diseases, the -emaciated wan looks, by which she proves that the bodies of men are -her’s? or can you conjure up the wide spreading desolation which she -breathes from her nostrils, the famine and pestilence which she scatters -before her for her sport and wantonness, the ruins of cities and of -countries which she makes her throne, and from which, amidst the groans -of the dying and the dead, she utters, laughing, the sacred doctrine of -‘millions made for one!’—One thing contents us, and sits light upon our -hearts, that we have always seen through her disguises: we have known -her from first to last, though ‘she has changed shapes with Proteus,’ -and now gone by the name of Religion, now of Social Order, now of -Morality, now been personified at Guildhall as Trade and Commerce, or -sat in the Speaker’s chair as the English Constitution (the most -impudent trick of all)—under none of these respectable alias’s and -swindling characters, nor when she towered above the conflagration of -Moscow, _dressed in a robe of flame-coloured taffeta_, or sat perched as -Victory on the crests of British soldiers, nor when she hovered over the -frightened country as the harpy of Invasion; no, nor at any other time -did we ever take her for any thing but what we knew she was, the -patron-saint of tyrants and of slaves; an adulteress, an impostor, and a -murderess. The world, whom she has juggled, begin to find her out too: -it will hardly ‘stand now with her sorceries and her lies, and the blood -of men, with which she has made herself drunk’; and we may yet live to -see her carted for a bawd. - -Having thus vented the overflowings of our gall against the old lady -above-mentioned, we shall proceed to a detail of some of her fraudulent -transactions, as they are stated with great clearness and command of -temper, in Mr. Macirone’s ‘Interesting Facts.’ Interesting indeed! But -no more comments for the present. We have not time to grace our -narrative or confirm our doctrine of ‘the uses of _legitimacy_,’ by -giving Mr. Macirone’s history of the treatment of his family by the Holy -See, which brought his father to this country, and eventually led to his -connexion with Murat. It appears that his grandfather, the head of a -noble and wealthy family at Rome, was ruined in a large concern, and -then robbed of his right by Monsignore Banchieri, treasurer to the Pope, -a ‘gentleman and man of honour’ in those times; and that, though the -tribunals awarded him reparation, the decisions in his favour were -constantly defeated by the interposition of the papal power. The -consequence was, that the elder Macirone, after a fruitless struggle of -several years with legitimate power and injustice, died of grief and -chagrin, and his family were dispersed in various directions: his eldest -son came to England and married an English lady, of which union our -author was the issue. This short episode shews what Legitimacy, that is, -_a power above the law, and accountable only to heaven for its exercise, -its use or its abuse_, always was, and always will be. These tricks were -played long before the French revolution, and with a million other -tricks of the same legitimate, that is, lawless kind, produced it.—We -have here an account of some of the tricks resorted to by the wielders -and abettors of mild paternal sway to restore the old right to do wrong -with impunity, and to put down the principles and partizans of the -revolution, as an example of successful rebellion against power held in -contempt of the people, and exercised in disregard of law. Mr. Macirone, -a native of England, went to Italy at the age of fifteen, and remained -there from 1803 till 1812. Part of this time he was detained as an -English prisoner. He was afterwards employed as an _aid-de-camp_ to -Murat, and gives the following narrative of his transactions with the -Allies:— - -1. A Treaty of Alliance, offensive and defensive, was signed between -Austria and Naples, on the 11th of Jan. 1814, and the Austrian -Plenipotentiary declared that England was ready to accede to a similar -Treaty with King Joachim.—2. A Convention was signed by Lord William -Bentinck with the Neapolitan Government, which opened the ports of Italy -to the British fleet, and placed affairs on a footing of perfect -peace.—3. Murat, on the strength of these engagements, opened the -campaign in concert with the Allies, when instantly objections were made -to the ratification of the Treaty with Austria, not by Austria, but by -England, on some pretence of the territorial indemnifications to be -granted to Murat at the expense of the Pope.—4. Murat assented to the -proposed modifications, and Lord W. Bentinck declared, that the English -Government now agreed entirely to the Treaty between Austria and -Naples.—5. This declaration of Lord W. Bentinck was confirmed by a -declaration of Lord Castlereagh, that it was only from motives of -delicacy to the King of Sicily that the English Government delayed the -conclusion of a special and separate Treaty with Naples, _that a Treaty -of Indemnities to the King of Sicily and of Peace with King Joachim -might go hand in hand_.—6. Murat now joined the campaign of 1814, and -turned the scale against France and Napoleon.—In this state of things, -Mr. Macirone observes,— - -‘A variety of circumstances had now combined to induce the King to doubt -the sincerity of the Allies. _The Emperor of Austria had delayed for -many days the transmission of the ratification of the Treaty of the 11th -January. Ferdinand of Sicily had published an order of the day to some -Sicilian troops about to land at Leghorn, in which they were informed -that they were going to recover his kingdom of Naples, which he had -never ceded, and never would cede. The English general, Lord William -Bentinck, had landed with these troops, under instructions to excite a -revolution in Italy, and had insisted on the maintenance of a position -(Tuscany) which intercepted the communication between the Neapolitan -army and Naples; propositions at the same time were made in a foreign -camp to Neapolitan generals and other officers, for the expulsion of the -then reigning dynasty from the throne of Naples._ The doubts which these -circumstances had excited were removed by a declaration of General Sir -Robert Wilson, at Bologna; _that he considered the letter of Lord -Castlereagh, containing the promise of a formal treaty, as of equal -value and force with a treaty already signed. And that neither the -executive authority, nor the parliament, would hesitate to recognize the -validity of such an engagement_. Indeed, it was in his opinion more -imperative, if possible, than a regular treaty, _because it connected an -appeal to honour with an obligation on good faith_. From that moment the -King again made the most zealous efforts in the common cause.’—p. 20. - -Alas! Sir Robert, ‘How little knew’st thou of Calista!’ as a body may -say. But you have in part redeemed your errors, and revenged the trick -that was thus put upon your _preux chevalier_ notions of honour!—One -would think there was shuffling and paltering and evasion and cant and -cunning enough in the foregoing part of this transaction. What follows -is worse. After the campaigns which so providentially delivered France -and Europe from the hands of illegitimate into those of legitimate power -_en plein droit_, and while the immortal congress was yet assembled at -Vienna, ‘Prince Talleyrand, on the part of King Louis,’ says Mr. -Macirone, ‘was indefatigable in his exertions to induce the Austrian -government to withdraw their alliance from the King of Naples, from whom -the allied powers had so recently received the most efficient support. -The Austrian government being warmly urged to undertake the _holy war_ -of legitimacy against its ally, the King of Naples, at length expressed -its willingness to comply, but alleged the exhausted state of the -finances of the country. _This difficulty was, it is said, immediately -removed by the British ministers, who offered to defray all the expense -of the expedition_, and moreover to furnish a British fleet, in -preference to a French fleet, as proposed by Talleyrand in his famous -note, which fleet should act in concert with and assist the movements of -the Austrian forces.’ - -One would think that after this open and profligate breach of faith, the -legitimates had made up their minds to keep no terms with illegitimacy. -But, no: expediency turns round once more, and British honour, -simplicity, and good faith, with it! Murat, in consequence of the -preparations against him, attacked the Austrians ‘at the very moment, as -it afterwards turned out, that the apprehensions of his union with -Napoleon, who had just returned to France from Elba, had determined the -British Cabinet to attend to the invocations of justice in his favour. -Lord Castlereagh had written to the Duke of Wellington, who was at that -time the plenipotentiary of the British court at Vienna, and informed -him, that _in consequence of the reappearance of Napoleon at the head of -the French nation_, the British ministers thought it adviseable to unite -all the force they could collect, and had consequently come to a -determination immediately to conclude a treaty of alliance with the King -of Naples.’ - -Bravo, my Lord Castlereagh! you may one day find, after all, that -honesty is the best policy; and we hope the Editor of _The Times_, in -the next number of _The Correspondent_, will relieve his praises of the -allies and his compliments to the Duke of Levis, by a criticism to prove -that Jonathan Wild and Count Fathom were ‘gentlemen and men of honour!’ - -But the tale of blushing British honour is not ended. At the time when -Murat was at the height of his success against the Austrians, ‘Colonel -Dalrymple arrived at Bologna, King Joachim’s head-quarters, commissioned -by Lord William Bentinck, _to request that the territory of his -Britannic majesty’s ally, the King of Sardinia, might not be violated by -the Neapolitan army_.’—In consequence of Murat’s polite attention to -this delicate request, he lost his campaign, his crown, and his life; -for no sooner was he defeated in his attempts to force the passage of -the Po, which he might easily have effected, by infringing upon a small -corner of the Piedmontese territory, than ‘he was surprized at receiving -a notification from Lord William Bentinck, _that his instructions were -to join the Austrians against him_.’—We know the consequences of this -exquisite simplicity of proceeding on both sides. Poor Murat! he well -deserved his fate, but not at the hands from which he received it. -Foolish fellow! He did not know that legitimacy keeps no faith with -illegitimacy. At present, we suppose that point is pretty well settled. - -Murat was senseless enough to believe that he, who had been made a king -by Bonaparte, would be cordially received in the list of kings by those -who were so _by divine right_; and he was base enough to turn against -his benefactor, his country, and the human race; but in himself he -appears to have been a gallant, generous, and heroic-minded man. The -account of his escape from the Austrians, and of his landing in France, -is interesting:— - -‘On the king’s approach to Naples with a small remnant of his army, six -thousand of the national guard, with General Macdonald, minister of war, -at their head, marched forth to meet him. They greeted his return in the -most loyal and affectionate manner, exhorting him still to hope for -success in the love and devotedness of his subjects, swearing that they -were all ready to perish in defence of their king and country; but in -consequence of the part England had taken against him, he declined -making any further efforts, which would only tend to involve the brave -and loyal in his own catastrophe. - -‘He entered Naples unknown, in the evening of the 19th May, accompanied -by his nephew, who was colonel of the 9th regiment of lancers, and four -privates. He immediately proceeded to his palace, where he appeared -before the queen, pale and emaciated, in the habit of a lancer; tenderly -embracing her, he said, “All is lost, madam, but my life; that I have -not been able to lose.”[31] - -‘Having taken farewell of his children, he caused his hair, which he had -hitherto worn in long ringlets, to be cut short, and habited in a plain -grey suit, accompanied by his nephew, the colonel, he proceeded on foot -to the sea-shore, opposite to the island of Nisida. He there embarked in -a little boat, and proceeded to the neighbouring island of Ischia. There -he remained three days without being known, and on the fourth, as he was -walking on the sea-shore on the southern side of the island, in company -with the colonel, consulting about the means of effecting their escape -to France, they discovered a small vessel to the east, in full sail, -approaching the spot where they were standing. - -‘The king immediately hailed the vessel, and getting into a fishing-boat -which was on the shore, ordered the crew to row towards it, and, as soon -as they were perceived, a boat was sent from the vessel to meet them. -The feelings of all parties may easily be imagined, when, in one of the -persons on board, the king recognized his attached and faithful servant -the Duke of Roccaromana, to whom the vessel belonged, and who, in -company with the Marquis Giuliano, the king’s aid-de-camp, had escaped -from Naples, and was proceeding in this vessel in search of the king, -under the greatest anxiety and apprehension, lest some accident might -have befallen him, although, previously to quitting the palace, the king -had divided with the duke and marquis a considerable sum in gold, and -acquainted them with his plan of going to Ischia, accompanied only by -his nephew, and of embarking from thence to France. - -‘The duke could not succeed in effecting his escape from Naples until -three days after the departure of the king. The enemy’s flag had been -hoisted in Ischia; and it appeared highly improbable, under all -circumstances, that the king could have remained there concealed for -those three days. It was unsafe for the duke to attempt landing on the -island, and yet there appeared no other means of ascertaining whether -the king was there or had proceeded on his voyage. In this -embarrassment, it happened that the duke, who was most anxiously -examining the shore of the island with a glass, perceived and recognized -the king. The rest of their voyage proved most prosperous and -expeditious. They landed at Cannes the 27th or 28th of May.’—p. 30. - -We shall in our next give the particulars of Mr. Macirone’s interviews -with the Duke of Wellington, relating to the convention of Paris; and we -shall be cautious what we say of his Grace’s observations and conduct on -that occasion; for if we were to say what we think of that noble person, -there might be some offence in it. But we cannot help having an opinion -of him, which all that we hear of him confirms. - - - INTERESTING FACTS _relating to the Fall of Murat, &c._ - - _By_ F. Macirone, _&c._ - - (CONCLUDED.) - - Sta viator, heroem calcas. - - _Feb. 9, 1817._ - -We proceed to Mr. Macirone’s account of the surrender of Paris. Let it -speak for itself:— - -‘Immediately after the battle of Waterloo, Napoleon returned to Paris, -and abdicated the throne in _favour of his son, who would have been -accepted and proclaimed by the French people_, but for the opposition of -two celebrated individuals. - -‘On this abdication, a commission of government, as it was called, was -formed, consisting of Fouché, the president, Caulincourt, Carnot, -Quinette, and Grenier. - -‘On the 26th of June, I believe, the Duke of Wellington, at the head of -his victorious army, reached Compeigne. In the course of the following -night, a deputation of five persons was sent to him from Paris by the -two Chambers, to solicit an armistice for a few days. The avowed purpose -of this mission was to afford time for the return of another deputation, -which had been despatched to the Allied Sovereigns, to assert the right -of the French people to choose their own government, in conformity to -the Declaration of the Allies, _that they warred against the person of -Napoleon only, and not against the French people, or to force upon them -any particular government_. - -‘The Chamber of Deputies, the majority of the Commissioners of -Government, and the Army, now in great strength in Paris, were -_determined to resist any attempt to force the Bourbons upon them_; -while the avowed opinion of Fouché and Caulincourt was, that such a -determination could only lead to the destruction of Paris, and the loss -of thousands of lives. They therefore sought the means of opening a -communication with the Duke of Wellington, in which they might impart to -him their views, and avert the calamity which they apprehended from the -projects of the other parties. In the expediency of procuring an -armistice for a few days, _all_ parties concurred; and Fouché, who had -become acquainted with me in my interviews with him respecting King -Joachim, solicited me to undertake the task of carrying on a -communication between him and the Duke of Wellington. It was sufficient -for me to know that the service in which I was to be engaged had for its -object the prevention of a sanguinary conflict, which an attempt to take -Paris by force would have occasioned, and I therefore consented to be -the bearer of Fouché’s message to the Duke. - -‘My feelings as an Englishman entirely influenced my conduct in this -instance. I exulted in the success of our army, and in the military -glory which the English name had acquired; and it appeared to me, that -whatever might tend to prevent the further effusion of blood, must be -highly acceptable to my country; and to be selected as an instrument, by -which so humane and desirable an object might be accomplished, was -highly gratifying to my mind, and I should not have thought myself at -liberty to refuse to engage in it, from any opinion I might entertain of -the private views of the persons by whom I should be employed. Impressed -with these sentiments, I left Paris at midnight. I proceeded to the -Barriere de la Villette, where I found some difficulty in getting my -carriage over the different entrenchments and _abattis_, but still more -from the French officers, who evinced the greatest reluctance in -permitting me to pass, observing that I was probably a person sent out -to treat with the enemy, and to betray them; but on my assuring them -that the purport of my mission was entirely analogous to their views and -interests, I was suffered to proceed without a trumpet. Before I had got -beyond the French lines, I was again stopped by a picquet of -cuirassiers, who refused to let me pass without an order from the -officer commanding the inner posts; and while I was asserting my right -to proceed, a cuirassier fortunately happened to hold a light to my -face, and very respectfully accosted me with the salutation of “bon -voyage Major”: his comrades immediately asked him who I was? he -answered, “it’s the Major of the 9th Hussars,” for whom I suppose he had -mistaken me. This was instantly believed; and, greeted by the -salutations and good wishes of the whole troop, I was allowed to -continue my journey. - -‘The Prussian advanced posts were at less than two miles distant, and I -was consequently very soon stopped by a Prussian lancer, who, upon my -telling him that I was an English officer, proceeding with dispatches to -the Duke of Wellington, immediately accompanied me to the next post. -Here I learnt with great pleasure, that this advanced guard of cavalry -was commanded by Prince William of Prussia, whose first Aid-de-camp, -Baron Rochow, was my particular friend. - -‘I soon arrived at the spot where Prince William and his Staff were -sleeping in a field, before a large fire, under some trees. I inquired -for my friend, Baron Rochow. His name was called, and I immediately had -the pleasure of seeing him. After a few urgent questions, he proposed to -introduce me to Prince William, who by this time had raised himself upon -his mattrass. The Prince received me with the greatest politeness, and -directed that I should be presented with refreshments. On my taking -leave, he ordered me to be furnished with an escort to General Baron -Bulow. I arrived at this General’s quarters at break of day, and was -soon after introduced to him. While I was at breakfast with him, he told -me that he wished me to see Prince Blucher on my way to the Duke of -Wellington; and added, that he would send his Aid-de-camp with me. He -then ordered his servant to call his Aid-de-camp, Baron Echardstein, to -whom I was also particularly known. - -‘On our arrival at Prince Blucher’s, my companion, Baron Echardstein -informed him that I was going on a mission from the French Government to -the Duke of Wellington; this did not seem to please the Prince, who -immediately retired to rest, and left me to converse with his -Chef-d’etat-Major. This gentleman, whose name I believe was Gneisenau, -was very indignant on being informed of the desire of the French to -treat with the Duke of Wellington; and he completely lost his temper -when he observed the coolness with which I listened to his indiscreet -and authoritative language. - -‘On my quitting this choleric soldier, my friend Echardstein thought it -necessary to apologise to me for the indelicate behaviour of his -countryman. I proceeded on my journey, and soon met numerous columns of -English cavalry, and found the five French Deputies, waiting for the -Duke’s arrival, at a village called Fresnoy. I thought it expedient to -endeavour to see the Duke before the Deputies, and therefore passed them -on the road. I shortly after met the Duke, and imparted to him the -purport of my mission, and delivered to him also a sealed dispatch from -Fouché, upon which he desired me to accompany him to the village where -the Deputies were. He asked me if I was acquainted with the nature of -the mission. I told him that I knew that one part of it, at least, was -to request an armistice of some days, until news could arrive from other -Deputies, who had been sent to treat with the united Sovereigns. - -‘On the Duke’s arrival at the village of Fresnoy, he conferred with the -Deputies for five hours. They adduced, in support of their missions, the -solemn declaration of the British Ministers, “that it was not the -intention of the Allies to force the Bourbons, or any other government, -on the French people; that they had made war against Napoleon only, and -not against the nation,” &c. Their mission failed. They received for -answer, that the only thing left for the Chambers to do was to proclaim -Louis 18th. - -‘The Duke then proceeded to Plessis, the head-quarters for that day. The -Deputies remained behind. I was desired by the Duke to accompany him to -Plessis, where I dined with him, and during dinner conversed with him on -the object I had to propose respecting an armistice. Before I took my -leave of the Duke, I requested that he would give me some answer to the -remonstrances of the Commission of Government, which stated, “_that as -the Allies had declared their hostility to be directed against the -person of Napoleon only, it would be but just to await the result of the -mission to the Sovereigns, before his Grace undertook to replace Louis -18th on the throne_.” The Duke, in the presence of Lord March, Colonels -Hervey, Freemantle, Abercromby, and several other officers, replied,—“I -can give no other answer than that which you know _I have just given_ to -the Deputies. _Tell them (the Commission of Government) that they had -better immediately proclaim the King (Louis 18th). I cannot treat till -then, nor upon any other condition. Their King is here at hand: let them -send their submission to him._” - -We are glad the Duke is not an Englishman?[32] - -‘The Duke was at this time in constant communication with King Louis and -Talleyrand, who were together in the rear of the army; and I saw one of -the messengers of Louis 18th at the Duke’s head-quarters.—I returned to -Paris the next morning. Davoust had taken the chief command of the -French army, and had fixed his head-quarters at the Barriere de la -Villette, by which I entered Paris. On my being introduced to him, he -demanded to know the object of my mission to the enemy, and said, that -as he then held the supreme command, I must communicate to him any -dispatches of which I might be the bearer? I answered him, that I had no -written message; that my mission had been nearly similar to that of the -Deputies; that I had been sent out by the Commission, and therefore -thought it my duty to account with its members only for my proceedings. -I could, however, inform him of the declaration, which, in common with -the Deputies, I had received from the Duke of Wellington. Hereupon I -reported to him the Duke’s _sine qua non_. He immediately declared that -my intelligence was incredible, and expressed his disbelief of it in the -strongest terms. Then, with the greatest emotion, and with uplifted -hands and eyes, _he called heaven to witness the perfidy and arrogant -injustice of the English Ministry, and of the Allies_. “_The Duke of -Wellington_,” said he, “_surely could never dare to make a declaration -so directly contrary to the avowed and solemnly protested intentions of -the British Ministry, and of the other Allies_. _Have not they sworn -that they would not impose a sovereign on the French people? However, -they will find to their cost, that we are unanimous in our resolution. -Napoleon can no longer be the pretext for their hostilities. We will all -perish rather than submit to the hateful yoke that Lord Castlereagh -would impose upon us! —— is a traitor! he was about to compromise with -the enemy—I have taken his command from him—he shall never again command -a corporal’s guard—we are an independent nation—England should be the -last power to tyrannize over us in our choice of a government._”—He then -desired me to proceed to lay before the Commission at the Thuilleries -the result of my mission, adding, “they know very well that I have now -with me more than 100,000 men, with 500 pieces of cannon, and 25,000 -cavalry.” - -‘I proceeded to the palace of the Thuilleries, where I was introduced to -the Commission. Carnot immediately asked, what my errand to the enemy -had been? Fouché quickly answered, that he had sent me. Quinette and -Grenier looked as if they were not satisfied with this answer. Carnot -continued to address me, and asked whether I had seen the Deputies at -the Duke of Wellington’s head-quarters? I answered in the affirmative, -and that I could give him an account of the result of their mission: -upon this they became attentive, and heard my account with dismay and -indignation. Carnot expressed the same sentiments that Davoust had -recently done; and added, rather roughly, that he could by no means give -credit to my account, either as to the Duke of Wellington’s _sine qua -non_, or as to the force of the enemy in the vicinity of Paris: he -further said, with a sneer, “we shall have, I hope, a very different -account on the return of the Deputies.” Fouché defended me, and reproved -him for so uncivilly questioning my veracity, and assured him that he -might put implicit confidence in me. Carnot and Grenier then took me to -a topographical map, and questioned me as to the movements of the Duke -of Wellington? I answered their interrogatories to the extent to which I -thought myself warranted: and it appeared that I informed them of -nothing with which they were not already acquainted. Carnot then, in a -polite manner, told me I might retire. - -‘It would appear, that in consequence of having learned from me the -nature of the communication which the Deputies would have to make to the -Chambers, and dreading its discouraging effects on the members, and on -the people at large, their return to Paris had been prevented. Some -private orders seem to have been given to that effect; for on the same -day that I entered Paris by the Barriere de la Villette, the Deputies -approached that part, preceded by Colonel Latour Maubourg, who was -attached to their mission, when the French out-posts fired, killed the -Prussian trumpeter’s horse, and a ball grazed the epaulette of the -Colonel. The Deputies turned back, and attempted to enter by the -Barriere de St. Dennis, but were refused. They there received fresh -instructions to treat, and it was so managed, that they did not return -to Paris till after the capitulation. - -‘In the mean time Fouché and his coadjutors, who opposed the views of -the other parties, were in great personal danger. The three other -Members of the Commission more than suspected them of duplicity and -treachery; and in consequence impeached them before the Chamber of -Deputies. The Duke of Wellington being acquainted with these -proceedings, sent a message to the Members of the Commission, as I was -informed, assuring them that if any harm befel Fouché or Caulincourt, he -would infallibly _hang up the other three on his arrival in Paris_.[33] - -‘It was proposed in the Chamber of Deputies, that its Members should -quit Paris with the army, and rally round them all those who would -oppose the enemy and the Bourbons. But this measure Fouché was -particularly anxious to thwart, whilst Davoust feeling himself confident -in the strength of his army, insisted on attacking Blucher and the Duke -of Wellington before other reinforcements should arrive; but as I -understood at the time, Fouché succeeded in somewhat softening and in -giving a new direction to the policy of Carnot: and it is certain that -he managed to gain over Davoust by urging the force of the enemy, and -the dreadful consequences that would ensue if Paris should be taken by -assault. He pleaded the reliance which might be placed _on the faith of -the English_ (for with the Prussians the French would not have treated -on any terms). He therefore recommended Davoust to evacuate Paris, and -not to listen to the desperate suggestions of the Chambers, observing, -that so long as his army remained entire, he might obtain favourable -terms for all parties. - -‘The day before the capitulation of Paris (2d July), I repaired to the -British camp with the following memorandum, as my instructions, from -Fouché to the Duke of Wellington:— - -‘“The army opposes, because uneasy—assure it, it will even become -devoted. - -‘“The Chambers are counter for the same reason. _Assure every body you -will have every body._ - -‘“The army sent away, the Chambers will agree, on according them the -guarantee, as added to the charter and promised by the king. In order to -be well understood, it is necessary to explain; therefore not to enter -Paris before three days, and in the meantime every thing may be -arranged. - -‘“The Chambers will be gained, will believe in their independence, and -will agree to every thing. Persuasion, not force, must be used with the -Chambers.” - -‘On my arrival at the British advanced posts, which, owing to the -obstructions I met with from the French, I was not able to effect till -early in the morning of the 3d July, I was informed that the most -positive orders had been given by the duke, not to allow any messenger -to pass from Paris without his special permission. I was therefore -detained at the English advanced post of guards, commanded by Lord -Saltown. I dined with the officers of the advanced piquet, among whom I -well remember Captain Fairfield, of the foot guards. These gentlemen -informed me that the Duke of Wellington was at Gonnesse, with Sir C. -Stuart, Pozzo di Borgo, and Talleyrand. I wrote a letter to the duke, -which was forwarded by Lord Saltown. In my letter, I entered into a -detail of the line of conduct recommended by Fouché, and contained in -the foregoing memorandum. On the receipt of my dispatch, the duke -immediately proceeded to St. Cloud, General Blucher’s head-quarters; -there the capitulation of Paris was signed. The duke returned to -Gonnesse and dispatched Lord March to bring me to him: I arrived very -early on the morning of the 4th, and found Sir C. Stuart, Talleyrand, -and Pozzo di Borgo; they assembled in council, and my presence was -required by the duke. Talleyrand observed to me, that _this was already -settled_, and, turning to the Duke of Wellington, requested him to read -to me _the capitulation that they had just concluded_. On my urging the -adoption of the line of conduct which Fouché recommended towards the -Chambers, the Duke of Wellington proceeded to give me his sentiments in -writing, which were as follow:— - -‘“_Je pense, que les Allies ayant déclaré le Gouvernment de Napoleon une -Usurpation et nonlégitime, toute autorité qui émane de lui, doit être -regardée comme nulle et d’aucun pouvoir.[34] Ainsi, ce qui reste à faire -aux Chambres et à la commission, est, de donner de suite leur démission -et de déclarer qu’ils n’ont pris sur eux les responsibilités de -gouvernement, que pour assurer la tranquilité publique, et l’intégrité -du royaume de S. M. Louis XVIII._” - -‘Talleyrand, Sir Charles Stuart, and Pozzo di Borgo, each took a copy of -this document, and each, by way of memorandum, put their names and mine -to the paper, by way of recording, as I suppose, the parties present at -the discussion. - -‘I forthwith mounted my horse and returned to Paris; Lord March was -appointed by the duke to accompany me. On our arrival at the Barriere de -la Villette, we found the French soldiery perfectly frantic, and -vociferating “_Vive l’Empereur!_” “_A bas les Anglais!_” “_A bas les -Bourbons!_” They were on the point of firing at the Belgian trumpeter -who preceded us: it was with the greatest difficulty that some French -hussars, under whose escort we had approached the barriers, could -prevent the soldiers from firing at Lord March as he was riding off. -They were also obliged to exert themselves strenuously in my defence, as -many of the infantry pointed their muskets at me, vociferating “_Vive -l’Empereur!_” “_Vive Napoleon!_” “We are betrayed!” “We have been sold!” -“We will fight to the last drop of our blood!” “Down with the Bourbons!” -“Let us kill this traitor!” “He has assisted in selling us!” “We have -seen him pass before!” The hussars took me between them, some of the -infantry also assisted in parrying off the blows aimed at me, and -turning aside the muzzles of the muskets. Thus, after great peril, I was -fortunate enough to gain the quarters of a general officer, with only a -sabre cut on my left leg. The general dispersed the men, and gave me a -strong escort to conduct me to the Thuilleries. - -‘In consequence of my communicating the documents and assurances I had -received from Talleyrand and the Duke of Wellington, the commission of -government abdicated its powers that evening; but the Chambers still -refused to comply; they continued their sittings, which they declared -should be permanent, till the morning of the 6th, when the doors of the -Chamber were closed, and guarded by a party of the national guards. - -‘On this, above one hundred and fifty of the deputies proceeded to the -house of M. Lanjuinais, their president, and there framed a solemn -protest against the arbitrary and illegal violence which had been used -towards them, _in violation of the most solemn declarations_. - -‘I have now no doubt that some extraordinary scheme had been contrived -to seduce Napoleon into the measure of abdicating the throne in favour -of his son. His resources were at that moment immense. The regular army -in Paris alone, amounted to more than 80,000 men, every individual of -which was animated with the most enthusiastic ardour. The national -guard, above 30,000 strong, displayed the firmest resolution to obey the -directions of the constituted authorities; numerous volunteers of all -classes had taken up arms in the defence of their country. In the -departments, the spirit of opposition to the invaders was still greater, -particularly in the north, west, and east: in fine, Napoleon, who could -not possibly be ignorant of the state of his resources, would never, I -am convinced, have sheathed his sword, and abdicated the crown _even in -favour of his son_, had he not been most confidently assured of the -validity of the measure, and its being approved and supported by the -French senate and people, and by at least _some part_ of the coalition. - -‘What were the precise representations by which Napoleon was influenced -to take this step, is perhaps known only to its contrivers, and their -victim. Some future historian may probably unfold this mystery. As far -as regards the share I had in the negociations between the provisional -government, the allied armies, and Talleyrand, as minister of Louis -XVIII., I feel it due to myself to declare, that _I had no suspicion of -any deception or intended breach of engagements._ I was requested to -open a communication between Fouché and the Duke of Wellington, for the -avowed purpose of negociating an armistice, as a preliminary measure to -the capitulation of Paris; and it was obvious that such a negociation -might save the lives of thousands of my countrymen.’ - -THE PLAY IS OVER, NOW LET US GO TO SUPPER. - -John Bull, John Bull, John Bull, read the above account twice over, -think well of it, and then say why you should not wear the yoke, which -you have put round the neck of others, round your own. Ah! John, thou -art not a metaphysician: thou dost lack a concatenation of ideas!—We are -not proud of the share which as Englishmen we had in the proceedings -recorded by Mr. Macirone: but we have one consolation for our national -pride, Fouché and Talleyrand are Frenchmen. These two pettifogging -miscreants seem to have made themselves perfect in the advice of the -fool in _Lear_: ‘Let go thy hold, when a great wheel runs down hill, -lest it should break thy neck with following it: but the great one that -goes upwards, let it draw thee after. When a wise man gives thee better -counsel, give me mine again: I would have none but knaves follow it.’ -The great wheel, however, in this instance, kicked off the two knaves, -that followed the fool’s advice. One of these famous persons now writes -letters of apology to the Duke of Wellington, and the other to Lord -Castlereagh. They are not so well off as Murat and Berthier, one of whom -was legitimately shot through the head, and the other legitimately -thrown out of a window, if we are to believe Mr. Macirone, that he might -die in _the good cause_—‘a master-leaver, and a fugitive.’ - - - - - WAT TYLER; A DRAMATIC POEM. - - THE QUARTERLY REVIEW: _Article_, ‘ON PARLIAMENTARY REFORM.’ - - ‘So was it when my life began, - So is it now I am a man: - So shall it be when I grow old and die. - The child’s the father of the man: - Our years flow on - Link’d each to each by natural piety.’—WORDSWORTH. - - - _March 9, 1817._ - -According to this theory of personal continuity, the author of the -Dramatic Poem, to be here noticed, is the father of Parliamentary Reform -in the Quarterly Review. It is said to be a wise child that knows its -own father: and we understand Mr. Southey (who is in this case reputed -father and son) utterly disclaims the hypostatical union between the -Quarterly Reviewer and the Dramatic Poet, and means to enter an -injunction against the latter, as a bastard and impostor. Appearances -are somewhat staggering against the legitimacy of the descent, yet we -perceive a strong family-likeness remaining, in spite of the lapse of -years and alteration of circumstances. We should not, indeed, be able to -predict that the author of _Wat Tyler_ would ever write the article on -Parliamentary Reform; nor should we, either at first or second sight, -perceive that the Quarterly Reviewer had ever written a poem like that -which is before us: but if we were told that both performances were -literally and _bonâ fide_ by the same person, we should have little -hesitation in saying to Mr. Southey, ‘Thou art the man.’ We know no -other person in whom ‘fierce extremes’ meet with such mutual -self-complacency: whose opinions change so much without any change in -the author’s mind; who lives so entirely in the ‘present ignorant -thought,’ without the smallest ‘discourse of reason looking before or -after.’ Mr. Southey is a man incapable of reasoning connectedly on any -subject. He has not strength of mind to see the whole of any question; -he has not modesty to suspend his judgment till he has examined the -grounds of it. He can comprehend but one idea at a time, and that is -always an extreme one; because he will neither listen to, nor tolerate -any thing that can disturb or moderate the petulance of his -self-opinion. _The woman that deliberates is lost._ So it is with the -effeminate soul of Mr. Southey. Any concession is fatal to his -consistency; and he can only keep out of one absurdity by the -tenaciousness with which he stickles for another. He calls to the aid of -his disjointed opinions a proportionate quantity of spleen; and -regularly makes up for the weakness of his own _reasons_, by charging -others with _bad motives_. The terms _knave and fool_, _wise and good_, -have undergone a total change in the last twenty years: the former he -applies to all those who agreed with him formerly—the latter to all -those who agree with him now. His public spirit was then a prude and a -scold; and ‘his poor virtue,’ turned into a literary prostitute, is -grown more abusive than ever. Wat Tyler and the Quarterly Review are an -illustration of these remarks. The author of Wat Tyler was an -Ultra-jacobin; the author of Parliamentary Reform is an Ultra-royalist; -the one was a frantic demagogue; the other is a servile court-tool: the -one maintained second-hand paradoxes; the other repeats second-hand -common-places: the one vented those opinions which gratified the vanity -of youth; the other adopts those prejudices which are most conducive to -the convenience of age: the one saw nothing but the abuses of power; the -other sees nothing but the horrors of resistance to those abuses: the -one did not stop short of general anarchy; the other goes the whole -length of despotism; the one vilified kings, priests, and nobles; the -other vilifies the people: the one was for universal suffrage and -perfect equality; the other is for seat-selling, and the increasing -influence of the Crown: the one admired the preaching of John Ball; the -other recommends the Suspension of the Habeas Corpus, and the putting -down of the _Examiner_ by the sword, the dagger, or the thumb-screw; for -the pen, Mr. Southey tells us, is not sufficient. We wonder that in all -this contempt which our prose-poet has felt at different times for -different persons and things, he has never felt any dissatisfaction with -himself, or distrust of his own infallibility. Our differing from others -sometimes staggers our confidence in our own conclusions: if we had been -chargeable with as many contradictions as Mr. Southey, we suppose we -should have had the same senseless self-sufficiency. A changeling is -your only oracle. Those who have undergone a total change of sentiment -on important questions, ought certainly to learn modesty in themselves, -and moderation towards others; on the contrary, they are generally the -most violent in their own opinions, and the most intolerant towards -others; the reason of which we have shewn elsewhere, to the satisfaction -of the proprietor of the _Old Times_. Before we have done, we shall, -perhaps, do the same thing to the satisfaction of the publisher of the -Quarterly Review; for the Mr. Murrays and the Mr. Walters, the patrons -of the band of gentlemen-pensioners and servile authors, have ‘a sort of -squint’ in their understanding, and look less to the dirty sacrifices of -their drudges, or the dirtier they are ready to make, than to their -standing well with that great keeper, the public, for purity and -innocence. The band of gentlemen-pensioners and servile authors do not -know what to make of this, and hardly believe it: we shall in time -convince them. - -But to proceed to our extracts:— - - MORCEAU I. - - _Wat Tyler._ Hob—I have only six groats in the world, - And they must soon by law be taken from me. - - _Hob._ Curse on these taxes—one succeeds another— - Our ministers—panders of a king’s will— - Drain all our wealth away—waste it in revels— - And lure or force away our boys, who should be - The props of our old age!—to fill their armies, - And feed the crows of France! Year follows year, - - And still we madly prosecute the war;— - Draining our wealth—distressing our poor peasants— - Slaughtering our youths—and all to crown our Chiefs - With glory!—I detest the hell-sprung name. - - _Tyler._ What matters me who wears the crown of France? - Whether a Richard or a Charles possess it? - They reap the glory—they enjoy the spoil— - We pay—we bleed! The sun would shine as cheerly, - The rains of heaven as seasonably fall, - Tho’ neither of these royal pests existed. - - _Hob._ Nay—as for that, we poor men should fare better! - No legal robbers then should force away - The hard-earn’d wages of our honest toil. - The Parliament for ever cries _more money, - The service of the State demands more money_. - Just heaven! of what service is the State? - - _Tyler._ Oh! ’tis of vast importance! Who should pay for - The luxuries and riots of the court? - Who should support the flaunting courtier’s pride, - Pay for their midnight revels, their rich garments, - Did not the State enforce?—Think ye, my friend, - That I—a humble blacksmith, here at Deptford, - Would part with these six groats—earn’d by hard toil, - All that I have! to massacre the Frenchmen; - Murder as enemies men I never saw, - Did not the State compel me! - (_Tax-gatherers pass by._) There they go, - Privileg’d r——s! - - - MORCEAU II. - - _Piers._ Fare not the birds well, as from spray to spray - Blithsome they bound—yet find their simple food - Scattered abundantly? - - _Tyler._ _No fancied boundaries of mine and thine - Restrain their wanderings_: Nature gives enough - For all; but Man, with arrogant selfishness, - Proud of his heaps, hoards up superfluous stores - Robb’d from his weaker fellows, starves the poor, - Or gives to pity what he owes to justice! - - _Piers._ So I have heard our good friend John Ball preach. - - _Alice._ My father, wherefore was John Ball imprisoned? - Was he not charitable, good, and pious? - I have heard him say that all mankind are brethren, - And that like brethren they should love each other;— - Was not that doctrine pious? - - _Tyler._ Rank sedition— - High treason, every syllable, my child! - The priests cry out on him for heresy; - The nobles all detest him as a rebel; - - And this good man, this minister of Christ, - This man, the friend and brother of mankind, - Lingers in the dark dungeon! - - - MORCEAU III. - - _Tyler._ Piers, I have not been idle, - I never ate the bread of indolence— - Could Alice be more thrifty than her mother? - Yet but with one child, and that one, how good - Thou knowest; I scarcely can provide the wants - Of nature: look at these wolves of the law, - They come to drain me of my hard-earn’d wages. - I have already paid the heavy tax - Laid on the wool that clothes me—on my leather— - On all the needful articles of life! - And now three groats (and I work’d hard to earn them) - The Parliament demands—and I must pay them, - Forsooth, for liberty to wear my head. - - _Enter Tax-gatherers._ - - _Collector._ Three groats a-head for all your family. - - _Piers._ Why is this money gathered?—’tis a hard tax - On the poor labourer!—it can never be - That government should thus distress the people. - Go to the rich for money—honest labour - Ought to enjoy its fruits. - - _Col._ The State wants money. - War is expensive—’tis a glorious war, - A war of honour, and must be supported.— - Three groats a-head. - - _Tyler._ There, three for my own head, - Three for my wife’s!—What will the State tax next? - - _Col._ You have a daughter. - - _Tyler._ She is below the age—not yet fifteen. - - _Col._ You would evade the tax.— - - _Tyler._ Sir Officer, - I have paid you fairly what the law demands. - - [_Alice and her Mother enter the Shop. The Tax-gatherers go to - her. One of them lays hold of her. She screams. Tyler goes - in._] - - _Col._ You say she’s under age. - - [_Alice screams again. Tyler knocks out the Tax-gatherer’s - brains. His Companions fly._] - - _Piers._ A just revenge. - - _Tyler._ Most just indeed; but in the eye of the law - ’Tis murder—and the murderer’s lot is mine. - - - MORCEAU IV.—SONG. - - ‘When Adam delv’d and Eve span, - ‘Who was then the gentleman?’ - - Wretched is the infant’s lot, - Born within the straw-roof’d cot! - Be he generous, wise, or brave, - He must only be a slave, - Long, long labour, little rest, - Still to toil to be oppress’d; - Drain’d by taxes of his store, - Punish’d next for being poor; - That is the poor wretch’s lot, - Born within the straw-roof’d cot. - - While the peasant works—to sleep; - What the peasant sows—to reap; - On the couch of ease to lie, - Rioting in revelry: - Be he villain, be he fool, - Still to hold despotic rule, - Trampling on his slaves with scorn; - This is to be nobly born. - ‘When Adam delv’d and Eve span, - ‘Who was then the gentleman?’ - - - MORCEAU V. - - _John Ball._ Friends! Brethren! for ye are my brethren all; - Englishmen met in arms to advocate - The cause of freedom! hear me! pause awhile - In the career of vengeance; it is true - I am a priest; but, as these rags may speak, - Not one who riots in the poor man’s spoil, - Or trades with his religion. I am one - Who preach the law of Christ, and in my life - Would practise what he taught. The Son of God - Came not to you in power:—humble in mien, - Lowly in heart, the man of Nazareth - Preach’d mercy, justice, love: ‘Woe unto ye, - Ye that are rich:—if that ye would be saved, - Sell that ye have, and give unto the poor.’ - So taught the Saviour: oh, my honest friends! - Have ye not felt the strong indignant throb - Of justice in your bosoms, to behold - The lordly baron feasting on your spoils? - Have you not in your hearts arraign’d the lot - That gave him on the couch of luxury - To pillow his head, and pass the festive day - In sportive feasts, and ease, and revelry? - Have you not often in your conscience ask’d - Why is the difference, wherefore should that man - No worthier than myself, thus lord it over me, - - And bid me labour, and enjoy the fruits? - The God within your breasts has argued thus! - The voice of truth has murmur’d; came he not - As helpless to the world?—shines not the sun - With equal ray on both?—do ye not feel - The self-same winds of heaven as keenly parch ye? - Abundant is the earth—the Sire of all - Saw and pronounced that it was very good. - Look round: the vernal fields smile with new flowers, - The budding orchard perfumes the soft breeze, - And the green corn waves to the passing gale. - There is enough for all, but your proud baron - Stands up, and, arrogant of strength, exclaims, - ‘I am a lord—by nature I am noble: - These fields are mine, for I was born to them, - I was born in the castle—you, poor wretches, - Whelp’d in the cottage, are by birth my slaves.’ - Almighty God! such blasphemies are uttered! - Almighty God! such blasphemies believ’d! - - _Tom Miller._ This is something like a sermon. - - _Jack Straw._ Where’s the bishop - Would tell you truths like these? - - _Hob._ There was never a bishop among all the apostles. - - _John Ball._ My brethren! - - _Piers._ Silence, the good priest speaks. - - _John Ball._ My brethren, these are truths, and weighty ones - Ye are all equal; nature made ye so. - Equality is your birthright;—when I gaze - On the proud palace, and behold one man - In the blood-purpled robes of royalty, - Feasting at ease, and lording over millions; - Then turn me to the hut of poverty, - And see the wretched labourer, worn with toil, - Divide his scanty morsel with his infants; - I sicken, and, indignant at the sight, - ‘Blush for the patience of humanity.’ - - _Jack Straw._ We will assert our rights. - - - MORCEAU VI. - - _Tyler._ King of England, - _Petitioning for pity_ is most weak, - The sovereign people ought to _demand justice_. - I killed your officer, for his lewd hand - Insulted a maid’s modesty; your subjects - I lead to rebel against the Lord’s anointed, - Because his ministers have made him odious: - His yoke is heavy, and his burden grievous. - Why do we carry on this fatal war, - - To force upon the French a king they hate; - Tearing our young men from their peaceful homes; - Forcing his hard-earn’d fruits from the honest peasant; - Distressing us to desolate our neighbours? - Why is this ruinous poll-tax imposed, - But to support your court’s extravagance, - And your mad title to the crown of France? - Shall we sit tamely down beneath these evils, - Petitioning for pity? - King of England! - Why are we sold like cattle in your markets— - Deprived of every privilege of man? - Must we lie tamely at our tyrant’s feet, - And, like your spaniels, lick the hand that beats us? - You sit at ease in your gay palaces, - The costly banquet courts your appetite, - Sweet music sooths your slumbers; we the while, - Scarce by hard toil can earn a little food, - And sleep scarce shelter’d from the cold night wind: - While your wild projects wrest the little from us - Which might have cheered the wintry hour of age: - The parliament for ever asks more money: - We toil and sweat for money for your taxes; - Where is the benefit, what food reap we - From all the councils of your government? - Think you that we should quarrel with the French? - What boots to us your victories, your glory? - We pay, we fight, you profit at your ease. - Do you not claim the country as your own? - Do you not call the venison of the forest, - The birds of heaven your own?—prohibiting us, - Even tho’ in want of food, to seize the prey - Which nature offers?—King! is all this just? - Think you we do not feel the wrongs we suffer? - The hour of retribution is at hand, - And tyrants tremble—mark me, King of England. - - - MORCEAU VII. - - _Hob._ ’Twas well order’d, - I place but little trust in courtly faith. - - _John Ball._ We must remain embodied; else the king - Will plunge again in royal luxury; - And when the storm of danger is past over, - Forget his promises. - - _Hob._ Aye, like an aguish sinner, - He’ll promise to repent when the fit’s on him; - When well recover’d, laugh at his own terrors. - - _Piers._ Oh! I am griev’d that we must gain so little! - - Why are not all these empty ranks abolish’d, - King, slave, and lord, ‘ennobl’d into MAN?’ - Are we not equal all?—have you not told me, - Equality is the sacred right of man, - Inalienable, tho’ by force withheld? - - _John Ball._ Even so; but Piers, my frail and fallible judgment - Knows hardly to decide if it be right, - Peaceably to return, content with little, - With this half restitution of our rights, - Or boldly to proceed thro’ blood and slaughter, - Till we should all be equal and all happy. - I chose the milder way:—perhaps I erred. - - _Piers._ I fear me—by the mass, the unsteady people - Are flocking homewards! how the multitude - Diminishes! - - - MORCEAU THE LAST. - - _John Ball._ Why, be it so. I can smile at your vengeance: - For I am arm’d with rectitude of soul. - The truth, which all my life I have divulg’d, - And am now doom’d in torment to expire for, - Shall still survive—the destin’d hour must come, - When it shall blaze with sun-surpassing splendor, - And the dark mists of prejudice and falsehood - Fade in its strong effulgence. Flattery’s incense - No more shall shadow round the gore-dyed throne; - That altar of oppression, fed with rites - More savage than the priests of Moloch taught, - Shall be consumed amid the fire of Justice: - The ray of truth shall emanate around, - And the whole world be lighted! - -This will do. - - - - - THE COURIER AND ‘THE WAT TYLER.’ - - Doth not the appetite alter? A man loves the meat in his youth, that - he cannot endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences, and these - paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his - humour?—_Much Ado about Nothing._ - - - _March 30, 1817._ - -Instead of applying for an injunction against _Wat Tyler_, Mr. Southey -would do well to apply for an injunction against Mr. Coleridge, who has -undertaken his defence in _The Courier_. If he can escape from the -ominous patronage of that gentleman’s pen, he has nothing to fear from -his own. ‘The _Wat Tyler_,’ as Mr. Coleridge has personified it, can do -the author no great harm: it only proves that he was once a wild -enthusiast: of the two characters, for which Mr. Southey is a candidate -with the public, this is the most creditable for him to appear in. At -present his reputation ‘somewhat smacks.’ A strong dose of the Jacobin -spirit of _Wat Tyler_ may be of use to get the sickly taste of the -Poet-laureate and the Quarterly Reviewer out of our mouths. - -The best thing for Mr. Southey (if we might be allowed to advise) would -be for his friends to say nothing about him, and for him to say nothing -about other people. We have nothing to do with Mr. Southey ‘the man,’ or -even with Mr. Southey the apostate; but we have something to do with Mr. -Southey the spy and informer. Is it not a little strange, that while -this gentleman is getting an injunction against himself as the author of -_Wat Tyler_, he is recommending gagging bills against us, and the making -up by force for his deficiency in argument! There is a want of keeping -in this; but Mr. Southey and his friends delight in practical and -speculative contradictions. What are we to think of a man who is ‘now a -flagitious incendiary,’ (to use the epithets which Mr. Southey applies -to the Editor of the _Examiner_) ‘a palliater of murder, insurrection, -and treason,’ and anon a pensioned scribbler of court poetry and court -politics? If the writer of the article on Parliamentary Reform thinks -the Editor of this Paper ‘a flagitious incendiary,’ ‘a palliater of -murder, insurrection, and treason,’ what does the Quarterly Reviewer -think of the author of _Wat Tyler_? What, on the other hand, does the -author of _Wat Tyler_ think of the Quarterly Reviewer? What does Mr. -Southey, who certainly makes a very aukward figure between the two, -think of himself? Mr. Coleridge indeed steps in to the assistance of his -friend in this dilemma, and says (unsaying all that he says besides) -that the ultra-jacobinical opinions advanced in _Wat Tyler_ were ‘more -an honour to the writer’s heart than an imputation on his -understanding?’ Be it so. The Editor of this Paper will, we dare say, -agree to this statement from disinterested motives, (for he is not -answerable for any ultra-jacobinical opinions) as we suppose Mr. Southey -will accede to it from pure self-love. He hardly thinks that he was ‘a -knave and fool’ formerly, as he calls all those who formerly agreed or -now differ with him: he only thinks with Mr. Coleridge and _The -Courier_, that he was not quite so ‘wise and virtuous’ then, as he is at -present! Why then not extend the same charitable interpretation to those -who have held a middle course between his opposite extravagances? We are -sure, that to be thought _a little less wise and virtuous_ than that -celebrated person thinks himself, would content the ambition of any -moderate man. Will he allow of nothing short of the utmost intolerance -of jacobinism or anti-jacobinism? Or will he tolerate this intolerance -in nobody but himself? This seems to be his feeling: and it also seems -to be Mr. Coleridge’s opinion, whose maudlin methodistical casuistry -leads him to clothe Mr. Southey’s political sins with apostacy as with a -garment, and to plead one excess of folly and indecency as a competent -set-off against another. To be a renegado, is, with him, to be virtuous. -The greater the sinner the greater the saint, says _The Courier_. Mr. -Southey’s Muse is confessedly not a vestal; but then she is what is much -better, a Magdalen. Now a Magdalen is a person who has returned to her -first habits and notions of virtue: but Mr. Southey’s laurelled Muse is -at present in high court-keeping, and tosses up her nose at the very -mention of reform. Nor do we think Mr. Southey has a fairer claim to the -degree of respectability good-naturedly assigned him by his friends, -that of a pickpocket or highwayman turned thief-taker or king’s -evidence; for he in fact belies his own character to blacken every -honest principle, and takes the government reward for betraying better -men than himself. There are, as _The Courier_ observes, youthful -indiscretions; but there are also riper and more deliberate errors. A -woman is more liable to prostitute her person at nineteen—a man is more -likely to prostitute his understanding at forty. We do not see the exact -parallel which _The Courier_ sets up between moral repentance and -political profligacy. A man, says _The Courier_, may surely express an -abhorrence of his past vices, as of drunkenness. Yes; and he may also -express a great abhorrence of his present vices, because his own -opinion, as well as that of all impartial persons, condemns his conduct; -but it would be curious if a man were to express a great abhorrence of -his present opinions, and it is only a less degree of absurdity for a -man to express a great abhorrence of his past opinions; for if he was -not a hypocrite, he must have held those opinions, as he holds his -present ones, because he thought them right. A man is at liberty to -condemn his errors in practice as much as he pleases: it is a point -agreed upon. But he is not at liberty to condemn his errors in theory at -the same unmerciful rate, because many people still think them right; -because it is the height of arrogance in him to assume his own forfeited -opinion as the invariable standard of right and wrong, and the height of -indecency to ascribe the conclusions of others to bad motives, by which -he can only arraign his own. Certainly, all the presumption of indirect -and dishonest motives lies against Mr. Southey’s unlooked-for -conversion, and not against his original principles. Will he deny this -himself? He must then retract what he says in the Quarterly Review; for -he there says, that ‘the late war was so popular for three and twenty -years together, that for any one to be against it,’ (and much more, to -be a Jacobin, as he was, half that time,) ‘exposed him to contempt, -insult, persecution, the loss of property, and even of life.’ The odds, -we grant, were against Mr. Southey’s pure reason; they proved too much -for it. According, however, to the new theory of political integrity, to -be a steady, consistent, conscientious Whig or Tory, is nothing. It is -the change of opinion that stamps its value on it; and the more -outrageous the change, the more meritorious the stigma attached to it. -It is the sacrifice of all principle, that is the triumph of corruption; -it is the shameless effrontery of a desertion of the people, that is the -chief recommendation to the panders of a court; it is the contempt, the -grinning scorn and infamy, which is poured on all patriotism and -independence, by shewing the radical baseness and fickleness of its -professors in the most startling point of view, that strengthens the -rotten foundations of power, by degrading human nature. Poor Bob -Southey! how they laugh at him! What are the abuse and contumely which -we are in the habit of bestowing upon him, compared with the cordial -contempt, the flickering sneers, that play round the lips of his -new-fangled friends, when they see ‘the Man of Humanity’ decked out in -the trappings of his prostitution, and feel the rankling venom of their -hearts soothed by the flattering reflection that virtue and genius are -mere marketable commodities! What a squeeze must that be which Mr. -Canning gives the hand that wrote the Sonnet to Old Sarum, and the -Defence of Rotten Boroughs in the Quarterly Review! Mr. Canning was at -first suspected of being the author of this last article: no one has -attributed _Wat Tyler_ to the classical pen of that glib orator and -consistent anti-jacobin. Yet what are the pretensions of that -gentleman’s profligate consistency opposed to Mr. Southey’s profligate -versatility; what a pitiful spectacle does his sneaking, servile -adherence to a party make, compared with Mr. Southey’s barefaced and -magnanimous desertion of one! Mr. Canning has indeed served a cause; Mr. -Southey has betrayed one. Mr. Canning threw contempt on the cause of -liberty by his wit; Mr. Southey has done it by his want of principle. -‘This, this is the unkindest blow of all.’ We should not mind any thing -but that;—that is the reflection that stabs us: - - —— —— —— ——‘That the law - By which mankind now suffers, is most just. - For by superior energies; more strict - Affiance with each other; faith more firm - In their unhallow’d principles; the bad - Have fairly earned a victory o’er the weak, - The vacillating, inconsistent good.’ - -Mr. Coleridge thinks that this triumph over himself and the -Poet-laureate is a triumph to us. God forbid! It shews that he knows as -little about us as he does about himself. This question of apostacy may -be summed up in a very few words:—First, if Mr. Southey is not an -apostate, we should like to know who ever was? Secondly, whether the -term, apostate, is a term of reproach? If it has ceased to be so, it is -another among the triumphs of the present king’s reign, and a greater -proof than any brought forward in the Quarterly Review, of the progress -of public spirit and political independence among us of late years! A -man may change his opinion. Good. But if he changes his opinion as his -interest or vanity would prompt, if he deserts the weak to go to the -stronger side, the change is a suspicious one! and we shall have a right -to impute it rather to a defect of moral principle than to an accession -of intellectual strength. Again, no man, be he who he may, has a right -to change his opinion, and to be violent on opposite sides of a -question. For the only excuse for dogmatical intolerance is, that the -person who holds an opinion is totally blinded by habit to all -objections against it, so that he can see nothing wrong on his own side, -and nothing right on the other; which cannot be the case with any person -who has been sincere in the opposite opinion. No one, therefore, has a -right to call another ‘the greatest of scoundrels’ for holding the -opinions which he himself once held, without first formally -acknowledging that he himself was the greatest of hypocrites when he -maintained those opinions. When Mr. Southey subscribes to these -conditions, we will give him a license to rail on whom and as long as he -pleases: but not—_till then_! Apostates are violent in their opinions, -because they suspect their truth, even when they are most sincere: they -are forward to vilify the motives of those who differ from them, because -their own are more than suspected by the world! We proceed to notice the -flabby defence of ‘the _Wat Tyler_,’ from the well-known pen of Mr. -Coleridge, which, as far as we can understand it, proceeds upon the -following assumptions:— - -1. _That Mr. Southey was only 19 when he wrote it, and had forgotten, -from that time to this, all the principles and sentiments contained in -it._ - -_Answer._ A person who forgets all the sentiments and principles to -which he was most attached at nineteen, can have no sentiments ever -after worth being attached to. Further, it is not true that Mr. Southey -gave up the general principles of _Wat Tyler_, which he wrote at -nineteen, till almost as many years after. He did not give them up till -many years after he had received his Irish pension in 1800. He did not -give them up till with this _leaning_ to something beyond ‘the slides of -his magic lanthorn,’ and ‘the pleasing fervour of his imagination,’ he -was canted out of them by the misty metaphysics of Mr. Coleridge, Mr. -Southey being no conjurer in such matters, and Mr. Coleridge being a -great quack. The dates of his works will shew this: as it was indeed -excellently well shewn in _The Morning Chronicle_ the other day. His -Joan of Arc, his Sonnets and Inscriptions, his Letters from Spain and -Portugal, his Annual Anthology, in which was published Mr. Coleridge’s -‘Fire, Famine, and Slaughter,’ are a series of invectives against Kings, -Priests, and Nobles, in favour of the French Revolution, and against war -and taxes up to the year 1803. Why does he not get an injunction against -all these? To set aside all Mr. Southey’s jacobin publications, it would -be necessary to erect a new court of Chancery. Mr. Coleridge’s -insinuation, that he had changed all his opinions the year after, when -Mr. S. and Mr. C., in conjunction, wrote the Fall of Robespierre, is, -therefore, not true. But Mr. Coleridge never troubles himself about -facts or dates; he is only ‘watching the slides of his magic lanthorn,’ -and indulging in ‘the pleasing fervour of poetical inspiration.’ - -2. _That Mr. Southey was a mere boy when he wrote Wat Tyler, and -entertained Jacobin opinions: that being a child, he felt as a child, -and thought slavery, superstition, war, famine, bloodshed, taxes, -bribery and corruption, rotten boroughs, places, and pensions, shocking -things; but that now he is become a man, he has put away childish -things, and thinks there is nothing so delightful as slavery, -superstition, war, famine, bloodshed, taxes, bribery and corruption, -rotten boroughs, places and pensions, and particularly, his own._ - -_Answer._ Yet Mr. Coleridge tells us that when he wrote _Wat Tyler_, he -was a man of genius and learning. That Mr. Southey was a wise man when -he wrote this poem, we do not pretend: that he has ever been so, is more -than we know. This we do know, and it is worth attending to; that all -that Mr. Southey has done best in poetry, he did before he changed his -political creed; that _all_ that Mr. Coleridge ever did in poetry, as -the _Ancient Mariner_, _Christabel_, the _Three Graves_, his Poems and -his Tragedy, he had written, when, according to his own account, he must -have been a very ignorant, idle, thoughtless person; that much the -greater part of what Mr. Wordsworth has done best in poetry was done -about the same period; and if what these persons have done in poetry, in -indulging the ‘pleasing fervour of a lively imagination,’ gives no -weight to their political opinions at the time they did it, what they -have done since in science or philosophy to establish their authority, -is more than we know. All the authority that they have as poets and men -of genius must be thrown into the scale of Revolution and Reform. Their -Jacobin principles indeed gave rise to their Jacobin poetry. Since they -gave up the first, their poetical powers have flagged, and been -comparatively or wholly ‘in a state of suspended animation.’ Their -genius, their style, their versification, every thing down to their -spelling, was revolutionary. Their poetical innovations unhappily did -not answer any more than the French Revolution. As their ambition was -baulked in this first favourite direction, it was necessary for these -restless persons to do something to get into notice; as they could not -change their style, they changed their principles; and instead of -writing popular poetry, fell to scribbling venal prose.—Mr. Southey’s -opinion, like Mr. Wordsworth’s or Mr. Coleridge’s, is of no value, -except as it is his own, the unbiassed, undepraved dictate of his own -understanding and feelings; not as it is a wretched, canting, reluctant -echo of the opinion of the world. Poet-laureates are courtiers by -profession; but we say that poets are naturally Jacobins. All the poets -of the present day have been so, with a single exception, which it would -be invidious to mention. If they have not all continued so, this only -shews the instability of their own characters, and that their natural -generosity and romantic enthusiasm, ‘their lofty, imaginative, and -innocent spirits,’ have not been proof against the incessant, unwearied -importunities of vulgar ambition. The poets, we say then, are with us, -while they are worth keeping. We take the sound part of their heads and -hearts, and make Mr. Croker and the _Courier_ a present of the rest. -What the philosophers are, let the dreaded name of _modern philosophy_ -answer! - -3. _Mr. Coleridge compares us to the long-eared virtuoso, the ass, that -found Apollo’s lute, ‘left behind by him when he ascended to his own -natural place, to sit thenceforward with all the Muses around him, -instead of the ragged cattle of Admetus.’_ - -_Answer._ Now it seems that Mr. Coleridge and other common friends of -his, such as the author of the Fall of Robespierre and of Democratic -Lectures, or Lectures on Democracy, in the year 1794, knew a good deal -of Mr. Southey before he dropped this lute. Were they the ragged cattle -of Admetus that Mr. Southey was fain to associate with during his -obscure metamorphosis and strange Jacobin disguise? Did the Coleridges, -the Wordsworths, the Lloyds and Lambs and Co. precede the Hunts, the -Hazlitts, and the Cobbetts, in listening to Mr. Southey ‘tuning his -mystic harp to praise Lepaux,’ the Parisian Theophilanthropist? And is -it only since Mr. Southey has sat ‘quiring to the young-eyed cherubim,’ -with the Barrymores, the Crokers, the Giffords, and the Stroehlings, -that his natural genius and moral purity of sentiment have found their -proper level and reward? Be this as it may, we plead guilty to the -charge of some little indiscreet admiration of the Apollo of Jacobinism. -We did not however find his lute three and twenty years after he had -dropped it ‘in a thistle.’ We saw it in his hands. We heard him with our -own ears play upon it, loud and long; and we can swear he was as well -satisfied with his own music as we could be. ‘_Asinos asinina -decent_,’—a bad compliment, in the style of _Dogberry_, which Mr. C. -pays to his friend and to himself, as one of his early ragged auditors. -Now whether Mr. Southey has since that period ascended to heaven or -descended to the earth, we shall leave it to Mr. Coleridge himself to -decide. For he says, that at the time when the present poet-laureate -wrote _Wat Tyler_, he (Mr. Southey) was ‘a young man full of glorious -visions concerning the possibilities of human nature, because his lofty, -imaginative, and innocent spirit, had mistaken its own virtues and -powers for the average character of mankind.’—Since Mr. Southey went to -court, he has changed his tone. _Asinos asinina decent._ Is that Mr. -Coleridge’s political logic?[35] - -4. _That Mr. Southey did not express his real opinions, even at that -time, in Wat Tyler, which is a dramatic poem, in which mob-orators and -rioters figure, with appropriate sentiments, as Jack Cade may do in -Shakespear._ - -_Answer._ This allusion to the dramatic characters of Shakespear is -certainly unfortunate, and Mr. Coleridge himself hints as much. Rioters -and mob-preachers are not the only persons who appear in ‘the _Wat -Tyler_.’ The King and the Archbishop come forward in their own persons, -according to Mr. Coleridge, with appropriate sentiments, labelled and -put into their mouths. For example:— - - _Philpot._ Every moment brings - Fresh tidings of our peril. - - _King._ It were well - To yield them what they ask. - - _Archbishop._ Aye, that my liege - Were politic. Go boldly forth to meet them, - Grant all they ask—however wild and ruinous;— - Meantime, the troops you have already summoned - Will gather round them. Then my Christian power - Absolves you of your promise. - - _Walworth._ Were but their ringleaders cut off, the rabble - Would soon disperse. - -The very burden of _The Courier_ all last week, and for many weeks last -past and to come. - -5. Mr. Coleridge sums up his opinion of the ultimate design and secret -origin of ‘the _Wat Tyler_’ in these remarkable words:—‘We should have -seen that the vivid, yet indistinct images in which he had painted the -evils of war and the hardships of the poor, proved that neither the -forms nor the feelings were the result of real observation. The product -of the poet’s own fancy, they’—[_viz._ the evils of war and the -hardships of the poor]—‘were impregnated, therefore, with _that -pleasurable fervour which is experienced in all energetic exertion of -intellectual power_. But as to any serious wish, akin to reality,’ [that -is, to remove these evils] ‘as to any real persons or events designed or -expected, we should think it just as wise and just as charitable, to -believe that Quevedo or Dante would have been glad to realise the horrid -phantoms and torments of _imaginary_ oppressors, whom they beheld in the -infernal regions—_i.e._ on the slides of their own magic lanthorn.’ - -_Answer._ The slides of the guillotine, excited (as we have been told) -the same pleasurable fervour in Mr. Southey’s mind: and Mr. Coleridge -seems to insinuate, that the 5,800,000 lives which have been lost to -prove mankind the property of kings, by divine right, have been lost ‘on -the slides of a magic lanthorn’; the evils of war, like all other actual -evils, being ‘the products of a fervid imagination.’ So much for the -sincerity of poetry. - - _Audrey._ Is not poetry a true thing? - - _Touchstone._ No. - -Would these gentlemen persuade us that there is nothing evil in the -universe but what exists in their imagination, but what is the product -of their fervid fancy? That the world is full of nothing but their -egotism, their vanity, and their hypocrisy? The world is _sick_ of them, -their egotism, their vanity, and their hypocrisy. - -6th and lastly. ‘Mr. Southey’s darling poet from his childhood was -Edmund Spenser, from whom, next to the spotless purity of his own moral -habits, he learned that reverence for - - —— ——“constant chastity, - Unspotted faith, and comely womanhood, - Regard of honour and mild modesty.” - -‘And we are strongly persuaded that the indignation which, in his early -perusal of our history, the outrage on _Wat Tyler’s_ Daughter had -kindled within him, was the circumstance that recommended the story to -his choice for the first powerful exercise of his dramatic powers. It is -this, too, we doubt not, that coloured and shaped his feelings during -the whole composition of the drama. - - “Through the allegiance and just fealty - Which he did owe unto all womankind.”’ - -Mr. Coleridge might as well tell us that the Laureate wrote _Wat Tyler_ -as an Epithalamium on his own marriage. There is but one line on the -subject from the beginning to the end. No; it is not Mr. Southey’s way -to say nothing on the subject on which he writes. If this were the main -drift and secret spring of the poem, why does Mr. Southey wish to -retract it now? Has he been taught by his present fashionable associates -to laugh at Edmund Spenser, the darling of the _boy_ Southey, to abjure -‘his allegiance and just fealty to all womankind,’ and to look upon -‘rapes and ravishments’ as ‘exaggerated evils,’ the product of an idle -imagination, exciting a pleasurable fervour at the time, and signifying -nothing afterwards? Is the outrage upon _Wat Tyler’s_ Daughter the only -evil in history, or in the poem itself, which ought to inflame the -virtuous indignation of the full-grown stripling bard? Are all the other -oppressions recorded in the annals of the world nothing but ‘horrible -shadows, unreal mockeries,’ that this alone should live ‘within the book -and volume of his brain unmixed with baser matter’? Or has Mr. Southey, -the historian and the politician, at last discovered, that even this -evil, the greatest and the only evil in the world, and not a mere -illusion of his boyish imagination, is itself a bagatelle, compared with -the blessings of the poll-tax, feudal vassalage, popery, and slavery, -the attempt to put down which by murder, insurrection, and treason, in -the reign of Richard II. the poet-laureate once celebrated _con amore_ -in ‘the _Wat Tyler_‘?—In courtly malice and servility Mr. Southey has -outdone Herodias’s daughter. He marches into Chancery ‘with his own head -in a charger,’ as an offering to Royal delicacy. He plucks out the heart -of Liberty within him, and mangles his own breast to stifle every -natural sentiment left there: and yet Mr. Coleridge would persuade us -that this stuffed figure, this wretched phantom, is the living man. The -finery of birth-day suits has dazzled his senses, so that he has ‘no -speculation in those eyes that he does glare with’; yet Mr. Coleridge -would persuade us that this is the clear-sighted politician. Famine -stares him in the face, and he looks upon her with lack-lustre eye. -Despotism hovers over him, and he says, ‘Come, let me clutch thee.’ He -drinks the cup of human misery, and thinks it is a cup of sack. He has -no feeling left, but of ‘tickling commodity’; no ears but for court -whispers; no understanding but of his interest; no passion but his -vanity. And yet they would persuade us that this non-entity is -somebody—‘the chief dread of Jacobins and Jacobinism, or quacks and -quackery.’ If so, Jacobins and Jacobinism have not much to fear; and Mr. -Coleridge may publish as many Lay Sermons as he pleases. - -There is but one statement in the article in _The Courier_ to which we -can heartily assent; it is Mr. Southey’s prediction of the fate of the -French Revolution. ‘The Temple of Despotism,’ he said, ‘would be -rebuilt, like that of the Mexican God, with human skulls, and cemented -with human blood.’ He has lived to see this; to assist in the -accomplishment of his prophecy, and to consecrate the spectre-building -with pensioned hands! - - - - -A LETTER TO WILLIAM SMITH, ESQ., M.P. _from_ Robert Southey, _Esq._ John - Murray, Albemarle-street. 1817. _Price_ 2_s._ - - - _May 4, 1817._ - -This is very unlike Mr. Burke’s celebrated ‘Letter to the Duke of -Bedford.’ The last is the only work of the Irish orator and patriot, in -which he was in earnest, and all that he wanted was sincerity. The -attack made upon his pension, by rousing his self-love, kindled his -imagination, and made him blaze out in a torrent of fiery eloquence, in -the course of which his tilting prose-Pegasus darted upon the titles of -the noble duke like a thunderbolt, reversed his ancestral honours, -overturned the monstrous straddle-legged figure of that legitimate -monarch, Henry VIII., exploded the mines of the French revolution, -kicked down the Abbé Sieyes’s pigeon-holes full of constitutions, and -only reposed from his whirling career, in that fine retrospect on -himself, and the affecting episode to Admiral Keppel. Mr. Burke was an -apostate, ‘a malignant renegado,’ like Mr. Southey; but there the -comparison ends. He would not have been content, on such an occasion as -the present, with _Mistering_ his opponent, and _Esquiring_ himself, -like the ladies in the Beggar’s Opera, who express the height of their -rankling envy and dislike, by calling each other—_Madam_. Mr. Southey’s -self-love, when challenged to the lists, does not launch out into the -wide field of wit or argument: it retires into its own littleness, -collects all its slender resources in one poor effort of pert, -pettifogging spite, makes up by studied malice for conscious impotence, -and attempts to mortify others by the angry sense of his own -insignificance. He grows tenacious of his ridiculous pretensions, in -proportion as they are given up by every body else. His self-complacency -riots, with a peculiar and pointed gusto, in the universal contempt or -compassion of friends and foes. In the last stage of a galloping -consumption, while the last expiring puff of _The Courier_ makes ‘a -swan-like end,’ in a compliment to his opponents, he is sanguine of a -deathless reputation—considers his soreness to the least touch as a -proof of his being in a whole skin, and his uneasiness to repel every -attack as a proof of his being invulnerable. In a word, he mistakes an -excess of spleen and irritability for the consciousness of innocence, -and sets up his own egotism, vanity, ill-humour, and intolerance, as an -answer in full to all the objections which have been brought against him -of vanity, egotism, malignity, and intolerance. His ‘Letter’ is a -concentrated essence of a want of self-knowledge. It is the picture of -the author’s mind in little. In this respect, it is ‘a psychological -curiosity’; a study of human infirmity. As some persons bequeath their -bodies to the surgeons to be dissected after their death, Mr. Southey -publicly exposes his mind to be anatomized while he is living. He lays -open his character to the scalping-knife, guides the philosophic hand in -its painful researches, and on the bald crown of our _petit tondu_, in -vain concealed under withered bay-leaves and a few contemptible grey -hairs, you see the organ of vanity triumphant—sleek, smooth, round, -perfect, polished, horned, and shining, as it were in a transparency. -This is the handle of his intellect, the index of his mind; ‘the guide, -the anchor of his purest thoughts, and soul of all his moral being’; the -clue to the labyrinth of all his tergiversations and contradictions; the -_medius terminus_ of his political logic. - - —— ——‘The ruling passion once express’d, - Wharton is plain, and Chartres stands confess’d.’ - -Once admit that Mr. Southey is always in the right, and every one else -in the wrong, and all the rest follows. This at once reconciles ‘Wat -Tyler’ and the ‘Quarterly Review,’ which Mr. William Smith took down to -the House, in two different pockets for fear of a breach of the peace; -identifies the poet of the ‘Joan of Arc’ and of the ‘Annual Anthology’ -with the poet-laureate; and _jumps_ the stripling into the man, whenever -the latter has a mind to jump into a place or pension. Till you can -deprive him of his personal identity, he will always be the same -infallible person—in his own opinion. He is both judge and jury in his -own cause; the sole standard of right and wrong. To differ with him is -inexcusable; for ‘there is but one perfect, even himself.’ He is the -central point of all moral and intellectual excellence; the way, the -truth, and the life. There is no salvation out of his pale; and yet he -makes the terms of communion so strict, that there is no hope that way. -The crime of Mr. William Smith and others, against whom this high-priest -of impertinence levels his anathemas, is _in not being_ Mr. Southey. -What is right in him, is wrong in them; what is the height of folly or -wickedness in them, is, ‘as fortune and the flesh shall serve,’ the -height of wisdom and virtue in him; for there is no medium in his -reprobation of others and approbation of himself. Whatever he does, is -proper: whatever he thinks, is true and profound: ‘I, Robert Shallow, -Esquire, have said it.’ Whether Jacobin or Anti-jacobin, -Theophilanthropist or Trinitarian, Spencean, or Ex-Spencean, the patron -of Universal Suffrage or of close Boroughs, of the reversion of sinecure -places, and pensions, or of the abolition of all property,—however -extreme in one opinion or another, he alone is in the right; and those -who do not think as he does, and change their opinions as he does, and -go the lengths that he does, first on one side and then on the other, -are necessarily knaves and fools. Wherever he sits, is the head of the -table. Truth and justice are always at his side. The wise and virtuous -are always with him. How should it be otherwise? He calls those ‘wise -and virtuous’ who are of his way of thinking; the rest are ‘sciolists, -profligates, and coxcombs.’ By a fiction of his own making, not by a -fiction of the law, Mr. Southey can do no wrong; and to accuse him of -it, is a libel on the face of it, and little short of high treason. It -is not the poet-laureate, the author of ‘Wat Tyler’ and of the -‘Quarterly Review,’ who is to blame for his violence and apostacy; with -that portion of self-sufficiency which this author possesses, ‘these are -most virtuous’; but it is the person who brings forward the -contradictions and intemperance of these two performances who is never -to be forgiven for questioning Mr. Southey’s consistency and moderation. -All this is strange, but not new to our readers. We have said it all -before. Why does Mr. Southey oblige us to repeat the accusation, by -furnishing us with fresh proofs of it? He is betrayed to his ruin by -trusting to the dictates of his personal feelings and wounded pride; and -yet he dare not look at his situation through any other medium. ‘To know -my deed, ‘t were best not know myself.’ But does he expect all eyes as -well as his to be ‘blind with the pin and web’? Does he pull his -laurel-crown as a splendid film over his eyes, and expect us to join in -a game of political blindman’s-buff with him, with a ‘Hoop, do me no -harm, good man’? Are we not to cry out while an impudent, hypocritical, -malignant renegado is putting his gag in our mouths, and getting his -thumb-screws ready? ‘Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there -shall be no more cakes and ale,’ says _Sir Toby_ to the fantastical -steward _Malvolio_? Does Mr. Southey think, because he is a pensioner, -that he is to make us willing slaves? While he goes on writing in the -‘Quarterly,’ shall we give over writing in _The Examiner_? Before he -puts down the liberty of the press, the press shall put him down, with -all his hireling and changeling crew. In the _servile war_ which Mr. -Southey tells us is approaching, the service we have proposed to -ourselves to do is, to neutralize the servile intellect of the country. -This we have already done in part, and hope to make clear work of it, -before we have done.—For example: - -This heroic epistle to William Smith, Esq. from Robert Southey, sets off -in the following manner:— - -‘SIR,—You are represented in the newspapers as having entered, during an -important discussion in parliament, into a comparison between certain -passages in the ‘Quarterly Review,’ and the opinions which were held by -the author of ‘Wat Tyler’ three-and-twenty years ago. It appears -farther, according to the same authority, that the introduction of so -strange a criticism, in so strange a place, did not arise from the -debate, but was a premeditated thing; that you had prepared yourself for -it, by stowing the ‘Quarterly Review’ in one pocket, and ‘Wat Tyler’ in -the other; and that you deliberately stood up for the purpose of -reviling an individual who was not present to vindicate himself, and in -a place which afforded you protection.’ p. 2. - -So that for Mr. William Smith in a debate on a bill _for the suppression -of all political opinions_ (as we are told by Mr. Alderman Smith, a very -different person, to be sure, and according to Mr. Southey, no doubt, a -highly respectable character, and a true lover of liberty and the -constitution) for Mr. William Smith on such an occasion to introduce the -sentiments of a well-known writer in a public journal, that writer being -a whiffling tool of the court, and that journal the avowed organ of the -government-party, in confirmation of his apprehensions of the objects -and probable results of the bill then pending, was quite irrelevant and -unparliamentary; nor had Mr. William Smith any right to set an -additional stigma on the unprincipled and barefaced lengths which this -writer now goes in servility and intolerance, by shewing the equal -lengths to which he went formerly in popular fanaticism and -licentiousness. Yet neither Mr. Southey nor his friend Mr. Wynne -complained of Mr. Canning’s want of regularity, or disrespect of the -House, in lugging out of his pocket THE SPENCEAN PLAN as an argument -against Reform, and as decisive of the views of the Friends of Reform in -parliament. Nay, Mr. Southey requoted Mr. Canning’s quotation, for the -purpose of reviling all Reform and all Reformers, in the ‘Quarterly -Review’;—a place in which any one so reviled can no more defend himself -than Mr. Southey can defend himself in parliament; and which it seems -affords equal ‘protection’ to those who avail themselves of it; for a -Quarterly Reviewer, according to Mr. Southey, being anonymous, is not at -all accountable for what he writes. He says,— - -‘As to the “Quarterly Review,” you can have no other authority for -ascribing any particular paper in that journal to one person or to -another, than common report. The “Quarterly Review” stands upon its own -merits.’ [Yet it was for what Mr. Southey wrote in that Review, that -_The Courier_ told us at the time that Mr. Southey was made -Poet-laureate.] ‘What I may have said or thought in any part of my life, -no more concerns that journal than it does you or the House of Commons.’ -[What Mr. Southey has said publicly any where in any part of his life, -concerns the public and every man in it, unless Mr. Southey means to say -that his opinions are utterly worthless and contemptible, a piece of -modesty of which we cannot suspect him.] ‘What I have written in it is a -question which you, Sir, have no right to ask, and which certainly I -will not answer. As little right have you to take that for granted which -you cannot possibly know.’ Now mark. In the very paragraph before the -one in which he skulks from the responsibility of the ‘Quarterly -Review,’ and with pert vapid assurance repels every insinuation implying -a breach of his inviolability as an anonymous writer, he makes an -impudent, unqualified, and virulent attack on Mr. Brougham as an -Edinburgh Reviewer, ‘This was not necessary in regard to Mr. -Brougham ... _he only carried the quarrels as well as the practices of -the Edinburgh Review into the House of Commons. But as calumny, Sir, has -not been your vocation_, it may be useful, even to yourself, if I -comment upon your first attempt.’—p. 3. Such a want of common logic is -to our literal capacities quite inexplicable: it is ‘in the third tier -of wonders above wonders.’ - -In page 5, Mr. Southey calls the person who published ‘Wat Tyler’ ‘a -skulking scoundrel,’ with his characteristic delicacy and moderation in -the use of epithets; and says that it was published, ‘for the avowed -purpose of insulting him, and with the hope of injuring him if -possible.’ Perhaps one object was to prevent Mr. Southey from insulting -and injuring other people. It was supposed that ‘Wat Tyler’ might prove -an antidote to the ‘Quarterly Review’: that, ‘the healing might come -from the same weapon that gave the wound’; and in this instance it has -turned out so. He adds, ‘You knew that the transaction bore upon its -face every character of baseness and malignity. You knew that it must -have been effected either by robbery, or by breach of trust. _These -things, Mr. William Smith, you knew!_’ [Mr. Southey at least knows no -such thing, but he is here in his glory; putting a false statement into -epigrammatic phraseology; bristling with horror at antithetical -enormities of his own fabricating, and concluding with that formidable -and significant repetition of the title, Christian and surname of _Mr. -William Smith_.] The above paragraph concludes thus, with the author’s -usual logical precision and personal modesty. ‘And knowing them as you -did, I verily believe, that if it were possible to revoke what is -irrevocable, you would _at this moment_ be far more desirous of blotting -from remembrance the _disgraceful_ speech which stands upon record in -your name, than I should be of cancelling the boyish composition which -gave rise to it. “Wat Tyler” is full of errors ... but they are the -errors of youth and ignorance; they bear no indication of an ungenerous -spirit, or of a malevolent heart.’ p. 6. It seems by this passage that -any attempt to fix disgrace on Mr. Southey only, recoils upon the head -of his accuser. ‘Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit.’ He says that -Mr. W. Smith’s _disgraceful_ speech was occasioned by ‘Wat Tyler.’ That -is not true. It was occasioned by ‘Wat Tyler’ coupled with the -‘Quarterly Review.’ He says, ‘“Wat Tyler” is full of errors.’ So is the -article in the ‘Quarterly Review’; but _they_ are not ‘the errors of -youth and ignorance; they bear strong indications of an ungenerous -spirit and a malignant heart.’ Let not Mr. Southey mistake. It is not -the indiscreet and romantic extravagance of the boy which has brought -the man into this predicament: it is the deliberate and rancorous -servility of the man that has made those who were the marks of his -slanderous and cowardly invectives, rake up the errors of his youth -against him. - -Mr. Southey next proceeds to a defence of himself for writing ‘the Wat -Tyler.’ He argues that ‘it is not _seditious_, because it is -_dramatic_.’ We deny that it is dramatic. He acknowledges that it is -mischievous, and particularly so, at the present time. To the last part -of the proposition we cannot assent. When this poem was written, there -was a rage of speculation which might be dangerous: the danger at -present arises from the rage of hunger. And the true reason why Mr. -Southey was eager to suppress this publication was not what he pretends, -a fear that it might inculcate notions of perfect equality and general -licentiousness: but a feeling that it might prevent him from defending -every abuse of excessive inequality, and every stretch of arbitrary -power, the end of which must be to sink ‘the people’ in an abyss of -slavery, and to plunge ‘the populace’ in the depths of famine, despair, -and misery, or by a sudden and tremendous revulsion, to occasion all -that confusion, anarchy, violence, and bloodshed, which Mr. Southey -hypocritically affects to deprecate as the consequences of seditious and -inflammatory publications. Now we contend in opposition to Mr. Southey -and all that servile crew, that the only possible preventive of one or -other of these impending evils, namely, lasting slavery, famine, and -general misery on the one hand, or a sudden and dreadful convulsion on -the other, is the liberty of the press, which Mr. Southey calls -sedition, and the firm, manly, and independent expression of public -opinion, which he calls rebellion. We detest despotism: we deprecate -popular commotion: but if we are forced upon an alternative, we have a -choice: we prefer temporary to lasting evils. Mr. Southey has indeed a -new-acquired and therefore lively dread of the horrors of revolution. -But his passion for despotism is greater than his dread of anarchy; and -he runs all the risks of the one, rather than not glut his insatiable -and unnatural appetite for the other. Such are his politics, and such -are ours. He says, ‘The piece was written under the influence of -opinions which I have long since outgrown, and repeatedly disclaimed, -but for which I have never felt either shame or contrition. They were -taken up conscientiously in early youth, they were acted upon in -disregard of all worldly considerations, _and they were left behind in -the same strait-forward_ _course, as I advanced in years_.’ The latter -part of this statement is not self-evident. Mr. Southey says that while -he adhered to his first principles, he acted with a total disregard of -his worldly interest; and this is easily understood:—but that his -desertion of those principles, so contrary to his worldly views, was -equally independent, disinterested and free from sinister motives, is -not so plain. Nor can we take Mr. Southey’s word for it. And we will -tell him the reason. If he had been _progressive_, as he calls it, in -his course, up to the year 1814, we should not have found much fault -with him: but why did he become stationary then? Has nothing happened in -the three last years,—nothing—to make Mr. Southey retreat back to some -of his old opinions, as he had advanced from them, guided, as he -professes to be in his undeviating course, by facts and experience? Are -the actual events of the last three years nothing in the scale of Mr. -Southey’s judgment? Is not their weight overpowering, irresistible? -What, do not the names of Poland, Norway, Finland, Saxony, Italy, Spain -and Portugal, the Pope, the Inquisition, and the Cortes (to say nothing -of France, Nismes, and the Bourbons) thrown into the scale of common -sense and common honesty, dash it down, with a startling sound, upon the -counter, where Mr. Southey is reckoning his well-gotten gains, the price -of his disinterested exertions in the cause of Spanish liberty and the -deliverance of mankind, making his hair stand on end at his own folly -and credulity, and forcing him indignantly to fling his last year’s -pension and the arrears of the Quarterly in the face of Mr. Murray’s -shopmen and the clerks of the Treasury, and swear, ‘in disregard of all -worldly considerations,’ never to set his foot in Downing or -Albemarle-street again? No such thing. In advocating the cause of the -French people, Mr. Southey’s principles and his interest were at -variance, and therefore he quitted his principles when he saw a good -opportunity: in taking up the cause of the Allies, his principles and -his interest became united and thenceforth indissoluble. His engagement -to his first love, the Republic, was only upon liking; his marriage to -Legitimacy is _for better, for worse_, and nothing but death shall part -them. Our simple Laureate was sharp upon his hoyden Jacobin mistress, -who brought him no dowry, neither place nor pension, who ‘found him poor -and kept him so,’ by her prudish notions of virtue. He divorced her, in -short, for nothing but the spirit and success with which she resisted -the fraud and force to which the old bawd Legitimacy was forever -resorting to overpower her resolution and fidelity. He said she was a -virago, a cunning gipsey, always in broils about her honour and the -inviolability of her person, and always getting the better in them, -furiously scratching the face or cruelly tearing off the hair of the -said pimping old lady, who would never let her alone, night or day. But -since her foot slipped one day on the ice, and the detestable old hag -tripped up her heels, and gave her up to the kind keeping of the Allied -Sovereigns, Mr. Southey has devoted himself to her more fortunate and -wealthy rival: he is become uxorious in his second matrimonial -connexion; and though his false Duessa has turned out a very witch, a -foul, ugly witch, drunk with insolence, mad with power, a griping, -rapacious wretch, bloody, luxurious, wanton, malicious, not sparing -steel, or poison, or gold, to gain her ends—bringing famine, pestilence, -and death in her train—infecting the air with her thoughts, killing the -beholders with her looks, claiming mankind as her property, and using -them as her slaves—driving every thing before her, and playing the devil -wherever she comes, Mr. Southey sticks to her in spite of every thing, -and for very shame lays his head in her lap, paddles with the palms of -her hands, inhales her hateful breath, leers in her eyes and whispers in -her ears, calls her little fondling names, Religion, Morality, and -Social Order, takes for his motto, - - ‘Be to her faults a little blind, - Be to her virtues very kind’— - -sticks close to his filthy bargain, and will not give her up, because -she keeps him, and he is down in her will. Faugh! - - ‘What’s here? - Gold! yellow, glittering, precious gold! - —— —— ——The wappened widow, - Whom the spittle-house and ulcerous sores - Would heave the gorge at, this embalms and spices - To the April day again.’ - -The above passage is, we fear, written in the style of Aretin, which Mr. -Southey condemns in the _Quarterly_. It is at least a very sincere -style: Mr. Southey will never write so, till he can keep in the same -mind for three and twenty years together. Why should not one make a -sentence of a page long, out of the feelings of one’s whole life? The -early Protestant Divines wrote such prodigious long sentences from the -sincerity of their religious and political opinions. Mr. Coleridge ought -not to imitate them. - - -A LETTER TO WILLIAM SMITH, ESQ. M.P. _from_ Robert Southey, _Esq._ John - Murray, Albemarle-street. 1817. _Price_ 2_s._ - - ‘What word hath passed thy lips, Adam severe?’ - - - _May 11, 1817._ - -Has Mr. Murray turned Quaker, that he styles himself John Murray (‘Mark -you his absolute John?‘) in the title-page? Or has Mr. Southey resigned -his place and his pretensions, that he omits in the same page his -honorary titles of Poet-Laureate and Member of the Royal Spanish -Academy? We cannot tell; but we should think it some sign of grace, if, -without a hint from the Lord Chamberlain, he had for a while laid by his -tattered laurel and spattered birth-day suit: if, as the Commander in -Chief retired after the droll affair of Mrs. Clarke (we are not such -rigid moralists as Mr. Southey) the Poet-Laureate had thought proper to -veil his blushing court favours during the dramatic representation of -_Wat Tyler_, and did not consider it either prudent or becoming to be -seen going to or coming from Carlton-house with the mob, ‘the reading -rabble,’ at his heels, and with a shower of twopenny pamphlets sticking -to the skirts of his turned coat. Poor _Morgan_, the honest Welchman in -_Roderic Random_, reeking with the fumes of tobacco and garlic, was not -more offensive to the sensitive organs of _Captain Whiffle_, than Mr. -Southey must be to the nice feelings of an exalted Personage, reeking -with the fumes of Jacobinism, and rolled, as he has been, in the kennel -of the newspaper press. A voyage to Italy, a classical quarantine of a -year or two, with the Pope’s blessing, seems absolutely necessary to -wipe out the stains of his _Wat Tyler_, ‘as pure as sin with baptism’; -and to restore him to the vows of Prince and People as smug as a young -novice in a monastery, and sweet as any waiting-gentlewoman. - -Mr. Southey says, in continuation of his Defence of _Wat Tyler_, p. 7, -‘It was written when republicanism was confined to a very small number -of the educated classes:’ [Is it more common now among the intended -hearers of Mr. Coleridge’s Second and Third Lay-Sermons?]—‘when those -who were known to entertain such opinions were exposed to personal -danger from _the populace_‘; [The populace of course were not set on by -the higher classes, the clergy or gentry, nor can Mr. S. mean to include -the Attorney-General of that day, my Lord Eldon, as one of _the -populace_.] ‘And when a spirit of anti-jacobinism was predominant, which -I cannot characterise more truly than by saying that it was as unjust -and intolerant, though not quite as ferocious, _as the Jacobinism of the -present day_.’—Why not the _anti-jacobinism_ of the present day? ‘The -collusion holds in the exchange.’ The business is carried on to the -present hour; and though it has changed hands, the principal of the firm -is still the same. Mr. Gifford, the present Editor of the _Quarterly -Review_, where Mr. Southey now writes, was formerly the Editor of the -_Anti-Jacobin_ newspaper, where he was written at. The above passage is -however a sly passing hit at Mr. Canning’s parodies, who (shame to say -it) was as wise and as witty three and twenty years ago as he is now, -and has not been making that progressive improvement ever since, on -which Mr. Southey compliments himself, congratulates his friends, and -insults over his enemies! How nicely this gentleman _differences_ -himself from all his contemporaries, Jacobin or anti-Jacobin! No one can -come up to him at all points. ‘The lovely Marcia towers above her sex!’ - -The Letter-writer goes on to say:—‘When therefore Mr. Smith informed the -House of Commons that the author of _Wat Tyler_ thinks no longer upon -certain points as he did in his youth, he informed that legislative -assembly of nothing more than what the author has shown during very many -years, _in the course of his writings_ ... that while events have been -moving on upon the great theatre of human affairs, _his intellect has -not been stationary_.’—[Mr. S. here confounds a change of opinions with -the progress of intellect, a mistake which we shall correct -presently.]—‘But when the Member for Norwich asserts that I impute evil -motives to men merely for holding the same doctrines’ [No, only a tenth -part of the same doctrines] ‘which I myself formerly professed, and when -he charges me with the malignity and baseness of a Renegade, the -assertion and the charge are as false, as the language in which they are -conveyed is coarse and insulting.’ p. 9. - -Now we know of no writings of Mr. Southey’s, in the course of which he -had shewn for many years the change or progress of his opinions, but in -the _Quarterly Review_ and other anonymous publications. We suppose he -will hardly say that his Birth-day Odes, the _Carmen Nuptiale_, &c. have -shewn the progress of his intellect. But in the same anonymous writings, -in which the public would find, to Mr. Southey’s credit, that his -intellect had not been stationary, the Member for Norwich would find -what was not so much to his credit, but all that was wanting to make -good the charge—that Mr. Southey’s moderation and charity to those whose -intellects had been stationary, did not keep pace with the progress of -his own—for in the articles in the _Quarterly_, which he claims or -disclaims as he pleases, he, the writer of the Inscription on Old Sarum, -describes ‘a Reformer as no better than a housebreaker’: he, the writer -of the Inscription at Chepstow Castle, calls all those who do not bow -their necks to the doctrine of Divine Right, Rebels and Regicides: he, -the author of _Wat Tyler_, calls those persons who think taxes, wars, -the wanton waste of the resources of a country, and the unfeeling -profligacy of the rich, likely to aggravate and rouse to madness the -intolerable sufferings of the poor, ‘flagitious incendiaries, panders to -insurrection, murder, and treason, and the worst of scoundrels’; he, the -equalizer of all property and of popular representation, would protect -the holders of rotten boroughs and of entailed sinecures, by shutting up -all those who write against them in solitary confinement, without pen, -ink, or paper, to answer the unanswerable arguments of Mr. Southey—in -short, the author of the articles in the _Quarterly Review_, if he was -not always a base and malignant sycophant, shews himself to be a base -and malignant Renegade, by defending all the rotten, and undermining all -the sound parts of the system to which he professes to be a convert, and -by consigning over to a ‘vigour beyond the law’ all those who expose his -unprincipled, pragmatical tergiversations, or would maintain the system -itself, without maintaining those corruptions and abuses, which were all -that Mr. Southey at one time saw to hold up to execration in the English -Constitution, and are all that he now sees to admire and revere in it. -This is as natural in a Renegado, as it would be unaccountable in any -one else. - -We must get on a little faster, for to expose the absurdities of this -Letter one by one would fill ‘a nice little book.’ In the pages -immediately following, Mr. Southey glances at the Editor of the -_Edinburgh Review_, whom he condemns ‘to bear a _gore sinister tenné_ in -his escutcheon,’ for saying that Mr. Southey does not form an exception -to the _irritabile genus vatum_. He says, that he has often refrained -from exposing the ignorance and inconsistency of his opponents, as well -as ‘that moral turpitude,’ which, our readers must by this time -perceive, can hardly fail to accompany any difference of opinion with -him. He says that ‘he has a talent for satire, but that (good soul!) he -has long since subdued the disposition.’ This must be since writing the -last _Quarterly_: we thought there were some shrewd hits there, and we -suspect Sir Richard Phillips, whom he laughs at for his dislike of war -and of animal food, for pages together, will be of our opinion. He says -that ‘he has been lately employed, while among the mountains of -Cumberland, upon the Mines of Brazil and the War in the Peninsula.’ - - ‘Why man, he doth bestride the world - Like a Colossus, and we, petty men, peep - Under his huge legs.’ - -‘His _name_, in the mean time, has served in London for the very -shuttlecock of discussion.’ Why should not his name be a shuttlecock, -when he himself is no better?—‘He has impeded the rising reputation of -Toby, the Sapient Pig;’—has overlaid the posthumous birth of the young -Shiloh, and perhaps prevented Mr. Coleridge’s premature deliverance of -his last _Lay Sermon_. After all these misfortunes, the author makes -merry with Bonaparte’s ‘having been exposed, like Bishop Hatto, to be -devoured by the rats!’ The levelling rogue cares neither for Bishops nor -Emperors, but grows grave again in recounting the retrograde progress of -his own mind. - -‘In my youth, when my stock of knowledge consisted of such an -acquaintance with Greek and Roman history, as is acquired in the course -of a regular scholastic education,’—[The Greek and Roman history is as -good as the history of rotten boroughs or the reign of George -III.]—‘when my heart was full of poetry and romance,—[Is it so no -longer?]—‘and Lucan and Akenside were at my tongue’s end.’—[Instead of -the red book and the court calendar]—‘_I fell into_ the political -opinions which the French Revolution was then scattering throughout -Europe:’ [We have here a pretty fair account of the origin and genealogy -of the opinions of the French Revolution, which opinions of liberty, -truth, and justice, neither the French Revolution shall destroy, nor -those who destroyed _it_, because it was produced by and gave birth to -those opinions; and does Mr. Southey suppose that the suppression of -_Wat Tyler_ is to suppress those opinions, and that a lying article in -the _Quarterly Review_ is to persuade us that they who made war on those -opinions from the beginning (and by so doing, produced all the evils of -those opinions, produced them purposely, in the malice of their hearts -and the darkness of their minds produced them to destroy all liberty, -truth, and justice, and to keep mankind their slaves in perpetuity by -right divine) were right from the beginning, that they deserved well of -mankind, that their boasted triumph, the triumph of kings over the -species, is ours and Mr. Southey’s triumph? Or would he persuade us that -the Greek and Roman History has become obsolete, because Mr. Southey -left school three and twenty years ago; that poetry and romance were -banished from the human heart when he took a place and pension; that -Lucan and Akenside will not live as long as _Wat Tyler_, or the -_Quarterly Review_!—We broke off in an interesting part. Mr. Southey -proceeds:]—‘Following those opinions with ardour wherever they led.’ -[This is an old trick of the author, he is a keen sportsman;] ‘I soon -perceived that inequalities of rank were a light evil compared to the -inequalities of property,[36] and those more fearful distinctions which -the want of moral and intellectual culture occasions between man and -man. At that time, and with those opinions or rather feelings (for their -root was in the heart, and not in the understanding) I wrote _Wat Tyler_ -as one who was impatient of “all the oppressions that are done under the -sun.”’ [Here we must make another full stop.] Mr. Southey is incapable -of forming any other opinions but from his feelings: he never had any -other opinions, he never will have any others, worth a rush. When the -opinions he professes ceased to be the dictates of his heart, they -became the dictates of his vanity and interest; they became good for -nothing. When the first ebullition of youthful ardour was over, his -understanding was not competent to maintain its independence against the -artifices of sophistry, aided by the accumulating force of ‘worldly -considerations,’ showy or substantial, the long neglect of which he had -felt to his cost. Mr. Southey’s pure reason was not steady enough to -contemplate the truth in an unprejudiced and unimpassioned point of -view. His imagination first ran away with his understanding; and now, -that he is getting old, his convenience, the influence of fashion, and -the tide of opinion, rush in, and fill up all the void both of sense and -imagination, driving him into the very vortex of court-sycophancy, the -sinks and common sewers of corruption. Mr. Southey is not a man to hear -reason at any time of his life. He thinks his change of opinion is owing -to an increase of knowledge, because he has in fact no idea of any -progress in intellect but exchanging one error for another. He has no -idea that a man may grow wiser in the same opinion by discovering new -reasons for the faith that is in him; for Mr. Southey has no reasons for -the faith that is in him. He does not see how a man may devote his whole -life to the discovery of the principle of the most common truth; for he -has no principles of thought, either to guide, enlarge, or modify his -knowledge. He has nothing to shew for the wisdom of his opinions but his -own opinion of their wisdom: they are mere self-opinions: he considers -his present notions as profound and solid, because his former ones were -hasty and shallow; asserts them with pert, vapid assurance, because he -does not see the objections against them; and thinks he must be right in -his premises in proportion to the violence and extravagance of his -conclusions. Because when he wrote _Wat Tyler_, he was ‘impatient of all -the oppressions that are done under the sun,’ he now thinks it his -bounden duty to justify them all, with equal impatience of -contradiction. Mr. Southey does not know himself so well as we do; and a -greater confirmation of his ignorance in this respect cannot well be -given than the rest of the above passage. ‘The subject of _Wat Tyler_ -was injudiciously chosen; and it was treated as might be expected by a -youth of twenty, in such times, who regarded only one side of the -question.’ [It is Mr. Southey’s fault or his misfortune that at all -times he regards only one side of a question.] - -‘There is no other misrepresentation. The sentiments of the historical -characters are correctly stated.’ [What, of the King, the Judge, and the -Archbishop?] ‘Were I now to dramatize the same story, there would be -much to add, but little to alter. I should not express those sentiments -less strongly, but I should oppose to them more enlarged views of the -nature of man and the progress of society. _I should set forth with -equal force the oppressions of the feudal system, the excesses of the -insurgents, and the treachery of the government_,’ [Doctors doubt that] -‘and hold up the errors and crimes which were then committed, as a -warning _for this_ and for future generations. I should write _as a man; -not as a stripling_; with the same heart, and the same desires, but with -a ripened understanding and competent stores of knowledge,’ p. 15. Let -him do it, but he dare not. He would shew by the attempt the hollowness -of his boasted independence, the little time-serving meanness of his -most enlarged views; in a word, that he has still the same -understanding, but no longer the same heart. What are ‘the ripened -discoveries and competent stores of knowledge’ which Mr. Southey would -bring to this task? Are they the barefaced self-evident sophistries, the -wretched shuffling evasions of common-sense and humanity which he -contributes to the _Quarterly Review_, the cast-off, thread-bare, -tattered excuses of Paley’s Moral Philosophy, and Windham’s hashed-up -speeches? Why, all the prodigious discoveries which Mr. Southey there -details with such dry significance, are familiar to every school-boy, -are the common stock in trade of every spouter at a debating society, -have been bandied about, hackneyed, exhausted any time these thirty -years! And yet Mr. Southey was quite ignorant of them till very lately; -they have broke upon him with a new and solemn light; they have come -upon him by surprise, after three-and-twenty years; and at the last -rebound, have overturned his tottering patriotism? Where is the use of -Mr. Southey’s _regular scholastic education_, if he is to be thus -ignorant at twenty, thus versatile at forty? The object of such an -education is to make men less astonished at their own successive -discoveries, by putting them in possession before-hand of what has been -discovered by others. Mr. Southey cannot, like Mr. Cobbett, plead in -extenuation of his change of sentiment, that he was a self-taught man, -who had to grope his way from error and prejudice to truth and reason; -neither can he plead like Mr. Cobbett, in proof of the sincerity of his -motives, that he has suffered the loss of liberty and property by his -change of opinion: Mr. Southey has suffered nothing by his—but a loss of -character! - - -A LETTER TO WILLIAM SMITH, ESQ. M.P. _from_ Robert Southey, _Esq._ John - Murray, Albemarle-street. 1817. Price 2_s._ - - (CONCLUDED.) - - - _May 18, 1817._ - -Mr. Southey in the next paragraph says, that, ‘it is a nice question, in -what degree he, as the author, partook of the sentiments expressed in -the dramatic poem of _Wat Tyler_;—too nice a one for Mr. Wm. Smith to -decide;’ and yet he accuses him of excessive malice or total want of -judgment for deciding wrong. He then falls foul of the _Monthly_, and -other Dissenting Reviews, for praising his _Joan of Arc_, and makes it -the subject of a sneer at Mr. W. Smith, that his Minor Poems were -praised by the same critical authorities on their first appearance. We -might ask here, Did not Mr. Southey himself write in these Reviews at -one time? But he might refuse to answer the question. ‘In these -productions, _Joan of Arc_,’ &c. Mr. Southey observes, and observes -truly, that Mr. W. Smith ‘might have seen expressed an enthusiastic love -of liberty,’ (not a cold-blooded recommendation to extinguish the -liberty of the press) ‘a detestation of tyranny in whatever form,’ -(legitimate or illegitimate, not a palliation of all its most inveterate -and lasting abuses) ‘an ardent abhorrence of all wicked ambition,’ -(particularly of that most wicked ambition which would subject mankind, -as a herd of cattle, to the power and pride of Kings) ‘and a sympathy -not less ardent with those who were engaged in war for the defence of -their country, and in a righteous cause’—to wit, the French! - -Mr. Southey, however, vindicates with still more self-complacency and -success, the purity of his religious and moral character. ‘For while I -imbibed the Republican opinions of the day, I escaped the atheism and -leprous immorality which generally accompanied them. I cannot, -therefore, join with Beattie in blessing - - ——“The hour when I escap’d the wrangling crew, - From Pyrrho’s maze, and Epicurus’ sty;” - -for I was never lost in the one, nor defiled in the other. My progress -was of a different kind.’ And Mr. Southey then tells a story, not so -good as the story of Whittington and his Cat, how he was prevented from -setting off for America to set up the Pantisocracy scheme, and turned -back, ‘from building castles in the air, and founding Christian -Commonwealths,’ to turn Poet Laureate, and write in the Quarterly -Review. The above extract is a fine specimen of character. Mr. Southey -there thanks God that he is not, and was not, _like other men_. He was -proof against the worst infection of his time. Poor Doctors Price and -Priestley, who were Republicans like Mr. Southey, were religious, moral -men; but they were Dissenters, and this excites as much contempt in Mr. -Southey, as if they had been atheists and profligates. Others again, -among Mr. Southey’s political compeers, were atheists and immoral; and -for this, Mr. Southey expresses the same abhorrence of them, as if they -had been Dissenters! He, indeed, contrives to make the defects of others -so many perfections in himself; and by this mode of proceeding, -abstracts himself into a _beau ideal_ of moral and political egotism—a -_Sir Charles Grandison_, calculated for the beginning of the nineteenth, -and the latter end of the eighteenth century, upon the true infallible -principles of intellectual coxcombry. It is well for Mr. Southey that he -never was lost ‘in Pyrrho’s maze,’ for he never would have found his way -out of it:—that his tastes were not a little more Epicurean, perhaps is -not so well for him. There is a monachism of the understanding in Mr. -Southey, which may be traced to the over-severity, the prudery of his -moral habits. He unites somewhat of the fanaticism and bigotry of the -cloister with its penances and privations. A decent mixture of the -pleasurable and the sensual, might relieve the morbid acrimony of his -temper, and a little more indulgence of his appetites might make him a -little less tenacious of his opinions. It is his not sympathising with -the enjoyments of others, that makes him feel such an antipathy to every -difference of sentiment. We hope Mr. Southey, when he was in town, went -to see _Don Giovanni_, and heard him sing that fine song, ‘Women and -wine are the sustainers and glory of life.’ We do not wish to see Mr. -Southey quite a _Don Giovanni_, (that would be as great a change in his -moral, as to see him Poet-laureate, is in his political character) but -if he had fewer pretensions to virtue, he would, perhaps, be a better -man,—‘to relish all as sharply, passioned as we!’ The author, in p. 21, -informs Mr. W. Smith, that his early Poems, which contain all the -political spirit, without the dramatic form, of _Wat Tyler_, are -continually on sale, and that he has never attempted to withdraw them? -Why does he not withdraw them, or why did he attempt to get an -Injunction against poor _Wat_? Some one who does not know Mr. -Southey—has suggested as an answer,—By not withdrawing the Poems, he -pockets the receipts; and by getting an Injunction against _Wat Tyler_, -he would have done the same thing. In p. 23, Mr. Southey states, that he -is ‘in the same _rank in society_’ as Mr. Smith, which we have yet to -learn: and that he and Mr. Smith ‘were cast by nature in different -moulds,’ which we think was lucky for the Member for Norwich. In p. 25, -Mr. Southey rails at ‘the whole crew of ultra Whigs and Anarchists, from -Messrs. Brougham and Clodius, down to Cobbett, Cethegus and Co.’; and in -pages 26, 27, he compliments himself: ‘I ask you, Sir, in which of my -writings I have appealed to the base and malignant feelings of -mankind;—and I ask you, whether the present race of revolutionary -writers appeal to any other? What man’s private character did I stab? -Whom did I libel? Whom did I slander? Whom did I traduce? THESE -MISCREANTS LIVE BY CALUMNY AND SEDITION: THEY ARE LIBELLERS AND LIARS BY -TRADE.’—After this, _Sir Anthony Absolute’s_ ‘Damn you, can’t you be -cool, like me?’ will hardly pass for a joke! ‘For a man to know another -well, were to know himself.’ - -But we must conclude, and shall do so, with some passages taken at a -venture. ‘I did not fall into the error of those, who, having been the -friends of France when they imagined that the cause of liberty was -implicated in her success, transferred their attachment from the -Republic to the military tyranny in which it ended, and regarded with -complacency the progress of oppression, because France was the -oppressor.’ What does Mr. Southey call that military establishment which -is at present kept up in France to keep the Bourbons on the throne, and -to keep down the French people? Mr. Southey has, it seems, transferred -his attachment from the Republic, not to Bonaparte, but to the Bourbons. -_They_ stand Mr. Southey instead of the Republic; they are the true -‘children and champions of Jacobinism’; the legitimate heirs and -successors of the Revolution. We have never fallen into that error—into -the error of preferring the monstrous claim of hereditary and perpetual -despotism over whole nations, to a power raised to whatever height, (a -gigantic, but glorious height) in repelling that monstrous claim; a -claim set up in contempt of human nature and human liberty, and never -quitted for a single instant; the unwearied, implacable, systematic -prosecution of which claim, to force the doctrine of Divine Right on the -French people, caused all the calamities of the Revolution, all the -horrors of anarchy, and all the evils of military despotism, with loss -of liberty and independence; and the restoring and hallowing of which -claim, to hold mankind as slaves in perpetuity, Mr. Southey hails as the -deliverance of mankind, and ‘a consummation devoutly to be wished.’ ‘O -fool, fool, fool!’ He cannot go along with France when France becomes -the oppressor; nor can he leave the Allies when they become the -oppressors, when they return to the point from whence they set out in -1792. He could not accompany the march to Paris then, but he has run all -the way by the side of it twice since, with his laurel wreath on his -head, playing tricks and antics like a Jack-of-the Green. We explained -this before. Mr. Southey was a revolutionary weathercock; he is become a -court-fixture. ‘They (says he, meaning us[37]) had turned their faces -towards the East in the morning, to worship the rising sun, and in the -evening they were looking eastward still, obstinately affirming that -still the sun was there. I, on the contrary, altered my position as the -world went round.’ It is not always that a simile runs on all-fours; but -this does. The sun, indeed, passes from the East to the West, but it -rises in the East again: yet Mr. Southey is still looking in the -West—for his pension. The world has gone round a second time, but he has -not altered his position—at the Treasury door. Does the sun of Liberty -still rise over the towers of the Inquisition? Is its glow kindled at -the funeral pile of massacred Protestants? Does its breath issue in vain -from French dungeons, in which all those are confined who cannot forget -that for twenty-five years they have been counted men, not slaves to -Louis XVIII., under God and the Prince Regent? The doctrine of Divine -Right has been restored, and Mr. Southey is still dreaming of military -usurpation. The Inquisition has been re-established, and Mr. Southey -still talks of the deliverance of Spain and Portugal. The war was -renewed to put down Bonaparte as a military usurper, and not, as it was -stated, to force the Bourbons as the legitimate Sovereigns, back upon -the French nation; and yet the moment he was put down, the Bourbons were -forced back upon the French people; (he was the only barrier between -them and the delicious doctrine of Divine Right) and yet Mr. Southey -says nothing of this monstrous outrage and insult on them, on us, on all -mankind: his spirits are frozen up by this word ‘legitimacy,’ as fish -are in a pond: and yet he does say something—for he dotes, and raves, -and drivels about national monuments to commemorate the final triumph -over national independence and human rights. - -Mr. Southey next gives us his succedaneum to the doctrine of Legitimacy; -and a precious piece of quackery it is:— - -‘Slavery has long ceased to be tolerable in Europe: the remains of -feudal oppression are disappearing even in those countries which have -improved the least: nor can it be much longer endured, that the extremes -of ignorance, wretchedness, and brutality, should exist in the very -centre of civilized society. There can be no safety with a populace, -_half Luddite, half Lazzaroni_. Let us not deceive ourselves. We are far -from that state in which any thing resembling equality would be -possible; but we are arrived at that state in which _the extremes of -inequality_ are become intolerable. _They are too dangerous, as well as -too monstrous, to be borne much longer._ Plans which would have led to -the utmost horrors of insurrection, have been prevented by the -government, and by the enactment of strong, but necessary laws. Let it -not, however, be supposed that the disease is healed, because the ulcer -may skin over. The remedies by which the body politic can be restored to -health, must be slow in their operation. The condition of the populace, -physical, moral, and intellectual, must be improved, or a _Jacquerie_, a -_Bellum Servile_, sooner or later, will be the result. _It is the people -at this time who stand in need of reformation, not the government._’ - -We could not have said most of this better ourselves; and yet he -adds—‘The Government must better the condition of the populace; and -the first thing necessary is’—to do what—to suppress the liberty of -the press, and make Mr. Southey the keeper. That is, the Government -must put a stop to the press, in order that they may continue, with -perfect impunity, all the other evils complained of, which Mr. Southey -says are too dangerous, as well as too monstrous to be borne. Put down -the liberty of the press, and leave it to Mr. Southey and the -Quarterly Review to remove ‘the extremes of inequality, ignorance, -wretchedness, and brutality, existing in the very centre of civilized -society,’ and they will remain there long enough. Remove them, and -what will become of Mr. Southey and the Quarterly Review? This modest -gentleman and mild reformer, proposes to destroy at once the freedom -of discussion, to prevent its ultimate loss; to make us free by first -making us slaves; to put a gag in the mouths of the people instead of -bread; to increase the comforts of the poor by laying on more taxes; -to spread abroad the spirit of liberty and independence, by teaching -the doctrines of Passive Obedience and Non-resistance; and to -encourage the love of peace by crying up the benefits of war, and -deprecating the loss of a war-establishment. The borough-mongers will -not object to such a helpmate in the cause of reform. In the midst of -all this desultory jargon, the author somehow scrapes acquaintance -with Mr. Owen, and we find them disputing about the erection of a -chapel of ease on a piece of waste ground. ‘To build upon any other -foundation than religion, is building upon sand,’ says Mr. Southey, -with a sort of _Do-me-good_ air, as if in giving his advice he had -performed an act of charity. We did not hear Mr. Owen’s answer, but we -know that a nod is as good as a wink to that gentleman. Mr. Southey -then talks of the Established Church, whom, as well as the Government, -in his courtly way, he accuses of having for centuries ‘neglected its -first and paramount duty,’ the bettering the condition of the people; -of Saving Banks; of colonies of disbanded soldiers and sailors; of -columns of Waterloo and Trafalgar; of diminishing the poor-rates, and -improving the morals of the people, so that they may live without -eating; of the glories of our war-expenditure, and of the necessity of -keeping up the same expenditure in time of peace. ‘Never indeed,’ he -exclaims, ‘was there a more senseless cry than that which is at this -time raised for retrenchment in the public expenditure, as a means of -alleviating the present distress.’ [This senseless cry, however, is -either an echo of, or was echoed by, the Prince Regent in his Speech -from the Throne. Is there no better understanding between Mr. Southey -and the Prince Regent’s advisers?]—‘That distress arises from a great -and sudden diminution of employment, occasioned by many coinciding -causes, the chief of which is, that the war-expenditure of from forty -to fifty millions yearly, has ceased.’—[No, the chief is, that our -war-expenses of from forty to fifty millions yearly and for ever, are -continued, and that our war-monopoly of trade to pay them with has -ceased.]—‘Men are out of employ’—[True.]... ‘the evil is, that too -little is spent,’ [Because we have wasted too much.]—‘and as a remedy, -we are exhorted to spend less.’ [‘Yes, to waste less, or to spend what -we have left in things useful to ourselves, and not in Government -gimcracks, whether of peace or war.’] Is it better, does Mr. Southey -think, that ten poor men should keep ten pounds a-piece in their -pockets, which they would of course spend in food, clothing, fuel, &c. -for themselves and families, or that this hundred pounds, that is, ten -pounds a-piece, should be paid out of the pockets of these ten poor -men in _taxes_, which, added to Mr. Croker’s salary, would enable him -to keep another horse, to pay for the feed, furniture, saddle, bridle, -whip, and spurs? We ask Mr. Southey this question, and will put the -issue of the whole argument upon the answer to it. The money would be -spent equally in either case, say in agriculture, in raising corn for -instance, wheat or oats: but the corn raised and paid for by it in the -one instance would go into the belly of the poor man and his family: -in the other, into the belly of Mr. Croker’s horse. Does that make no -difference to Mr. Southey? Answer, Man of Humanity! Or, if Mr. -Southey, the Man of Humanity, will not answer, let Mr. Malthus, the -Man of God, answer for him! Again, what would go to pay for a new -saddle for the Secretary of the Admiralty, would buy the poor man and -his family so many pair of shoes in the year; or what would pay for a -straw litter for his sleek gelding, would stuff a flock-bed for the -poor man’s children! Does not Mr. Southey understand this question -yet? We have given him a clue to the whole difference between -productive and unproductive labour, between waste and economy, between -taxes and no taxes, between a war-expenditure and what ought to be a -peace-establishment, between money laid out and debts contracted in -gunpowder, in cannon, in ships of war, in scattering death, and money -laid out in paying for food, furniture, houses, the comforts, -necessaries, and enjoyments of life. Let Mr. Southey take the problem -and the solution with him to Italy, study it there amidst a -population, half Lazzaroni, half Monks:[38] let him see his error, and -return an honest man! But if he will not believe us, let him at least -believe himself. In the career of his triumph about our national -monuments, he has fallen into one of the most memorable lapses of -memory we ever met with. ‘In proportion,’ says he, ‘to their -magnificence, also, will be the present benefit, as well as the future -good; for they are not like the Egyptian pyramids, to be raised by -bondsmen under rigorous taskmasters: the wealth which is taken from -the people returns to them again, like vapours which are drawn -imperceptibly from the earth, but distributed to it in refreshing -dews[39] and fertilizing showers. What bounds could imagination set to -the welfare and glory of this island, if a tenth part, or even a -twentieth of what the war expenditure has been, were annually applied -in improving and creating harbours, in bringing our roads to the best -possible state, in colonizing upon our waste lands, in reclaiming fens -and conquering tracks from the sea, in encouraging the liberal arts, -in erecting churches, in building and endowing schools and colleges, -and making war upon physical and moral evil with the whole artillery -of wisdom and righteousness, with all the resources of science, and -all the ardour of enlightened and enlarged benevolence!’ - -Well done, Mr. Southey. No man can argue better, when he argues against -himself. What! one-twentieth part of this enormous waste of money laid -out in war, which has sunk the nation into the lowest state of -wretchedness, would, if wisely and beneficially laid out in works of -peace, have raised the country to the pinnacle of prosperity and -happiness! Mr. Southey in his raptures forgets his war-whoop, and is -ready to exclaim with _Sancho Panza_, when the exploits of -knight-errantry are over, and he turns all his enthusiasm to a pastoral -account, ‘Oh what delicate wooden spoons shall I carve! What crumbs and -cream shall I devour!’ Mr. Southey goes on to state, among other -_items_, that ‘Government should reform its prisons.’ But Lord -Castlereagh, soon after the war-addition to Mr. Croker’s peace-salary, -said that this was too expensive. In short, the author sums up all his -hopes and views in the following sentences:—‘Government must reform the -populace, the people must reform themselves.’ The interpretation of -which is, The Government must prevent the lower classes from reading any -thing; the middle classes should read nothing but the Quarterly Review. -‘This is the true Reform, and compared with this, all else is, _flocci, -nauci, nihili, pili_.’ - -The last page of this performance is ‘as arrogant a piece of paper’ as -was ever scribbled. We give it as it stands. ‘It will be said of him, -(Mr. S.) that in an age of personality, he abstained from satire; and -that during the course of his literary life, often as he was assailed, -the only occasion on which he ever _condescended_ to reply, was, when _a -certain Mr. William Smith_’—[What, was the only person worthy of Mr. -Southey’s notice a very insignificant person?] ‘insulted him in -Parliament with the appellation of Renegade. On that occasion, it will -be said, that he vindicated himself, _as it became him to do_: [How so? -Mr. Southey is only a literary man, and neither a commoner nor a peer of -the realm] ‘and treated his calumniator _with just and memorable -severity_. Whether it shall be added, that Mr. William Smith redeemed -his own character, by coming forward with honest manliness, and -acknowledging that he had spoken rashly and unjustly, concerns himself, -but is not of the slightest importance to me. - - ROBERT SOUTHEY.’ - -We do not think this conclusion is very like what Mr. Southey somewhere -wishes the conclusion of his life to resemble—‘the high leaves upon the -holly tree.’ Mr. Southey’s asperities do not wear off, as he grows -older. We are always disposed to quarrel with ourselves for quarrelling -with him, and yet we cannot help it, whenever we come in contact with -his writings. We met him unexpectedly the other day in St. Giles’s, (it -was odd we should meet _him_ there) were sorry we had passed him without -speaking to an old friend, turned and looked after him for some time, as -to a tale of other times—sighing, as we walked on, _Alas poor Southey!_ -‘We saw in him a painful hieroglyphic of humanity; a sad memento of -departed independence; a striking instance of the rise and fall of -patriot bards!’ In the humour we were in, we could have written a better -epitaph, for him than he has done for himself. We went directly and -bought his Letter to Mr. W. Smith, which appeared the same day as -himself, and this at once put an end to our sentimentality. - - - - - ON THE SPY-SYSTEM - - - _Morning Chronicle_, _June 30, 1817_. - -Lord Castlereagh, in the debate some evenings ago, appeared in a new -character, and mingled with his usual stock of political common places, -some lively moral paradoxes, after a new French pattern. According to -his Lordship’s comprehensive and liberal views, the liberty and -independence of nations are best supported abroad by the point of the -bayonet; and morality, religion, and social order, are best defended at -home by spies and informers. It is a pretty system, and worthy of itself -from first to last. The Noble Lord in the blue ribbon took the -characters of Castles and Oliver under the protection of his blushing -honours and elegant casuistry, and lamented that by the idle clamour -raised against such characters, _Gentlemen_ were deterred from entering -into the honourable, useful, and profitable profession of Government -Spies. Perhaps this piece of intellectual gallantry on the part of the -Noble Lord, was not quite so disinterested as it at first appears. There -might be something of fellow-feeling in it. The obloquy which lights on -the underlings in such cases, sometimes glances indirectly on their -principals and patrons; nor do they wipe it off by becoming their -defenders. Lord Castlereagh may say with _Lingo_ in the play, who boasts -‘that he is not a scholar, but a master of scholars,’ that he is not a -spy, but a creator of spies and informers—not a receiver, but a -distributor of blood-money—not a travelling companion and scurvy -accomplice in the forging and uttering of sham treasons and -accommodation plots, but head of the town-firm established for that -purpose—not the dupe or agent of the treason hatched by others, but -chief mover and instigator of the grand plot for increasing the power of -the Sovereign, by hazarding the safety of his person. Lord Castlereagh -recommended the character of his accomplices, as spies and informers, to -the respect and gratitude of the country and the House; he lamented the -prejudice entertained against this species of patriotic service, as -hindering _gentlemen_ from resorting to it as a liberal and honourable -profession. One of these delicious protegés of ministerial gratitude, -was, it seems, at one time a distributor of forged notes, and gained the -reward promised by Act of Parliament, by hanging his accomplices. Could -not his Lordship’s nice notions of honour relax a little farther, and -recommend the legal traffic in bank notes and blood-money, as a new -opening to honourable ambition and profitable industry? Castles’s wife -was also the keeper of a house of ill fame. Could not his Lordship, with -the hand of a master, have drawn a veil of delicacy over this slight -stain in his character, and redeemed a profession, not without high -example to justify it, from the vulgar obloquy that attends it? We are -afraid his Lordship is but half an adept in these sort of lax paradoxes, -and that Peachum, Jonathan Wild, and Count Fathom, are much honester -teachers of that kind of transcendental morality than he. This kind of -revolutionary jargon must have sounded oddly in the ears of some of his -Lordship’s hearers. Mr. Wynne, who dreads all re-action so much, must -have looked particularly argute at this innovation in the parliamentary -theory of moral sentiments. What would the country gentlemen say to it? -One would think Lord Lascelles’s hat, that broad brimmed monument of -true old English respectability, must have cowered and doubled down in -dog’s ears at the sound! What will the ardent and superannuated zeal of -that _preux Chevalier_, the Editor of _The Day and New Times_, say to -this stain upon the innate honour and purity of legitimacy, to this new -proof that ‘the age of chivalry is gone for ever, and that of -sophisters, economists, and calculators, has succeeded!’ What will John -Bull, who has been crammed these twenty-five years with the draff and -husks of concrete prejudices, unsifted, unbolted, in their rawest state, -say to the analytical distinctions, to the refined _police_-morality of -the Noble Lord? We might consider his harangue on the public services -and private virtues of spies and informers, according to the -utility-doctrine of modern philosophy, as forming an era in the history -of English loyalty and Parliamentary pliability. What! Is it meant, -after building up the present system of power and influence on the -accumulated pile of our political prejudices, to extend and strengthen -it, by undermining all our moral sentiments and national habits? Yet we -are told, that there is no imputation on the _moral_ character of -Oliver! We wonder Mr. Wilberforce did not suggest that his _religious_ -character also remained unimpeached, except, indeed, that he had been -guilty of subornation of treason on the Sabbath-day. According to our -present catechism of legitimacy, to be a _cat’s-paw_ is to be -virtuous—is to be moral—is to be pious—is to be loyal—is to be a -patriot—is to be what Castles _is_, and Castlereagh _approves_!—This -subject naturally leads us into low company and low allusions. As, after -Fielding’s Hero had finished his speech on _honour_ his friend the -_Count_ pronounced him a Great Prig, so, after Lord Castlereagh’s speech -of Monday evening, we can no longer refuse to consider him a Great Man, -in the sense of the philosophical historian; that is to say, a man who -has a very great regard for himself, and a very great contempt for the -prejudices and feelings of the rest of mankind. - - - - - ON THE SPY-SYSTEM (_continued_) - - - _July 15, 1817._ - -The debate in the House of Commons on Mr. Brougham’s motion took a very -spirited, and rather personal turn. We do not think Lord Castlereagh was -quite successful in rebutting the principal charges brought against his -foreign and domestic policy. With respect to Genoa, for instance, and -the late arbitrary contributions levied on British merchants there, his -Lordship seemed to say that he had but one object, and that in this -respect his conduct had been uniformly consistent while abroad, namely, -to protect legitimacy, and that the rights and property of British -subjects were accordingly left to shift for themselves, as things -beneath his notice. This answer will hardly satisfy most of our readers. -He considered it an illiberal and injurious policy to attempt to force -our exclusive commercial interests upon foreign nations. But is there no -alternative in his Lordship’s mind between bullying and domineering over -other nations, and tamely crouching under every species of insult or act -of pillage they may wantonly exercise upon us? We have put down the -colossal power of Bonaparte. Is every ‘petty tyrant’ who has succeeded -him, to brave us with impunity, lest a word of remonstrance, a whisper -of complaint, should rouse their vengeance? Are we not to mention their -names, lest these new Gods of the earth, these modern _Dii Minores_, -should hear us! His Lordship also appears to despair of the restoration -of peace in Spanish America. If he includes in the idea of _peace_ the -quiet re-establishment of the tyranny of the old Government, we are -happy to agree with him. - -With respect to the changes which have taken place at home, his Lordship -failed in making the necessity for them clear to our understandings. We -cannot assent to the accuracy of his statements, or the soundness of his -logic. He has suspended the laws of the country to save us from the -danger of anarchy! We deny the danger, and deprecate the remedy. If -ministers could afford to fan the flame of insurrection, to _alarm_ the -country into a surrender of its liberties, we contend that a danger that -could be thus tampered with, thus made a convenient pretence for seizing -a power beyond the law to put it down, might have been put down _without -a power beyond the law_. If a Government’s conspiring against itself -were a sufficient ground for arming it with arbitrary power, no country -could for a moment be safe against ministerial treachery and -encroachment, against real despotism founded on pretended disaffection. -Government would be in perpetual convulsions and affected hysterics, -like a fine lady who wants to domineer over her credulous husband. We -deny that disaffection existed, except that kind which arose from -extreme distress. Hunger is not disloyalty. Nor can we admit that a -Government’s having reduced a country to a state of unparalleled -distress, and consequent desperation, is a reason for giving -_carte-blanche_ to the Government, and putting the people under military -execution. At this rate, the worse the Government, the more firmly it -ought to be rooted: the greater the abuse of confidence, the more blind -and unlimited the confidence ought to be: and any administration need -only bring a nation to the brink of ruin, in order to have a right to -plunge it into the depths of slavery. It is easy to keep the peace with -the sword;—more flattering to the pride of power to crush resistance to -oppression, than to remove the causes of it. To reduce a people to the -alternative of rebellion or of arbitrary sway, does not require the -talents of a great statesman. If Lord Castlereagh claims the merit of -having reduced us to that alternative, we shall not dispute it with him: -whatever may be the result, we cannot thank him. - -His Lordship might, however, have made good his retreat, with a decent -orderly appearance, if he had not chosen to go out of his way to take up -a Spy behind him on his new metaphysical charger, and to ride the high -horse over all those, who are not the fast friends and staunch admirers -of that profession, as traitors and _no true men_. Sir Francis Burdett, -not relishing this assault of the master and man, pulled off the Squire, -and rolling him in the mud, pelted him so unmercifully with Irish -evidence and musty affidavits of his friends and relations, that his -gallant patron, seeing the plight he was in, dismounted, and was -condescending enough to acknowledge, that ‘cruelty was in every species -detestable,’ and that ‘he lamented to think that there were miscreants -in human nature capable of committing crime for the love of reward’; -sentiments not new indeed, but new in his Lordship’s mouth. The country -gentlemen must have felt relieved, and Lord Lascelles’s hat have -recovered its primitive shape! The House of Commons is no dupe; Lord -Castlereagh no driveller. Would he then seriously persuade them, that -the Spy hanged his old friends and accomplices out of pure love to his -country, and disinterested friendship to his Lordship? We would advise -the noble Lord in the blue ribbon to _cut_ his parliamentary connexion -with his police acquaintance at once. The thing cannot answer; it is -against decorum. He might as well introduce his scavenger as a person of -fashion at Carlton-House, as attempt to pass off his _Spy_ as a -gentleman, and a man of honour, any where else! The gentlemen-ushers -would turn up their noses at one of his Lordship’s necessary appendages, -and the moral sense of the English nation turns with disgust from the -other, when forced upon it as a _beau morceau_ of morality, with the -_sauce picquant_ of ministerial panegyric! We were glad to find the -former Secretary for Ireland reprobating the practice of flogging to -extract evidence, as ‘a most wicked and unwarrantable piece of torture’; -a confession which seemed to be extorted from his Lordship by the -impression made by the reading of some of Mr. Finnerty’s affidavits, as -they are called, though they are no more Mr. Finnerty’s affidavits, who -procured them, than they are Mr. Bennet’s, who read them. Every thing -relating to this subject is particularly interesting at this moment, -when the same power is vested in the same hands in this country, that -was wielded twenty years ago in Ireland—not indeed as a precedent to the -English government, but as a warning to the English people. We give no -opinion on the truth or falsehood of the allegations contained in the -affidavits, but we do say, that the noble Secretary reasoned very badly -on the subject. He says that Mr. Finnerty is not a very loyal man, that -is, he is not very strongly attached to his Lordship’s person or -government, and therefore neither Mr. Finnerty, nor any person taking an -oath in an Irish court of justice, reflecting on his Lordship’s -administration, is to be believed. Mr. Finnerty published an account of -the proceedings on Orr’s trial, which was deemed a libel, and therefore -the whole history of the Irish rebellion and of the year 1798 is a -fable. Lord Castlereagh would not consent to quash his prosecution of -Mr. Finnerty on this ground some years ago, because he would not shun -inquiry, and yet the affidavits were not suffered to be read in court, -and his lordship deprecates their production in parliament. He thinks it -hard that he must be called on to prove a negative, when others swear -positively to the affirmative. Accusation against his Lordship is to -pass not for a proof of guilt but innocence, and his inability to refute -the charge only calls for a greater degree of candid interpretation and -implicit faith in his Lordship’s word. Insinuation only requires -confidence to repel it—proof more confidence—conviction unlimited -confidence. Whether the things ever happened or no, they are to be -equally buried in eternal silence in Mr. Finnerty’s ‘disloyal breast’: -not a tittle of evidence is to be suffered to escape from the budget of -affidavits which he has got together by forbidden means. His Lordship’s -Irish administration is to be inscrutable as another Providence, secret -as another Inquisition; the English Parliament are to put the broad seal -of their sanction upon it! It was certainly unlucky at this juncture of -the debate, that Mr. W. Smith should have started up with the case of -Mr. Judkin Fitzgerald, who (it seems, by his own account of his -services, not from any affidavits against him) had been most active in -inflicting this ‘cruel and unwarrantable species of torture,’ and was -made a Baronet in consequence. - - ‘And struts Sir Judkin, an exceeding knave!’ - -The unconsciousness of the Irish government exceeds every thing. They -are not only ‘innocent of the knowledge, till they applaud the deed,’ -but ignorant of it, after they have applauded it. It is no wonder that -the fixed air and volatile spirit of Mr. Canning’s wit frothed up at -this indiscreet mention of Sir Judkin, and that he wished to ‘bury him -quick,’ under the artificial flowers of his oratory. _The dead tell no -tales_—of the dead or the living! Mr. Canning twitted Mr. W. Smith with -attacking the dead, because ‘he had found that the absent could answer.’ -Does this allude to the Laureate? If so, let Mr. Canning call for more -flowers, and lay him by the side of Sir Judkin. This allusion to the -answer to Mr. W. Smith is, however, remarkably candid, as Mr. Southey -declares in it that he never thought Mr. Canning worth an answer. He may -now return the compliment in kind, by inscribing the next edition of his -‘Inscriptions’ to the author of the ‘Anti-Jacobin.’ - - - - - ON THE TREATMENT OF STATE PRISONERS. - - ‘O silly sheep, come ye to seek the lamb here of the wolf!’ - - - _July 17, 1817._ - -A writer in a Morning Paper, a few days ago, commented very wisely and -wittily on the situation of the State Prisoners under the Suspension of -the Habeas Corpus, as a warning to the people of England not to meddle -in politics. He seemed infinitely amused with the inability of these -poor devils ‘to get out,’ though he seemed to know no reason why they -should be kept in. ‘One of these gentlemen must have a flute, -_forsooth_!’ he exclaims with a very hysterical air, as if it was a good -joke truly for a man to have a flute taken from him, and not to be able -to get it back again.[40] Even Mr. Hiley Addington allows that Evans -might have his flute again, if he did not use it. If this writer had -himself been in the habit of blowing a great war-trumpet, and wished to -make as much noise as ever with it in time of peace, he might not like -to have it taken from him. He, however, consoles Mr. Evans for the loss -of his flute, with the very old and original observation, ‘That the -people bear the same relation to the Government, as the sheep to the -shepherd, and that the sheep ought not to dictate to the shepherd, or -remonstrate against what he does for their good.’ Now the sheep are not -usually in the habit of dictating, or remonstrating on such occasions, -except in that sort of language which _Lawyer Scout_ advises -_Sheep-face_ to imitate before _Justice Mittimus_, and to which this -Professional Gentleman seems to wish the State Prisoners to resort in -their intercourse with the Home Department. The fleecy fools, whom the -writer holds up as models of wisdom and spirit to his countrymen, do, to -be sure, make a terrible noise at a sheep-shearing, and a short struggle -when they feel the knife at their throats. But our allegorist, we -suspect, would regard these as Jacobinical, or Ultra-Jacobinical -symptoms. He would have the people stand still to be fleeced, and have -their throats cut, whenever Government pleases. He has in his eye the -sublimest example of self-devotion: ‘As a lamb, he was led to the -slaughter: as a sheep before the shearers is dumb, so he opened not his -mouth.’ We cannot understand the point of comparison in this -_sheep-biting_ argument. If the people are really to be as silly, and as -submissive as sheep, they will be worse treated. A flock of sheep pass -their time very comfortably on Salisbury plain, biting the short sweet -grass, or lying with ‘meek mouths ruminant,’ till they are fit to send -to market: we have sometimes heard them fill the air with a troublous -cry, as they pass down Oxford-street, to Smithfield, and the next -morning it is all over with them. But Governments have not the same -reasons for taking care of the people, ‘poor, poor dumb mouths,’ they do -not ordinarily sell them or eat them. The comparison would be much -nearer to beasts of burden, asses, or ‘camels in their war,’ who, as -Shakspeare expresses it,— - - ——‘have their provender - Only for bearing burthens, and sore blows - For sinking under them.’ - -However edifying and attractive these kind of examples of simplicity, -patience, and good behaviour, taken from sheep, oxen, and asses, must be -to the people, they are rather invidious, something worse than -equivocal, as they relate to the designs and good-will of the Government -towards them. This writer indeed commits himself very strangely on this -subject, or, as the phrase is, _lets the cat out of the bag_, without -intending it. In a broadside which he published against the author of -the ‘Political Register,’ he says with infinite _naiveté_:—‘Mr. Cobbett -had been sentenced to two years’ imprisonment for a libel; and during -the time that he was in Newgate, it was discovered that he had been -secretly in treaty with Government to avoid the sentence passed upon -him; and that he had proposed to certain of the Agents of Ministers, -that if they would let him off, they might make what future use they -pleased of him: _he would entirely betray the cause of the people_: he -would either write or not write, or _write against them_, as he had once -done before, just as Ministers thought proper. To this, however, it was -replied, that “_Cobbett had written on too many sides already to be -worth a groat for the service of Government,” and he accordingly -suffered his confinement_.’ - -This passage is at least worth a groat: it lets us into the Editor’s -real opinion of what it is that alone makes any writer ‘worth a groat -for the service of Government,’ viz. his being able and willing -_entirely to betray the cause of the people_; and, we should hope, may -operate as an antidote to any future cant about sheep and shepherds! - -The same consistent patriot and loyalist, the Sir Robert Filmer of the -day, asked some time ago—‘Where is the madman that believes the doctrine -of Divine Right? Where is the madman that asserts that doctrine?’ As no -one else was found to do it, he himself, the other day, took up his own -challenge, and affirmed, with a resolute air, that—‘Louis XVIII. had the -same right to the throne of France, independently of his merits or -conduct, that Mr. Coke, of Norfolk, had to his estate at Holkham.’ He -did not say whether James II. had the same right to the throne of -England, independently of his conduct or merits, that Louis XVIII. has -to the throne of France: but the inference of course is that the people -of France belong to Louis XVIII. just as the live stock on a farm -belongs to the owner of it, or as the slaves in the West Indies belong -to the owners of the plantation, and that mankind are neither more or -less than a herd of slaves, the property of kings. This is at least as -good a thing as the doctrine of divine right. We do not wonder that the -writer, after this ‘delicious declaration,’ thought it proper to -apologize to his court-readers for expressing his approbation of the -abolition of the Slave Trade, as indirectly compromising those -principles of legitimacy, which make one part of the species the -property of another, and which we have seen so successfully established -in Europe as the basis of liberty, humanity, and social order! - - - - - THE OPPOSITION AND ‘THE COURIER’ - - - _July 19, 1817._ - -The Opposition, it seems, with Mr. Brougham at their head, ‘attack all -that is valuable in our institutions.’ So says Lord Castlereagh? and, to -make the thing the more incredible, so says _The Courier_! They attack -Sir Judkin Fitzgerald and the use of the torture; and _therefore_ they -attack all that is valuable in our institutions. They attack the system -of spies and informers; and therefore they attack all that is valuable -in our institutions. They object to the moral characters of such men as -Castles and Oliver; and therefore they attack all that is most -respectable in the country. They consider Lord Sidmouth, who is ‘to -acquaint us with the perfect spy o’ th’ time,’ as no conjurer, treat his -circular letters and itinerant incendiaries with as little ceremony as -respect; and therefore they are hostile to all that is venerable in our -constituted authorities. They do not approve of the Suspension of the -Habeas Corpus, of Standing Armies, and Rotten Boroughs; and therefore -they would overturn all that is most valuable in the Constitution. They -say that Lord Castlereagh was connected with the measures of the Irish -government in the year 1798; and they are said to hold a language -‘grossly libellous.’ They say that they do not wish the same system to -be introduced by his Lordship in this country; and their principles are -denounced as ‘of a decidedly revolutionary character.’ They think of the -present administration as Mr. Canning formerly thought of it, and they -think of Mr. Canning as all the world think. Is that all? Oh no! They -speak against the renewal of the Income Tax; and this, in the opinion of -some persons, is attacking what is more valuable than all our other -institutions put together! For our own parts, our political confession -of faith on this subject is short: we neither consider Lord Castlereagh -as the Constitution, nor _The Courier_ as the Country. - -But if, after all, and in spite of our teeth, we should be forced to -acknowledge that Sir Judkin Fitzgerald and the use of the torture, that -the system of spies and informers, that Lord Sidmouth’s sagacity, -circulars, and travelling delegates, that arbitrary imprisonment and -solitary confinement, the Suspension of the Habeas Corpus, Standing -Armies, and Rotten Boroughs, Lord Castlereagh’s past measures or future -designs, Mr. Canning’s love of liberty, and Mr. Vansittart’s hankerings -after the Income Tax, are all that is left _valuable in our -institutions, or respectable in the country_, then we must say, that the -more effectually the Opposition ‘attack all that is valuable in such -institutions,’ the more we shall thank them; and that the sooner we can -get rid of all that is ‘most respectable’ in such a system, the less -occasion we shall have to blush for the Country. - - - - - ENGLAND IN 1798 - - BY S. T. COLERIDGE. - - - _August 2, 1817._ - -‘The Monthly Magazine tells us that this country has occasioned the -death of 5,800,000 persons in Calabria, Russia, Poland, Germany, France, -Spain, and Portugal. This country, reader, England! our country, our -great, our glorious, our beloved country, according to this Magazine, -has been the guilty cause of all this carnage!’—So says _Mr. Southey_ -apud _the Quarterly Review_, 1817. Thus sings Mr. Coleridge, in his -‘Fears in Solitude,’ 1798:— - - ‘We have offended, oh! my countrymen! - We have offended very grievously, - And been most tyrannous. - ——Thankless too for peace; - (Peace long preserv’d by fleets and perilous seas) - Secure from actual warfare, we have lov’d - To swell the war-whoop, passionate for war! - Alas! for ages ignorant of all - Its ghastlier workings (famine or blue plague, - Battle, or siege, or flight through wintry snows), - We, this whole people, have been clamorous - For war and bloodshed; animating sports, - The which we pay for as a thing to talk of, - Spectators and not combatants! No guess - Anticipative of a wrong unfelt, - No speculation on contingency. - However dim and vague, too vague and dim - To yield a justifying cause; and forth - (Stuff’d out with big preamble, holy names, - And adjurations of the God in Heaven), - We send our mandates for the certain death - Of thousands and ten thousands! Boys and girls, - And women, that would groan to see a child - Pull off an insect’s leg, all read of war, - The best amusement for our morning’s meal! - The poor wretch, who has learnt his only prayers - For curses, who knows scarcely words enough - To ask a blessing from his Heavenly Father, - Becomes a fluent phraseman, absolute - And technical in victories and defeat, - And all our dainty terms for fratricide; - Terms which we trundle smoothly o’er our tongues, - Like mere abstractions, empty sounds to which - We join no feeling and attach no form! - As if the soldier died without a wound; - As if the fibres of this godlike frame - Were gored without a pang; as if the wretch - Who fell in battle, doing bloody deeds, - Pass’d off to heaven, translated, and not killed; - As though he had no wife to pine for him— - No God to judge him! Therefore, evil days - Are coming on us, O my countrymen! - And what if all-avenging Providence, - Strong and retributive, should make us know - The meaning of our words; force us to feel - The desolation and the agony - Of our fierce doings! - I have told, - O Britons! O my brethren! I have told - Most bitter truth, but without bitterness. - Nor deem my zeal or factious or mistimed: - For never can true courage dwell with them, - Who playing tricks with conscience, dare not look - At their own vices. We have been too long - Dupes of a deep delusion!—Others, meanwhile, - Dote with a mad idolatry; and all - Who will not fall before their images, - And yield them worship, they are enemies - Even of their country! - Such have I been deem’d.[41]— - S. T. C. - - - - - ON THE EFFECTS OF WAR AND TAXES - - ‘Great princes have great playthings. Some have play’d - At hewing mountains into men, and some - At building human wonders mountain-high. - But war’s a game, which, were their subjects wise, - Kings would not play at.’ COWPER. - - - _August 13, 1817._ - -The whole question of the effect of war and taxes, in an economical -point of view, reduces itself to the distinction between _productive_ -and _unproductive labour_. It is a pity that some member of the House of -Commons does not move a string of resolutions on this subject, as a -comment on the measures of the present, and a guide to those of future -reigns. A film appears to have been spread for some time over the eyes -of the nation, as to the consequences of the course they were pursuing; -and a good deal of pains has been taken, by sophistry, and false -statements, to perplex a very plain question. But we are not without -hopes, in the following observations, of putting the merits of our debt -and taxes in so clear a light, that not even the Finance Committee shall -be any longer blind to them. - -Labour is of two kinds, productive and unproductive:—that which adds -materially to the comforts and necessaries of life, or that which adds -nothing to the common stock, or nothing in proportion to what it takes -away from it in order to maintain itself. Money may be laid out, and -people employed in either of these two kinds of labour equally, but not, -we imagine, with equal benefit to the community.—[_See p. 130, &c. of -this volume._] - -Suppose I employ a man in standing on his head, or running up and down a -hill all day, and that I give him five shillings a day for his pains. He -is equally employed, equally paid, and equally gains a subsistence in -this way, as if he was employed, in his original trade of a shoemaker, -in making a pair of shoes for a person who wants them. But in the one -case he is employed in unproductive, in the other in productive labour. -In the one, he is employed and paid and receives a subsistence for doing -that which might as well be let alone; in the other, for doing that -which is of use and importance, and which must either be done by him, or -give some one else double trouble to do it. If I hire a livery-servant, -and keep him fine and lazy and well-fed to stand behind my chair while I -eat turtle or venison, this is another instance of unproductive labour. -Now the person who is in real want of a pair of shoes, and who has by -his own labour and skill raised money enough to pay for them will not -assuredly lay it out, in preference, in hiring the shoemaker to run up a -hill for him, or to stand upon his head, or behind a chair for his -amusement.[42] But if I have received this money from him in the shape -of taxes, having already received enough in the same way to pay for my -shoes, my stockings, my house, my furniture, &c., then it is very likely -(as we see it constantly happen) that I shall lay out this last five -shillings worth of taxes, which I probably get for doing nothing, in -employing another person to do nothing,—or to run up a hill, or to stand -upon his head, or wait behind me at dinner, while the poor man, who pays -me the tax, goes without his shoes and his dinner. Is this clear? Or put -it thus in two words. _That_ is productive labour, for which a man will -give the only money he has in the world, or a certain sum, having no -more than other people: _that_ is unproductive labour, for which a man -will never give the only money he is worth, the money he has earned by -his own labour, nor any money at all, unless he has ten times as much as -he wants, or as other people have, to throw away in superfluities. A man -who has only got money to buy a loaf will not lay it out in an ice. But -he may lay it out in a dram? Yes; because to the wretched it is often -more important to forget their future than even to supply their present -wants. The extravagance and thoughtlessness of the poor arise, not from -their having more than enough to satisfy their immediate necessities, -but from their not having enough to ward off impending ones,—in a word, -from _desperation_. This is the true answer to Mr. Malthus’s -politico-theological system of parish ethics, the only real clue to the -causes and the cure of pauperism! - -If the Board of Works were to have a canal made from London to the -Land’s End (as has been proposed) this, for aught we know, would be -productive labour, and well paid for out of the public taxes; because -the public might in the end reap the benefit of the money and the labour -so employed. But if the Prince Regent were by the advice of some -fantastical, purblind politician, to order this canal to be lined all -the way with gold-leaf, which would be washed away as soon as the water -came into the canal, this is what we should call unproductive labour. -Such a project would indeed cost as much money, it would require the -raising of as many taxes, it would keep as many men employed, it would -maintain them while they were so employed, just as well as if they were -employed in any other way; but when done, it would be of no use to -Prince or people. We have heard of a patriotic nobleman, who had a -brick-wall built round his estate, to give employment to the poor in his -neighbourhood. If he had afterwards employed them to pull it down again, -it would have given them twice the employment and done twice the good. -But if the same persons had been employed in productive labour, in -raising corn, in making furniture, in building or improving cottages, it -would not have been equally adviseable to set them to work again to burn -the corn, or destroy the furniture, or pull down the cottages. In spite -then of the fashionable doctrines of political economy, so well suited -to the extravagance of the times, there is something else to be -considered in judging of the value of labour, besides what it costs, -_viz._, what it _produces_; whether it is of use to any body, and to -whom. All is not gain that goes out of the purse. The nobleman above -mentioned did not take the money to pay for building the wall round his -estate out of the pockets of the people; but suppose an equal sum to be -taken yearly out of the Civil List or any other branch of public -revenue, and employed in raising some huge heap of stones—not a -monument, but a mausoleum of royal taste and magnificence—the question -is, whether the money thus raised by taxes, and laid out in a job, is a -saving or a loss to the public? And this question is, we conceive, -answered by another, whether if the money had remained in the hands of -the public, they would have agreed among themselves, to have laid it out -in such a building for them to look at? It would hardly be thought wise -to vote a sum of money, to build a _Cottage Ornée_, large enough to -cover a whole county; though the expense (and, according to the theory -we are combating, the benefit) would increase with the size of the -building and the waste of work. The Pyramids of Egypt and the Pavilion -at Brighton, are among the instances of unproductive labour. - -We have been twenty years at war, and have laid out five hundred -millions in war taxes; and what have we gained by it? Where are the -_proceeds_? If it has not been thrown away in what produces no return, -if it has not been sunk in the war, as much as if it had been sunk in -the sea, if the government as good factors for the general weal have -laid out all this enormous sum in useful works, in _productive labour_, -let them give us back the principal and the interest, (which is just -double) and keep the profits to themselves—instead of which, they have -made away with the principal, and come to us to pay _them_ the interest -in taxes. They have nothing to shew for either, but spiked cannon, -rotten ships, gunpowder blown into the air, heaps of dead men’s skulls, -the turned heads and coats of Poets Laureate, with the glories of -Trafalgar and Waterloo, which however will pay no scores. Let them set -them up at auction, and see what they will fetch. Not a _sous_! We have -killed so many French, it is true. But we had better have spent powder -and shot in shooting at crows. Though we have laid the ghost of the -French Revolution, we cannot ‘go to supper’ upon the carcase. If the -present distress and difficulty arise merely from our no longer having a -bugbear to contend with, or because (as Mr. Southey says), the war is no -longer a customer to the markets, to the amount of fifty millions a -year, why not declare war upon the Man in the Moon to-morrow, and never -leave off till we have sent him to keep Bonaparte company at St. Helena? -Why, it is but ordering so many cannon and cutlasses, no matter for what -purpose—and equipping, and fantastically accoutring so many loyal corps -of _minions of the moon_, _Diana’s foresters_, and ‘the manufactures of -Birmingham and Sheffield would revive to-morrow.’ If we had howitzers -before of a prodigious size, let us have bombs of a calibre that Lord -Castlereagh never dreamt of; and instead of iron balls, golden ones. Why -not? The expense would be the greater. If we made the earth ring before, -let us now make the welkin roar. The absurdity would be as costly, and -more bloodless. A voyage to the moon would take at least as much time, -as many lives and millions to accomplish as the march to Paris. But then -our merchants would not meanwhile get a monopoly of the trade of Europe, -to stimulate their laggard patriotism, nor would the sovereigns of -Europe be able to plant the standard of Legitimacy on the horns of the -moon!—But though we have nothing to shew for the money we have madly -squandered in war, we have something to pay for it (rather more than we -can afford) to contractors, monopolists, and sinecurists, to the great -fundholders and borough-mongers, to those who have helped to carry on, -and to those who have been paid for applauding this sport-royal, as the -most patriotic and profitable employment of the wealth and resources of -a country. These persons, the tax-receivers, have got a mortgage on the -property, health, strength, and skill of the rest of the community, who -pay the taxes, which bows their industry to the ground, and deprives -them of the necessary means of subsistence. The principal of the debt -which the nation has contracted, has been laid out in _unproductive -labour_, in inflicting the mischiefs and miseries of war; and the -interest is for the most part equally laid out in _unproductive labour_, -in fomenting the pride and luxury of those who have made their fortunes -by the war and taxes. In a word, the debt and taxes are a government -machine, which diverts that portion of the wealth and industry of the -people, which would otherwise be employed in supplying the wants and -comforts (say) of a hundred persons, to pamper the extravagance, vices, -and artificial appetites of a single individual; and so on in proportion -to the whole country. Every tax laid on in this manner, unnerves the arm -of industry, is wrung from the bowels of want, and breaks the spirit of -a nation, lessens the number of hands which are employed in useful -labour, to seduce them into artificial, dependent, and precarious modes -of subsistence, while the rich themselves find their reward for the -indulgence of their indolence and voluptuousness in ‘the gout, serpigo, -and the rheum,’ so that ‘their proper loins do curse them.’ It has been -said that the taxes taken from the people return to them again, like the -vapours drawn up from the earth in clouds, that descend again in -refreshing dews and fertilizing showers. On the contrary, they are like -these dews and showers drawn off from the ground by artificial channels -into private reservoirs and useless cisterns to stagnate and corrupt. -The money which is paid in taxes is taken from the people; the labour -for which it pays does not benefit the people. A tax which goes to pay -for the feeding of a pair of curricle horses or favourite hunters, -swallows up the subsistence of several poor families. We cannot for -ourselves approve of the privations, of the hunger, cold, or nakedness, -to which these poor families are exposed, to keep up the flesh and the -spirit of the sleek and high-mettled inhabitants of the warm, -well-littered stable, even though they were of the breed of Swift’s -Houynhyms! But that is a different question. All that we mean to say -here is, that the tax takes the corn out of the bellies of the one to -put it into those of the other species. A tax which is laid on to pay -for a dog-kennel or a stable, might have saved a whole village from -going into ruin and decay: and the carriage that glitters like a meteor -along the streets of the metropolis, often deprives the wretched inmate -of the distant cottage of the chair he sits on, the table be eats on, -the bed he lies on. A street lined with coaches and with beggars dying -at the steps of the doors, gives a strong lesson to common sense and -political foresight, if not to humanity. A nation cannot subsist on -unproductive labour, on war and taxes, or be composed merely of parish -and state paupers. All unproductive labour is supported by productive -labour. All persons maintained by the taxes or employed by those who are -maintained by them are a clog, a dead weight upon those who pay them, -that consume the produce of the State, and add nothing to it—a dead -carcase fastened to a living one, with this difference, that it still -devours the food which it does not provide. Need we ask any farther, how -war and taxes, sinecures and monopolies, by degrees, weaken, impoverish, -and ruin a State? Or whether they can go on increasing for ever? There -is an excess of inequality and oppression, of luxury and want, which no -state can survive; as there is a point at which the palsied frame can no -longer support itself, and at which the withered tree falls to the -ground. - -If the sovereign of a country were to employ the whole population in -doing nothing but throwing stones into the sea, he would soon become the -king of a desert island. If a sovereign exhausts the wealth and strength -of a country in war, he will end in being a king of slaves and beggars. -The national debt is just the measure, the check-account of the labour -and resources of the country which have been so wasted—of the stones we -have been throwing into the sea. This debt is in fact an obligation -entered into by the government on the part of the tax-payers, to -indemnify the tax-receivers for their sacrifices in enabling the -government to carry on the war. It is a power of attorney, extorted from -nine-tenths of the community, making over to the remaining tenth an -unlimited command over the resources, the comforts, the labour, the -happiness and liberty of the great mass of society, by which their -resources, their comforts, their labour, their happiness, and their -liberty, have been lost, and made away with in government knick-knacks, -and the kickshaws of legitimacy. Half the resources and productive -labour of the country for the last twenty years, have been sunk in this -debt, and we are now called upon to make good the deficiency—how we -can!—It has been shrewdly asked, whether, if every one paid a hundred -_per cent._ income tax, the nation could flourish? And when we are told -that ‘the war has been a _customer_ to the country for a length of time -to the amount of fifty millions a year,’ that is, has drained that sum -from the pockets of the nation to employ the hands of the nation in -_producing nothing_—we are at no loss to account for the consequences. A -writer, whose own fault it is that we do not feel all the respect for -him we could wish, has ridiculed the idea of a nation being in debt to -itself, ‘like a tradesman to his creditors,’ and contends that ‘a much -fairer instance would be that of a husband and wife playing cards at the -same table against each other, where what the one loses, the other -gains.’ Now men and their wives do not usually pay one another the money -they lose at cards; and most people will be ready enough to reduce this -simile to practice, by not paying the taxes, whenever the author shall -have convinced Mr. Vansittart, that it is no matter whether the money is -in the hands of the people or the government, and that to save trouble -it had better remain where it is. Mr. Southey, in his late pamphlet, has -very emphatically described the different effects of money laid out in -war and peace. ‘What bounds,’ he exclaims, ‘could imagination set to the -welfare and glory of this island, if a tenth part, or even a twentieth -of what the war expenditure has been, were annually applied in improving -and creating harbours, in bringing roads to the best possible repair, in -colonizing upon our waste lands, in reclaiming fens, and conquering -tracts from the sea, in encouraging the liberal arts, endowing schools -and churches,’ &c. This is a singular slip of the pen in so noisy and -triumphant a war-monger as the Poet Laureate. But logical inconsistency -seems to be a sort of poetical license. Even in contradicting himself, -he is not right. For the money as he proposes to employ it, would only -degenerate into so many government jobs, and the low-lived mummery of -Bible Societies. The pinnacle of prosperity and glory to which he would -by these means raise the country, does not seem quite so certain. The -other extreme of distress and degradation, to which the war-system has -reduced it, is deep and deplorable indeed. - - - - - CHARACTER OF MR. BURKE - - - _October 5, 1817._ - -It is not without reluctance that we speak of the vices and infirmities -of such a mind as Burke’s: but the poison of high example has by far the -widest range of destruction: and, for the sake of public honour and -individual integrity, we think it right to say, that however it may be -defended upon other grounds, the political career of that eminent -individual has no title to the praise of consistency. Mr. Burke, the -opponent of the American war, and Mr. Burke, the opponent of the French -Revolution, are not the same person, but opposite persons—not opposite -persons only, but deadly enemies. In the latter period, he abandoned not -only all his practical conclusions, but all the principles on which they -were founded. He proscribed all his former sentiments, denounced all his -former friends, rejected and reviled all the maxims to which he had -formerly appealed as incontestable. In the American war, he constantly -spoke of the rights of the people as inherent, and inalienable: after -the French Revolution, he began by treating them with the chicanery of a -sophist, and ended by raving at them with the fury of a maniac. In the -former case, he held out the duty of resistance to oppression, as the -palladium and only ultimate resource of natural liberty; in the latter, -he scouted, prejudged, vilified, and nicknamed, all resistance in the -abstract, as a foul and unnatural union of rebellion and sacrilege. In -the one case, to answer the purposes of faction, he made it out, that -the people are always in the right; in the other, to answer different -ends, he made it out that they are always in the wrong—lunatics in the -hands of their royal keepers, patients in the sick-wards of an hospital, -or felons in the condemned cells of a prison. In the one, he considered -that there was a constant tendency on the part of the prerogative to -encroach on the rights of the people, which ought always to be the -object of the most watchful jealousy, and of resistance, when necessary: -in the other, he pretended to regard it as the sole occupation and -ruling passion of those in power, to watch over the liberties and -happiness of their subjects. The burthen of all his speeches on the -American war, was conciliation, concession, timely reform, as the only -practicable or desirable alternative of rebellion: the object of all his -writings on the French Revolution was, to deprecate and explode all -concession and all reform, as encouraging rebellion, and as an -irretrievable step to revolution and anarchy. In the one, he insulted -kings personally, as among the lowest and worst of mankind; in the -other, he held them up to the imagination of his readers, as sacred -abstractions. In the one case, he was a partisan of the people, to court -popularity; in the other, to gain the favour of the Court, he became the -apologist of all courtly abuses. In the one case, he took part with -those who were actually rebels against his Sovereign: in the other, he -denounced as rebels and traitors, all those of his own countrymen who -did not yield sympathetic allegiance to a foreign Sovereign, whom we had -always been in the habit of treating as an arbitrary tyrant. - -Nobody will accuse the principles of his present Majesty, or the general -measures of his reign, of inconsistency. If they had no other merit, -they have, at least, that of having been all along actuated by one -uniform and constant spirit: yet Mr. Burke at one time vehemently -opposed, and afterwards most intemperately extolled them: and it was for -his recanting his opposition, not for his persevering in it, that he -received his pension. He does not himself mention his flaming speeches -in the American war, as among the public services which had entitled him -to this remuneration. - -The truth is, that Burke was a man of fine fancy and subtle reflection; -but not of sound and practical judgment, nor of high or rigid -principles.—As to his understanding, he certainly was not a great -philosopher; for his works of mere abstract reasoning are shallow and -inefficient:—nor was he a man of sense and business; for, both in -counsel, and in conduct, he alarmed his friends as much at least as his -opponents:—but he was an acute and accomplished man of letters—an -ingenious political essayist. He applied the habit of reflection, which -he had borrowed from his metaphysical studies, but which was not -competent to the discovery of any elementary truth in that department, -with great facility and success, to the mixed mass of human affairs. He -knew more of the political machine than a recluse philosopher; and he -speculated more profoundly on its principles and general results than a -mere politician. He saw a number of fine distinctions and changeable -aspects of things, the good mixed with the ill, and the ill mixed with -the good; and with a sceptical indifference, in which the exercise of -his own ingenuity was obviously the governing principle, suggested -various topics to qualify or assist the judgment of others. But for this -very reason, he was little calculated to become a leader or a partizan -in any important practical measure. For the habit of his mind would lead -him to find out a reason for or against any thing: and it is not on -speculative refinements, (which belong to _every_ side of a question), -but on a just estimate of the aggregate mass and extended combinations -of objections and advantages, that we ought to decide or act. Burke had -the power of throwing true or false weights into the scales of political -casuistry, but not firmness of mind (or, shall we say, honesty enough) -to hold the balance. When he took a side, his vanity or his spleen more -frequently gave the casting vote than his judgment; and the fieriness of -his zeal was in exact proportion to the levity of his understanding, and -the want of conscious sincerity. - -He was fitted by nature and habit for the studies and labours of the -closet; and was generally mischievous when he came out; because the very -subtlety of his reasoning, which, left to itself, would have -counteracted its own activity, or found its level in the common sense of -mankind, became a dangerous engine in the hands of power, which is -always eager to make use of the most plausible pretexts to cover the -most fatal designs. That which, if applied as a general observation to -human affairs, is a valuable truth suggested to the mind, may, when -forced into the interested defence of a particular measure or system, -become the grossest and basest sophistry. Facts or consequences never -stood in the way of this speculative politician. He fitted them to his -preconceived theories, instead of conforming his theories to them. They -were the playthings of his style, the sport of his fancy. They were the -straws of which his imagination made a blaze, and were consumed, like -straws, in the blaze they had served to kindle. The fine things he said -about Liberty and Humanity, in his speech on the Begum’s affairs, told -equally well, whether Warren Hastings was a tyrant or not: nor did he -care one jot who caused the famine he described, so that he described it -in a way that no one else could. On the same principle, he represented -the French priests and nobles under the old regime as excellent moral -people, very charitable and very religious, in the teeth of notorious -facts—to answer to the handsome things he had to say in favour of -priesthood and nobility in general; and, with similar views, he -falsifies the records of our English Revolution, and puts an -interpretation on the word _abdication_, of which a school-boy would be -ashamed. He constructed his whole theory of government, in short, not on -rational, but on picturesque and fanciful principles; as if the king’s -crown were a painted gewgaw, to be looked at on gala-days; titles an -empty sound to please the ear; and the whole order of society a -theatrical procession. His lamentations over the age of chivalry, and -his projected crusade to restore it, are about as wise as if any one, -from reading the Beggar’s Opera, should take to picking of pockets: or, -from admiring the landscapes of Salvator Rosa, should wish to convert -the abodes of civilized life into the haunts of wild beasts and -banditti. On this principle of false refinement, there is no abuse, nor -system of abuses, that does not admit of an easy and triumphant defence; -for there is something which a merely speculative enquirer may always -find out, good as well as bad, in every possible system, the best or the -worst; and if we can once get rid of the restraints of common sense and -honesty, we may easily prove, by plausible words, that liberty and -slavery, peace and war, plenty and famine, are matters of perfect -indifference. This is the school of politics, of which Mr. Burke was at -the head; and it is perhaps to his example, in this respect, that we owe -the prevailing tone of many of those newspaper paragraphs, which Mr. -Coleridge thinks so invaluable an accession to our political philosophy. - -Burke’s literary talents were, after all, his chief excellence. His -style has all the familiarity of conversation, and all the research of -the most elaborate composition. He says what he wants to say, by any -means, nearer or more remote, within his reach. He makes use of the most -common or scientific terms, of the longest or shortest sentences, of the -plainest and most downright, or of the most figurative modes of speech. -He gives for the most part loose reins to his imagination, and follows -it as far as the language will carry him. As long as the one or the -other has any resources in store to make the reader feel and see the -thing as he has conceived it, in its nicest shades of difference, in its -utmost degree of force and splendour, he never disdains, and never fails -to employ them. Yet, in the extremes of his mixed style, there is not -much affectation, and but little either of pedantry or of coarseness. He -everywhere gives the image he wishes to give, in its true and -appropriate colouring: and it is the very crowd and variety of these -images that has given to his language its peculiar tone of animation, -and even of passion. It is his impatience to transfer his conceptions -entire, living, in all their rapidity, strength, and glancing variety, -to the minds of others, that constantly pushes him to the verge of -extravagance, and yet supports him there in dignified security— - - ‘Never so sure our rapture to create, - As when he treads the brink of all we hate.’ - -He is the most poetical of our prose writers, and at the same time his -prose never degenerates into the mere effeminacy of poetry; for he -always aims at overpowering rather than at pleasing; and consequently -sacrifices beauty and delicacy to force and vividness. He has invariably -a task to perform, a positive purpose to execute, an effect to produce. -His only object is therefore to strike hard, and in the right place; if -he misses his mark, he repeats his blow; and does not care how -ungraceful the action, or how clumsy the instrument, provided it brings -down his antagonist. - - - - - ON COURT-INFLUENCE - - ‘To be honest as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten - thousand.’ - - - _January 3, 1818._ - -It is not interest alone, but prejudice or fashion that sways mankind. -Opinion governs opinion. It is not merely what we can get by a certain -line of conduct that we have to consider, but what others will think of -it. The possession of money is but one mode of recommending ourselves to -the good opinion of the world, of securing distinction and respect. -Except as a bribe to popularity, money is of very limited value. Avarice -is (oftener than we might at first suspect) only vanity in disguise. We -should not want fine clothes or fine houses, an equipage or -livery-servants, but for what others will think of us for having or -wanting them. The chief and most expensive commodity that money is laid -out in purchasing, is respect. Money, like other things, is worth no -more than it will fetch. It is a passport into society; but if other -things will answer the same purpose, as beauty, birth, wit, learning, -desert in art or arms, dress, behaviour, the want of wealth is not felt -as a very severe privation. If a man, who, on whatever pretensions is -received into good company, behaves with propriety, and converses -rationally, it is not inquired after he is gone, nor once thought of -while he is present, whether he is rich or poor. In the mixed -intercourse of private society every one finds his level, in proportion -as he can contribute to its amusement or information. It is even more so -in the general intercourse of the world, where a poet and a man of -genius (if extrinsic circumstances make any difference) is as much -courted and run after for being a common ploughman, as for being a peer -of the realm. Burns, had he been living, would have started fair with -Lord Byron in the race of popularity, and would not have lost it. - -The temptation to men in public life to swerve from the path of duty, -less frequently arises from a sordid regard to their private interests, -than from an undue deference to popular applause. A want of political -principle is, in nine cases out of ten, a want of firmness of mind to -differ with those around us, and to stand the brunt of their avowed -hostility or secret calumnies. - - ‘But still the world and its dread laugh prevails!’ - -An honest man is one whose sense of right and wrong is stronger than his -anxiety that others should think or speak well of him. A man in the same -sense forfeits his character for political integrity, whose love of -truth truckles to his false shame and cringing complaisance, and who -tampers with his own convictions, that he may stand well with the world. -A man who sells his opinion merely to gain by his profligacy, is not a -man without public principle, but common honesty. He ranks in the same -class with a highwayman or a pickpocket.—It is true, interest and -opinion are in general linked together; but opinion flies before, and -interest comes limping after. As a woman first loses her virtue through -her heart, so the yielding patriot generally sacrifices his character to -his love of reputation. - -It is usually opposed by those who make no distinction between the -highest point of integrity and the lowest mercenariness, that Mr. Burke -changed his principles to gain a pension: and that this was the -main-spring of his subsequent conduct. We do not think so; though this -may have been one motive, and a strong one to a needy and extravagant -man. But the pension which he received was something more than a mere -grant of money—it was a mark of royal favour, it was a tax upon public -opinion. If any thing were wanting to fix his veering loyalty, it was -the circumstance of the king’s having his ‘Reflections on the French -Revolution’ bound in morocco (not an unsuitable binding), and giving it -to all his particular friends, saying, ‘It was a book which every -gentleman ought to read!’ This praise would go as far with a vain man as -a pension with a needy one; and we may be sure, that if there were any -lurking seeds of a leaning to the popular side remaining in the author’s -breast, he would after this lose no time in rooting them out of the -soil, that his works might reflect the perfect image of his royal -master’s mind, and have no plebeian stains left to sully it. Kings are -great critics: they are the fountain of honour; the judges of merit. -After such an authority had pronounced it ‘a book which every gentleman -ought to read,’ what gentleman could refuse to read, or dare to differ -with it? With what feelings a privy-counsellor would open the leaves of -a book, which the king had had richly bound, and presented with his own -hand! How lords of the bed-chamber would wonder at the profound -arguments! How peeresses in their own right must simper over the -beautiful similes! How the judges must puzzle over it! How the bishops -would bless themselves at the number of fine things; and our great -classical scholars, Doctors Parr and Burney, sit down for the first time -in their lives to learn English, to write themselves into a bishopric! -Burke had long laboured hard to attain a doubtful pre-eminence. He had -worked his way into public notice by talents which were thought specious -rather than solid, and by sentiments which were obnoxious to some, -suspected by others. His connexions and his views were ambiguous. He -professedly espoused the cause of the people, and found it as hard to -defend himself against popular jealousy as ministerial resentment. He -saw court-lacqueys put over his head; and country squires elbowing him -aside. He was neither understood by friends nor enemies. He was opposed, -thwarted, cross-questioned, and obliged to present ‘a certificate of -merit’ (as he himself says) at every stage of his progress through life. -But the king’s having pronounced that ‘his book was one which every -gentleman ought to read,’ floated him at once out of the flats and -shallows in which his voyage of popularity had been bound, into the full -tide of court-favour; settled all doubts; smoothed all difficulties; -rubbed off old scores; made the crooked straight, and the rough -plain;—what was obscure, became profound;—what was extravagant, lofty; -every sentiment was liberality, every expression elegance: and from that -time to this, Burke has been the oracle of every dull venal pretender to -taste or wisdom. Those who had never heard of or despised him before, -now joined in his praise. He became a fashion; he passed into a proverb; -he was an idol in the eyes of his readers, as much as he could ever, in -the days of his youthful vanity, have been in his own; he was dazzled -with his own popularity; and all this was owing to the king. No wonder -he was delighted with the change, infatuated with it, infuriated! It was -better to him than four thousand pounds a-year for his own life, and -fifteen hundred a-year to his widow during the joint-lives of four other -persons. It was what all his life he had been aiming at.—‘Thou hast it -now, King, Cawdor, Glamis, all!’ It was what the nurses had prophecied -of him, and what the school-boy had dreamt; and that which is first, is -also last in our thoughts. It was this that tickled his vanity more than -his pension: it was this that raised his gratitude, that melted his -obdurate pride, that opened the sluices of his heart to the poison of -corruption, that exorcised the low, mechanic, vulgar, morose, sour -principles of liberty clean out of him, left his mind ‘swept and -garnished,’ parched and dry, fevered with revenge, bloated with -adulation; and made him as shameless and abandoned in sacrificing every -feeling of attachment or obligation to the people, as he had before been -bold and prodigal in heaping insult and contumely upon the throne. He -denounced his former principles, in the true spirit of an apostate, with -a fury equal to the petulant and dogmatical tone in which he had -asserted them; and then proceeded to abuse all those who doubted the -honesty or wisdom of this change of opinion. He, in short, looked upon -every man as his enemy who did not think ‘his book fit for a gentleman -to read’; and would willingly have committed every such presumptuous -sceptic to the flames for not bowing down in servile adoration before -this idol of his vanity and reputation. Hence the frantic philippics in -his latter revolutionary speeches and writings, and the alteration from -a severe and stately style of eloquence and reasoning in his earlier -compositions to the most laboured paradoxes and wildest declamation. We -do not mean to say that his latest works did not display the greatest -genius. His native talents blazed out, undisguised and unconfined in -them. _Indignatio facit versus._ Burke’s best Muse was his vanity or -spleen. He felt quite at home in giving vent to his personal spite and -venal malice. He pleaded his own cause and the cause of the passions -better and with more eloquence, than he ever pleaded the cause of truth -and justice. He felt the one rankling in his heart with all their heat -and fury; he only conceived the other with his understanding coldly and -circuitously.—The ‘Letters of William Burke’ give one, however, a low -idea of Burke’s honesty, even in a pecuniary point of view.—(See Barry’s -‘Life.’) He constantly tells Barry, as a source of consolation to his -friend, and a compliment to his brother, ‘that though his party had not -hitherto been successful, or had not considered him as they ought, -matters were not so bad with him but that he could still afford to be -honest, and not desert the cause.’ This is very suspicious. This -querulous tone of disappointment, and cockering up of his boasted -integrity, must have come from Burke himself; who would hardly have -expressed such a sentiment, if it had not been frequently in his -thoughts; or if he had not made out a previous debtor and creditor -account between preferment and honesty, as one of the regular principles -of his political creed. - -The same narrow view of the subject, drawn from a supposition that -money, or interest in the grossest sense, is the only inducement to a -dereliction of principle or sinister conduct, has been applied to shew -the sincerity of the present laureate in his change of opinions; for it -was said that the paltry salary of 100_l._ a-year was not a sufficient -temptation to any man of common sense, and who had other means of -gaining an ample livelihood honourably, to give up his principles and -his party, unless he did so conscientiously. That is not the real -alternative of the case. It is not the hundred pounds salary; it is the -honour (some may think it a disgrace) conferred along with it, that -enhances the prize. ‘And with it words of so sweet breath composed, as -made the gift more rare.’[43] It is the introduction to Carlton-House, -the smile, the squeeze by the hand that awaits him there, ‘escap’d from -Pyrrho’s maze, and Epicurus’ sty.’ The being presented at court is worth -more than a hundred pounds a-year. A person with a hundred thousand -pounds a-year can only be presented at court, and would consider it the -greatest mortification to be shut out. It is the highest honour in the -land; and Mr. Southey, by accepting his place and discarding his -principles, receives that highest honour as a matter of course, in -addition to his salary and his butt of sack. He is ushered into the -royal presence as by a magic charm, the palace-gates fly open at the -sight of his laurel-crown, and he stands in the midst of ‘Britain’s -warriors, her statesman, and her fair,’ as if suddenly dropped from the -clouds. Is this nothing to a vain man? Is it nothing to the author of -‘Wat Tyler’ and ‘Joan of Arc’ to have those errors of his youth veiled -in the honours of his riper years? To fill the poetic throne of Dryden, -of Shadwell, of Cibber, and of Pye? To receive distinctions which -Spenser, Shakspeare, and Milton never received, and to chaunt to the -unaverted ear of sovereignty strains such as they never sung? To be seen -on each returning birth-day joining the bright throng, the lengthened -procession, gay, gilt, painted, coronetted, garlanded, that as it passes -to and from St. James’s, all London, in sunshine or in shower, pours out -to gaze at? We tremble for the consequences, should any thing happen to -disturb the Laureate in his dream of perfect felicity. Racine died -broken-hearted, because Louis XIV. frowned upon him as he passed; and -yet Racine was as great a poet and as pious a man as Mr. Southey. - -To move in the highest circles, to be in favour at courts, to be -familiar with princes, is then an object of ambition, which may be -supposed to fascinate a less romantic mind than Mr. Southey’s, setting -the lucrativeness of his conversion out of the question. Many persons -have paid dear for this proud elevation, with bankrupt health and -beggared fortunes. How many are ready to do so still! Mr. Southey only -paid for it _with his opinion_; and some people think it as much as his -opinion was worth. Are we to suppose Mr. Southey’s vanity of so sordid a -kind, that it must be bribed by his avarice? Might not the Poet-laureate -be supposed to catch at a title or a blue ribbon, if it were offered -him, without a round salary attached to it? - -Why do country gentlemen wish to get into parliament, but to be seen -there? Why do overgrown merchants and rich nabobs wish to sit there, -like so many overgrown school-boys? Look at the hundreds of thousands of -pounds squandered in contested elections? It is not ‘gain but glory’ -that provokes the combatants. Do you suppose that these persons expect -to repay themselves by making a market of their constituents, and -selling their votes to the best bidder? No: but they wish to be thought -to have the greatest influence, the greatest number of friends and -adherents in their county; and they will pay any price for it. We put -into the lottery, indeed, in hopes of what we can get, but in the -lottery of life honour is the great prize. It is the opinion of the -people for which the candidate at an election contends; and on the same -principles he will barter the opinion of the people, their rights and -liberty, and his own independence and character, not for gold, but for -the friendship of a court-favourite. Not that gold has not its weight -too, for the great and powerful have that also to bestow:—it is true, -that - - ——‘In their Livery - Walk Crowns and Crownets, Realms and Islands - As Plates drop from their Pockets.’ - -But opinion is a still more insinuating and universal menstruum for -dissolving honesty. _That sweet smile that hangs on princes’ favours_ is -more effectual than even the favours themselves! - - - ON COURT INFLUENCE - - (CONCLUDED) - - ‘To be honest as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten - thousand.’ - - _January 10, 1818._ - -We are all of us more or less the slaves of opinion. There is no one, -however mean or insignificant, whose approbation is altogether -indifferent to us; whose flattery does not please, whose contempt does -not mortify us. There is an atmosphere of this sort always about us, -from which we can no more withdraw ourselves than from the air we -breathe. But the air of a Court is the concentrated essence of the -opinion of the world. The atmosphere there is mephitic. It is subtle -poison, the least exhalation of which taints the vitals of its victims. -It is made up of servile adulation, of sneering compliments, of broken -promises, of smiling professions, of stifled opinions, of hollow thanks, -of folly and lies— - - ‘Soul-killing lies, and truths that work small good.’ - -It is infected with the breath of flatterers, and the thoughts of Kings! -Let us see how its influence descends:—from the King to the people, to -his Ministers first, from the Ministers to both Houses of Parliament, -from Lords to Ladies, from the Clergy to the Laity, from the high to the -low, from the rich to the poor, and ‘pierces through the body of the -city, country, court’—it is beauty, birth, wit, learning, riches, -numbers: it is fear and favour; it has all the splendour that can -seduce, all the power that can intimidate, all the interest that can -corrupt, on its side; so that the opinion of the King is the opinion of -the nation; and if that opinion is not a wise one, hangs like a -millstone round its neck, oppresses it like a nightmare, weighs upon it -like lead, makes truth a lie, right wrong, converts liberty into -slavery, peace into war, plenty to famine, turns the heads of a whole -people, and bows their bodies to the earth. ‘Whosoever shall stumble -against this stone, it shall bruise him: but whomsoever it falls upon, -it shall grind him to powder.’ The whisper of a King rounded in the ear -of a favourite is re-echoed back in speeches and votes of Parliament, in -addresses and resolutions from associations in town and country, drawls -from the pulpit, brawls from the bar, resounds like the thunder of a -people’s voice, roars in the cannon’s mouth, and disturbs the peace of -nations. The frown of monarchs is like the speck seen in the distant -horizon, which soon spreads and darkens the whole hemisphere. Who is -there in his senses that can withstand the gathering storm, or oppose -himself to this torrent of opinion setting in upon him from the throne -and absorbing by degrees every thing in its vortex—undermining every -principle of independence, confounding every distinction of the -understanding, and obliterating every trace of liberty? To argue against -it, is like arguing against the motion of the world with which we are -carried along: its influence is as powerful and as imperceptible. To -question it, is folly; to resist it, madness. To differ with the opinion -of a whole nation, seems as presumptuous as it is unwise: and yet the -very circumstance which makes it so uniform, is that which makes it -worth nothing. Authority is more absolute than reason. Truth curtesies -to power. No arguments could persuade ten millions of men in one country -to be all of one mind, and thirty millions in another country to be of -just the contrary one; but the word of a King does it! We do not like to -differ from the company we are in. How much more difficult is it to -brave the opinion of the world! No man likes to be frowned out of -society. No man likes to be without sympathy. He must be a proud man -indeed who can do without it; and proud men do not like to be made a -mark for ‘scorn to point his slow and moving finger at.’ No man likes to -be thought the enemy of his king and country, without just cause. No man -likes to be called a fool or a knave, merely because he is not a fool -and a knave. It is not desirable to have to answer arguments backed with -informations filed _ex officio_; it is not amusing to become a bye-word -with the mob. A nickname is _the hardest stone that the devil can throw -at a man_. It will knock down any man’s resolution. It will stagger his -reason. It will tame his pride. Fasten it upon any man, and he will try -to shake it off, at any rate, though he should part with honour and -honesty along with it. To be shut out from public praise or private -friendship, to be lampooned in newspapers or Anti-Jacobin reviews, to be -looked blank upon in company, is not ‘a consummation devoutly to be -wished.’ The unfavourable opinion of others gives you a bad opinion of -yourself or them: and neither of these conduces to persevering, -high-minded integrity. To wish to serve mankind, we should think well of -them. To be able to serve them, they should think well of us. To keep -well with the public, is not more necessary to a man’s private interest -than to his general utility. It is a hopeless task to be always striving -against the stream: it is a thankless one to be in a state of perpetual -litigation with the community. The situation of a strange dog in a -country town, barked at and worried by all the curs in the village, is -about as enviable as that of a person who affects singularity in -politics. What is a man to do who gets himself into this predicament, in -an age when patriotism is a misnomer in language, and public principle a -solecism in fact? If he cannot bring the world round to his opinion, he -must as a forlorn hope go over to theirs, and be content to be knave—or -nothing. - -Such is the force of opinion, that we would undertake to drive a first -Minister from his place and out of the country, by merely being allowed -to hire a number of dirty boys to hoot him along the streets from his -own house to the treasury and from the treasury back again. How would a -certain distinguished character, remarkable for uniting the _suaviter in -modo_ with the _fortiter in re_, and who, with an invariable consistency -in his political principles, carries the easiness of his temper to a -degree of apparent _non-chalance_, bear to have a starling in his -neighbourhood taught to repeat nothing but Walcheren, or to ring the -changes in his ears upon the names of Castles, Oliver, and Reynolds? Can -we wonder then at the feats which such Ministers have performed with the -Attorney-General at their backs, and the country at their heels, in full -cry against every one who was not a creature of the Ministers,—for whose -morals they could not vouch as government-spies, or whose talents they -did not reward as government-critics?—Mr. Coleridge, in his Literary -Biography, lately published, complains with pathetic bitterness of the -wanton and wilful slanders formerly circulated with so much zeal in the -Anti-Jacobin against himself, Mr. Southey, and his other poetical -friends, merely for a difference of political opinion; and he -significantly assigns these slanders as the reason why himself and his -friends remained so long adverse to the party who were the authors of -them! We will venture to go a little further, and say, that they were -not only the reason of their long estrangement from the Court-party, but -of their final reconciliation to it. They had time to balance and -reflect, and to make a choice of evils—they deliberated between the loss -of principle and of character, and they were undone. They thought it -better to be the accomplices of venality and corruption than the mark -for them to shoot their arrows at: they took shelter from the abuse by -joining in the cry. Mr. Southey says that he has not changed his -principles, but that circumstances have changed, and that he has grown -wiser from the events of five-and-twenty years. How is it that his -present friend and associate in the Quarterly Review, who was formerly a -contributor to the Beauties of the Anti-Jacobin, has not changed too? -The world has gone round in his time too, but he remains firm to his -first principles. He worships the sun wherever he sees it. Court-favour, -‘the cynosure of longing eyes,’ sheds a more steady influence on its -votaries than vague popularity. The confined, artificial air of a Court -has a wonderful effect in stopping that progress of the mind with the -march of events, of which Mr. Southey boasts, and prematurely fixes the -volatility of genius in a _caput mortuum_ of prejudice and servility, in -those who are admitted within the magic circle! The Anti-Jacobin poet -and orator, Mr. Canning, has not become a renegado to the opinions of -the Court: the Jacobin poet and prose-writer, Mr. Southey, has become a -renegado to his own.—In an article in the Quarterly Review (some months -back) there was an argument to shew that the late war against France was -all along the undoubted result of popular opinion, ‘because from the -first party-spirit ran so high upon this subject, that any one who -expressed an opinion against it did so at the hazard of his reputation, -fortune, or even life.’ The author of this singular argument, we -believe, was one of those, who did not at the critical period here -alluded to approve of it, and who has since become a convert to its -justice and humanity. His own statement may account for his change of -opinion. What a pity for a man to hazard his life and fortune in a cause -by maintaining an opinion, and to lose his character afterwards by -relinquishing it. The present Poet-laureate has missed indeed the crown -of martyrdom, and has gained a crown of laurel in its stead! - -The same consistent writers, and friends of civil and religious liberty, -who are delighted with the restoration of the Bourbons, of the Pope, and -the Inquisition, have lately made an attempt to run down the Dissenters -in this country; and in this they are right. They dwell with fondness on -‘the single-heartedness of the Spanish nation,’ who are slaves and -bigots to a man, and scoff at the Presbyterians and Independents of this -country (who ousted Popery and slavery at the Revolution, and who had a -main hand in placing and continuing the present family on the throne) as -but half-Englishmen, and as equally disaffected to Church and State. -There is some ground for the antipathy of our political changelings to a -respectable, useful, and conscientious body of men: and we will here, in -discharge of an old debt, say what this ground is. If it were only meant -that the Dissenters are but half Englishmen, because they are not -professed slaves—that they are disaffected to the Constitution in Church -and State, because they are not prepared to go all the lengths of -despotism and intolerance under a Protestant hierarchy and -Constitutional King, which they resisted ‘at the peril of their -characters, their fortunes, and their lives,’ under a persecuting -priesthood and an hereditary Pretender, this would be well: but there is -more in it than this. Our sciolists would persuade us that the different -sects are hot-beds of sedition, because they are nurseries of public -spirit, and independence, and sincerity of opinion in all other -respects. They are so necessarily, and by the supposition. They are -Dissenters from the Established Church: they submit voluntarily to -certain privations, they incur a certain portion of obloquy and -ill-will, for the sake of what they believe to be the truth: they are -not time-servers on the face of the evidence, and that is sufficient to -expose them to the instinctive hatred and ready ribaldry of those who -think venality the first of virtues, and prostitution of principle the -best sacrifice a man can make to the Graces or his Country. The -Dissenter does not change his sentiments with the seasons: he does not -suit his conscience to his convenience. This is enough to condemn him -for a pestilent fellow. He will not give up his principles because they -are unfashionable, therefore he is not to be trusted. He speaks his mind -bluntly and honestly, therefore he is a secret disturber of the peace, a -dark conspirator against the State. On the contrary, the different sects -in this country are, or have been, the steadiest supporters of its -liberties and laws: they are checks and barriers against the insidious -or avowed encroachments of arbitrary power, as effectual and -indispensable as any others in the Constitution: they are depositaries -of a principle as sacred and somewhat rarer than a devotion to -Court-influence—we mean the love of truth. It is hard for any one to be -an honest politician who is not born and bred a Dissenter. Nothing else -can sufficiently inure and steel a man against the prevailing prejudices -of the world, but that habit of mind which arises from non-conformity to -its decisions in matters of religion. There is a natural alliance -between the love of civil and religious liberty, as much as between -Church and State. Protestantism was the first school of political -liberty in Europe: Presbyterianism has been one great support of it in -England. The sectary in religion is taught to appeal to his own bosom -for the truth and sincerity of his opinions, and to arm himself with -stern indifference to what others think of them. This will no doubt -often produce a certain hardness of manner and cold repulsiveness of -feeling in trifling matters, but it is the only sound discipline of -truth, or inflexible honesty in politics as well as in religion. The -same principle of independent inquiry and unbiassed conviction which -makes him reject all undue interference between his Maker and his -conscience, will give a character of uprightness and disregard of -personal consequences to his conduct and sentiments in what concerns the -most important relations between man and man. He neither subscribes to -the dogmas of priests, nor truckles to the mandates of Ministers. He has -a rigid sense of duty which renders him superior to the caprice, the -prejudices, and the injustice of the world; and the same habitual -consciousness of rectitude of purpose, which leads him to rely for his -self-respect on the testimony of his own heart, enables him to disregard -the groundless malice and rash judgments of his opponents. It is in vain -for him to pay his court to the world, to fawn upon power; he labours -under certain insurmountable disabilities for becoming a candidate for -its favour: he dares to contradict its opinion and to condemn its usages -in the most important article of all. The world will always look cold -and askance upon him; and therefore he may defy it with less fear of its -censures. The Presbyterian is said to be sour: he is not therefore -over-complaisant— - - ‘Or if severe in thought, - ‘The love he bears to virtue is in fault.’ - -Dissenters are the safest partizans, and the steadiest friends. Indeed -they are almost the only people who have an idea of an abstract -attachment to a cause or to individuals, from a sense of fidelity, -independently of prosperous or adverse circumstances, and in spite of -opposition. No patriotism, no public spirit, not reared in that -inclement sky and harsh soil, in ‘the _hortus siccus_ of dissent,’ will -generally last: it will either bend in the storm or droop in the -sunshine. _Non ex quovis ligno fit Mercurius._ You cannot engraft a -medlar on a crab-apple. A thorough-bred Dissenter will never make an -accomplished Courtier. The antithesis of a Presbyterian Divine of the -old school is the Poet-laureate of the new. We have known instances of -both; and give it decidedly in favour of old-fashioned honesty over -new-fangled policy. - -We have known instances of both. The one we would willingly forget; the -others we hope never to forget, nor can we ever. A Poet-laureate is an -excrescence even in a Court; he is doubly nugatory as a Courtier and a -Poet; he is a refinement upon insignificance, and a superfluous piece of -supererogation. But a Dissenting Minister is a character not so easily -to be dispensed with, and whose place cannot well be supplied. It is the -fault of sectarianism that it tends to scepticism; and so relaxes the -springs of moral courage and patience into levity and indifference. The -prospect of future rewards and punishments is a useful set-off against -the immediate distribution of places and pensions; the anticipations of -faith call off our attention from the grosser illusions of sense. It is -a pity that this character has worn itself out; that that pulse of -thought and feeling has ceased almost to beat in the heart of a nation, -who, if not remarkable for sincerity and plain downright well-meaning, -are remarkable for nothing. But we have known some such, in happier -days; who had been brought up and lived from youth to age in the one -constant belief of God and of his Christ, and who thought all other -things but dross compared with the glory hereafter to be revealed. Their -youthful hopes and vanity had been mortified in them, even in their -boyish days, by the neglect and supercilious regards of the world; and -they turned to look into their own minds for something else to build -their hopes and confidence upon. They were true Priests. They set up an -image in their own minds, it was truth: they worshipped an idol there, -it was justice. They looked on man as their brother, and only bowed the -knee to the Highest. Separate from the world, they walked humbly with -their God, and lived in thought with those who had borne testimony of a -good conscience, with the spirits of just men in all ages. They saw -Moses when he slew the Egyptian, and the Prophets who overturned the -brazen images; and those who were stoned and sawn asunder. They were -with Daniel in the lions’ den, and with the three children who passed -through the fiery furnace, Meshech, Shadrach, and Abednego; they did not -crucify Christ twice over, or deny him in their hearts, with St. Peter; -the Book of Martyrs was open to them; they read the story of William -Tell, of John Huss and Jerome of Prague, and the old one-eyed Zisca; -they had Neale’s History of the Puritans by heart, and Calamy’s Account -of the Two Thousand Ejected Ministers, and gave it to their children to -read, with the pictures of the polemical Baxter, the silver-tongued -Bates, the mild-looking Calamy, and old honest Howe; they believed in -Lardner’s Credibility of the Gospel History: they were deep-read in the -works of the _Fratres Poloni_, Pripscovius, Crellius, Cracovius, who -sought out truth in texts of Scripture, and grew blind over Hebrew -points; their aspiration after liberty was a sigh uttered from the -towers, ‘time-rent,’ of the Holy Inquisition; and their zeal for -religious toleration was kindled at the fires of Smithfield. Their -sympathy was not with the oppressors, but the oppressed. They cherished -in their thoughts—and wished to transmit to their posterity—those rights -and privileges for asserting which their ancestors had bled on -scaffolds, or had pined in dungeons, or in foreign climes. Their creed -too was ‘Glory to God, peace on earth, good will to man.’ This creed, -since profaned and rendered vile, they kept fast through good report and -evil report. This belief they had, that looks at something out of -itself, fixed as the stars, deep as the firmament, that makes of its own -heart an altar to truth, a place of worship for what is right, at which -it does reverence with praise and prayer like a holy thing, apart and -content: that feels that the greatest being in the universe is always -near it, and that all things work together for the good of his -creatures, under his guiding hand. This covenant they kept, as the stars -keep their courses: this principle they stuck by, for want of knowing -better, as it sticks by them to the last. It grew with their growth, it -does not wither in their decay. It lives when the almond-tree -flourishes, and is not bowed down with the tottering knees. It glimmers -with the last feeble eyesight, smiles in the faded cheek like infancy, -and lights a path before them to the grave!—This is better than the life -of a whirligig Court poet. - - - - - ON THE CLERICAL CHARACTER - - ——‘Now mark a spot or two, - Which so much virtue would do well to clear.’—COWPER. - - - _Jan. 24, 1818._ - -The clerical character has, no doubt, its excellences, which have been -often insisted on: it has also its faults, which cannot be corrected or -guarded against, unless they are pointed out. The following are some of -them. - -The first, and most obvious objection we have to it, arises from the -dress. All artificial distinctions of this kind have a tendency to warp -the understanding and sophisticate the character. They create egotism. A -man is led to think of himself more than he should, who by any outward -marks of distinction invites others to fix their attention on him. They -create affectation; for they make him study to be not like himself, but -like his dress. They create hypocrisy; for as his thoughts and feelings -cannot be as uniform and mechanical as his dress, he must be constantly -tempted to make use of the one as a cloak to the other, and to conceal -the defects or aberrations of his mind by a greater primness of -professional costume, or a more mysterious carriage of his person— - - ——‘And in Franciscan think to pass disguised.’ - -No man of the ordinary stamp can retain a downright unaffected -simplicity of character who is always reminding others, and reminded -himself, of his pretensions to superior piety and virtue by a -conventional badge, which implies neither one nor the other, and which -must gradually accustom the mind to compromise appearances for reality, -the form for the power of godliness. We do not care to meet the Lawyers -fluttering about Chancery-lane in their full-bottomed wigs and loose -silk gowns: their dress seems to sit as loose upon them as their -opinions, and they wear their own hair under the well-powdered dangling -curls, as they bury the sense of right and wrong under the intricate and -circuitous forms of law: but we hate much more to meet a three-cornered -well-pinched clerical hat on a prim expectant pair of shoulders, that -seems to announce to half a street before it, that sees the theological -puppet coming, with a mingled air of humility and self-conceit—‘Stand -off, for I am holier than you.’ We are not disposed to submit to this -pharisaical appeal; we are more inclined to resent than to sympathise -with the claims to our respect, which are thus mechanically perked in -our faces. The dress of the bar merely implies a professional -indifference to truth or falsehood in those who wear it, and they seldom -carry it out of Court: the dress of the pulpit implies a greater gravity -of pretension; and they therefore stick to it as closely as to a doublet -and hose of religion and morality. If the reverend persons who are thus -clothed with righteousness as with a garment, are sincere in their -professions, it is well: if they are hypocrites, it is also well. It is -no wonder that the class of persons so privileged are tenacious of the -respect that is paid to the cloth; that their tenderness on this subject -is strengthened by all the incentives of self-love; by the _esprit de -corps_; by the indirect implication of religion itself in any slight put -upon its authorised Ministers; and that the deliberate refusal to -acknowledge the gratuitous claims which are thus set up to our blind -homage, is treated as a high offence against the good order of society -in the present world, and threatened with exemplary punishment in the -next. There is nothing fair or manly in all this. It is levying a tax on -our respect under fraudulent, or at best, equivocal pretences. There is -no manner of connexion between the thing and the symbol of it, to which -public opinion is expected to bow. The whole is an affair of dress—a -dull masquerade. There is no proof of the doctrine of the Trinity in a -three-cornered hat, nor does a black coat without a cape imply sincerity -and candour. A man who wishes to pass for a saint or a philosopher on -the strength of a button in his hat or a buckle in his shoes, is not -very likely to be either; as the button in the hat or the buckle in the -shoes will answer all the same purpose with the vulgar, and save time -and trouble. Those who make their dress a principal part of themselves, -will, in general, become of no more value than their dress. Their -understandings will receive a costume. Their notions will be as stiff -and starched as their bands; their morals strait-laced and ricketty; -their pretended creed formal and out of date; and they themselves a sort -of demure lay-figures, sombre Jacks-of-the-Green, to carry about the -tattered fragments and hoarded relics of bigotry and superstition, -which, when they no longer awe the imagination or impose on credulity, -only insult the understanding and excite contempt.—No one who expects -you to pay the same regard to the cut or colour of his coat as to what -he says or does, will be anxious to set an exclusive value on what can -alone entitle him to respect. You are to take his merit for granted on -the score of civility, and he will take it for granted himself on the -score of convenience. He will do all he can to keep up the farce. These -gentlemen find it no hardship - - ‘To counterfeiten chere - Of court, and ben estatelich of manere, - And to ben holden digne of reverence.’ - -On the contrary, if you offer to withhold it from them, - - ‘Certain so wroth are they, - That they are out of all charity.’ - -This canonical standard of moral estimation is too flattering to their -pride and indolence to be parted with in a hurry; and nothing will try -their patience or provoke their humility so much as to suppose that -there is any truer stamp of merit than the badge of their profession. It -has been contended, that more is made here of the clerical dress than it -is meant to imply; that it is simply a mark of distinction, to know the -individuals of that particular class of society from others, and that -they ought to be charged with affectation, or an assumption of -self-importance for wearing it, no more than a waterman, a fireman, or a -chimney-sweeper, for appearing in the streets in their appropriate -costume. We do not think ‘the collusion holds in the exchange.’ If a -chimney-sweeper were to jostle a spruce divine in the street, which of -them would ejaculate the word ‘Fellow’? The humility of the churchman -would induce him to lift up his cane at the sooty professor, but the -latter would hardly take his revenge by raising his brush and shovel, as -equally respectable insignia of office. As to the watermen and firemen, -they do not, by the badges of their trade, claim any particular -precedence in moral accomplishments, nor are their jacket and trowsers -hieroglyphics of any particular creed, which others are bound to believe -on pain of damnation. It is there the shoe pinches. Where external dress -really denotes distinction of rank in other cases, as in the dress of -officers in the army, those who might avail themselves of this -distinction lay it aside as soon as possible; and, unless very silly -fellows or very great coxcombs, do not choose to be made a gazing-stock -to women and children. But there is in the clerical habit something too -sacred to be lightly put on or off: _once a priest, and always a -priest_: it adheres to them as a part of their function; it is the -outward and visible sign of an inward and invisible grace; it is a light -that must not be hid; it is a symbol of godliness, an edifying -spectacle, an incentive to good morals, a discipline of humanity, and a -_memento mori_, which cannot be too often before us. To lay aside their -habit, would be an unworthy compromise of the interests of both worlds. -It would be a sort of denying Christ. They therefore venture out into -the streets with this gratuitous obtrusion of opinion and unwarrantable -assumption of character wrapped about them, ticketted and labelled with -the Thirty-nine Articles, St. Athanasius’s Creed, and the Ten -Commandments,—with the Cardinal Virtues and the Apostolic Faith sticking -out of every corner of their dress, and angling for the applause or -contempt of the multitude. A full-dressed ecclesiastic is a sort of -go-cart of divinity; an ethical automaton. A clerical prig is, in -general, a very dangerous as well as contemptible character. The utmost -that those who thus habitually confound their opinions and sentiments -with the outside coverings of their bodies can aspire to, is a negative -and neutral character, like wax-work figures, where the dress is done as -much to the life as the man, and where both are respectable pieces of -pasteboard, or harmless compositions of fleecy hosiery. - -The bane of all religions has been the necessity (real or supposed) of -keeping up an attention and attaching a value to external forms and -ceremonies. It was, of course, much easier to conform to these, or to -manifest a reverence for them, than to practise the virtues or -understand the doctrines of true religion, of which they were merely the -outward types and symbols. The consequence has been, that the greatest -stress has been perpetually laid on what was of the least value, and -most easily professed. The form of religion has superseded the -substance; the means have supplanted the end; and the sterling coin of -charity and good works has been driven out of the currency, for the base -counterfeits of superstition and intolerance, by all the money-changers -and dealers in the temples established to religion throughout the world. -Vestments and chalices have been multiplied for the reception of the -Holy Spirit; the tagged points of controversy and lackered varnish of -hypocrisy have eaten into the solid substance and texture of piety; ‘and -all the inward acts of worship, issuing from the native strength of the -soul, run out (as Milton expresses it) lavishly to the upper skin, and -there harden into the crust of formality.’ Hence we have had such shoals -of - - ‘Eremites and friars, - White, black, and grey, with all their trumpery’— - -who have foisted their ‘idiot and embryo’ inventions upon us for truth, -and who have fomented all the bad passions of the heart, and let loose -all the mischiefs of war, of fire, and famine, to avenge the slightest -difference of opinion on any one iota of their lying creeds, or the -slightest disrespect to any one of those mummeries and idle pageants -which they had set up as sacred idols for the world to wonder at. We do -not forget, in making these remarks, that there was a time when the -persons who will be most annoyed and scandalized at them, would have -taken a more effectual mode of shewing their zeal and indignation; when -to have expressed a free opinion on a Monk’s cowl or a Cardinal’s hat, -would have exposed the writer who had been guilty of such sacrilege, to -the pains and penalties of excommunication; to be burnt at an _auto da -fe_; to be consigned to the dungeons of the Inquisition, or doomed to -the mines of Spanish America; to have his nose slit, or his ears cut -off, or his hand reduced to a stump. Such were the considerate and -humane proceedings by which the Priests of former times vindicated their -own honour, which they pretended to be the honour of God. Such was their -humility, when they had the power. Will they complain now, if we only -criticise the colour of a coat, or smile at the circumference of a -Doctor of Divinity’s wig, since we can do it with impunity? We cry them -mercy! - - - ON THE CLERICAL CHARACTER - - ——‘Now mark a spot or two, - Which so much virtue would do well to clear.’—COWPER - - (CONTINUED.) - - - _Jan. 31, 1818._ - -Many people seem to think, that the restraints imposed on the Clergy by -the nature of their profession, take away from them, by degrees, all -temptations to violate the limits of duty, and that the character grows -to the cloth. We are afraid that this is not altogether the case. - -How little can be done in the way of extracting virtues or intellect -from a piece of broad-cloth or a beaver hat, we have an instance in the -Quakers, who are the most remarkable, and the most unexceptionable class -of professors in this kind. They bear the same relation to genuine -characters, not brought up in the trammels of dress and custom, that a -clipped yew-tree, cut into the form of a peacock or an armchair, does to -the natural growth of a tree in the forest, left to its own energies and -luxuriance. The Quakers are docked into form, but they have no spirit -left. They are without ideas, except in trade; without vices or virtues, -unless we admit among the latter those which we give as a character to -servants when we turn them away, viz. ‘that they are cleanly, sober, and -honest.’ The Quaker is, in short, a negative character, but it is the -best that can be formed in this mechanical way. The Priest is not a -negative character; he is something positive and disagreeable. He is -not, like the Quaker, distinguished from others merely by singularity of -dress and manner, but he is distinguished from others by pretensions to -superiority over them. His faults arise from his boasted exemption from -the opposite vices; and he has one vice running through all his -others—hypocrisy. He is proud, with an affectation of humility; -bigotted, from a pretended zeal for truth; greedy, with an ostentation -of entire contempt for the things of this world; professing self-denial, -and always thinking of self-gratification; censorious, and blind to his -own faults; intolerant, unrelenting, impatient of opposition, insolent -to those below, and cringing to those above him, with nothing but -Christian meekness and brotherly love in his mouth. He thinks more of -external appearances than of his internal convictions. He is tied down -to the opinions and prejudices of the world in every way. The motives of -the heart are clogged and checked at the outset, by the fear of idle -censure; his understanding is the slave of established creeds and -formulas of faith. He can neither act, feel, or think for himself, or -from genuine impulse. He plays a part through life. He is an actor upon -a stage. The public are a spy upon him, and he wears a mask the better -to deceive them. If in this sort of theatrical assumption of character -he makes one false step, it may be fatal to him, and he is induced to -have recourse to the most unmanly arts to conceal it, if possible. As he -cannot be armed at all points against the flesh and the devil, he takes -refuge in self-delusion and mental imposture; learns to play at fast and -loose with his own conscience, and to baffle the vigilance of the public -by dexterous equivocations; sails as near the wind as he can, shuffles -with principle, is punctilious in matters of form, and tries to -reconcile the greatest strictness of decorum and regularity of demeanour -with the least possible sacrifice of his own interest or appetites. -Parsons are not drunkards, because it is a vice that is easily detected -and immediately offensive; but they are great eaters, which is no less -injurious to the health and intellect. They indulge in all the -sensuality that is not prohibited in the Decalogue: they monopolize -every convenience they can lay lawful hands on: and consider themselves -as the peculiar favourites of Heaven, and the rightful inheritors of the -earth. They are on a short allowance of sin; and are only the more eager -to catch at all the stray bits and nice morsels they can meet. They are -always considering how they shall indemnify themselves in smaller -things, for their grudging self-denial in greater ones. Satan lies in -wait for them in a pinch of snuff, in a plate of buttered toast, or the -kidney end of a loin of veal. They lead their cooks the devil of a life. -Their dinner is the principal event of the day. They say a long grace -over it, partly to prolong the pleasure of expectation, and to keep -others waiting. They are appealed to as the most competent judges, as -arbiters _deliciarum_ in all questions of the palate. Their whole -thoughts are taken up in pampering the flesh, and comforting the spirit -with all the little debasing luxuries which do not come under the -sentence of damnation, or breed scandal in the parish. You find out -their true character in those of them who have quitted the cloth, and -think it no longer necessary to practise the same caution or disguise. -You there find the dogmatism of the divine ingrafted on the most lax -speculations of the philosophical freethinker, and the most romantic -professions of universal benevolence made a cover to the most unfeeling -and unblushing spirit of selfishness. The mask is taken off, but the -character was the same under a more jealous attention to appearances. -With respect to one vice from which the Clergy are bound to keep -themselves clear, St. Paul has observed, that _it is better to marry -than burn_. ‘Continents,’ says Hobbes, ‘have more of what they contain -than other things.’ The Clergy are men: and many of them, who keep a -sufficient guard over their conduct, are too apt, from a common law of -our nature, to let their thoughts and desires wander to forbidden -ground. This is not so well. It is not so well to be always thinking of -the peccadillos they cannot commit: to be hankering after the fleshpots -of Egypt: to have the charms of illicit gratification enhanced by -privations, to which others are not liable; to have the fancy always -prurient, and the imagination always taking a direction which they -themselves cannot follow. - - ‘Where’s that palace, whereunto foul things - Sometimes intrude not? Who has that breast so pure, - But some uncleanly apprehensions - Keep leets and law-days, and in Sessions sit - With meditations lawful?’ - -But the mind of the Divine and Moralist by profession is a sort of -sanctuary for such thoughts. He is bound by his office to be always -detecting and pointing out abuses, to describe and conceive of them in -the strongest colours, to denounce and to abhor vice in others, to be -familiar with the diseases of the mind, as the physician is with those -of the body. But that this sort of speculative familiarity with vice -leads to a proportionable disgust at it, may be made a question. The -virtue of prudes has been thought doubtful: the morality of priests, -even of those who lead the most regular lives, is not, perhaps, always -‘pure in the last recesses of the mind.’ They are obliged, as it were, -to have the odious nature of sin habitually in their thoughts, and in -their mouths; to wink, to make wry faces at it, to keep themselves in a -state of incessant indignation against it. It is like living next door -to a brothel, a situation which produces a great degree of irritation -against vice, and an eloquent abuse of those who are known to practise -it, but is not equally favourable to the growth and cultivation of -sentiments of virtue. To keep theoretical watch and ward over vice, to -be systematic spies and informers against immorality, ‘while _they_ the -supervisors grossly gape on,’ is hardly decent. It is almost as bad as -belonging to the Society for the Suppression of Vice—a Society which -appears to have had its origin in much the same feeling as the monkish -practice of auricular confession in former times.—Persons who undertake -to pry into, or cleanse out all the filth of a common sewer, either -cannot have very nice noses, or will soon lose them. Swift used to say, -that people of the nicest imaginations have the dirtiest ideas. The -virtues of the priesthood are not the virtues of humanity. They are not -honest, cordial, unaffected, and sincere. They are the mask, not the -man. There is always the feeling of something hollow, assuming, and -disagreeable, in them. There is something in the profession that does -not sit easy on the imagination. You are not at home with it. Do you, or -do you not, seek the society of a man for being a Parson? You would as -soon think of marrying a woman for being an old maid! - -To proceed to what we at first proposed, which was a consideration of -the Clerical Character, less in connexion with private morality than -with public principle. We have already spoken of the Dissenting Clergy -as, in this respect, an honest and exemplary body of men. They are so by -the supposition, in what relates to matters of opinion. The Established -Clergy of any religion certainly are not so, by the same self-evident -rule; on the contrary, they are bound to conform their professions of -religious belief to a certain popular and lucrative standard, and bound -over to keep the peace by certain articles of faith. It is a rare -felicity in any one who gives his attention fairly and freely to the -subject, and has read the Scriptures, the Misnah, and the Talmud—the -Fathers, the Schoolmen, the Socinian Divines, the Lutheran and -Calvinistic controversy, with innumerable volumes appertaining thereto -and illustrative thereof, to believe all the Thirty-nine Articles, -‘except one.’ If those who are destined for the episcopal office -exercise their understandings honestly and openly upon every one of -these questions, how little chance is there that they should come to the -same conclusion upon them all? If they do not inquire, what becomes of -their independence of understanding? If they conform to what they do not -believe, what becomes of their honesty? Their estimation in the world, -as well as their livelihood, depends on their tamely submitting their -understanding to authority at first, and on their not seeing reason to -alter their opinion afterwards. Is it likely that a man will intrepidly -open his eyes to conviction, when he sees poverty and disgrace staring -him in the face as the inevitable consequence? Is it likely, after the -labours of a whole life of servility and cowardice—after repeating daily -what he does not understand, and what those who require him to repeat it -do not believe, or pretend to believe, and impose on others only as a -ready test of insincerity, and a compendious shibboleth of want of -principle: after doing morning and evening service to the God of this -world—after keeping his lips sealed against the indiscreet mention of -the plainest truths, and opening them only to utter mental -reservations—after breakfasting, dining, and supping, waking and -sleeping, being clothed and fed, upon a collusion,—after saying a double -grace and washing his hands after dinner, and preparing for a course of -smutty jests to make himself good company,—after nodding to Deans, -bowing to Bishops, waiting upon Lords, following in the train of Heads -of Colleges, watching the gracious eye of those who have presentations -in their gift, and the lank cheek of those who are their present -incumbents,—after finding favour, patronage, promotion, prizes, praise, -promises, smiles, squeezes of the hand, invitations to tea and cards -with the ladies, the epithets, ‘a charming man,’ ‘an agreeable -creature,’ ‘a most respectable character,’ the certainty of reward, and -the hopes of glory, always proportioned to the systematic baseness of -his compliance with the will of his superiors, and the sacrifice of -every particle of independence, or pretence to manly spirit and honesty -of character,—is it likely, that a man so tutored and trammelled, and -inured to be his own dupe, and the tool of others, will ever, in one -instance out of thousands, attempt to burst the cobweb fetters which -bind him in the magic circle of contradictions and enigmas, or risk the -independence of his fortune for the independence of his mind? -_Principle_ is a word that is not to be found in the Young Clergyman’s -Best Companion: it is a thing he has no idea of, except as something -pragmatical, sour, puritanical, and Presbyterian. To oblige is his -object, not to offend. He wishes ‘to be conformed to this world, rather -than transformed.’ He expects one day to be a Court-divine, a dignitary -of the Church, an ornament to the State; and he knows all the texts of -Scripture, which, tacked to a visitation, an assize, or -corporation-dinner sermon, will float him gently, ‘like little wanton -boys that swim on bladders,’ up to the palace at Lambeth. A hungry poet, -gaping for solid pudding or empty praise, may easily be supposed to set -about a conscientious revision and change of his unpopular opinions, -from the reasonable prospect of a place or pension, and to eat his words -the less scrupulously, the longer he has had nothing else to eat. A -snug, promising, soft, smiling, orthodox Divine, who has a living -attached to the cure of souls, and whose sentiments are beneficed, who -has a critical _bonus_ for finding out that all the books he cannot -understand are written against the Christian Religion, and founds the -doctrine of the Trinity, and his hopes of a Bishopric, on the ignorant -construction of a Greek particle, cannot be expected to change the -opinions to which he has formerly subscribed his belief, with the -revolutions of the sun or the changes of the moon. His political, as -well as religious creed, is installed in hopes, pampered in -expectations; and the longer he winks and shuts his eyes and holds them -close, catching only under their drooping lids ‘glimpses that may make -him less forlorn,’ day-dreams of lawn-sleeves, and nightly beatific -visions of episcopal mitres, the less disposed will he be to open them -to the broad light of reason, or to forsake the primrose path of -preferment, to tear and mangle his sleek tender-skinned conscience, -dipped and softened in the milk-bath of clerical complaisance, among the -thorns and briars of controversial divinity, or to get out on the other -side upon a dark and dreary waste, amidst a crew of hereticks and -schismatics, and Unitarian dealers in ‘potential infidelity’— - - ‘Who far from steeples and their sacred sound, - In fields their sullen conventicles found.’ - -This were too much to expect from the chaplain of an Archbishop. - -Take one illustration of the truth of all that has been here said, and -of more that might be said upon the subject. It is related in that -valuable comment on the present reign and the existing order of things, -Bishop Watson’s Life, that the late Dr. Paley having at one time to -maintain a thesis in the University, proposed to the Bishop, for his -approbation, the following:—‘That the eternity of Hell torments is -contradictory to the goodness of God.’ The Bishop observed, that he -thought this a bold doctrine to maintain in the face of the Church; but -Paley persisted in his determination. Soon after, however, having -sounded the opinions of certain persons, high in authority, and well -read in the orthodoxy of preferment, he came back in great alarm, said -he found the thing would not do, and begged, instead of his first -thesis, to have the reverse one substituted in its stead, _viz._—‘That -the Eternity of Hell torments is not contradictory to the goodness of -God.’—What burning day-light is here thrown on clerical discipline, and -the bias of a University education! This passage is worth all Mosheim’s -Ecclesiastical History, Wood’s Athenæ Oxonienses, and Mr. Coleridge’s -two Lay Sermons. This same shuffling Divine is the same Dr. Paley, who -afterwards employed the whole of his life, and his moderate second-hand -abilities, in tampering with religion, morality, and politics,—in -trimming between his convenience and his conscience,—in crawling between -heaven and earth, and trying to cajole both. His celebrated and popular -work on Moral Philosophy, is celebrated and popular for no other reason, -than that it is a somewhat ingenious and amusing apology for existing -abuses of every description, by which any thing is to be got. It is a -very elaborate and consolatory elucidation of the text, _that men should -not quarrel with their bread and butter_. It is not an attempt to show -what is right, but to palliate and find out plausible excuses for what -is wrong. It is a work without the least value, except as a convenient -common-place book or _vade mecum_, for tyro politicians and young -divines, to smooth their progress in the Church or the State. This work -is a text-book in the University: its morality is the acknowledged -morality of the House of Commons. The Lords are above it. They do not -affect that sort of casuistry, by which the country gentlemen contrive -to oblige the Ministers, and to reconcile themselves to their -constituents. - - - ON THE CLERICAL CHARACTER - - ‘Priests were the first deluders of mankind, - Who with vain faith made all their reason blind; - Not Lucifer himself more proud than they, - And yet persuade the world they must obey; - Of avarice and luxury complain, - And practise all the vices they arraign. - Riches and honour they from laymen reap, - And with dull _crambo_ feed the silly sheep. - As Killigrew buffoons his master, they - Droll on their god, but a much duller way. - With hocus pocus, and their heavenly light, - They gain on tender consciences at night. - Whoever has an over zealous wife, - Becomes the priest’s Amphitrio during life.’ - _Marvel’s State Poems._ - - (CONCLUDED) - - _February 7, 1818._ - -This then is the secret of the alliance between Church and State—make a -man a tool and a hypocrite in one respect and he will make himself a -slave and a pander in every other, that you can make it worth his while. -Those who make a regular traffic of their belief in religion, will not -be backward to compromise their sentiments in what relates to the -concerns between man and man. He who is in the habit of affronting his -Maker with solemn mockeries of faith, as the means of a creditable -livelihood, will not bear the testimony of a good conscience before men, -if he finds it a losing concern. The principle of integrity is gone; the -patriotism of the religious sycophant is rotten at the core. Hence we -find that the Established Clergy of all religions have been the most -devoted tools of power. Priestcraft and Despotism have gone hand in -hand—have stood and fallen together. It is this that makes them so fond -and loving; so pious and so loyal; so ready to play the Court-game into -one another’s hands, and so firmly knit and leagued together against the -rights and liberties of mankind. Thus Mr. Southey sings in laureat -strains:— - - ‘One fate attends the altar and the throne.’ - -Yet the same peremptory versifier qualifies the Church of Rome with the -epithets of ‘that Harlot old,— - - ‘The same that is, that was, and is to be,’— - -without giving us to understand whether in Popish countries, the best -and most ‘single-hearted’ portion of Europe, the same lofty and -abstracted doctrine holds good. This uncivil laureat has indeed gone so -far in one of his ‘songs of delight and rustical roundelays,’ as to give -the Princess Charlotte the following critical advice:— - - ‘Bear thou that great Eliza in thy mind, - Who from a wreck this fabric edified, - AND HER WHO, TO A NATION’S VOICE RESIGNED, - WHEN ROME IN HOPE HER WILIEST ENGINES PLIED, - BY HER OWN HEART AND RIGHTEOUS HEAV’N APPROVED, - STOOD UP AGAINST THE FATHER WHOM SHE LOV’D.’ - -These lines seem to glance at contingent rebellion, at speculative -treason: they have a squint, a strong cast of the eye, that way. But it -is neither our business nor inclination to point out passages in prose -or verse, for the animadversion of the Attorney-General. Mr. Croker, we -fear, however, must have been greatly scandalised at this specimen of -his friend’s original mode of thinking for himself in such delicate -matters as the cashiering of Kings and encouraging their daughters, as -in duty bound, to stand up against them whenever Mr. Southey pleases. -_Launce_ could not have been put more to it when his dog misbehaved -‘among the gentlemanlike dogs at the Duke’s table,’ than the Admiralty -Secretary at this faux-pas of Mr. Southey’s reformed Jacobin Muse. It -was shewing the lady’s breeding to some purpose. This gratuitous piece -of advice to a Protestant Princess is, however, just the reverse of that -which Cardinal Wolsey gave to a Popish ruler of these realms, Henry -VIII., before that Monarch saw reason to change his religious principles -for a wife, as Mr. Southey has changed his political ones for a pension. -The Cardinal was almost as wise a man in his generation as Mr. Southey -is in his; saw as far into reasons of state, and charged by anticipation -all the evils of anarchy and rebellion since his time on that very -Protestant religion, which the modern courtier under the Protestant -succession considers as the only support of passive obedience and -non-resistance. Cavendish, in his Memoirs, in the Harleian Miscellany, -makes Wolsey on his death-bed give this testamentary advice to his -Sovereign:—‘And, Master Kingston, I desire you further to request his -Grace, in God’s name, that he have a vigilant eye to suppress the -hellish Lutherans, that they increase not through his great negligence, -in such a sort as to be compelled to take up arms to subdue them, as the -King of Bohemia was; whose commons being infected with Wickliff’s -heresies, the King was forced to take that course. Let him consider the -story of King Richard the Second, the second son of his progenitor, who -lived in the time of Wickliff’s seditions and heresies: did not the -commons, I pray you, in his time, rise against the nobility and chief -governors of this realm; and at the last, some of them were put to death -without justice or mercy? And, under pretence of having all things -common, did they not fall to spoiling and robbing, and at last took the -King’s person, and carried him about the city, making him obedient to -their proclamations?’—[The author of _Wat Tyler_ has given a very -different version of this story.]—‘Did not also the traitorous heretick, -Sir John Oldcastle, Lord Cobham, pitch a field with hereticks against -King Henry the Fourth, where the King was in person, and fought against -them, to whom God gave the victory? Alas! if these be not plain -precedents and sufficient persuasions to admonish a Prince, then God -will take away from us our present rulers, and leave us to the hands of -our enemies. And then will ensue mischief upon mischief, inconveniences, -barrenness, and scarcity, for want of good orders in the commonwealth, -from which God of his tender mercy defend us.’—_Harleian Miscell._ vol. -iv. p. 556. - -The dying Cardinal might here be supposed to have foreseen the grand -Rebellion, the glorious Revolution of 1688, the expulsion of the -Stuarts, and the Protestant ascendancy, the American and the French -Revolutions—as all growing out of Wickliff’s heresy, and the doctrines -of the hellish Lutherans. Our laurel-honouring laureat cannot see all -this after it has happened. Wolsey was a prophet; he is only a poet. -Wolsey knew (and so would any man but a poet), that to allow men freedom -of opinion in matters of religion, was to make them free in all other -things. Mr. Southey, who raves in favour of the Bourbons and against the -Pope, is ‘blind with double darkness.’ He will assuredly never find that -‘single-heartedness’ which he seeks, but in the bosom of the Church of -Rome. - -One mischief of this alliance between Church and State (which the -old-fashioned Statesman understood so thoroughly and the modern sciolist -only by halves) is, that it is tacit and covert. The Church does not -profess to take any active share in affairs of State, and by this means -is able to forward all the designs of indirect and crooked policy more -effectually and without suspicion. The garb of religion is the best -cloak for power. There is nothing so much to be guarded against as the -wolf in sheep’s clothing. The Clergy pretend to be neutral in all such -matters, not to meddle with politics. But that is, and always must be, a -false pretence. _Those that are not with us, are against us_, is a maxim -that always holds true. These pious pastors of the people and -accomplices of the government make use of their heavenly calling and -demure professions of meekness and humility, as an excuse for never -committing themselves on the side of the people: but the same sacred and -spiritual character, not to be sullied by mixing with worldly concerns, -does not hinder them from employing all their arts and influence on the -side of power and of their own interest. Their religion is incompatible -with a common regard to justice or humanity; but it is compatible with -an excess of courtly zeal. The officiating Clergyman at Derby the other -day pestered Brandreth to death with importunities to inform against his -associates, but put his hand before his mouth when he offered to say -what he knew of Oliver, the Government-spy. This is not exactly as it -should be; but it cannot be otherwise than it is. Priests are naturally -favourers of power, inasmuch as they are dependent on it.—Their power -over the mind is hardly sufficient of itself to insure absolute -obedience to their authority, without a reinforcement of power over the -body. The secular arm must come in aid of the spiritual. The law is -necessary to compel the payment of tythes. Kings and conquerors make -laws, parcel out lands, and erect churches and palaces for the priests -and dignitaries of religion: ‘they will have them to shew their mitred -fronts in Courts and Parliaments’; and in return, Priests anoint Kings -with holy oil, hedge them round with inviolability, spread over them the -mysterious sanctity of religion, and, with very little ceremony, make -over the whole species as slaves to these Gods upon earth by virtue of -divine right! This is no losing trade. It aggrandizes those who are -concerned in it, and is death to the rest of the world. It is a solemn -league and covenant fully ratified and strictly carried into effect, to -the very letter, in all countries, Pagan, Mahommedan, and -Christian,—except this. It is time to put an end to it everywhere. But -those who are pledged to its support, and ‘by this craft have their -wealth,’ have unfortunately remained of one opinion, quite -‘single-hearted’ from the beginning of the world: those who, like Mr. -Southey, are for separating the Man of Sin from the Scarlet Whore, -change their opinions once every five and twenty years. Need we wonder -at the final results? Kings and priests are not such coxcombs or -triflers as poets and philosophers. The two last are always squabbling -about their share of reputation; the two first amicably divide the -spoil. It is the opinion, we understand, of an eminent poet and a minute -philosopher of the present day, that the press ought to be -shackled,—severely shackled; and particularly that the _Edinburgh -Review_, the _Examiner_, and the _Yellow Dwarf_, as full of -_Examinerisms_, ought to be instantly put down. Another poet or -philosopher, who has not been so severely handled in these works, thinks -differently; and so do we. Nay, Mr. —— himself has been a long time in -coming to this opinion; and no wonder, for he had a long way to come in -order to arrive at it. But all the Kings that ever were, and ninety-nine -out of a hundred of all the Priests that surround them, jump at this -conclusion concerning the fatal consequences of the Liberty of the -Press—by instinct. We have never yet seen that greatest calamity that -can befal mankind, deprecated by Mr. Burke, namely, literary men acting -in _corps_, and making common cause for the benefit of mankind, as -another description of persons act in concert and make common cause -against them. He himself was an instance how little need be dreaded in -this way. If the National Assembly had sent for Burke over, to assist in -framing a Constitution for them, this traitor to liberty and apostate -from principle, instead of loading the French Revolution with every -epithet of obloquy and execration which his irritable vanity and -mercenary malice could invent, would have extolled it to the skies, as -the highest monument of human happiness and wisdom. But the genius of -philosophy, as he said, is not yet known. It is a subject which we shall -shortly endeavour to make clear. - - ——‘At this day - When a Tartarean darkness overspreads - The groaning nations; when the impious rule, - By will or by established ordinance, - Their own dire agents, and constrain the good - To acts which they abhor; though I bewail - This triumph, yet the pity of my heart - Prevents me not from owning that the law, - By which mankind now suffers, is most just. - - FOR BY SUPERIOR ENERGIES; MORE STRICT - AFFIANCE WITH EACH OTHER; FAITH MORE FIRM - IN THEIR UNHALLOWED PRINCIPLES; THE BAD - HAVE FAIRLY EARNED A VICTORY O’ER THE WEAK, - THE VACILLATING, INCONSISTENT GOOD.’ - WORDSWORTH. - -In another point of view, Priests are a sort of women in the State, and -naturally subject to the higher powers. The Church has no means of -temporal advancement but through the interest and countenance of the -State. It receives what the other is pleased to allow it as a mark of -friendship, out of the public purse. The Clergy do not engage in active -or lucrative professions: they are occupied with praise and prayer and -the salvation of souls—with heaping up for themselves treasures in -heaven, and wrath upon their enemies’ heads against the day of judgment. -The candidate for Church preferment must therefore look for it as a free -gift at the hands of the great and powerful; he must win his way to -wealth and honours by ‘the sufferance of supernal power.’ The Church can -only hope for a comfortable establishment in the world by finding -favour, as a handmaid, in the eye of the State: the Church must wed the -State, both for protection and a maintenance. The preacher of God’s word -looks for his reward in heaven, but he must live in the mean time. But -he is precluded by his cloth and his spiritual avocations from getting -on in the world by the usual means of interest or ambition. His only -hope of advancement lies in the Bishop’s blessing and his patron’s -smile. These may in time translate him to a vacant diocese of 10,000_l._ -a year. His labours in the cure of souls, or the settling the most -difficult point of controversial divinity, would not, on an average -calculation, bring him in a 100_l._ Parson Adams could not dispose of -his manuscript sermons to the booksellers; and he ruined his hopes of -preferment with Lady Booby, by refusing to turn pimp. Finally, the -Clergy are lovers of abstract power, for they are themselves the -representatives of almighty power: they are ambassadors of religion, -delegates of heaven. The authority under which they act is not always -respected so readily, cordially, and implicitly, as it ought to be, and -they are indignant at the neglect. They become tetchy and imperious, and -mingle the irritability of self-love with their zeal for the honour of -God. They are not backward to call for fire from heaven, and to put down -the Atheist and the Schismatic by the strong hand of power. _Fear God -and honour the King_, is the motto of priestcraft; but it is not a sound -logical dilemma, for this reason, that God is always the same; but Kings -are of all sorts, good, bad, or indifferent—wise, or mad, or -foolish—arbitrary tyrants, or constitutional Monarchs, like our own. The -rule is absolute in the first case, not in the second. But the Clergy, -by a natural infirmity, are disposed to force the two into a common -analogy. They are servants of God by profession, and sycophants of power -from necessity. They delight to look up with awe to Kings, as to another -Providence. It was a Bishop, in the reign of James I. who drew a -parallel between ‘their divine and sacred Majesties,’ meaning the -pitiful tyrant whom he served, and God Almighty: yet the -Attorney-General of that day did not prosecute him for blasphemy. The -Clergy fear God more than they love him. They think more of his power -than of his wisdom or goodness. They would make Kings Gods upon earth; -and as they cannot clothe them with the wisdom or beneficence of the -Deity, would arm them with his power at any rate.[44] - - - - - WHAT IS THE PEOPLE? - - - _March 7, 1818._ - -—And who are you that ask the question? One of the people. And yet you -would be something! Then you would not have the People nothing. For what -is the People? Millions of men, like you, with hearts beating in their -bosoms, with thoughts stirring in their minds, with the blood -circulating in their veins, with wants and appetites, and passions and -anxious cares, and busy purposes and affections for others and a respect -for themselves, and a desire of happiness, and a right to freedom, and a -will to be free. And yet you would tear out this mighty heart of a -nation, and lay it bare and bleeding at the foot of despotism: you would -slay the mind of a country to fill up the dreary aching void with the -old, obscene, drivelling prejudices of superstition and tyranny: you -would tread out the eye of Liberty (the light of nations) like ‘a vile -jelly,’ that mankind may be led about darkling to its endless drudgery, -like the Hebrew Sampson (shorn of his strength and blind), by his -insulting taskmasters: you would make the throne every thing, and the -people nothing, to be yourself less than nothing, a very slave, a -reptile, a creeping, cringing sycophant, a court favourite, a pander to -Legitimacy—that detestable fiction, which would make you and me and all -mankind its slaves or victims; which would, of right and with all the -sanctions of religion and morality, sacrifice the lives of millions to -the least of its caprices; which subjects the rights, the happiness, and -liberty of nations, to the will of some of the lowest of the species; -which rears its bloated hideous form to brave the will of a whole -people; that claims mankind as its property, and allows human nature to -exist only upon sufferance; that haunts the understanding like a -frightful spectre, and oppresses the very air with a weight that is not -to be borne; that like a witch’s spell covers the earth with a dim and -envious mist, and makes us turn our eyes from the light of heaven, which -we have no right to look at without its leave: robs us of ‘the unbought -grace of life,’ the pure delight and conscious pride in works of art or -nature; leaves us no thought or feeling that we dare call our own; makes -genius its lacquey, and virtue its easy prey; sports with human -happiness, and mocks at human misery; suspends the breath of liberty, -and almost of life; exenterates us of our affections, blinds our -understandings, debases our imaginations, converts the very hope of -emancipation from its yoke into sacrilege, binds the successive -countless generations of men together in its chains like a string of -felons or galley-slaves, lest they should ‘resemble the flies of a -summer,’ considers any remission of its absolute claims as a gracious -boon, an act of royal clemency and favour, and confounds all sense of -justice, reason, truth, liberty, humanity, in one low servile death-like -dread of power without limit and without remorse![45] - -Such is the old doctrine of Divine Right, new-vamped up under the style -and title of Legitimacy. ‘Fine word, Legitimate!’ We wonder where our -English politicians picked it up. Is it an echo from the tomb of the -martyred monarch, Charles the First? Or was it the last word which his -son, James the Second, left behind him in his flight, and bequeathed -with his _abdication_, to his legitimate successors? It is not written -in our annals in the years 1688, in 1715, or 1745. It was not sterling -then, which was only fifteen years before his present Majesty’s -accession to the throne. Has it become so since? Is the Revolution of -1688 at length acknowledged to be a blot in the family escutcheon of the -Prince of Orange or the Elector of Hanover? Is the choice of the people, -which raised them to the throne, found to be the only flaw in their -title to the succession; the weight of royal gratitude growing more -uneasy with the distance of the obligation? Is the alloy of liberty, -mixed up with it, thought to debase that _fine carat_, which should -compose the regal diadem? Are the fire-new specimens of the principles -of the Right-Liners, and of Sir Robert Filmer’s patriarchal scheme, to -be met with in _The Courier_, _The Day_, _The Sun_, and some time back, -in _The Times_, handed about to be admired in the highest circle, like -the new gold coinage of sovereigns and half-sovereigns? We do not know. -It may seem to be _Latter Lammas_ with the doctrine at this time of day; -but better late than never. By taking root in the soil of France, from -which it was expelled (not quite so long as from our own), it may in -time stretch out its feelers and strong suckers to this country; and -present an altogether curious and novel aspect, by ingrafting the -principles of the House of Stuart on the illustrious stock of the House -of Brunswick. - - ‘Miraturque novas frondes, et non sua poma.’ - -What then is the People? We will answer first, by saying what it is not; -and this we cannot do better than in the words of a certain author, -whose testimony on the subject is too important not to avail ourselves -of it again in this place. That infatuated drudge of despotism, who at -one moment asks, ‘Where is the madman that maintains the doctrine of -divine right?’ and the next affirms, that ‘Louis XVIII. has the same -right to the throne of France, independently of his merits or conduct, -that Mr. Coke of Norfolk has to his estate at Holkham,’[46] has given us -a tolerable clue to what we have to expect from that mild paternal sway -to which he would so kindly make us and the rest of the world over, in -hopeless perpetuity. In a violent philippic against the author of the -_Political Register_, he thus inadvertently expresses himself:—‘Mr. -Cobbett had been sentenced to two years’ imprisonment for a libel, and -during the time that he was in Newgate, it was discovered that he had -been in treaty with Government to avoid the sentence passed upon him; -and that he had proposed to certain of the agents of Ministers, that if -they would let him off, they might make what future use they pleased of -him; _he would entirely betray the cause of the people_; he would either -write or not write, or _write against them_, as he had once done before, -just as Ministers thought proper. To this, however, it was replied, that -‘Cobbett had written on too many sides already _to be worth a groat for -the service of Government_‘; and he accordingly suffered his -confinement!’—We here then see plainly enough what it is that, in the -opinion of this very competent judge, alone renders any writer ‘worth a -groat for the service of Government,’ _viz._ that he shall be able and -willing entirely to betray the cause of the people. It follows from this -principle (by which he seems to estimate the value of his lucubrations -in the service of Government—we do not know whether the Government judge -of them in the same way), that the cause of the people and the cause of -the Government, who are represented as thus anxious to suborn their -creatures to write against the people, are not the same but the reverse -of one another. This slip of the pen in our professional retainer of -legitimacy, though a libel on our own Government, is, notwithstanding, a -general philosophic truth (the only one he ever hit upon), and an axiom -in political mechanics, which we shall make the text of the following -commentary. - -What are the interests of the people? Not the interests of those who -would betray them. Who is to judge of those interests? Not those who -would suborn others to betray them. That Government is instituted for -the benefit of the governed, there can be little doubt; but the -interests of the Government (when once it becomes absolute and -independent of the people) must be directly at variance with those of -the governed. The interests of the one are common and equal rights: of -the other, exclusive and invidious privileges. The essence of the first -is to be shared alike by all, and to benefit the community in proportion -as they are spread: the essence of the last is to be destroyed by -communication, and to subsist only—in wrong of the people. Rights and -privileges are a contradiction in terms: for if one has more than his -right, others must have less. The latter are the deadly nightshade of -the commonwealth, near which no wholesome plant can thrive,—the ivy -clinging round the trunk of the British oak, blighting its verdure, -drying up its sap, and oppressing its stately growth. The insufficient -checks and balances opposed to the overbearing influence of hereditary -rank and power in our own Constitution, and in every Government which -retains the least trace of freedom, are so many illustrations of this -principle, if it needed any. The tendency in arbitrary power to encroach -upon the liberties and comforts of the people, and to convert the public -good into a stalking-horse to its own pride and avarice, has never (that -we know) been denied by any one but ‘the professional gentleman,’ who -writes in _The Day and New Times_. The great and powerful, in order to -be what they aspire to be, and what this gentleman would have them, -perfectly independent of the will of the people, ought also to be -perfectly independent of the assistance of the people. To be formally -invested with the attributes of Gods upon earth, they ought first to be -raised above its petty wants and appetites: they ought to give proofs of -the beneficence and wisdom of Gods, before they can be trusted with the -power. When we find them seated above the world, sympathizing with the -welfare, but not feeling the passions of men, receiving neither good nor -hurt, neither tilth nor tythe from them, but bestowing their benefits as -free gifts on all, they may then be expected, but not till then, to rule -over us like another Providence. We may make them a present of all the -taxes they do not apply to their own use: they are perfectly welcome to -all the power, to the possession of which they are perfectly -indifferent, and to the abuse of which they can have no possible -temptation. But Legitimate Governments (flatter them as we will) are not -another Heathen mythology. They are neither so cheap nor so splendid as -the Delphin edition of Ovid’s Metamorphoses. They are indeed ‘Gods to -punish,’ but in other respects ‘men of our infirmity.’ They do not feed -on ambrosia or drink nectar; but live on the common fruits of the earth, -of which they get the largest share, and the best. The wine they drink -is made of grapes: the blood they shed is that of their subjects: the -laws they make are not against themselves: the taxes they vote, they -afterwards devour. They have the same wants that we have: and having the -option, very naturally help themselves first, out of the common stock, -without thinking that others are to come after them. With the same -natural necessities, they have a thousand artificial ones besides; and -with a thousand times the means to gratify them, they are still -voracious, importunate, unsatisfied. Our State-paupers have their hands -in every man’s dish, and fare sumptuously every day. They live in -palaces, and loll in coaches. In spite of Mr. Malthus, their studs of -horses consume the produce of our fields, their dog-kennels are glutted -with the food which would maintain the children of the poor. They cost -us so much a year in dress and furniture, so much in stars and garters, -blue ribbons, and grand crosses,—so much in dinners, breakfasts, and -suppers, and so much in suppers, breakfasts, and dinners.[47] These -heroes of the Income-tax, Worthies of the Civil List, Saints of the -Court calendar (_Compagnons du Lys_), have their naturals and -non-naturals, like the rest of the world, but at a dearer rate. They are -real _bonâ fide_ personages, and do not live upon air. You will find it -easier to keep them a week than a month; and at the end of that time, -waking from the sweet dream of Legitimacy, you may say with Caliban, -‘Why, what a fool was I to take this drunken monster for a God!’ In -fact, the case on the part of the people is so far self-evident. There -is but a limited earth and a limited fertility to supply the demands -both of Government and people; and what the one gains in the division of -the spoil, beyond its average proportion, the other must needs go -without. Do you suppose that our gentlemen-placemen and pensioners would -suffer so many wretches to be perishing in our streets and highways, if -they could relieve their extreme misery without parting with any of -their own superfluities? If the Government take a fourth of the produce -of the poor man’s labour, they will be rich, and he will be in want. If -they can contrive to take one half of it by legal means, or by a stretch -of arbitrary power, they will be just twice as rich, twice as insolent -and tyrannical, and he will be twice as poor, twice as miserable and -oppressed, in a mathematical ratio to the end of the chapter, that is, -till the one can extort and the other endure no more. It is the same -with respect to power. The will and passions of the great are not -exerted in regulating the seasons, or rolling the planets round their -orbits for our good, without fee or reward, but in controlling the will -and passions of others, in making the follies and vices of mankind -subservient to their own, and marring, - - ‘Because men suffer it, their toy, the world.’ - -This is self-evident, like the former. Their will cannot be paramount, -while any one in the community, or the whole community together, has the -power to thwart it. A King cannot attain absolute power, while the -people remain perfectly free; yet what King would not attain absolute -power? While any trace of liberty is left among a people, ambitious -Princes will never be easy, never at peace, never of sound mind; nor -will they ever rest or leave one stone unturned, till they have -succeeded in destroying the very name of liberty, or making it into a -by-word, and in rooting out the germs of every popular right and liberal -principle from a soil once sacred to liberty. It is not enough that they -have secured the whole power of the state in their hands,—that they -carry every measure they please without the chance of an effectual -opposition to it: but a word uttered against it is torture to their -ears,—a thought that questions their wanton exercise of the royal -prerogative rankles in their breasts like poison. Till all distinctions -of right and wrong, liberty and slavery, happiness and misery, are -looked upon as matters of indifference, or as saucy, insolent -pretensions,—are sunk and merged in their idle caprice and pampered -self-will, they will still feel themselves ‘cribbed, confined, and -cabin’d in’: but if they can once more set up the doctrine of -Legitimacy, ‘the right divine of Kings to govern wrong,’ and set mankind -at defiance with impunity, they will then be ‘broad and casing as the -general air, whole as the rock.’ This is the point from which they set -out, and to which by the grace of God and the help of man they may -return again. Liberty is short and fleeting, a transient grace that -lights upon the earth by stealth and at long intervals— - - ‘Like the rainbow’s lovely form, - Evanishing amid the storm; - Or like the Borealis race, - That shift ere you can point their place; - Or like the snow falls in the river, - A moment white, then melts for ever.’ - -But power is eternal; it is ‘enthroned in the hearts of Kings.’ If you -want the proofs, look at history, look at geography, look abroad; but do -not look at home! - -The power of an arbitrary King or an aspiring Minister does not increase -with the liberty of the subject, but must be circumscribed by it. It is -aggrandized by perpetual, systematic, insidious, or violent -encroachments on popular freedom and natural right, as the sea gains -upon the land by swallowing it up.—What then can we expect from the mild -paternal sway of absolute power, and its sleek minions? What the world -has always received at its hands, an abuse of power as vexatious, -cowardly, and unrelenting, as the power itself was unprincipled, -preposterous, and unjust. They who get wealth and power from the people, -who drive them like cattle to slaughter or to market, ‘and levy cruel -wars, wasting the earth’; they who wallow in luxury, while the people -are ‘steeped in poverty to the very lips,’ and bowed to the earth with -unremitting labour, can have but little sympathy with those whose loss -of liberty and property is their gain. What is it that the wealth of -thousands is composed of? The tears, the sweat, and blood of millions. -What is it that constitutes the glory of the Sovereigns of the earth? To -have millions of men their slaves. Wherever the Government does not -emanate (as in our own excellent Constitution) from the people, the -principle of the Government, the _esprit de corps_, the point of honour, -in all those connected with it, and raised by it to privileges above the -law and above humanity, will be hatred to the people. Kings who would be -thought to reign in contempt of the people, will shew their contempt of -them in every act of their lives. Parliaments, not chosen by the people, -will only be the instruments of Kings, who do not reign in the hearts of -the people, ‘to betray the cause of the people.’ Ministers, not -responsible to the people, will squeeze the last shilling out of them. -_Charity begins at home_, is a maxim as true of Governments as of -individuals. When the English Parliament insisted on its right of taxing -the Americans without their consent, it was not from an apprehension -that the Americans would, by being left to themselves, lay such heavy -duties on their own produce and manufactures, as would afflict the -generosity of the mother-country, and put the mild paternal sentiments -of Lord North to the blush. If any future King of England should keep a -wistful eye on the map of that country, it would rather be to hang it up -as a trophy of legitimacy, and to ‘punish the last successful example of -a democratic rebellion,’ than from any yearnings of fatherly good-will -to the American people, or from finding his ‘large heart’ and capacity -for good government, ‘confined in too narrow room’ in the united -kingdoms of Great Britain, Ireland, and Hanover. If Ferdinand VII. -refuses the South American patriots leave to plant the olive or the -vine, throughout that vast continent, it is his pride, not his humanity, -that steels his royal resolution.[48] - -In 1781, the Controller-general of France, under Louis XVI. Monsieur -Joli de Fleuri, defined the people of France to be _un peuple serf, -corveable et baillable, à merci et misericorde_. When Louis XVIII. as -the Count de Lille, protested against his brother’s accepting the -Constitution of 1792 (he has since become an accepter of Constitutions -himself, if not an observer of them,) as compromising the rights and -privileges of the noblesse and clergy as well as of the crown, he was -right in considering the Bastile, or ‘King’s castle,’ with the -picturesque episode of the Man in the Iron Mask, the fifteen thousand -_lettres de cachet_, issued in the mild reign of Louis XV., _corvées_, -tythes, game-laws, holy water, the right of pillaging, imprisoning, -massacring, persecuting, harassing, insulting, and ingeniously -tormenting the minds and bodies of the whole French people at every -moment of their lives, on every possible pretence, and without any check -or control but their own mild paternal sentiments towards them, as among -the _menus plaisirs_, the chief points of etiquette, the immemorial -privileges, and favourite amusements of Kings, Priests, and Nobles, from -the beginning to the end of time, without which the bare title of King, -Priest, or Noble, would not have been worth a groat. - -The breasts of Kings and Courtiers then are not the safest depository of -the interests of the people. But they know best what is for their good! -Yes—to prevent it! The people may indeed feel their grievance, but their -betters, it is said, must apply the remedy—which they take good care -never to do! If the people want judgment in their own affairs (which is -not certain, for they only meddle with their own affairs when they are -forcibly brought home to them in a way which they can hardly -misunderstand), this is at any rate better than the want of sincerity, -which would constantly and systematically lead their superiors to betray -those interests, from their having other ends of their own to serve. It -is better to trust to ignorance than to malice—to run the risk of -sometimes miscalculating the odds than to play against loaded dice. The -people would in this way stand as little chance in defending their -purses or their persons against Mr. C—— or Lord C——, as an honest -country gentleman would have had in playing at put or hazard with Count -Fathom or Jonathan Wild. A certain degree of folly, or rashness, or -indecision, or even violence in attaining an object, is surely less to -be dreaded than a malignant, deliberate, mercenary intention in others -to deprive us of it. If the people must have attorneys, and the advice -of counsel, let them have attorneys and counsel of their own chusing, -not those who are employed by special retainer against them, or who -regularly hire others to _betray their cause_. - - —— —— ——‘O silly sheep, - Come ye to seek the lamb here of the wolf?’ - -This then is the cause of the people, the good of the people, judged of -by common feeling and public opinion. Mr. Burke contemptuously defines -the people to be ‘any faction that at the time can get the power of the -sword into its hands.’ No: that may be a description of the Government, -but it is not of the people. The people is the hand, heart, and head of -the whole community acting to one purpose, and with a mutual and -thorough consent. The hand of the people so employed to execute what the -heart feels, and the head thinks, must be employed more beneficially for -the cause of the people, than in executing any measures which the cold -hearts, and contriving heads of any faction, with distinct privileges -and interests, may dictate to betray their cause. The will of the people -necessarily tends to the general good as its end; and it must attain -that end, and can only attain it, in proportion as it is guided—First, -by popular feeling, as arising out of the immediate wants and wishes of -the great mass of the people,—secondly, by public opinion, as arising -out of the impartial reason and enlightened intellect of the community. -What is it that determines the opinion of any number of persons in -things they actually feel in their practical and home results? Their -common interest. What is it that determines their opinion in things of -general inquiry, beyond their immediate experience or interest? Abstract -reason. In matters of feeling and common sense, of which each individual -is the best judge, the majority are in the right; in things requiring a -greater strength of mind to comprehend them, the greatest power of -understanding will prevail, if it has but fair play. These two, taken -together, as the test of the practical measures or general principles of -Government, must be right, cannot be wrong. It is an absurdity to -suppose that there can be any better criterion of national grievances, -or the proper remedies for them, than the aggregate amount of the -actual, dear-bought experience, the honest feelings, and heartfelt -wishes of a whole people, informed and directed by the greatest power of -understanding in the community, unbiassed by any sinister motive. Any -other standard of public good or ill must, in proportion as it deviates -from this, be vitiated in principle, and fatal in its effects. _Vox -populi vox Dei_, is the rule of all good Government: for in that voice, -truly collected and freely expressed (not when it is made the servile -echo of a corrupt Court, or a designing Minister), we have all the -sincerity and all the wisdom of the community. If we could suppose -society to be transformed into one great animal (like Hobbes’s -Leviathan), each member of which had an intimate connexion with the head -or Government, so that every individual in it could be made known and -have its due weight, the State would have the same consciousness of its -own wants and feelings, and the same interest in providing for them, as -an individual has with respect to his own welfare. Can any one doubt -that such a state of society in which the greatest knowledge of its -interests was thus combined with the greatest sympathy with its wants, -would realize the idea of a perfect Commonwealth? But such a Government -would be the precise idea of a truly popular or _representative_ -Government. The opposite extreme is the purely hereditary and despotic -form of Government, where the people are an inert, torpid mass, without -the power, scarcely with the will, to make its wants or wishes known: -and where the feelings of those who are at the head of the State, centre -in their own exclusive interests, pride, passions, prejudices; and all -their thoughts are employed in defeating the happiness and undermining -the liberties of a country. - - - WHAT IS THE PEOPLE? - - (CONCLUDED.) - - - _March 14, 1818._ - -It is not denied that the people are best acquainted with their own -wants, and most attached to their own interests. But then a question is -started, as if the persons asking it were at a great loss for the -answer,—Where are we to find the intellect of the people? Why, all the -intellect that ever was is theirs. The public opinion expresses not only -the collective sense of the whole people, but of all ages and nations, -of all those minds that have devoted themselves to the love of truth and -the good of mankind,—who have bequeathed their instructions, their -hopes, and their example to posterity,—who have thought, spoke, written, -acted, and suffered in the name and on the behalf of our common nature. -All the greatest poets, sages, heroes, are ours originally, and by -right. But surely Lord Bacon was a great man? Yes; but not because he -was a lord. There is nothing of hereditary growth but pride and -prejudice. That ‘fine word Legitimate’ never produced any thing but -bastard philosophy and patriotism! Even Burke was one of the people, and -would have remained with the people to the last, if there had been no -court-side for him to go over to. The King gave him his pension, not his -understanding or his eloquence. It would have been better for him and -for mankind if he had kept to his principles, and gone without his -pension. It is thus that the tide of power constantly setting in against -the people, swallows up natural genius and acquired knowledge in the -vortex of corruption, and then they reproach us with our want of leaders -of weight and influence, to stem the torrent. All that has ever been -done for society, has, however, been done for it by this intellect, -before it was cheapened to be a cat’s-paw of divine right. All -discoveries and all improvements in arts, in science, in legislation, in -civilization, in every thing dear and valuable to the heart of man, have -been made by this intellect—all the triumphs of human genius over the -rudest barbarism, the darkest ignorance, the grossest and most inhuman -superstition, the most unmitigated and remorseless tyranny, have been -gained for themselves by the people. Great Kings, great law-givers, -great founders, and great reformers of religion, have almost all arisen -from among the people. What have hereditary Monarchs, or regular -Governments, or established priesthoods, ever done for the people? Did -the Pope and Cardinals first set on foot the Reformation? Did the -Jesuits attempt to abolish the Inquisition? For what one measure of -civil or religious liberty did our own Bench of Bishops ever put -themselves forward? What judge ever proposed a reform in the laws! Have -not the House of Commons, with all their ‘tried wisdom,’ voted for every -measure of Ministers for the last twenty-five years, except the -Income-tax? It is the press that has done every thing for the people, -and even for Governments.—‘If they had not ploughed with our heifer, -they would not have found out our riddle.’ And it has done this by slow -degrees, by repeated, incessant, and incredible struggles with the -oldest, most inveterate, powerful, and active enemies of the freedom of -the press and of the people, who wish, in spite of the nature of things -and of society, to retain the idle and mischievous privileges they -possess as the relics of barbarous and feudal times, who have an -exclusive interest as a separate cast in the continuance of all existing -abuses, and who plead a permanent _vested right_ in the prevention of -the progress of reason, liberty, and civilization. Yet they tax us with -our want of intellect; and _we_ ask them in return for their court-list -of great names in arts or philosophy, for the coats of arms of their -heroic vanquishers of error and intolerance, for their devout -benefactors and royal martyrs of humanity. What are the claims of the -people—the obvious, undoubted rights of common justice and humanity, -forcibly withheld from them by pride, bigotry, and selfishness,—demanded -for them, age after age, year after year, by the wisdom and virtue of -the enlightened and disinterested part of mankind, and only grudgingly -yielded up, with indecent, disgusting excuses, and sickening delays, -when the burning shame of their refusal can be no longer concealed by -fear or favour from the whole world. What did it not cost to abolish the -Slave Trade? How long will the Catholic Claims be withheld by our -State-jugglers? How long, and for what purpose? We may appeal, in behalf -of the people, from the interested verdict of the worst and weakest men -now living, to the disinterested reason of the best and wisest men among -the living and the dead. We appeal from the corruption of Courts, the -hypocrisy of zealots, and the dotage of hereditary imbecility, to the -innate love of liberty in the human breast, and to the growing intellect -of the world. We appeal to the pen, and they answer us with the point of -the bayonet; and, at one time, when that had failed, they were for -recommending the dagger.[49] They quote Burke, but rely on the -Attorney-General. They hold Universal Suffrage to be the most dreadful -of all things, and a Standing Army the best representatives of the -people abroad and at home. They think Church-and-King mobs good things, -for the same reason that they are alarmed at a meeting to petition for a -Reform of Parliament. They consider the cry of ‘No Popery’ a sound, -excellent, and constitutional cry,—but the cry of a starving population -for food, strange and unnatural. They exalt the war-whoop of the -Stock-Exchange into the voice of undissembled patriotism, while they set -down the cry for peace as the work of the Jacobins, the ventriloquism of -the secret enemies of their country. The writers on the popular side of -the question are factious, designing demagogues, who delude the people -to make tools of them: but the government-writers, who echo every -calumny, and justify every encroachment on the people, are profound -philosophers and very honest men. Thus when Mr. John Gifford, the Editor -of the ‘Anti-Jacobin’ (not Mr. William Gifford, who at present holds the -same office under Government, as the Editor of the ‘Quarterly Review’), -denounced Mr. Coleridge as a person, who had ‘left his wife destitute -and his children fatherless,’ and proceeded to add—‘_Ex hoc disce_ his -friends Lamb and Southey’—we are to suppose that he was influenced in -this gratuitous statement purely by his love for his King and country. -Loyalty, patriotism, and religion, are regarded as the natural virtues -and plain unerring instincts of the common people: the mixture of -ignorance or prejudice is never objected to in these: it is only their -love of liberty or hatred of oppression that are discovered, by the same -liberal-minded junto, to be proofs of a base and vulgar disposition. The -Bourbons are set over the immense majority of the French people against -their will, because a talent for governing does not go with numbers. -This argument was not thought of when Bonaparte tried to shew his talent -for governing the people of the Continent against their will, though he -had quite as much talent as the Bourbons. Mr. Canning rejoiced that the -first successful resistance to Bonaparte was made in Russia, a country -of barbarians and slaves. The heroic struggles of ‘the universal Spanish -nation’ in the cause of freedom and independence, have ended in the -destruction of the Cortes and the restoration of the Inquisition, but -without making the Duke of Wellington look thoughtful:—not a single -renegado poet has vented his indignation in a single ode, elegy, or -sonnet; nor does Mr. Southey ‘make him a willow cabin at its gate, write -loyal cantos of contemned love, and sing them loud even in the dead of -the night!’ He indeed assures us in the ‘Quarterly Review,’ that the -Inquisition was restored by the voice of the Spanish people. He also -asks, in the same place, ‘whether the voice of God was heard in the -voice of the people at Jerusalem, when they cried, “Crucify him, crucify -him”?’ We do not know; but we suppose, he would hardly go to the Chief -Priests and Pharisees to find it. This great historian, politician, and -logician, breaks out into a rhapsody against the old maxim, ‘_vox populi -vox Dei_, in the midst of an article of 55 pages, written expressly to -prove that the last war was ‘the most popular, _because_ the most just -and necessary war that ever was carried on.’ He shrewdly asks, ‘Has the -_vox populi_ been the _vox Dei_ in France for the last twenty-five -years?’ But, at least, according to his own shewing, it has been so in -this country for all that period. We, however, do not think so. The -voice of the country has been for war, because the voice of the King was -for it, which was echoed by Parliament, both Lords and Commons, by -Clergy and Gentry, and by the populace, till, as Mr. Southey himself -states in the same connected chain of reasoning, the cry for war became -_so_ popular, that all those who did not join in it (of which number the -Poet-laureate himself was one) were ‘persecuted, insulted, and injured -in their persons, fame, and fortune.’ This is the true way of accounting -for the fact, but it unfortunately knocks the Poet’s inference on the -head. Mr. Locke has observed, that there are not so many wrong opinions -in the world as we are apt to believe, because most people take their -opinions on trust from others. Neither are the opinions of the people -their own, when they have been bribed or bullied into them by a mob of -Lords and Gentlemen, following in full cry at the heels of the Court. -The _vox populi_ is the _vox Dei_ only when it springs from the -individual, unbiassed feelings, and unfettered, independent opinion of -the people. Mr. Southey does not understand the terms of this good old -adage, now that he is so furious against it: we fear, he understood them -no better when he was as loudly in favour of it. - -All the objections, indeed, to the voice of the people being the best -rule for Government to attend to, arise from the stops and impediments -to the expression of that voice, from the attempts to stifle or to give -it a false bias, and to cut off its free and open communication with the -head and heart of the people—by the Government itself. The sincere -expression of the feelings of the people must be true; the full and free -development of the public opinion must lead to truth, to the gradual -discovery and diffusion of knowledge in this, as in all other -departments of human inquiry. It is the interest of Governments in -general to keep the people in a state of vassalage as long as they -can—to prevent the expression of their sentiments, and the exercise and -improvement of their understandings, by all the means in their power. -They have a patent, and a monopoly, which they do not like to have -looked into or to share with others. The argument for keeping the people -in a state of lasting wardship, or for treating them as lunatics, -incapable of self-government, wears a very suspicious aspect, as it -comes from those who are trustees to the estate, or keepers of insane -asylums. The long minority of the people would, at this rate, never -expire, while those who had an interest had also the power to prevent -them from arriving at years of discretion: their government-keepers have -nothing to do but to drive the people mad by ill-treatment, and to keep -them so by worse, in order to retain the pretence for applying the gag, -the strait waistcoat, and the whip as long as they please. It is like -the dispute between Mr. Epps, the angry shopkeeper in the Strand, and -his journeyman, whom he would restrict from setting up for himself. -Shall we never serve out our apprenticeship to liberty? Must our -indentures to slavery bind us for life? It is well, it is perfectly -well. You teach us nothing, and you will not let us learn. You deny us -education, like Orlando’s eldest brother, and then ‘stying us’ in the -den of legitimacy, you refuse to let us take the management of our own -affairs into our own hands, or to seek our fortunes in the world -ourselves. You found a right to treat us with indignity on the plea of -your own neglect and injustice. You abuse a trust in order to make it -perpetual. You profit of our ignorance and of your own wrong. You -degrade, and then enslave us; and by enslaving, you degrade us more, to -make us more and more incapable of ever escaping from your selfish, -sordid yoke. There is no end of this. It is the fear of the progress of -knowledge and a _Reading Public_, that has produced all the fuss and -bustle and cant about Bell and Lancaster’s plans, Bible and Missionary, -and Auxiliary and Cheap Tract Societies, and that when it was impossible -to prevent our reading something, made the Church and State so anxious -to provide us with that sort of food for our stomachs, which they -thought best. The Bible is an excellent book; and when it becomes the -Statesman’s Manual, in its precepts of charity—not of beggarly -alms-giving, but of peace on earth and good will to man, the people may -read nothing else. It reveals the glories of the world to come, and -records the preternatural dispensations of Providence to mankind two -thousand years ago. But it does not describe the present state of -Europe, or give an account of the measures of the last or of the next -reign, which yet it is important the people of England should look to. -We cannot learn from Moses and the Prophets what Mr. Vansittart and the -Jews are about in ‘Change-alley. Those who prescribe us the study of the -miracles and prophecies, themselves laugh to scorn the promised -deliverance of Joanna Southcott and the Millennium. Yet they would have -us learn patience and resignation from the miraculous interpositions of -Providence recorded in the Scriptures. ‘_When the sky falls_’—the -proverb is somewhat musty. The worst compliment ever paid to the Bible -was the recommendation of it as a political palliative by the Lay -Preachers of the day. - -To put this question in a different light, we might ask, What is the -public? and examine what would be the result of depriving the people of -the use of their understandings in other matters as well as -government—to subject them to the trammels of prescriptive prejudice and -hereditary pretension. Take the stage as an example. Suppose Mr. Kean -should have a son, a little crook-kneed, raven-voiced, disagreeable, -mischievous, stupid urchin, with the faults of his father’s acting -exaggerated tenfold, and none of his fine qualities,—what if Mr. Kean -should take it into his head to get out letters-patents to empower him -and his heirs for ever, with this hopeful commencement, to play all the -chief parts in tragedy, by the grace of God and the favour of the Prince -Regent! What a precious race of tragedy kings and heroes we should have! -They would not even play the villain with a good grace. The theatres -would soon be deserted, and the race of the Keans would ‘hold a barren -sceptre’ over empty houses, to be ‘wrenched from them by an unlineal -hand!’—But no! For it would be necessary to uphold theatrical order, the -cause of the legitimate drama, and so to levy a tax on all those who -staid away from the theatre, or to drag them into it by force. Every one -seeing the bayonet at the door, would be compelled to applaud the hoarse -tones and lengthened pauses of the illustrious house of Kean; the -newspaper critics would grow wanton in their praise, and all those would -be held as rancorous enemies of their country, and of the prosperity of -the stage, who did not join in the praises of the best of actors. What a -falling off there would be from the present system of universal suffrage -and open competition among the candidates, the frequency of rows in the -pit, the noise in the gallery, the whispers in the boxes, and the -lashing in the newspapers the next day! - -In fact, the argument drawn from the supposed incapacity of the people -against a representative Government, comes with the worst grace in the -world from the patrons and admirers of hereditary government. Surely, if -government were a thing requiring the utmost stretch of genius, wisdom, -and virtue, to carry it on, the office of King would never even have -been dreamt of as hereditary, any more than that of poet, painter, or -philosopher. It is easy here ‘for the Son to tread in the Sire’s steady -steps.’ It requires nothing but the will to do it. Extraordinary talents -are not once looked for. Nay, a person, who would never have risen by -natural abilities to the situation of churchwarden or parish beadle, -succeeds by unquestionable right to the possession of a throne and -wields the energies of an empire, or decides the fate of the world, with -the smallest possible share of human understanding. The line of -distinction which separates the regal purple from the slabbering-bib, is -sometimes fine indeed; as we see in the case of the two Ferdinands. Any -one above the rank of an ideot is supposed capable of exercising the -highest functions of royal state. Yet these are the persons who talk of -the people as a swinish multitude, and taunt them with their want of -refinement and philosophy. - - * * * * * - -The great problem of political science is not of so profoundly -metaphysical or highly poetical a cast as Mr. Burke represents it. It is -simply a question on the one part, with how little expense of liberty -and property the Government, ‘that complex constable,’ as it has been -quaintly called, can keep the peace; and on the other part, for how -great a sacrifice of both, the splendour of the throne and the safety of -the state can be made a pretext. Kings and their Ministers generally -strive to get their hands in our pockets, and their feet on our necks; -the people and their representatives will be wise enough, if they can -only contrive to prevent them; but this, it must be confessed, they do -not always succeed in. For a people to be free, it is sufficient that -they will to be free. But the love of liberty is less strong than the -love of power; and is guided by a less sure instinct in attaining its -object. Milton only spoke the sentiments of the English people of his -day (sentiments too which they had acted upon), in strong language, when -he said, in answer to a foreign pedant:—‘_Liceat, quæso, populo qui -servitutis jugum in cervicibus grave sentit, tam sapienti esse, tam -docto, tamque nobili, ut sciat quid tyranno suo faciendum sit, etiamsi -neque exteros neque grammaticos sciscitatum mittat._’—(_Defensio pro -populo Anglicano._) Happily the whole of the passage is not applicable -to their descendants in the present day; but at all times a people may -be allowed to know when they are oppressed, enslaved, and miserable, to -feel their wrongs and to demand a remedy—from the superior knowledge and -humanity of Ministers, who, if they cannot cure the State-malady, ought -in decency, like other doctors, to resign their authority over the -patient. The people are not subject to fanciful wants, speculative -longings, or hypochondriacal complaints. Their disorders are real, their -complaints substantial and well-founded. Their grumblings are in general -seditions of the belly. They do not cry out till they are hurt. They do -not stand upon nice questions, or trouble themselves with Mr. Burke’s -Sublime and Beautiful; but when they find the money conjured clean out -of their pockets, and the Constitution suspended over their heads, they -think it time to look about them. For example, poor Evans, that amateur -of music and politics (strange combination of tastes), thought it hard, -no doubt to be sent to prison and deprived of his flute by a -State-warrant, because there was no ground for doing it by law; and Mr. -Hiley Addington, being himself a flute-player, thought so too: though, -in spite of this romantic sympathy, the Minister prevailed over the -musician, and Mr. Evans has, we believe, never got back his flute. For -an act of injustice, by the new system, if complained of ‘forsooth,’ -becomes justifiable by the very resistance to it: if not complained of, -nobody knows any thing about it, and so it goes equally unredressed in -either way. Or to take another obvious instance and sign of the times: a -tenant or small farmer who has been distrained upon and sent to gaol or -to the workhouse, probably thinks, and with some appearance of reason, -that he was better off before this change of circumstances; and Mr. -Cobbett, in his twopenny Registers, proves to him so clearly, that this -change for the worse is owing to the war and taxes, which have driven -him out of his house and home, that Mr. Cobbett himself has been forced -to quit the country to argue the question, whether two and two make -four, with Mr. Vansittart, upon safer ground to himself, and more equal -ground to the Chancellor of the Exchequer. Such questions as these are, -one would think, within the verge of common sense and reason. For any -thing we could ever find, the people have as much common sense and sound -judgment as any other class of the community. Their folly is -second-hand, derived from their being the dupe of the passions, -interests, and prejudices of their superiors. When they judge for -themselves, they in general judge right. At any rate, the way to improve -their judgment in their own concerns (and if they do not judge for -themselves, they will infallibly be cheated both of liberty and -property, by those who kindly insist on relieving them of that trouble) -is not to deny them the use and exercise of their judgment altogether. -Nothing can be pleasanter than one of the impositions of late attempted -to be put upon the people, by persuading them that economy is no part of -a wise Government. The people must be pretty competent judges of the -cheapness of a Government. But it is pretended by our high-flying -sinecurists and pensioners, that this is a low and vulgar view of the -subject, taken up by interested knaves, like Paine and Cobbett, to -delude, and, in the end, make their market of the people. With all the -writers and orators who compose the band of gentlemen pensioners and -their patrons, politics is entirely a thing of sentiment and -imagination. To speak of the expenses of Government, as if it were a -little paltry huckstering calculation of profit and loss, quite shocks -their lofty, liberal, and disinterested notions. They have no patience -with the people if they are not ready to sacrifice their all for the -public good! This is something like a little recruiting -cavalry-lieutenant we once met with, who, sorely annoyed at being so -often dunned for the arrears of board and lodging by the people where he -took up his quarters, exclaimed with the true broad Irish accent and -emphasis—‘_Vulgar ideas! These wretches always expect one to pay for -what one has of them!_’ Our modest lieutenant thought, that while he was -employed on his Majesty’s service, he had a right to pick the pockets of -his subjects, and that if they complained of being robbed of what was -their own, they were blackguards and _no gentlemen_! Mr. Canning hit -upon nothing so good as this, in his luminous defence of his Lisbon Job! - -But allow the people to be as gross and ignorant as you please, as base -and stupid as you can make them or keep them, ‘duller than the fat weed -that roots itself at ease on Lethe’s wharf,’—is nothing ever to rouse -them? Grant that they are slow of apprehension—that they do not see till -they feel. Is that a reason that they are not to feel then, neither? -Would you blindfold them with the double bandages of bigotry, or quench -their understandings with ‘the dim suffusion,’ ‘the drop serene,’ of -Legitimacy, that ‘they may roll in vain and find no dawn’ of liberty, no -ray of hope? Because they do not see tyranny till it is mountain high, -‘making Ossa like a wart,’ are they not to feel its weight when it is -heaped upon them, or to throw it off with giant strength and a -convulsive effort? If they do not see the evil till it has grown -enormous, palpable, and undeniable, is that a reason why others should -then deny that it exists, or why it should not be removed? They do not -snuff arbitrary power a century off: they are not shocked at it on the -other side of the globe, or of the Channel: are they not therefore to -see it, could it in time be supposed to stalk over their heads, to -trample and grind them to the earth? If in their uncertainty how to deal -with it, they sometimes strike random blows, if their despair makes them -dangerous, why do not they, who, from their elevated situation, see so -much farther and deeper into the principles and consequences of -things—in their boasted wisdom prevent the causes of complaint in the -people before they accumulate to a terrific height, and burst upon the -heads of their oppressors? The higher classes, who would disqualify the -people from taking the cure of their disorders into their own hands, -might do this very effectually, by preventing the first symptoms of -their disorders. They would do well, instead of abusing the blunders and -brutishness of the multitude, to shew their superior penetration and -zeal in detecting the first approaches of mischief, in withstanding -every encroachment on the comforts and rights of the people, in guarding -every bulwark against the influence and machinations of arbitrary power, -as a precious, inviolable, sacred trust. Instead of this, they are the -first to be lulled into security, a security ‘as gross as ignorance made -drunk’—the last to believe the consequences, because they are the last -to feel them. Instead of this, the patience of the lower classes, in -submitting to privations and insults, is only surpassed by the -callousness of their betters in witnessing them. The one never set about -the redress of grievances or the reform of abuses, till they are no -longer to be borne; the others will not hear of it even then. It is for -this reason, among others, that the _vox populi_ is the _vox Dei_, that -it is the agonizing cry of human nature raised, and only raised, against -intolerable oppression and the utmost extremity of human suffering. The -people do not rise up till they are trod down. They do not turn upon -their tormentors till they are goaded to madness. They do not complain -till the thumb-screws have been applied, and have been strained to the -last turn. Nothing can ever wean the affections or confidence of a -people from a Government (to which habit, prejudice, natural pride, -perhaps old benefits and joint struggles for liberty have attached them) -but an excessive degree of irritation and disgust, occasioned either by -a sudden and violent stretch of power, contrary to the spirit and forms -of the established Government, or by a blind and wilful adherence to old -abuses and established forms, when the changes in the state of manners -and opinion have rendered them as odious as they are ridiculous. The -Revolutions of Switzerland, the Low Countries, and of America, are -examples of the former—the French Revolution of the latter: our own -Revolution of 1688 was a mixture of the two. As a general rule, it might -be laid down, that for every instance of national resistance to tyranny, -there ought to have been hundreds, and that all those which have been -attempted ought to have succeeded. In the case of Wat Tyler, for -instance, which has been so naturally dramatised by the poet-laureate, -the rebellion was crushed, and the ringleaders hanged by the treachery -of the Government; but the grievances of which they had complained were -removed a few years after, and the rights they had claimed granted to -the people, from the necessary progress of civilization and knowledge. -Did not Mr. Southey know, when he applied for an injunction against Wat -Tyler, that the feudal system had been abolished long ago?—Again, as -nothing rouses the people to resistance but extreme and aggravated -injustice, so nothing can make them persevere in it, or push their -efforts to a successful and triumphant issue, but the most open and -unequivocal determination to brave their cries and insult their misery. -They have no principle of union in themselves, and nothing brings or -holds them together, but the strong pressure of want, the stern hand of -necessity—‘a necessity that is not chosen, but chuses,—a necessity -paramount to deliberation, that admits of no discussion and demands no -evidence, that can alone, (according to Mr. Burke’s theory) justify a -resort to anarchy,’ and that alone ever did or can produce it. In fine, -there are but two things in the world, might and right. Whenever one of -these is overcome, it is by the other. The triumphs of the people, or -the stand which they at any time make against arbitrary sway, are the -triumphs of reason and justice over the insolence of individual power -and authority, which, unless as it is restrained, curbed, and corrected -by popular feeling or public opinion, can be guided only by its own -drunken, besotted, mad pride, selfishness and caprice, and must be -productive of all the mischief, which it can wantonly or deliberately -commit with impunity. - -The people are not apt, like a fine lady, to affect the vapours of -discontent; nor to volunteer a rebellion for the theatrical eclat of the -thing. But the least plausible excuse, one kind word, one squeeze of the -hand, one hollow profession of good will, subdues the soft heart of -rebellion, (which is ‘too foolish fond and pitiful’ to be a match for -the callous hypocrisy opposed to it) dissolves and melts the whole -fabric of popular innovation like butter in the sun. Wat Tyler is a case -in point again. The instant the effeminate king and his unprincipled -courtiers gave them fair words, they dispersed, relying in their -infatuation on the word of the King as binding, on the oath of his -officers as sincere; and no sooner were they dispersed than they cut off -their leaders’ heads, and poor John Ball’s along with them, in spite of -all his texts of Scripture. The story is to be seen in all the -shop-windows, _written in very choice blank verse_!—That the people are -rash in trusting to the promises of their friends, is true; they are -more rash in believing their enemies. If they are led to expect too much -in theory, they are satisfied with too little in reality. Their anger is -sometimes fatal while it lasts, but it is not roused very soon, nor does -it last very long. Of all dynasties, anarchy is the shortest lived. They -are violent in their revenge, no doubt; but it is because justice has -been long denied them, and they have to pay off a very long score at a -very short notice. What Cæsar says of himself, might be applied well -enough to the people, that they ‘did never wrong but with just cause.’ -The errors of the people are the crimes of Governments. They apply sharp -remedies to lingering diseases, and when they get sudden power in their -hands, frighten their enemies, and wound themselves with it. They rely -on brute force and the fury of despair, in proportion to the treachery -which surrounds them, and to the degradation, the want of general -information and mutual co-operation, in which they have been kept, on -purpose to prevent them from ever acting in concert, with wisdom, -energy, confidence, and calmness, for the public good. The American -Revolution produced no horrors, because its enemies could not succeed in -sowing the seeds of terror, hatred, mutual treachery, and universal -dismay in the hearts of the people. The French Revolution, under the -auspices of Mr. Burke, and other friends of social order, was tolerably -prolific of these horrors. But that should not be charged as the fault -of the Revolution or of the people. Timely Reforms are the best -preventives of violent Revolutions. If Governments are determined that -the people shall have no redress, no remedies for their acknowledged -grievances, but violent and desperate ones, they may thank themselves -for the obvious consequences. Despotism must always have the most to -fear from the re-action of popular fury, where it has been guilty of the -greatest abuses of power, and where it has shewn the greatest -tenaciousness of those abuses, putting an end to all prospect of -amicable arrangement, and provoking the utmost vengeance of its -oppressed and insulted victims. This tenaciousness of power is the chief -obstacle to improvement, and the cause of the revulsions which follow -the attempts at it. In America, a free Government was easy of -accomplishment, because it was not necessary, in building up, to pull -down: there were no nuisances to abate. The thing is plain. Reform in -old Governments is just like the new improvements in the front of -Carlton House, that would go on fast enough but for the vile, old, dark, -dirty, crooked streets, which cannot be removed without giving the -inhabitants notice to quit. Mr. Burke, in regretting these old -institutions as the result of the wisdom of ages, and not the remains of -Gothic ignorance and barbarism, played the part of _Crockery_, in the -farce of _Exit by Mistake_, who sheds tears of affection over the loss -of the old windows and buttresses of the houses that no longer jut out -to meet one another, and stop up the way. - -There is one other consideration which may induce hereditary Sovereigns -to allow some weight to the arguments in favour of popular feeling and -public opinion. They are the only security which they themselves possess -individually for the continuance of their splendour and power. Absolute -monarchs have nothing to fear from the people, but they have every thing -to fear from their slaves and one another. Where power is lifted beyond -the reach of the law or of public opinion, there is no principle to -oppose it, and he who can obtain possession of the throne (by whatever -means) is always the rightful possessor of it, till he is supplanted by -a more fortunate or artful successor, and so on in a perpetual round of -treasons, conspiracies, murders, usurpations, regicides, and rebellions, -with which the people have nothing to do, but as passive, unconcerned -spectators.—Where the son succeeds to the father’s throne by -assassination, without being amenable to public justice, he is liable to -be cut off himself by the same means, and with the same impunity. The -only thing that can give stability or confidence to power, is that very -will of the people, and public censure exercised upon public acts, of -which legitimate Sovereigns are so disproportionately apprehensive. For -one regicide committed by the people, there have been thousands -committed by Kings themselves. A Constitutional King of England reigns -in greater security than the Persian Sophi, or the Great Mogul; and the -Emperor of Turkey, or the Autocrat of all the Russias, has much more to -fear from a cup of coffee or the bowstring, than the Prince Regent from -the speeches and writings of all the Revolutionists in Europe. By -removing the barrier of public opinion, which interferes with their own -lawless acts, despotic Kings lay themselves open to the hand of the -assassin,—and while they reign in contempt of the will, the voice, the -heart and mind of a whole people, hold their crowns, and every moment of -their lives at the mercy of the meanest of their slaves. - - - - - ON THE REGAL CHARACTER - - - _May 16, 1818._ - -This is a subject exceedingly curious, and worth explaining. In writing -a criticism, we hope we shall not be accused of intending a libel. - -Kings are remarkable for long memories, in the merest trifles. They -never forget a face or person they have once seen, nor an anecdote they -have been told of any one they know. Whatever differences of character -or understanding they manifest in other respects, they all possess what -Dr. Spurzheim would call the _organ of individuality_, or the power of -recollecting particular local circumstances, nearly in the same degree; -though we shall attempt to account for it without recurring to his -system. This kind of personal memory is the natural effect of that -self-importance which makes them attach a corresponding importance to -all that comes in contact with themselves. Nothing can be a matter of -indifference to a King, that happens to a King. That intense -consciousness of their personal identity, which never quits them, -extends to whatever falls under their immediate cognisance. It is the -glare of Majesty reflected from their own persons on the persons of -those about them that fixes their attention; and it is the same false -glare that makes them blind and insensible to all that lies beyond that -narrow sphere. ‘My Lord,’ said an English King to one of his courtiers, -‘I have seen you in that coat before with different buttons’—to the -astonishment of the Noble Peer. There was nothing wonderful in it. It -was the habitual jealousy of the Sovereign of the respect due to him, -that made him regard with lynx-eyed watchfulness even the accidental -change of dress in one of his favourites. The least diminution of glossy -splendour in a birth-day suit, considered as a mark of slackened duty, -or waning loyalty, would expose it, tarnished and thread-bare, to the -keen glance of dormant pride, waked to suspicion. A God does not -penetrate into the hearts of his worshippers with surer insight, than a -King, fond of the attributes of awe and sovereignty, detects the -different degrees of hollow adulation in those around him. Every thing -relating to external appearance and deportment is scanned with the -utmost nicety, as compromising the dignity of the royal presence. -Involuntary gestures become overt acts; a look is construed into high -treason; an inconsiderate word is magnified into a crime against the -State. To suggest advice, or offer information unasked, is to arraign -the fallibility of the throne: to hint a difference of opinion to a -King, would create as great a shock, as if you were to present a pistol -to the breast of any other man. ‘Never touch a King,’ was the answer of -an infirm Monarch to one who had saved him from a dangerous fall. When a -glass of wine was presented to the Emperor Alexander by a servant in -livery, he started, as if he had trod upon a serpent. Such is their -respect for themselves! Such is their contempt for human -nature!—‘There’s a divinity doth hedge a King,’ that keeps their bodies -and their minds sacred within the magic circle of a name; and it is -their fear lest this circle should be violated or approached without -sufficient awe, that makes them observe and remember the countenances -and demeanour of others with such infinite circumspection and exactness. - -As Kings have the sagacity of pride, courtiers have the cunning of fear. -They watch their own behaviour and that of others with breathless -apprehension, and move amidst the artificial forms of court-etiquette, -as if the least error must be fatal to them. Their sense of personal -propriety is heightened by servility: every faculty is wound up to -flatter the vanity and prejudices of their superiors. When Coates -painted a portrait in crayons of the Queen, on her first arrival in this -country, the King, followed by a train of attendants, went to look at -it. The trembling artist stood by. ‘Well, what do you think?’ said the -King to those in waiting. Not a word in reply. ‘Do you think it like?’ -Still all was hushed as death. ‘Why, yes, I think it is like, very -like.’ A buzz of admiration instantly filled the room; and the old -Duchess of Northumberland, going up to the artist, and tapping him -familiarly on the shoulder, said, ‘Remember, Mr. Coates, I am to have -the first copy.’ On another occasion, when the Queen had sat for her -portrait, one of the Maids of Honour coming into the room, curtsied to -the reflection in the glass, affecting to mistake it for the Queen. The -picture was, you may be sure, a flattering likeness. In the ‘Memoirs of -Count Grammont,’ it is related of Louis XIV. that having a dispute at -chess with one of his courtiers, no one present would give an opinion. -‘Oh!’ said he, ‘here comes Count Hamilton, he shall decide which of us -is in the right.’ ‘Your Majesty is in the wrong,’ replied the Count, -without looking at the board. On which, the King remonstrating with him -on the impossibility of his judging till he saw the state of the game, -he answered, ‘Does your Majesty suppose that if you were in the right, -all these noblemen would stand by and say nothing?’ A King was once -curious to know, which was the tallest, himself or a certain courtier. -‘Let us measure,’ said the King. The King stood up to be measured first; -but when the person who was fixed upon to take their height came to -measure the Nobleman, he found it quite impossible, as he first rose on -tip-toe, then crouched down, now shrugged up his shoulders to the right, -then twisted his body to the left. Afterwards his friend asking him the -reason of these unaccountable gesticulations, he replied, ‘I could not -tell whether the King wished me to be taller or shorter than himself; -and all the time I was making those odd movements, I was watching his -countenance to see what I ought to do.’ If such is the exquisite -pliability of the inmates of a court in trifles like these, what must be -their independence of spirit and disinterested integrity in questions of -peace and war, that involve the rights of Sovereigns or the liberties of -the people! It has been suggested (and not without reason), that the -difficulty of trusting to the professions of those who surround them, is -one circumstance that renders Kings such expert physiognomists, the -language of the countenance being the only one they have left to -decypher the thoughts of others; and the very disguises which are -practised to prevent the emotions of the mind from appearing in the -face, only rendering them more acute and discriminating observers. It is -the same insincerity and fear of giving offence by candour and -plain-speaking in their immediate dependents, that makes Kings gossips -and inquisitive. They have no way of ascertaining the opinions of -others, but by getting them up into a corner, and extorting the -commonest information from them, piecemeal, by endless teasing tiresome -questions, and cross-examination. The walls of a palace, like those of a -nunnery, are the favoured abode of scandal and tittle-tattle. The -inhabitants of both are equally shut out from the common privileges and -common incidents of humanity, and whatever relates to the every-day -world about us, has to them the air of a romance. The desire which the -most meritorious Princes have shewn to acquire information on matters of -fact rather than of opinion, is partly because their prejudices will not -suffer them to exercise their understandings freely on the most -important speculative questions, partly from their jealousy of being -dictated to on any point that admits of a question;—as, on the other -hand, the desire which the Sovereigns of northern and uncultivated -kingdoms have shewn to become acquainted with the arts and elegances of -life in southern nations, is evidently owing to their natural jealousy -of the advantages of civilization over barbarism. From the principle -last stated, Peter the Great visited this country, and worked in our -dock-yards as a common shipwright. To the same source may be traced the -curiosity of the Duchess of Oldenburgh to see a beef-steak cooked, to -take a peep into Mr. Meux’s great brewing-vat, and to hear Mr. Whitbread -speak! - -The common regal character is then the reverse of what it ought to be. -It is the purely _personal_, occupied with its own petty feelings, -prejudices, and pursuits; whereas it ought to be the purely -philosophical, exempt from all personal considerations, and -contemplating itself only in its general and paramount relation to the -State. This is the reason why there have been so few great Kings. They -want the power of abstraction: and their situations are necessarily at -variance with their duties, in this respect; for every thing forces them -to concentrate their attention upon themselves, and to consider their -rank and privileges in connexion with their private advantage, rather -than with public good. This is but natural. It is easier to employ the -power they possess in pampering their own appetites and passions, than -to wield it for the benefit of a great empire. They see well enough how -the community is made for them, not so well how they are made for the -community. Not knowing how to act as stewards for their trust, they set -up for heirs to the estate, and waste it at their pleasure:—without -aspiring to reign as Kings, they are contented to live as _spunges_ upon -royalty. A great King ought to be the greatest philosopher and the -truest patriot in his dominions: hereditary Kings can be but common -mortals. It is not that they are not equal to other men, but to be equal -to their rank as Kings, they ought to be more than men. Their power is -equal to that of the whole community: their wisdom and virtue ought to -keep pace with their power. But in ordinary cases, the height to which -they are raised, instead of enlarging their views or ennobling their -sentiments, makes them giddy with vanity, and ready to look down on the -world which is subjected to their power, as the plaything of their will. -They regard men crawling on the face of the earth, as we do insects that -cross our path, and survey the common drama of human life, as a -fantoccini exhibition got up for their amusement. There is no sympathy -between Kings and their subjects—except in a constitutional monarchy -like ours, through the medium of Lords and Commons! Take away that check -upon their ambition and rapacity, and their pretensions become as -monstrous as they are ridiculous. Without the common feelings of -humanity in their own breasts, they have no regard for them in their -aggregate amount and accumulating force. Reigning in contempt of the -people, they would crush and trample upon all power but their own. They -consider the claims of justice and compassion as so many impertinent -interferences with the royal prerogative. They despise the millions of -slaves whom they see linked to the foot of the throne; and they soon -hate what they despise. They will sacrifice a kingdom for a caprice, and -mankind for a bauble. Weighed in the scales of their pride, the meanest -things become of the greatest importance: weighed in the balance of -reason, the universe is nothing to them. It is this overweening, -aggravated, intolerable sense of swelling pride and ungovernable -self-will, that so often drives them mad; as it is their blind fatuity -and insensibility to all beyond themselves, that, transmitted through -successive generations and confirmed by regal intermarriages, in time -makes them idiots. When we see a poor creature like Ferdinand VII., who -can hardly gabble out his words like a human being, more imbecile than a -woman, more hypocritical than a priest, decked and dandled in the long -robes and swaddling-clothes of legitimacy, lullabied to rest with the -dreams of superstition, drunk with the patriot blood of his country, and -launching the thunders of his coward-arm against the rising liberties of -a new world, while he claims the style and title of Image of the -Divinity, we may laugh or weep, but there is nothing to wonder at. -Tyrants lose all respect for humanity in proportion as they are sunk -beneath it;—taught to believe themselves of a different species, they -really become so; lose their participation with their kind; and, in -mimicking the God, dwindle into the brute! Blind with prejudices as a -mole, stung with truth as with scorpions, sore all over with wounded -pride like a boil, their minds a heap of morbid proud flesh and bloated -humours, a disease and gangrene in the State, instead of its life-blood -and vital principle;—foreign despots claim mankind as their property, -‘independently of their conduct or merits,’ and there is one Englishman -found base enough to echo the foul calumny against his country and his -kind. - -We might, in the same manner, account for the disparity between the -public and private character of Kings. It is the misfortune of most -Kings (not their fault) to be born to thrones, a situation which -ordinary talents or virtue cannot fill with impunity. We often find a -very respectable man make but a very sorry figure as a Sovereign. Nay, a -Prince may be possessed of extraordinary virtues and accomplishments, -and not be the more thought of for them. He may, for instance, be a man -of good nature and good manners, graceful in his person, the idol of the -other sex, the model of his own; every word or look may be marked with -the utmost sense of propriety and delicate attention to the feelings of -others; he may be a good classic, well versed in history,—may speak -Italian, French, Spanish, and German fluently; he may be an excellent -mimic; he may say good things, and do friendly ones; he may be able to -join in a catch, or utter a repartee, or dictate a billet-doux; he may -be master of Hoyle, and deep in the rules of the Jockey club; he may -have an equal taste in ragouts and poetry, in dancing and in dress; he -may adjust a toupee with the dexterity of a friseur, or tie a cravat -with the hand and eye of a man-milliner: he may have all these graces -and accomplishments, and as many more, and yet he may be nothing; as -without any one of them he may be a great Prince. They are not the -graces and accomplishments of a Sovereign, but of a lord of the -bed-chamber. They do not shew a great mind, bent on great objects, and -swayed by lofty views. They are rather foibles and blemishes in the -character of a ruler, for they imply that his attention has been turned -as much upon adorning his own person as upon advancing the State. -Charles II. was a King, such as we have here described; amiable, witty, -and accomplished, and yet his memory is equally despised and detested. -Charles was without strength of mind, or public principle. He could not -arrive at the comprehension of that mixed mass of thought and feeling, a -_kingdom_—he thought merely of the _throne_. He was as unlike Cromwell -in the manner in which he came by the sovereignty of the realm as in the -use he made of it. He saw himself, not in the glass of history, but in -the glass on his toilette; not in the eyes of posterity, but in those of -his courtiers and mistresses. Instead of regulating his conduct by -public opinion and abstract reason, he did every thing from a feeling of -personal vanity. Charles would have been more annoyed with the rejection -of a licentious overture than with the rebellion of a province; and -poured out the blood of his subjects with the same gaiety and -indifference as he did a glass of wine. He had no idea of his -obligations to the State, and only laid aside the private gentleman, to -become the tyrant of his people. Charles was popular in his life-time, -Cibber tells us, because he used to walk out with his spaniels and feed -his ducks in St. James’s park. History has consigned his name to infamy -for the executions under Jefferies, and for his league with a legitimate -despot (Louis XIV.), to undermine the liberties of his country. - -What is it, then, that makes a great Prince? Not the understanding -Purcell or Mozart, but the having an ear open to the voice of truth and -justice! Not a taste in made dishes, or French wines, or court-dresses, -but a fellow-feeling with the calamities of hunger, of cold, of disease, -and nakedness! Not a knowledge of the elegances of fashionable life, but -a heart that feels for the millions of its fellow-beings in want of the -common necessaries of life! Not a set of brilliant frivolous -accomplishments, but a manly strength of character, proof against the -seductions of a throne! He, in short, is a patriot King, who without any -other faculty usually possessed by Sovereigns, has one which they seldom -possess,—the power in imagination of changing places with his people. -Such a King may indeed aspire to the character of a ruling providence -over a nation; any other is but the head-cypher of a court. - - - - - THE FUDGE FAMILY IN PARIS - - _Edited by_ Thomas Brown, _the younger_, _Author of the ‘Twopenny - Post-bag_.’—Longmans. - - - _April 25, 1818._ - -The spirit of poetry in Mr. Moore is not a lying spirit. ‘Set it down, -my tables’—we have still, in the year 1818, three years after the date -of Mr. Southey’s laureateship, one poet, who is an honest man. We are -glad of it: nor does it spoil our theory, for the exception proves the -rule. Mr. Moore unites in himself two names that were sacred, till they -were prostituted by our modern mountebanks, the Poet and the Patriot. He -is neither a coxcomb nor a catspaw,—a whiffling turncoat, nor a -thorough-paced tool, a mouthing sycophant, ‘a full solempne man,’ like -Mr. Wordsworth,—a whining monk, like Mr. Southey,—a maudlin -Methodistical lay-preacher, like Mr. Coleridge,—a merry Andrew, like the -fellow that plays on the salt-box at Bartlemy Fair,—or the more pitiful -jack-pudding, that makes a jest of humanity in St. Stephen’s Chapel. -Thank God, he is like none of these—he is not one of the Fudge Family. -He is neither a bubble nor a cheat. He makes it his business neither to -hoodwink his own understanding, nor to blind or gag others. He is a man -of wit and fancy, but he does not sharpen his wit on the edge of human -agony, like the House of Commons’ jester, nor strew the flowers of -fancy, like the Jesuit Burke, over the carcase of corruption, for he is -a man not only of wit and fancy, but of common sense and common -humanity. He sees for himself, and he feels for others. He employs the -arts of fiction, not to adorn the deformed, or disguise the false, but -to make truth shine out the clearer, and beauty look more beautiful. He -does not make verse, ‘immortal verse,’ the vehicle of lies, the bawd of -Legitimacy, the pander of antiquated prejudices, and of vamped-up -sophistry; but of truths, of home, heartfelt truths, as old as human -nature and its wrongs. Mr. Moore calls things by their right names: he -shews us kings as kings, priests as priests, knaves as knaves, and fools -as fools. He makes us laugh at the ridiculous, and hate the odious. He -also speaks with authority, and not as certain scribes that we could -mention. He has been at Court, and has seen what passes there. - - ‘Tam knew what’s what full brawly.’ - -But he was a man before he became a courtier, and has continued to be -one afterwards; nor has he forgotten what passes in the human heart. -From what he says of the Prince, it is evident that he speaks from -habits of personal intimacy: he speaks of Lord Castlereagh as his -countryman. In the Epistles of the Fudge Family, we see, as in a glass -without a wrinkle, the mind and person of Royalty in full dress, up to -the very throat, and we have a whole-length figure of his Lordship, in -the sweeping, serpentine line of beauty, down to his very feet.[50]—We -have heard it said of our poet, by a late celebrated wit and orator, -that ‘there was no man who put so much of his heart into his fancy as -Tom Moore; that his soul seemed as if it were a particle of fire -separated from the sun, and were always fluttering to get back to that -source of light and heat.’ We think this criticism as happy as it is -just: but it will be evident to the readers of the _Fudge Family_, -that the soul of ‘a certain little gentleman’ is not attracted with -the same lively or kindly symptoms to the Bourbons, or to their -benefactors and restorers ‘under Providence!’ The title of this -delightful little collection of sweets and bitters, of honey and gall, -is, we suppose, an allusion to the short ejaculation which honest -Burchell, in the ‘Vicar of Wakefield,’ uttered at the end of every -sentence, in the conversation of Miss Amelia Carolina Wilhelmina -Skeggs and her friend, on the Court and Fashionables; and which word, -‘Fudge,’ our malicious Editor thinks equally applicable to the cant -upon the same subjects at the present day,—to the _fade politesse_ of -the _ancient regime_,—to ‘the damnable face-making’ of Holy Alliances, -and ‘the _flocci-nauci-pili-nihili-fication_’ of Legitimacy. He may be -wrong in this; but if so, we are most assuredly in the wrong with him: -and we confess, it gives us as much pleasure to agree with this -writer, as it does to differ with some others that we could mention, -but that they are not worth mentioning.—The Correspondents of the -Fudge Family in Paris are much of the same stamp (with one exception) -as the Correspondents of Dr. S——, in his work of that name, which was -lately put a stop to by that sort of censorship of the press which is -exercised by the reading public; only the Correspondents in the -present volume have a very different Editor from him of ‘_The Day and -New Times_,’ or, as it is at present called, _The New Times_ alone, -the _Day_ having been left out as an anomaly, ‘_ut lucus a non -lucendo_‘: for the readers of that paper roll their eyes in vain, and -‘find no dawn; but, in its stead, total eclipse and ever-during dark -surrounds them.’—But to return from ‘the professional _gentleman_,’ as -he calls himself, his scavenger’s bell, his mud-cart of liberal -phraseologies, and go-cart of slavery and superstition, to something -as different as genius from dulness, as wit from malice, as sense from -moon-struck madness, as independence from servility, as the -belles-lettres from law-stationery, as Parnassus from Grub-street, or -as the grub from the butterfly,—as the man who winged his airy way -from a Court which was unworthy of him, and which would have made him -unworthy of himself, ‘as light as bird from brake,’ is from the man -(if so he can be called) who would grope his way there on all fours, -bringing, as the sacrifice best worthy of himself and of the place, -his own dignity of spirit and the rights of his fellow-creatures, to -be trampled down by the obscene hoofs of a base oligarchy. But we have -already in another place spoken our minds of that person, in a way to -cut off the communication between his ‘blind mouth’ and the Midas ears -of the Stock Exchange; and we do not wish to deprive him of a -livelihood. He may receive his Treasury wages for us, so that he no -longer levies them on public credulity, and we no longer confound ‘his -sweet voice’ with that of the country or city, though it may echo the -Court. The _New Times_ is a nuisance; but it is not one that requires -to be abated. It speaks a plain, intelligible language. Its principles -are as palpable as they are base. Its pettifogging pedantry and its -Billingsgate slang can deceive nobody that is worth undeceiving. It is -the avowed organ of the deliberate, detestable system which has long -been covertly pursued in a certain quarter. This paper raves aloud, -under the ambiguous garb of phrenzy, what its patrons think in secret. -It proclaims on the house-tops what is whispered in the high places. -It soothes the ears of flatterers, of tyrants, and of slaves,—but it -sounds the alarm to free men. It is so far a great public good. It -tells the people of England what is prepared for them, and what they -have to expect. ‘Nothing is sacred in its pages but tyranny.’ It links -this country in chains of vassalage to the legitimate despotisms of -the Continent, which have been a bye-word with us for ages. It binds -this nation, hand and foot, in the trammels of lasting servitude,—it -puts the yoke upon our necks as we put pack-saddles upon asses,—marks -the brand upon our foreheads as we ruddle over sheep,—binds us in -‘with shame, with rotten parchments, and vile inky blots,’—makes -England, that threw off the yoke of a race of hereditary pretenders, -shew ‘like a rebel’s whore,’ and every morning illegitimates the House -of Brunswick, and strikes at the title of the Prince Regent to the -succession of the Crown, to which his ancestors had no just claim but -the choice of the people. It is not a paper for a free people to -endure, if a people that has oppressed the struggling liberties of -another nation can dare to call itself free; or for the Sovereign of a -free people to look at, if a Prince who had restored a despot to a -throne, in contempt of the voice of the people, could be supposed to -respect the rights of human nature more than his own power. It -reverses the Revolution of 1688, by justifying the claims of the -Bourbons,—brings back Popery and slavery here, by parity of -reasoning,—and sends the illustrious members of the present Royal -Family a packing, as vagabonds and outlaws—by RIGHT DIVINE. If this is -not a legitimate conclusion from the Doctor’s reasoning,—from his -‘brangle and brave-all, discord and debate,’—why then - - ‘The pillar’d firmament is rottenness, - And earth’s base built on stubble.’ - -The chief _Dramatis Personæ_: in the _Fudge Family_ are,—Comic -Personages, Miss Biddy Fudge and Mr. Bob Fudge, her brother: Mr. Philip -Fudge, their father, and a friend of Lord Castlereagh, a grave -gentleman; and a Mr. Phelim Connor, who is a patriotic, or, which is the -same thing, a tragic writer. Miss Biddy Fudge takes the account of -poke-bonnets and love-adventures upon herself; Mr. Bob, the _patés_, -jockey-boots, and high collars: Mr. Phil. Fudge addresses himself to the -Lord Viscount Castlereagh; and Mr. Phelim, ‘the sad historian of pensive -Europe,’ appeals, we confess, more effectually to us, in words - - ‘As precious as the ruddy drops - That visit our sad hearts.’ - -Take for example the following magnanimous and most heroical Epistle:— - - FROM PHELIM CONNOR TO —— - - ‘Return!’—no never, while the withering hand - Of bigot power is on that helpless land; - While, for the faith my fathers held to God, - Ev’n in the fields where free those fathers trod, - I am proscrib’d, and—like the spot left bare - In Israel’s halls, to tell the proud and fair - Amidst their mirth, that Slavery had been there— - On all I love, home, parents, friends, I trace - The mournful mark of bondage and disgrace! - No!—let _them_ stay, who in their country’s pangs - See nought but food for factions and harangues; - Who yearly kneel before their masters’ doors, - And hawk their wrongs, as beggars do their sores: - Still let your[51] * * * * * - * * * * * - - Still hope and suffer, all who can!—but I, - Who durst not hope, and cannot bear, must fly. - - But whither?—everywhere the scourge pursues— - Turn where he will, the wretched wanderer views, - In the bright, broken hopes of all his race, - Countless reflections of th’ Oppressor’s face! - Every-where gallant hearts, and spirits true, - Are serv’d up victims to the vile and few; - While E******, everywhere—the general foe - Of Truth and Freedom, wheresoe’er they glow— - Is first, when tyrants strike, to aid the blow! - - Oh, E******! could such poor revenge atone - For wrongs, that well might claim the deadliest one; - Were it a vengeance, sweet enough to sate - The wretch who flies from thy intolerant hate, - To hear his curses on such barbarous sway - Echoed, where’er he bends his cheerless way;— - Could _this_ content him, every lip he meets - Teems for his vengeance with such poisonous sweets; - Were _this_ his luxury, never is thy name - Pronounc’d, but he doth banquet on thy shame; - Hears maledictions ring from every side - Upon that grasping power, that selfish pride, - Which vaunts its own, and scorns all rights beside; - That low and desperate envy, which to blast - A neighbour’s blessings, risks the few thou hast;— - That monster, Self, too gross to be conceal’d - Which ever lurks behind thy proffer’d shield;— - That faithless craft, which in thy hour of need, - Can court the slave, can swear he shall be freed, - Yet basely spurns him, when thy point is gain’d, - Back to his masters, ready gagg’d and chain’d! - Worthy associate of that band of Kings, - That royal, rav’ning flock, whose vampire wings - O’er sleeping Europe treacherously brood, - And fan her into dreams of promis’d good, - Of hope, of freedom—but to drain her blood! - - If _thus_ to hear thee branded be a bliss - That Vengeance loves, there’s yet more sweet than this,— - That ’twas an Irish head, an Irish heart, - Made thee the fall’n and tarnish’d thing thou art; - That, as the Centaur gave th’ infected vest - In which he died, to rack his conqueror’s breast, - We send thee C——gh:—as heaps of dead - Have slain their slayers by the pest they spread, - So hath our land breath’d out—thy fame to dim, - Thy strength to waste, and rot thee, soul and limb— - Her worst infections all condens’d in him! - * * * * * - - When will the world shake off such yokes? Oh, when - Will that redeeming day shine out on men, - That shall behold them rise, erect and free - As Heav’n and Nature meant mankind should be? - When Reason shall no longer blindly bow - To the vile pagod things, that o’er her brow, - Like him of Jaghernaut, drive trampling now; - Nor conquest dare to desolate God’s earth; - Nor drunken Victory, with a Nero’s mirth, - Strike her lewd harp amidst a people’s groans;— - But, built on love, the world’s exalted thrones - Shall to the virtuous and the wise be given— - Those bright, those sole Legitimates of Heaven! - _When_ will this be?—or, oh! is it, in truth, - But one of those sweet, day-break dreams of youth, - In which the Soul, as round her morning springs, - ’Twixt sleep and waking, sees such dazzling things! - And must the hope, as vain as it is bright, - Be all giv’n up?—and are _they_ only right, - Who say this world of thinking souls was made - To be by Kings partition’d, truck’d, and weigh’d - In scales that, ever since the world begun, - Have counted millions but as dust to one? - Are _they_ the only wise, who laugh to scorn - The rights, the freedom to which man was born; - Who * * * * * - * * * * * - - Who, proud to kiss each separate rod of power, - Bless, while he reigns, the minion of the hour; - Worship each would-be God, that o’er them moves, - And take the thundering of his brass for Jove’s! - If _this_ be wisdom, then farewell my books, - Farewell ye shrines of old, ye classic brooks, - Which fed my soul with currents, pure and fair, - Of living truth, that now must stagnate there!— - Instead of themes that touch the lyre with light,— - Instead of Greece, and her immortal fight - For Liberty, which once awak’d my strings, - Welcome the Grand Conspiracy of Kings, - The High Legitimates, the Holy Band, - Who, bolder ev’n than He of Sparta’s land, - Against whole millions, panting to be free, - Would guard the pass of right-line tyranny! - Instead of him, th’ Athenian bard, whose blade - Had stood the onset which his pen pourtray’d, - Welcome * * * * * - * * * * * - - And, ‘stead of Aristides—woe the day - Such names should mingle!—welcome C——gh! - - Here break we off, at this unhallow’d name, - Like priests of old, when words ill-omen’d came. - My next shall tell thee, bitterly shall tell, - Thoughts that * * * * * - * * * * * - - Thoughts that—could patience hold—’twere wiser far - To leave still hid and burning where they are! - -_Indignatio facit versus._ Mr. Moore’s better genius is here his spleen. -The politician sharpens the poet’s pen. Poor Phelim resumes this subject -twice afterwards, and the last time with such force and spirit, that he -is compelled to break off in the middle, for fear of consequences. But -as far as he goes, we will accompany him. - - Yes—’twas a cause, as noble and as great - As ever hero died to vindicate— - A Nation’s right to speak a Nation’s voice, - And own no power but of the Nation’s choice! - Such was the grand, the glorious cause that now - Hung trembling on Napoleon’s single brow; - Such the sublime arbitrement, that pour’d, - In patriot eyes, a light around his sword, - A glory then, which never, since the day - Of his young victories, had illum’d its way! - Oh, ’twas not then the time for tame debates, - Ye men of Gaul, when chains were at your gates; - When he, who fled before your Chieftain’s eye, - As geese from eagles on Mount Taurus fly, - Denounc’d against the land, that spurn’d his chain, - Myriads of swords to bind it fast again— - Myriads of fierce invading swords, to track - Through your best blood, his path of vengeance back; - When Europe’s Kings, that never yet combin’d - But (like those upper Stars, that, when conjoin’d, - Shed woe and pestilence) to scourge mankind, - Gather’d around, with hosts from every shore, - Hating Napoleon much, but Freedom more; - And, in that coming strife, appall’d to see - The world yet left one chance for liberty!— - No, ’twas not then the time to weave a net - Of bondage round your Chief; to curb and fret - Your veteran war-horse, pawing for the fight, - When every hope was in his speed and might— - To waste the hour of action in dispute, - And coolly plan how Freedom’s _boughs_ should shoot, - When your invader’s axe was at the _root_! - No, sacred Liberty! that God, who throws - Thy light around, like his own sunshine, knows - How well I love thee, and how deeply hate - _All_ tyrants, upstart and Legitimate— - Yet, in that hour, were France my native land, - I would have followed, with quick heart and hand, - Napoleon, Nero—ay, no matter whom— - To snatch my country from that damning doom,— - That deadliest curse that on the conquered waits— - A Conqueror’s satrap, thron’d within her gates! - True, he was false, despotic—all you please— - Had trampled down man’s holiest liberties— - Had, by a genius form’d for nobler things - Than lie within the grasp of _vulgar_ Kings, - But rais’d the hopes of men—as eaglets fly - With tortoises aloft into the sky— - To dash them down again more shatteringly! - All this I own—but still[52] * * * * * - * * * * * - -All is not in this high-wrought strain, which we like as well as the War -Eclogues of Tyrtæus, or the Birth-day Odes (which seem also to have -broke off in the middle) of Mr. Southey. Mr. Thomas Brown the Younger, -is a man of humanity, as Mr. Southey formerly was: he is also a man of -wit, which Mr. Southey is not. For instance, Miss Biddy Fudge, in her -first letter, writes as follows:— - - By the bye though at Calais, Papa had a touch - Of romance on the pier, which affected me much. - At the sight of that spot, where our darling Dixhuit, - Set the first of his own dear legitimate feet.[53] - (Modell’d out so exactly, and—God bless the mark! - ’Tis a foot, Dolly, worthy so _Grand_ a _Monarque_) - He exclaim’d, ‘Oh mon Roi!’ and, with tear-dropping eye, - Stood to gaze on the spot—while some Jacobin nigh, - Mutter’d out with a shrug (what an insolent thing!) - ‘Ma foi, he be right—’tis de Englishman’s King; - And dat _gros pied de cochon_—begar, me vil say - Dat de foot look mosh better, if turn’d toder way.’ - -Mr. Phil. Fudge, in his dreams, thinks of a plan for changing heads. - - Good Viscount S—dm—th, too, instead - Of his own grave, respected head, - Might wear (for aught I see that bars) - Old Lady Wilhelmina Frump’s— - So while the hand sign’d _Circulars_, - The head might lisp out ‘What is trumps?’ - The R—g—t’s brains could we transfer - To some robust man-milliner, - The shop, the shears, the lace, and ribbon, - Would go, I doubt not, quite as glib on; - And, _vice versâ_, take the pains - To give the P—ce the shopman’s brains, - The only change from thence would flow, - _Ribbons_ would not be wasted so! - -Or here is another proposal for weighing the head of the State; - - Suppose, my Lord,—and far from me - To treat such things with levity— - But just suppose the R—g—t’s weight - Were made thus an affair of state; - And, ev’ry sessions, at the close, - ‘Stead of a speech, which, all can see, is - Heavy and dull enough, God knows— - We were to try how heavy _he_ is. - Much would it glad all hearts to hear - That, while the Nation’s Revenue - Loses so many pounds a year, - The P——e, God bless him! _gains_ a few. - - With bales of muslin, chintzes, spices, - I see the Easterns weigh their Kings;— - But, for the R—g—t, my advice is, - We should throw in much _heavier_ things: - For instance, —— ——‘s quarto volumes, - Which, though not spices, serve to wrap them; - _Dominie_ St—dd—t’s Daily columns, - ‘Prodigious!’—in, of course we’d clap them— - Letters, that C—rtw—t’s pen indites, - In which, with logical confusion, - The _Major_ like a _Minor_ writes, - And never comes to a _conclusion_: - Lord S—m—rs’ pamphlet, or his head— - (Ah, _that_ were worth its weight in lead!) - Along with which we _in_ may whip, sly, - The Speeches of Sir John C—x H—pp—sly; - That Baronet of many words, - Who loves so, in the House of Lords, - To whisper Bishops—and so nigh - Unto their wigs in whisp’ring goes, - That you may always know him by - A patch of powder on his nose!— - If this won’t do, we must in cram - The ‘Reasons’ of Lord B—ck—gh—m; - (A book his Lordship means to write, - Entitled, ‘Reasons for my Ratting’:) - Or, should these prove too small and light, - His ——‘s a host, we’ll bundle _that_ in! - And, _still_ should all these masses fail - To stir the R—g—t’s ponderous scale, - Why then, my Lord, in heaven’s name, - Pitch in, without reserve or stint, - The whole of R—g—ly’s beauteous dame— - If that won’t raise him, devil’s in’t. - -But we stop here, or we shall quote the whole work. We like the -political part of this _jeu d’esprit_ better, on the whole, than the -merely comic and familiar. Bob Fudge is almost too suffocating a -coxcomb, even in description, with his stays and _patés_; and Miss Biddy -Fudge, with her _poke_ bonnet and her princely lover, who turned out to -be no better than a man-milliner, is not half so interesting as a -certain Marchioness in the Twopenny Post Bag, with curls ‘in the manner -of Ackermann’s dresses for May, and her yellow charioteer.’ Besides, -Miss Biddy’s amour ends in nothing. In short, the Fudges abroad are not -such fat subjects for ridicule as the Fudges at home. ‘They do not cut -up so well in the cawl; they do not tallow so in the kidneys:’ but as -far as they go, Mr. Brown, Junior, uses the dissecting knife with equal -dexterity, and equally to the delight and edification of the -byestanders. - - - - - CHARACTER OF LORD CHATHAM - - - 1807. - -Lord Chatham’s genius burnt brightest at the last. The spark of liberty, -which had lain concealed and dormant, buried under the dirt and rubbish -of state intrigue and vulgar faction, now met with congenial matter, and -kindled up ‘a flame of sacred vehemence’ in his breast. It burst forth -with a fury and a splendour that might have awed the world, and made -kings tremble. He spoke as a man should speak, because he felt as a man -should feel, in such circumstances. He came forward as the advocate of -liberty, as the defender of the rights of his fellow-citizens, as the -enemy of tyranny, as the friend of his country, and of mankind. He did -not stand up to make a vain display of his talents, but to discharge a -duty, to maintain that cause which lay nearest to his heart, to preserve -the ark of the British constitution from every sacrilegious touch, as -the high-priest of his calling, with a pious zeal. The feelings and the -rights of Englishmen were enshrined in his heart; and with their united -force braced every nerve, possessed every faculty, and communicated -warmth and vital energy to every part of his being. The whole man moved -under this impulse. He felt the cause of liberty as his own. He resented -every injury done to her as an injury to himself, and every attempt to -defend it as an insult upon his understanding. He did not stay to -dispute about words, about nice distinctions, about trifling forms. He -laughed at the little attempts of little retailers of logic to entangle -him in senseless argument. He did not come there as to a debating club, -or law court, to start questions and hunt them down; to wind and unwind -the web of sophistry; to pick out the threads, and untie every knot with -scrupulous exactness; to bandy logic with every pretender to a paradox; -to examine, to sift evidence; to dissect a doubt and halve a scruple; to -weigh folly and knavery in scales together, and see on which side the -balance preponderated; to prove that liberty, truth, virtue, and justice -were good things, or that slavery and corruption were bad things. He did -not try to prove those truths which did not require any proof, but to -make others feel them with the same force that he did; and to tear off -the flimsy disguises with which the sycophants of power attempted to -cover them.—The business of an orator is not to convince, but persuade; -not to inform, but to rouse the mind; to build upon the habitual -prejudices of mankind, (for reason of itself will do nothing,) and to -add feeling to prejudice, and action to feeling. There is nothing new or -curious or profound in Lord Chatham’s speeches. All is obvious and -common; there is nothing but what we already knew, or might have found -out for ourselves. We see nothing but the familiar every-day face of -nature. We are always in broad day-light. But then there is the same -difference between our own conceptions of things and his representation -of them, as there is between the same objects seen on a dull cloudy day, -or in the blaze of sunshine. His common sense has the effect of -inspiration. He electrifies his hearers, not by the novelty of his -ideas, but by their force and intensity. He has the same ideas as other -men, but he has them in a thousand times greater clearness and strength -and vividness. Perhaps there is no man so poorly furnished with thoughts -and feelings but that if he could recollect all that he knew, and had -all his ideas at perfect command, he would be able to confound the puny -arts of the most dexterous sophist that pretended to make a dupe of his -understanding. But in the mind of Chatham, the great substantial truths -of common sense, the leading maxims of the Constitution, the real -interests and general feelings of mankind, were in a manner embodied. He -comprehended the whole of his subject at a single glance—every thing was -firmly rivetted to its place; there was no feebleness, no forgetfulness, -no pause, no distraction; the ardour of his mind overcame every -obstacle, and he crushed the objections of his adversaries as we crush -an insect under our feet.—His imagination was of the same character with -his understanding, and was under the same guidance. Whenever he gave way -to it, it ‘flew an eagle flight, forth and right on’; but it did not -become enamoured of its own motion, wantoning in giddy circles, or -‘sailing with supreme dominion through the azure deep of air.’ It never -forgot its errand, but went strait forward, like an arrow to its mark, -with an unerring aim. It was his servant, not his master. - -To be a great orator does not require the highest faculties of the human -mind, but it requires the highest exertion of the common faculties of -our nature. He has no occasion to dive into the depths of science, or to -soar aloft on angels’ wings. He keeps upon the surface, he stands firm -upon the ground, but his form is majestic, and his eye sees far and -near: he moves among his fellows, but he moves among them as a giant -among common men. He has no need to read the heavens, to unfold the -system of the universe, or create new worlds for the delighted fancy to -dwell in; it is enough that he sees things as they are; that he knows -and feels and remembers the common circumstances and daily transactions -that are passing in the world around him. He is not raised above others -by being superior to the common interests, prejudices, and passions of -mankind, but by feeling them in a more intense degree than they do. -Force then is the sole characteristic excellence of an orator; it is -almost the only one that can be of any service to him. Refinement, -depth, elevation, delicacy, originality, ingenuity, invention, are not -wanted: he must appeal to the sympathies of human nature, and whatever -is not founded in these, is foreign to his purpose. He does not create, -he can only imitate or echo back the public sentiment. His object is to -call up the feelings of the human breast; but he cannot call up what is -not already there. The first duty of an orator is to be understood by -every one; but it is evident that what all can understand, is not in -itself difficult of comprehension. He cannot add any thing to the -materials afforded him by the knowledge and experience of others. - -Lord Chatham, in his speeches, was neither philosopher nor poet. As to -the latter, the difference between poetry and eloquence I take to be -this: that the object of the one is to delight the imagination, that of -the other to impel the will. The one ought to enrich and feed the mind -itself with tenderness and beauty, the other furnishes it with motives -of action. The one seeks to give immediate pleasure, to make the mind -dwell with rapture on its own workings—it is to itself ‘both end and -use’: the other endeavours to call up such images as will produce the -strongest effect upon the mind, and makes use of the passions only as -instruments to attain a particular purpose. The poet lulls and soothes -the mind into a forgetfulness of itself, and ‘laps it in Elysium’: the -orator strives to awaken it to a sense of its real interests, and to -make it feel the necessity of taking the most effectual means for -securing them. The one dwells in an ideal world; the other is only -conversant about realities. Hence poetry must be more ornamented, must -be richer and fuller and more delicate, because it is at liberty to -select whatever images are naturally most beautiful, and likely to give -most pleasure; whereas the orator is confined to particular facts, which -he may adorn as well as he can, and make the most of, but which he -cannot strain beyond a certain point without running into extravagance -and affectation, and losing his end. However, from the very nature of -the case, the orator is allowed a greater latitude, and is compelled to -make use of harsher and more abrupt combinations in the decoration of -his subject; for his art is an attempt to reconcile beauty and deformity -together: on the contrary, the materials of poetry, which are chosen at -pleasure, are in themselves beautiful, and naturally combine with -whatever else is beautiful. Grace and harmony are therefore essential to -poetry, because they naturally arise out of the subject; but whatever -adds to the effect, whatever tends to strengthen the idea or give energy -to the mind, is of the nature of eloquence. The orator is only concerned -to give a tone of masculine firmness to the will, to brace the sinews -and muscles of the mind; not to delight our nervous sensibilities, or -soften the mind into voluptuous indolence. The flowery and sentimental -style is of all others the most intolerable in a speaker.—I shall only -add on this subject, that modesty, impartiality, and candour, are not -the virtues of a public speaker. He must be confident, inflexible, -uncontrolable, overcoming all opposition by his ardour and impetuosity. -We do not _command_ others by sympathy with them, but by power, by -passion, by will. Calm inquiry, sober truth, and speculative -indifference will never carry any point. The passions are contagious; -and we cannot contend against opposite passions with nothing but naked -reason. Concessions to an enemy are clear loss: he will take advantage -of them, but make us none in return. He will magnify the weak sides of -our argument, but will be blind to whatever makes against himself. The -multitude will always be inclined to side with that party, whose -passions are the most inflamed, and whose prejudices are the most -inveterate. Passion should therefore never be sacrificed to punctilio. -It should indeed be governed by prudence, but it should itself govern -and lend its impulse and direction to abstract reason. Fox was a -reasoner, Lord Chatham was an orator. Burke was both a reasoner and a -poet; and was therefore still farther removed from that conformity with -the vulgar notions and mechanical feelings of mankind, which will always -be necessary to give a man the chief sway in a popular assembly. - - - - - CHARACTER OF MR. BURKE, 1807[54] - - -The following speech is perhaps the fairest specimen I could give of Mr. -Burke’s various talents as a speaker. The subject itself is not the most -interesting, nor does it admit of that weight and closeness of reasoning -which he displayed on other occasions. But there is no single speech -which can convey a satisfactory idea of his powers of mind: to do him -justice, it would be necessary to quote all his works; the only specimen -of Burke is, _all that he wrote_. With respect to most other speakers, a -specimen is generally enough, or more than enough. When you are -acquainted with their manner, and see what proficiency they have made in -the mechanical exercise of their profession, with what facility they can -borrow a simile, or round a period, how dexterously they can argue, and -object, and rejoin, you are satisfied; there is no other difference in -their speeches than what arises from the difference of the subjects. But -this was not the case with Burke. He brought his subjects along with -him; he drew his materials from himself. The only limits which -circumscribed his variety were the stores of his own mind. His stock of -ideas did not consist of a few meagre facts, meagrely stated, of half a -dozen common-places tortured in a thousand different ways: but his mine -of wealth was a profound understanding, inexhaustible as the human -heart, and various as the sources of nature. He therefore enriched every -subject to which he applied himself, and new subjects were only the -occasions of calling forth fresh powers of mind which had not been -before exerted. It would therefore be in vain to look for the proof of -his powers in any one of his speeches or writings: they all contain some -additional proof of power. In speaking of Burke, then, I shall speak of -the whole compass and circuit of his mind—not of that small part or -section of him which I have been able to give: to do otherwise would be -like the story of the man who put the brick in his pocket, thinking to -shew it as the model of a house. I have been able to manage pretty well -with respect to all my other speakers, and curtailed them down without -remorse. It was easy to reduce them within certain limits, to fix their -spirit, and condense their variety; by having a certain quantity given, -you might infer all the rest; it was only the same thing over again. But -who can bind Proteus, or confine the roving flight of genius? - -Burke’s writings are better than his speeches, and indeed his speeches -are writings. But he seemed to feel himself more at ease, to have a -fuller possession of his faculties in addressing the public, than in -addressing the House of Commons. Burke was _raised_ into public life: -and he seems to have been prouder of this new dignity than became so -great a man. For this reason, most of his speeches have a sort of -parliamentary preamble to them: there is an air of affected modesty, and -ostentatious trifling in them: he seems fond of coqueting with the House -of Commons, and is perpetually calling the Speaker out to dance a minuet -with him, before he begins. There is also something like an attempt to -stimulate the superficial dulness of his hearers by exciting their -surprise, by running into extravagance: and he sometimes demeans himself -by condescending to what may be considered as bordering too much upon -buffoonery, for the amusement of the company. Those lines of Milton were -admirably applied to him by some one—‘The elephant to make them sport -wreathed his proboscis lithe.’ The truth is, that he was out of his -place in the House of Commons; he was eminently qualified to shine as a -man of genius, as the instructor of mankind, as the brightest luminary -of his age: but he had nothing in common with that motley crew of -knights, citizens, and burgesses. He could not be said to be ‘native and -endued unto that element.’ He was above it; and never appeared like -himself, but when, forgetful of the idle clamours of party, and of the -little views of little men, he appealed to his country, and the -enlightened judgment of mankind. - -I am not going to make an idle panegyric on Burke (he has no need of -it); but I cannot help looking upon him as the chief boast and ornament -of the English House of Commons. What has been said of him is, I think, -strictly true, that ‘he was the most eloquent man of his time: his -wisdom was greater than his eloquence.’ The only public man that in my -opinion can be put in any competition with him, is Lord Chatham: and he -moved in a sphere so very remote, that it is almost impossible to -compare them. But though it would perhaps be difficult to determine -which of them excelled most in his particular way, there is nothing in -the world more easy than to point out in what their peculiar excellences -consisted. They were in every respect the reverse of each other. -Chatham’s eloquence was popular: his wisdom was altogether plain and -practical. Burke’s eloquence was that of the poet; of the man of high -and unbounded fancy: his wisdom was profound and contemplative. -Chatham’s eloquence was calculated to make men _act_; Burke’s was -calculated to make them _think_. Chatham could have roused the fury of a -multitude, and wielded their physical energy as he pleased: Burke’s -eloquence carried conviction into the mind of the retired and lonely -student, opened the recesses of the human breast, and lighted up the -face of nature around him. Chatham supplied his hearers with motives to -immediate action: Burke furnished them with _reasons_ for action which -might have little effect upon them at the time, but for which they would -be the wiser and better all their lives after. In research, in -originality, in variety of knowledge, in richness of invention, in depth -and comprehension of mind, Burke had as much the advantage of Lord -Chatham as he was excelled by him in plain common sense, in strong -feeling, in steadiness of purpose, in vehemence, in warmth, in -enthusiasm, and energy of mind. Burke was the man of genius, of fine -sense, and subtle reasoning; Chatham was a man of clear understanding, -of strong sense, and violent passions. Burke’s mind was satisfied with -speculation: Chatham’s was essentially _active_: it could not rest -without an object. The power which governed Burke’s mind was his -Imagination; that which gave its _impetus_ to Chatham’s was Will. The -one was almost the creature of pure intellect, the other of physical -temperament. - -There are two very different ends which a man of genius may propose to -himself either in writing or speaking, and which will accordingly give -birth to very different styles. He can have but one of these two -objects; either to enrich or strengthen the mind; either to furnish us -with new ideas, to lead the mind into new trains of thought, to which it -was before unused, and which it was incapable of striking out for -itself; or else to collect and embody what we already knew, to rivet our -old impressions more deeply; to make what was before plain still -plainer, and to give to that which was familiar all the effect of -novelty. In the one case we receive an accession to the stock of our -ideas; in the other, an additional degree of life and energy is infused -into them: our thoughts continue to flow in the same channels, but their -pulse is quickened and invigorated. I do not know how to distinguish -these different styles better than by calling them severally the -inventive and refined, or the impressive and vigorous styles. It is only -the subject-matter of eloquence, however, which is allowed to be remote -or obscure. The things in themselves may be subtle and recondite, but -they must be dragged out of their obscurity and brought struggling to -the light; they must be rendered plain and palpable, (as far as it is in -the wit of man to do so) or they are no longer eloquence. That which by -its natural impenetrability, and in spite of every effort, remains dark -and difficult, which is impervious to every ray, on which the -imagination can shed no lustre, which can be clothed with no beauty, is -not a subject for the orator or poet. At the same time it cannot be -expected that abstract truths or profound observations should ever be -placed in the same strong and dazzling points of view as natural objects -and mere matters of fact. It is enough if they receive a reflex and -borrowed lustre, like that which cheers the first dawn of morning, where -the effect of surprise and novelty gilds every object, and the joy of -beholding another world gradually emerging out of the gloom of night, ‘a -new creation rescued from his reign,’ fills the mind with a sober -rapture. Philosophical eloquence is in writing what _chiaro scuro_ is in -painting; he would be a fool who should object that the colours in the -shaded part of a picture were not so bright as those on the opposite -side; the eye of the connoisseur receives an equal delight from both, -balancing the want of brilliancy and effect with the greater delicacy of -the tints, and difficulty of the execution. In judging of Burke, -therefore, we are to consider first the style of eloquence which he -adopted, and secondly the effects which he produced with it. If he did -not produce the same effects on vulgar minds, as some others have done, -it was not for want of power, but from the turn and direction of his -mind.[55] It was because his subjects, his ideas, his arguments, were -less vulgar. The question is not whether he brought certain truths -equally home to us, but how much nearer he brought them than they were -before. In my opinion, he united the two extremes of refinement and -strength in a higher degree than any other writer whatever. - -The subtlety of his mind was undoubtedly that which rendered Burke a -less popular writer and speaker than he otherwise would have been. It -weakened the impression of his observations upon others, but I cannot -admit that it weakened the observations themselves; that it took any -thing from their real weight and solidity. Coarse minds think all that -is subtle, futile: that because it is not gross and obvious and palpable -to the senses, it is therefore light and frivolous, and of no importance -in the real affairs of life; thus making their own confined -understandings the measure of truth, and supposing that whatever they do -not distinctly perceive, is nothing. Seneca, who was not one of the -vulgar, also says, that subtle truths are those which have the least -substance in them, and consequently approach nearest to non-entity. But -for my own part I cannot help thinking that the most important truths -must be the most refined and subtle; for that very reason, that they -must comprehend a great number of particulars, and instead of referring -to any distinct or positive fact, must point out the combined effects of -an extensive chain of causes, operating gradually, remotely, and -collectively, and therefore imperceptibly. General principles are not -the less true or important because from their nature they elude -immediate observation; they are like the air, which is not the less -necessary because we neither see nor feel it, or like that secret -influence which binds the world together, and holds the planets in their -orbits. The very same persons who are the most forward to laugh at all -systematic reasoning as idle and impertinent, you will the next moment -hear exclaiming bitterly against the baleful effects of new-fangled -systems of philosophy, or gravely descanting on the immense importance -of instilling sound principles of morality into the mind. It would not -be a bold conjecture, but an obvious truism to say, that all the great -changes which have been brought about in the moral world, either for the -better or worse, have been introduced not by the bare statement of -facts, which are things already known, and which must always operate -nearly in the same manner, but by the development of certain opinions -and abstract principles of reasoning on life and manners, on the origin -of society and man’s nature in general, which being obscure and -uncertain, vary from time to time, and produce correspondent changes in -the human mind. They are the wholesome dew and rain, or the mildew and -pestilence that silently destroy. To this principle of generalization -all religious creeds, the institutions of wise law-givers, and the -systems of philosophers, owe their influence. - -It has always been with me a test of the sense and candour of any one -belonging to the opposite party, whether he allowed Burke to be a great -man. Of all the persons of this description that I have ever known, I -never met with above one or two who would make this concession; whether -it was that party feelings ran too high to admit of any real candour, or -whether it was owing to an essential vulgarity in their habits of -thinking, they all seemed to be of opinion that he was a wild -enthusiast, or a hollow sophist, who was to be answered by bits of -facts, by smart logic, by shrewd questions, and idle songs. They looked -upon him as a man of disordered intellects, because he reasoned in a -style to which they had not been used and which confounded their dim -perceptions. If you said that though you differed with him in sentiment, -yet you thought him an admirable reasoner, and a close observer of human -nature, you were answered with a loud laugh, and some hackneyed -quotation. ‘Alas! Leviathan was not so tamed!’ They did not know whom -they had to contend with. The corner stone, which the builders rejected, -became the head-corner, though to the Jews a stumbling block, and to the -Greeks foolishness; for indeed I cannot discover that he was much better -understood by those of his own party, if we may judge from the little -affinity there is between his mode of reasoning and theirs.—The simple -clue to all his reasonings on politics is, I think, as follows. He did -not agree with some writers, that that mode of government is necessarily -the best which is the cheapest. He saw in the construction of society -other principles at work, and other capacities of fulfilling the -desires, and perfecting the nature of man, besides those of securing the -equal enjoyment of the means of animal life, and doing this at as little -expense as possible. He thought that the wants and happiness of men were -not to be provided for, as we provide for those of a herd of cattle, -merely by attending to their physical necessities. He thought more nobly -of his fellows. He knew that man had affections and passions and powers -of imagination, as well as hunger and thirst and the sense of heat and -cold. He took his idea of political society from the pattern of private -life, wishing, as he himself expresses it, to incorporate the domestic -charities with the orders of the state, and to blend them together. He -strove to establish an analogy between the compact that binds together -the community at large, and that which binds together the several -families that compose it. He knew that the rules that form the basis of -private morality are not founded in reason, that is, in the abstract -properties of those things which are the subjects of them, but in the -nature of man, and his capacity of being affected by certain things from -habit, from imagination, and sentiment, as well as from reason. - -Thus, the reason why a man ought to be attached to his wife and children -is not, surely, that they are better than others, (for in this case -every one else ought to be of the same opinion) but because he must be -chiefly interested in those things which are nearest to him, and with -which he is best acquainted, since his understanding cannot reach -equally to every thing; because he must be most attached to those -objects which he has known the longest, and which by their situation -have actually affected him the most, not those which in themselves are -the most affecting, whether they have ever made any impression on him or -no; that is, because he is by his nature the creature of habit and -feeling, and because it is reasonable that he should act in conformity -to his nature. Burke was so far right in saying that it is no objection -to an institution, that it is founded in _prejudice_, but the contrary, -if that prejudice is natural and right; that is, if it arises from those -circumstances which are properly subjects of feeling and association, -not from any defect or perversion of the understanding in those things -which fall strictly under its jurisdiction. On this profound maxim he -took his stand. Thus he contended, that the prejudice in favour of -nobility was natural and proper, and fit to be encouraged by the -positive institutions of society; not on account of the real or personal -merit of the individuals, but because such an institution has a tendency -to enlarge and raise the mind, to keep alive the memory of past -greatness, to connect the different ages of the world together, to carry -back the imagination over a long tract of time, and feed it with the -contemplation of remote events: because it is natural to think highly of -that which inspires us with high thoughts, which has been connected for -many generations with splendour, and affluence, and dignity, and power, -and privilege. He also conceived, that by transferring the respect from -the person to the thing, and thus rendering it steady and permanent, the -mind would be habitually formed to sentiments of deference, attachment, -and fealty, to whatever else demanded its respect: that it would be led -to fix its view on what was elevated and lofty, and be weaned from that -low and narrow jealousy which never willingly or heartily admits of any -superiority in others, and is glad of every opportunity to bring down -all excellence to a level with its own miserable standard. Nobility did -not therefore exist to the prejudice of the other orders of the state, -but by, and for them. The inequality of the different orders of society -did not destroy the unity and harmony of the whole. The health and -well-being of the moral world was to be promoted by the same means as -the beauty of the natural world; by contrast, by change, by light and -shade, by variety of parts, by order and proportion. To think of -reducing all mankind to the same insipid level, seemed to him the same -absurdity as to destroy the inequalities of surface in a country, for -the benefit of agriculture and commerce. In short, he believed that the -interests of men in society should be consulted, and their several -stations and employments assigned, with a view to their nature, not as -physical, but as moral beings, so as to nourish their hopes, to lift -their imagination, to enliven their fancy, to rouse their activity, to -strengthen their virtue, and to furnish the greatest number of objects -of pursuit and means of enjoyment to beings constituted as man is, -consistently with the order and stability of the whole. - -The same reasoning might be extended farther. I do not say that his -arguments are conclusive; but they are profound and _true_, as far as -they go. There may be disadvantages and abuses necessarily interwoven -with his scheme, or opposite advantages of infinitely greater value, to -be derived from another order of things and state of society. This -however does not invalidate either the truth or importance of Burke’s -reasoning; since the advantages he points out as connected with the -mixed form of government are really and necessarily inherent in it: -since they are compatible in the same degree with no other; since the -principle itself on which he rests his argument (whatever we may think -of the application) is of the utmost weight and moment; and since on -whichever side the truth lies, it is impossible to make a fair decision -without having the opposite side of the question clearly and fully -stated to us. This Burke has done in a masterly manner. He presents to -you one view or face of society. Let him, who thinks he can, give the -reverse side with equal force, beauty, and clearness. It is said, I -know, that truth is _one_; but to this I cannot subscribe, for it -appears to me that truth is _many_. There are as many truths as there -are things and causes of action and contradictory principles at work in -society. In making up the account of good and evil, indeed, the final -result must be one way or the other; but the particulars on which that -result depends are infinite and various. - -It will be seen from what I have said, that I am very far from agreeing -with those who think that Burke was a man without understanding, and a -merely florid writer. There are two causes which have given rise to this -calumny; namely, that narrowness of mind which leads men to suppose that -the truth lies entirely on the side of their own opinions, and that -whatever does not make for them is absurd and irrational; secondly, a -trick we have of confounding reason with judgment, and supposing that it -is merely the province of the understanding to pronounce sentence, and -not to give in evidence, or argue the case; in short, that it is a -passive, not an active faculty. Thus there are persons who never run -into any extravagance, because they are so buttressed up with the -opinions of others on all sides, that they cannot lean much to one side -or the other; they are so little moved with any kind of reasoning, that -they remain at an equal distance from every extreme, and are never very -far from the truth, because the slowness of their faculties will not -suffer them to make much progress in error. These are persons of great -judgment. The scales of the mind are pretty sure to remain even, when -there is nothing in them. In this sense of the word, Burke must be -allowed to have wanted judgment, by all those who think that he was -wrong in his conclusions. The accusation of want of judgment, in fact, -only means that you yourself are of a different opinion. But if in -arriving at one error he discovered a hundred truths, I should consider -myself a hundred times more indebted to him than if, stumbling on that -which I consider as the right side of the question, he had committed a -hundred absurdities in striving to establish his point. I speak of him -now merely as an author, or as far as I and other readers are concerned -with him; at the same time, I should not differ from any one who may be -disposed to contend that the consequences of his writings as instruments -of political power have been tremendous, fatal, such as no exertion of -wit or knowledge or genius can ever counteract or atone for. - -Burke also gave a hold to his antagonists by mixing up sentiments and -imagery with his reasoning; so that being unused to such a sight in the -region of politics, they were deceived, and could not discern the fruit -from the flowers. Gravity is the cloke of wisdom; and those who have -nothing else think it an insult to affect the one without the other, -because it destroys the only foundation on which their pretensions are -built. The easiest part of reason is dulness; the generality of the -world are therefore concerned in discouraging any example of unnecessary -brilliancy that might tend to shew that the two things do not always go -together. Burke in some measure dissolved the spell. It was discovered, -that his gold was not the less valuable for being wrought into elegant -shapes, and richly embossed with curious figures; that the solidity of a -building is not destroyed by adding to it beauty and ornament; and that -the strength of a man’s understanding is not always to be estimated in -exact proportion to his want of imagination. His understanding was not -the less real, because it was not the only faculty he possessed. He -justified the description of the poet,— - - ‘How charming is divine philosophy! - Not harsh and crabbed as dull fools suppose, - But musical as is Apollo’s lute!’ - -Those who object to this union of grace and beauty with reason, are in -fact weak-sighted people, who cannot distinguish the noble and majestic -form of Truth from that of her sister Folly, if they are dressed both -alike! But there is always a difference even in the adventitious -ornaments they wear, which is sufficient to distinguish them. - -Burke was so far from being a gaudy or flowery writer, that he was one -of the severest writers we have. His words are the most like things; his -style is the most strictly suited to the subject. He unites every -extreme and every variety of composition; the lowest and the meanest -words and descriptions with the highest. He exults in the display of -power, in shewing the extent, the force, and intensity of his ideas; he -is led on by the mere impulse and vehemence of his fancy, not by the -affectation of dazzling his readers by gaudy conceits or pompous images. -He was completely carried away by his subject. He had no other object -but to produce the strongest impression on his reader, by giving the -truest, the most characteristic, the fullest, and most forcible -descriptions of things, trusting to the power of his own mind to mould -them into grace and beauty. He did not produce a splendid effect by -setting fire to the light vapours that float in the regions of fancy, as -the chemists make fine colours with phosphorus, but by the eagerness of -his blows struck fire from the flint, and melted the hardest substances -in the furnace of his imagination. The wheels of his imagination did not -catch fire from the rottenness of the materials, but from the rapidity -of their motion. One would suppose, to hear people talk of Burke, that -his style was such as would have suited the ‘Lady’s Magazine’; soft, -smooth, showy, tender, insipid, full of fine words, without any meaning. -The essence of the gaudy or glittering style consists in producing a -momentary effect by fine words and images brought together, without -order or connexion. Burke most frequently produced an effect by the -remoteness and novelty of his combinations, by the force of contrast, by -the striking manner in which the most opposite and unpromising materials -were harmoniously blended together; not by laying his hands on all the -fine things he could think of, but by bringing together those things -which he knew would blaze out into glorious light by their collision. -The florid style is a mixture of affectation and common-place. Burke’s -was an union of untameable vigour and originality. - -Burke was not a verbose writer. If he sometimes multiplies words, it is -not for want of ideas, but because there are no words that fully express -his ideas, and he tries to do it as well as he can by different ones. He -had nothing of the _set_ or formal style, the measured cadence, and -stately phraseology of Johnson, and most of our modern writers. This -style, which is what we understand by the _artificial_, is all in one -key. It selects a certain set of words to represent all ideas whatever, -as the most dignified and elegant, and excludes all others as low and -vulgar. The words are not fitted to the things, but the things to the -words. Every thing is seen through a false medium. It is putting a mask -on the face of nature, which may indeed hide some specks and blemishes, -but takes away all beauty, delicacy, and variety. It destroys all -dignity or elevation, because nothing can be raised where all is on a -level, and completely destroys all force, expression, truth, and -character, by arbitrarily confounding the differences of things, and -reducing every thing to the same insipid standard. To suppose that this -stiff uniformity can add any thing to real grace or dignity, is like -supposing that the human body in order to be perfectly graceful, should -never deviate from its upright posture. Another mischief of this method -is, that it confounds all ranks in literature. Where there is no room -for variety, no discrimination, no nicety to be shewn in matching the -idea with its proper word, there can be no room for taste or elegance. A -man must easily learn the art of writing, when every sentence is to be -cast in the same mould: where he is only allowed the use of one word, he -cannot choose wrong, nor will he be in much danger of making himself -ridiculous by affectation or false glitter, when, whatever subject he -treats of, he must treat of it in the same way. This indeed is to wear -golden chains for the sake of ornament. - -Burke was altogether free from the pedantry which I have here -endeavoured to expose. His style was as original, as expressive, as rich -and varied, as it was possible; his combinations were as exquisite, as -playful, as happy, as unexpected, as bold and daring, as his fancy. If -any thing, he ran into the opposite extreme of too great an inequality, -if truth and nature could ever be carried to an extreme. - -Those who are best acquainted with the writings and speeches of Burke -will not think the praise I have here bestowed on them exaggerated. Some -proof will be found of this in the following extracts. But the full -proof must be sought in his works at large, and particularly in the -‘Thoughts on the Discontents’; in his ‘Reflections on the French -Revolution’; in his ‘Letter to the Duke of Bedford’; and in the -‘Regicide Peace.’ The two last of these are perhaps the most remarkable -of all his writings, from the contrast they afford to each other. The -one is the most delightful exhibition of wild and brilliant fancy, that -is to be found in English prose, but it is too much like a beautiful -picture painted upon gauze; it wants something to support it: the other -is without ornament, but it has all the solidity, the weight, the -gravity of a judicial record. It seems to have been written with a -certain constraint upon himself, and to shew those who said he could not -_reason_, that his arguments might be stripped of their ornaments -without losing any thing of their force. It is certainly, of all his -works, that in which he has shewn most power of logical deduction, and -the only one in which he has made any important use of facts. In general -he certainly paid little attention to them: they were the playthings of -his mind. He saw them as he pleased, not as they were; with the eye of -the philosopher or the poet, regarding them only in their general -principle, or as they might serve to decorate his subject. This is the -natural consequence of much imagination: things that are probable are -elevated into the rank of realities. To those who can reason on the -essences of things, or who can invent according to nature, the -experimental proof is of little value. This was the case with Burke. In -the present instance, however, he seems to have forced his mind into the -service of facts: and he succeeded completely. His comparison between -our connexion with France or Algiers, and his account of the conduct of -the war, are as clear, as convincing, as forcible examples of this kind -of reasoning, as are any where to be met with. Indeed I do not think -there is any thing in Fox (whose mind was purely historical) or in -Chatham, (who attended to feelings more than facts) that will bear a -comparison with them. - -Burke has been compared to Cicero—I do not know for what reason. Their -excellences are as different, and indeed as opposite, as they well can -be. Burke had not the polished elegance; the glossy neatness, the artful -regularity, the exquisite modulation of Cicero: he had a thousand times -more richness and originality of mind, more strength and pomp of -diction. - -It has been well observed, that the ancients had no word that properly -expresses what we mean by the word _genius_. They perhaps had not the -thing. Their minds appear to have been too exact, too retentive, too -minute and subtle, too sensible to the external differences of things, -too passive under their impressions, to admit of those bold and rapid -combinations, those lofty flights of fancy, which, glancing from heaven -to earth, unite the most opposite extremes, and draw the happiest -illustrations from things the most remote. Their ideas were kept too -confined and distinct by the material form or vehicle in which they were -conveyed, to unite cordially together, or be melted down in the -imagination. Their metaphors are taken from things of the same class, -not from things of different classes; the general analogy not the -individual feeling, directs them in their choice. Hence, as Dr. Johnson -observed, their similes are either repetitions of the same idea, or so -obvious and general as not to lend any additional force to it; as when a -huntress is compared to Diana, or a warrior rushing into battle to a -lion rushing on his prey. Their _forte_ was exquisite art and perfect -imitation. Witness their statues and other things of the same kind. But -they had not that high and enthusiastic fancy which some of our own -writers have shewn. For the proof of this, let any one compare Milton -and Shakspeare with Homer and Sophocles, or Burke with Cicero. - -It may be asked whether Burke was a poet. He was so only in the general -vividness of his fancy, and in richness of invention. There may be -poetical passages in his works, but I certainly think that his writings -in general are quite distinct from poetry; and that for the reason -before given, namely, that the subject-matter of them is not poetical. -The finest parts of them are illustrations or personifications of dry -abstract ideas;[56] and the union between the idea and the illustration -is not of that perfect and pleasing kind as to constitute poetry, or -indeed to be admissible, but for the effect intended to be produced by -it; that is, by every means in our power to give animation and -attraction to subjects in themselves barren of ornament, but which at -the same time are pregnant with the most important consequences, and in -which the understanding and the passions are equally interested. - -I have heard it remarked by a person, to whose opinion I would sooner -submit than to a general council of critics, that the sound of Burke’s -prose is not musical; that it wants cadence; and that instead of being -so lavish of his imagery as is generally supposed, he seemed to him to -be rather parsimonious in the use of it, always expanding and making the -most of his ideas. This may be true if we compare him with some of our -poets, or perhaps with some of our early prose writers, but not if we -compare him with any of our political writers or parliamentary speakers. -There are some very fine things of Lord Bolingbroke’s on the same -subjects, but not equal to Burke’s. As for Junius, he is at the head of -his class; but that class is not the highest. He has been said to have -more dignity than Burke. Yes—if the stalk of a giant is less dignified -than the strut of a _petit-maître_. I do not mean to speak -disrespectfully of Junius, but grandeur is not the character of his -composition; and if it is not to be found in Burke, it is to be found -nowhere. - - - - - CHARACTER OF MR. FOX, 1807[57] - - -I shall begin with observing generally, that Mr. Fox excelled all his -contemporaries in the extent of his knowledge, in the clearness and -distinctness of his views, in quickness of apprehension, in plain, -practical common sense, in the full, strong, and absolute possession of -his subject. A measure was no sooner proposed than he seemed to have an -instantaneous and intuitive perception of its various bearings and -consequences; of the manner in which it would operate on the different -classes of society, on commerce or agriculture, on our domestic or -foreign policy; of the difficulties attending its execution; in a word, -of all its practical results, and the comparative advantages to be -gained either by adopting or rejecting it. He was intimately acquainted -with the interests of the different parts of the community, with the -minute and complicated details of political economy, with our external -relations, with the views, the resources, and the maxims of other -states. He was master of all those facts and circumstances which it was -necessary to know in order to judge fairly and determine wisely; and he -knew them not loosely or lightly, but in number, weight, and measure. He -had also stored his memory by reading and general study, and improved -his understanding by the lamp of history. He was well acquainted with -the opinions and sentiments of the best authors, with the maxims of the -most profound politicians, with the causes of the rise and fall of -states, with the general passions of men, with the characters of -different nations, and the laws and constitution of his own country. He -was a man of a large, capacious, powerful, and highly cultivated -intellect. No man could know more than he knew; no man’s knowledge could -be more sound, more plain and useful; no man’s knowledge could lie in -more connected and tangible masses; no man could be more perfectly -master of his ideas, could reason upon them more closely, or decide upon -them more impartially. His mind was full, even to overflowing. He was so -habitually conversant with the most intricate and comprehensive trains -of thought, or such was the natural vigour and exuberance of his mind, -that he seemed to recal them without any effort. His ideas quarrelled -for utterance. So far from ever being at a loss for them, he was obliged -rather to repress and rein them in, lest they should overwhelm and -confound, instead of informing the understandings of his hearers. - -If to this we add the ardour and natural impetuosity of his mind, his -quick sensibility, his eagerness in the defence of truth, and his -impatience of every thing that looked like trick or artifice or -affectation, we shall be able in some measure to account for the -character of his eloquence. His thoughts came crowding in too fast for -the slow and mechanical process of speech. What he saw in an instant, he -could only express imperfectly, word by word, and sentence after -sentence. He would, if he could, ‘have bared his swelling heart,’ and -laid open at once the rich treasures of knowledge with which his bosom -was fraught. It is no wonder that this difference between the rapidity -of his feelings, and the formal round-about method of communicating -them, should produce some disorder in his frame; that the throng of his -ideas should try to overleap the narrow boundaries which confined them, -and tumultuously break down their prison-doors, instead of waiting to be -let out one by one, and following patiently at due intervals and with -mock dignity, like poor dependents, in the train of words:—that he -should express himself in hurried sentences, in involuntary -exclamations, by vehement gestures, by sudden starts and bursts of -passion. Every thing shewed the agitation of his mind. His tongue -faltered, his voice became almost suffocated, and his face was bathed in -tears. He was lost in the magnitude of his subject. He reeled and -staggered under the load of feeling which oppressed him. He rolled like -the sea beaten by a tempest.[58] Whoever, having the feelings of a man, -compared him at these times with his boasted rival,—his stiff, straight, -upright figure, his gradual contortions, turning round as if moved by a -pivot, his solemn pauses, his deep tones, ‘whose sound reverbed their -own hollowness,’ must have said, This is a man; that is an automaton. If -Fox had needed grace, he would have had it; but it was not the character -of his mind, nor would it have suited with the style of his eloquence. -It was Pitt’s object to smooth over the abruptness and intricacies of -his argument by the gracefulness of his manner, and to fix the attention -of his hearers on the pomp and sound of his words. Lord Chatham, again, -strove to _command_ others; he did not try to convince them, but to -overpower their understandings by the greater strength and vehemence of -his own; to awe them by a sense of personal superiority: and he -therefore was obliged to assume a lofty and dignified manner. It was to -him they bowed, not to truth; and whatever related to _himself_, must -therefore have a tendency to inspire respect and admiration. Indeed, he -would never have attempted to gain that ascendant over men’s minds that -he did, if either his mind or body had been different from what they -were; if his temper had not urged him to control and command others, or -if his personal advantages had not enabled him to secure that kind of -authority which he coveted. But it would have been ridiculous in Fox to -have affected either the smooth plausibility, the stately gravity of the -one, or the proud, domineering, imposing dignity of the other; or even -if he could have succeeded, it would only have injured the effect of his -speeches.[59] What he had to rely on was the strength, the solidity of -his ideas, his complete and thorough knowledge of his subject. It was -his business therefore to fix the attention of his hearers, not on -himself, but on his subject; to rivet it there, to hurry it on from -words to things:—the only circumstance of which they required to be -convinced with respect to himself, was the sincerity of his opinions; -and this would be best done by the earnestness of his manner, by giving -a loose to his feelings, and by shewing the most perfect forgetfulness -of himself, and of what others thought of him. The moment a man shews -you either by affected words or looks or gestures, that he is thinking -of himself, and you, that he is trying either to please or terrify you -into compliance, there is an end at once to that kind of eloquence which -owes its effect to the force of truth, and to your confidence in the -sincerity of the speaker. It was, however, to the confidence inspired by -the earnestness and simplicity of his manner, that Mr. Fox was indebted -for more than half the effect of his speeches. Some others (as Lord -Lansdown for instance) might possess nearly as much information, as -exact a knowledge of the situation and interests of the country; but -they wanted that zeal, that animation, that enthusiasm, that deep sense -of the importance of the subject, which removes all doubt or suspicion -from the minds of the hearers and communicates its own warmth to every -breast. We may convince by argument alone; but it is by the interest we -discover in the success of our reasonings, that we persuade others to -feel and act with us. There are two circumstances which Fox’s speeches -and Lord Chatham’s had in common: they are alike distinguished by a kind -of plain downright common sense, and by the vehemence of their manner. -But still there is a great difference between them, in both these -respects. Fox in his opinions was governed by facts—Chatham was more -influenced by the feelings of others respecting those facts. Fox -endeavoured to find out what the consequences of any measure would be; -Chatham attended more to what people would think of it. Fox appealed to -the practical reason of mankind; Chatham to popular prejudice. The one -repelled the encroachments of power by supplying his hearers with -arguments against it; the other by rousing their passions and arming -their resentment against those who would rob them of their birthright. -Their vehemence and impetuosity arose also from very different feelings. -In Chatham it was pride, passion, self-will, impatience of control, a -determination to have his own way, to carry every thing before him[60]; -in Fox it was pure good nature, a sincere love of truth, an ardent -attachment to what he conceived to be right; an anxious concern for the -welfare and liberties of mankind. Or if we suppose that ambition had -taken a strong hold of both their minds, yet their ambition was of a -very different kind: in the one it was the love of power, in the other -it was the love of fame. Nothing can be more opposite than these two -principles, both in their origin and tendency. The one originates in a -selfish, haughty, domineering spirit; the other in a social and generous -sensibility, desirous of the love and esteem of others, and anxiously -bent upon gaining merited applause. The one grasps at immediate power by -any means within its reach; the other, if it does not square its actions -by the rules of virtue, at least refers them to a standard which comes -the nearest to it—the disinterested applause of our country, and the -enlightened judgment of posterity. The love of fame is consistent with -the steadiest attachment to principle, and indeed strengthens and -supports it; whereas the love of power, where this is the ruling -passion, requires the sacrifice of principle at every turn, and is -inconsistent even with the shadow of it. I do not mean to say that Fox -had no love of power, or Chatham no love of fame, (this would be -reversing all we know of human nature,) but that the one principle -predominated in the one, and the other in the other. My reader will do -me great injustice if he supposes that in attempting to describe the -characters of different speakers by contrasting their general qualities, -I mean any thing beyond the _more_ or _less_: but it is necessary to -describe those qualities simply and in the abstract, in order to make -the distinction intelligible. Chatham resented any attack made upon the -cause of liberty, of which he was the avowed champion, as an indignity -offered to himself. Fox felt it as a stain upon the honour of his -country, and as an injury to the rights of his fellow citizens. The one -was swayed by his own passions and purposes, with very little regard to -the consequences; the sensibility of the other was roused, and his -passions kindled into a generous flame, by a real interest in whatever -related to the welfare of mankind, and by an intense and earnest -contemplation of the consequences of the measures he opposed. It was -this union of the zeal of the patriot with the enlightened knowledge of -the statesman, that gave to the eloquence of Fox its more than mortal -energy; that warmed, expanded, penetrated every bosom. He relied on the -force of truth and nature alone; the refinements of philosophy, the pomp -and pageantry of the imagination were forgotten, or seemed light and -frivolous; the fate of nations, the welfare of millions, hung suspended -as he spoke; a torrent of manly eloquence poured from his heart, bore -down every thing in its course, and surprised into a momentary sense of -human feeling the breathing corpses, the wire-moved puppets, the stuffed -figures, the flexible machinery, the ‘deaf and dumb things’ of a court. - -I find (I do not know how the reader feels) that it is difficult to -write a character of Fox without running into insipidity or -extravagance. And the reason of this is, there are no splendid -contrasts, no striking irregularities, no curious distinctions to work -upon; no ‘jutting frieze, buttress, nor coigne of ‘vantage,’ for the -imagination to take hold of. It was a plain marble slab, inscribed in -plain legible characters, without either hieroglyphics or carving. There -was the same directness and manly simplicity in every thing that he did. -The whole of his character may indeed be summed up in two words—strength -and simplicity. Fox was in the class of common men, but he was the first -in that class. Though it is easy to describe the difference of things, -nothing is more difficult than to describe their degrees or quantities. -In what I am going to say, I hope I shall not be suspected of a design -to underrate his powers of mind, when in fact I am only trying to -ascertain their nature and direction. The degree and extent to which he -possessed them can only be known by reading, or indeed by having heard -his speeches. - -His mind, as I have already said, was, I conceive, purely _historical_: -and having said this, I have I believe said all. But perhaps it will be -necessary to explain a little farther what I mean. I mean, then, that -his memory was in an extraordinary degree tenacious of facts; that they -were crowded together in his mind without the least perplexity or -confusion; that there was no chain of consequences too vast for his -powers of comprehension; that the different parts and ramifications of -his subject were never so involved and intricate but that they were -easily disentangled in the clear prism of his understanding. The basis -of his wisdom was experience: however, he not only knew what had -happened; but by an exact knowledge of the real state of things, he -could always tell what in the common course of events would happen in -future. The force of his mind was exerted upon facts: as long as he -could lean directly upon these, as long as he had the actual objects to -refer to, to steady himself by, he could analyse, he could combine, he -could compare and reason upon them, with the utmost exactness; but he -could not reason _out of_ them. He was what is understood by a -_matter-of-fact_ reasoner. He was better acquainted with the concrete -masses of things, their substantial forms, and practical connexions, -than with their abstract nature or general definitions. He was a man of -extensive information, of sound knowledge, and clear understanding, -rather than the acute observer or profound thinker. He was the man of -business, the accomplished statesman, rather than the philosopher. His -reasonings were, generally speaking, calculations of certain positive -results, which, the _data_ being given, must follow as matters of -course, rather than unexpected and remote truths drawn from a deep -insight into human nature, and the subtle application of general -principles to particular cases. They consisted chiefly in the detail and -combination of a vast number of items in an account, worked by the known -rules of political arithmetic; not in the discovery of bold, -comprehensive, and original theorems in the science. They were rather -acts of memory, of continued attention, of a power of bringing all his -ideas to bear at once upon a single point, than of reason or invention. -He was the attentive observer who watches the various effects and -successive movements of a machine already constructed, and can tell how -to manage it while it goes on as it has always done; but who knows -little or nothing of the principles on which it is constructed, nor how -to set it right, if it becomes disordered, except by the most common and -obvious expedients. Burke was to Fox what the geometrician is to the -mechanic. Much has been said of the ‘prophetic mind’ of Mr. Fox. The -same epithet has been applied to Mr. Burke, till it has become -proverbial. It has, I think, been applied without much reason to either. -Fox wanted the scientific part, Burke wanted the practical. Fox had too -little imagination, Burke had too much: that is, he was careless of -facts, and was led away by his passions to look at one side of a -question only. He had not that fine sensibility to outward impressions, -that nice _tact_ of circumstances, which is necessary to the consummate -politician. Indeed, his wisdom was more that of the legislator than of -the active statesman. They both tried their strength in the Ulysses’ bow -of politicians, the French Revolution: and they were both foiled. Fox -indeed foretold the success of the French in combating with foreign -powers. But this was no more than what every friend of the liberty of -France foresaw or foretold as well as he. All those on the same side of -the question were inspired with the same sagacity on the subject. Burke, -on the other hand, seems to have been before-hand with the public in -foreboding the internal disorders that would attend the Revolution, and -its ultimate failure; but then it is at least a question whether he did -not make good his own predictions: and certainly he saw into the causes -and connexion of events much more clearly after they had happened than -before. He was however undoubtedly a profound commentator on that -apocalyptical chapter in the history of human nature, which I do not -think Fox was. Whether led to it by the events or not, he saw thoroughly -into the principles that operated to produce them; and he pointed them -out to others in a manner which could not be mistaken. I can conceive of -Burke, as the genius of the storm, perched over Paris, the centre and -focus of anarchy, (so he would have us believe) hovering ‘with mighty -wings outspread over the abyss, and rendering it pregnant,’ watching the -passions of men gradually unfolding themselves in new situations, -penetrating those hidden motives which hurried them from one extreme -into another, arranging and analysing the principles that alternately -pervaded the vast chaotic mass, and extracting the elements of order and -the cement of social life from the decomposition of all society: while -Charles Fox in the meantime dogged the heels of the Allies, (all the way -calling out to them to stop) with his sutler’s bag, his muster-roll, and -army estimates at his back. He said, You have only fifty thousand -troops, the enemy have a hundred thousand: this place is dismantled, it -can make no resistance: your troops were beaten last year, they must -therefore be disheartened this. This is excellent sense and sound -reasoning, but I do not see what it has to do with philosophy. But why -was it necessary that Fox should be a philosopher? Why, in the first -place, Burke was a philosopher, and Fox, to keep up with him, must be so -too. In the second place, it was necessary, in order that his indiscreet -admirers, who had no idea of greatness but as it consists in certain -names and pompous titles, might be able to talk big about their patron. -It is a bad compliment we pay to our idol when we endeavour to make him -out something different from himself; it shews that we are not satisfied -with what he was. I have heard it said that he had as much imagination -as Burke. To this extravagant assertion I shall make what I conceive to -be a very cautious and moderate answer: that Burke was as superior to -Fox in this respect as Fox perhaps was to the first person you would -meet in the street. There is in fact hardly an instance of imagination -to be met with in any of his speeches; what there is, is of the -rhetorical kind. I may, however, be wrong. He might excel as much in -profound thought, and richness of fancy, as he did in other things; -though I cannot perceive it. However, when any one publishes a book -called the Beauties of Fox, containing the original reflections, -brilliant passages, lofty metaphors, &c. to be found in his speeches, -without the detail or connexion, I shall be very ready to give the point -up. - -In logic Fox was inferior to Pitt—indeed, in all the formalities of -eloquence, in which the latter excelled as much as he was deficient in -the soul or substance. When I say that Pitt was superior to Fox in -logic, I mean that he excelled him in the formal division of the -subject, in always keeping it in view, as far as he chose; in being able -to detect any deviation from it in others; in the management of his -general topics; in being aware of the mood and figure in which the -argument must move, with all its nonessentials, dilemmas, and -alternatives; in never committing himself, nor ever suffering his -antagonist to occupy an inch of the plainest ground, but under cover of -a syllogism. He had more of ‘the dazzling fence of argument,’ as it has -been called. He was, in short, better at his weapon. But then, -unfortunately, it was only a dagger of lath that the wind could turn -aside; whereas Fox wore a good trusty blade, of solid metal, and real -execution. - -I shall not trouble myself to inquire whether Fox was a man of strict -virtue and principle; or in other words, how far he was one of those who -screw themselves up to a certain pitch of ideal perfection, who, as it -were, set themselves in the stocks of morality, and make mouths at their -own situation. He was not one of that tribe, and shall not be tried by -their self-denying ordinances. But he was endowed with one of the most -excellent natures that ever fell to the lot of any of God’s creatures. -It has been said, that ‘an honest man’s the noblest work of God.’ There -is indeed a purity, a rectitude, an integrity of heart, a freedom from -every selfish bias, and sinister motive, a manly simplicity and noble -disinterestedness of feeling, which is in my opinion to be preferred -before every other gift of nature or art. There is a greatness of soul -that is superior to all the brilliancy of the understanding. This -strength of moral character, which is not only a more valuable but a -rarer quality than strength of understanding (as we are oftener led -astray by the narrowness of our feelings, than want of knowledge) Fox -possessed in the highest degree. He was superior to every kind of -jealousy, of suspicion, of malevolence; to every narrow and sordid -motive. He was perfectly above every species of duplicity, of low art -and cunning. He judged of every thing in the downright sincerity of his -nature, without being able to impose upon himself by any hollow -disguise, or to lend his support to any thing unfair or dishonourable. -He had an innate love of truth, of justice, of probity, of whatever was -generous or liberal. Neither his education, nor his connexions, nor his -situation in life, nor the low intrigues and virulence of party, could -ever alter the simplicity of his taste, nor the candid openness of his -nature. There was an elastic force about his heart, a freshness of -social feeling, a warm glowing humanity, which remained unimpaired to -the last. He was by nature a gentleman. By this I mean that he felt a -certain deference and respect for the person of every man; he had an -unaffected frankness and benignity in his behaviour to others, the -utmost liberality in judging of their conduct and motives. A refined -humanity constitutes the character of a gentleman.[61] He was the true -friend of his country, as far as it is possible for a statesman to be -so. But his love of his country did not consist in his hatred of the -rest of mankind. I shall conclude this account by repeating what Burke -said of him at a time when his testimony was of the most value. ‘To his -great and masterly understanding he joined the utmost possible degree of -moderation: he was of the most artless, candid, open, and benevolent -disposition; disinterested in the extreme; of a temper mild and -placable, even to a fault; and without one drop of gall in his -constitution.’ - - - - - CHARACTER OF MR. PITT, 1806 - - -The character of Mr. Pitt was, perhaps, one of the most singular that -ever existed. With few talents, and fewer virtues, he acquired and -preserved in one of the most trying situations, and in spite of all -opposition, the highest reputation for the possession of every moral -excellence, and as having carried the attainments of eloquence and -wisdom as far as human abilities could go. This he did (strange as it -appears) by a negation (together with the common virtues) of the common -vices of human nature, and by the complete negation of every other -talent that might interfere with the only one which he possessed in a -supreme degree, and which indeed may be made to include the appearance -of all others—an artful use of words, and a certain dexterity of logical -arrangement. In these alone his power consisted; and the defect of all -other qualities, which usually constitute greatness, contributed to the -more complete success of these. Having no strong feelings, no distinct -perceptions, his mind having no link, as it were, to connect it with the -world of external nature, every subject presented to him nothing more -than a _tabula rasa_, on which he was at liberty to lay whatever -colouring of language he pleased; having no general principles, no -comprehensive views of things, no moral habits of thinking, no system of -action, there was nothing to hinder him from pursuing any particular -purpose, by any means that offered; having never any plan, he could not -be convicted of inconsistency, and his own pride and obstinacy were the -only rules of his conduct. Having no insight into human nature, no -sympathy with the passions of men, or apprehension of their real -designs, he seemed perfectly insensible to the consequences of things, -and would believe nothing till it actually happened. The fog and haze in -which he saw every thing communicated itself to others; and the total -indistinctness and uncertainty of his own ideas tended to confound the -perceptions of his hearers more effectually than the most ingenious -misrepresentation could have done. Indeed, in defending his conduct he -never seemed to consider himself as at all responsible for the success -of his measures, or to suppose that future events were in our own power; -but that as the best-laid schemes might fail, and there was no providing -against all possible contingencies, this was a sufficient excuse for our -plunging at once into any dangerous or absurd enterprize, without the -least regard to consequences. His reserved logic confined itself solely -to the _possible_ and the _impossible_; and he appeared to regard the -_probable_ and _improbable_, the only foundation of moral prudence or -political wisdom, as beneath the notice of a profound statesman; as if -the pride of the human intellect were concerned in never entrusting -itself with subjects, where it may be compelled to acknowledge its -weakness.[62] From his manner of reasoning, he seemed not to have -believed that the truth of his statements depended on the reality of the -facts, but that the things depended on the order in which he arranged -them in words: you would not suppose him to be agitating a serious -question which had real grounds to go upon, but to be declaiming upon an -imaginary thesis, proposed as an exercise in the schools. He never set -himself to examine the force of the objections that were brought against -his measures, or attempted to establish them upon clear, solid grounds -of his own; but constantly contented himself with first gravely stating -the logical form, or dilemma, to which the question reduced itself, and -then, after having declared his opinion, proceeded to amuse his hearers -by a series of rhetorical common places, connected together in grave, -sonorous, and elaborately constructed periods, without ever shewing -their real application to the subject in dispute. Thus, if any member of -the Opposition disapproved of any measure, and enforced his objections -by pointing out the many evils with which it was fraught, or the -difficulties attending its execution, his only answer was ‘that it was -true there might be inconveniences attending the measure proposed, but -we were to remember, that every expedient that could be devised might be -said to be nothing more than a choice of difficulties, and that all that -human prudence could do was to consider on which side the advantages -lay; that for his part, he conceived that the present measure was -attended with more advantages and fewer disadvantages than any other -that could be adopted; that if we were diverted from our object by every -appearance of difficulty, the wheels of government would be clogged by -endless delays and imaginary grievances; that most of the objections -made to the measure appeared to him to be trivial, others of them -unfounded and improbable; or that if a scheme free from all these -objections could be proposed, it might after all prove inefficient; -while, in the mean time, a material object remained unprovided for, or -the opportunity of action was lost.’ This mode of reasoning is admirably -described by Hobbes, in speaking of the writings of some of the -Schoolmen, of whom he says, that ‘they had learned the trick of imposing -what they list upon their readers, and declining the force of true -reason by verbal forks; that is, distinctions which signify nothing, but -serve only to astonish the multitude of ignorant men.’ That what I have -here stated comprehends the whole force of his mind, which consisted -solely in this evasive dexterity and perplexing formality, assisted by a -copiousness of words and common-place topics, will, I think, be evident -to any one who carefully looks over his speeches, undazzled by the -reputation or personal influence of the speaker. It will be in vain to -look in them for any of the common proofs of human genius or wisdom. He -has not left behind him a single memorable saying—not one profound -maxim—one solid observation—one forcible description—one beautiful -thought—one humourous picture—one affecting sentiment.[63] He has made -no addition whatever to the stock of human knowledge. He did not possess -any one of those faculties which contribute to the instruction and -delight of mankind—depth of understanding, imagination, sensibility, -wit, vivacity, clear and solid judgment. But it may be asked, If these -qualities are not to be found in him, where are we to look for them? And -I may be required to point out instances of them. I shall answer then, -that he had none of the profound legislative wisdom, piercing sagacity, -or rich, impetuous, high-wrought imagination of Burke; the manly -eloquence, strong sense, exact knowledge, vehemence and natural -simplicity of Fox; the ease, brilliancy, and acuteness of Sheridan. It -is not merely that he had not all these qualities in the degree that -they were severally possessed by his rivals, but he had not any of them -in any striking degree. His reasoning is a technical arrangement of -unmeaning common-places; his eloquence merely rhetorical; his style -monotonous and artificial. If he could pretend to any one excellence in -an eminent degree, it was to taste in composition. There is certainly -nothing low, nothing puerile, nothing far-fetched or abrupt in his -speeches; there is a kind of faultless regularity pervading them -throughout; but in the confined, mechanical, passive mode of eloquence -which he adopted, it seemed rather more difficult to commit errors than -to avoid them. A man who is determined never to move out of the beaten -road, cannot lose his way. However, habit, joined to the peculiar -mechanical memory which he possessed, carried this correctness to a -degree which, in an extemporaneous speaker, was almost miraculous; he -perhaps hardly ever uttered a sentence that was not perfectly regular -and connected. In this respect, he not only had the advantage over his -own contemporaries, but perhaps no one that ever lived equalled him in -this singular faculty. But for this, he would always have passed for a -common man; and to this the constant sameness, and, if I may so say, -vulgarity of his ideas, must have contributed not a little, as there was -nothing to distract his mind from this one object of his unintermitted -attention; and as even in his choice of words he never aimed at any -thing more than a certain general propriety, and stately uniformity of -style. His talents were exactly fitted for the situation in which he was -placed; where it was his business, not to overcome others, but to avoid -being overcome. He was able to baffle opposition, not from strength or -firmness, but from the evasive ambiguity and impalpable nature of his -resistance, which gave no hold to the rude grasp of his opponents: no -force could bind the loose phantom, and his mind (though ‘not matchless, -and his pride humbled by such rebuke,’) soon rose from defeat unhurt, - - ‘And in its liquid texture mortal wound - Receiv’d no more than can the fluid air.’[64] - - - - - PITT AND BUONAPARTE - - _From the Morning Post, March 19, 1800._ - - -‘Plutarch, in his comparative biography of Rome and Greece, has -generally chosen for each pair of Lives the two contemporaries who most -nearly resemble each other. His work would, perhaps, have been more -interesting, if he had adopted the contrary arrangement, and selected -those rather, who had attained to the possession of similar influence, -or similar fame, by means, actions, and talents the most dissimilar. For -power is the sole object of philosophical attention in man, as in -inanimate nature; and in the one equally as in the other, we understand -it more intimately, the more diverse the circumstances are with which we -have observed it to exist. In our days, the two persons who appear to -have influenced the interests and actions of men the most deeply and the -most diffusively, are, beyond doubt, the Chief Consul of France, and the -Prime Minister of Great Britain: and in these two, are presented to us -similar situations, with the greatest dissimilitude of characters. - -William Pitt was the younger son of Lord Chatham; a fact of no ordinary -importance in the solution of his character, of no mean significance in -the heraldry of morals and intellect. His father’s rank, fame, political -connexions, and parental ambition, were his mould: he was cast, rather -than grew. A palpable election, a conscious predestination controlled -the free agency, and transfigured the individuality of his mind, and -that, which he might have been, was compelled into that, which he was to -be. From his early childhood it was his father’s custom to make him -stand upon a chair, and declaim before a large company; by which -exercise, practised so frequently, and continued for so many years, he -acquired a premature and unnatural dexterity in the combination of -words, which must of necessity have diverted his attention from present -objects, obscured his impressions, and deadened his genuine feelings. -Not the thing on which he was speaking, but the praises to be gained by -the speech, were present to his intuition; hence he associated all the -operations of his faculties with words, and his pleasures with the -surprise excited by them. But an inconceivably large portion of human -knowledge and human power is involved in the science and management of -words; and an education of words, though it destroys genius, will often -create and always foster, talent. The young Pitt was conspicuous far -beyond his fellows, both at school and at college. He was always -full-grown: he had neither the promise nor the awkwardness of a growing -intellect. Vanity, early satiated, formed, and elevated itself into a -love of power; and in losing this colloquial vanity, he lost one of the -prime links that connect the individual with the species, too early for -the affections, though not too early for the understanding. At College -he was a severe student; his mind was founded and elemented in words and -generalities, and these too formed all the superstructure. That revelry -and that debauchery, which are so often fatal to the powers of -intellect, would probably have been serviceable to him; they would have -given him a closer communion with realities, they would have induced a -greater presentness to present objects. But Mr. Pitt’s conduct was -correct, unimpressibly correct. His after-discipline in the special -pleader’s office, and at the Bar, carried on the scheme of his education -with unbroken uniformity. His first political connexions were with the -Reformers; but those who accuse him of sympathising or coalescing with -their intemperate or visionary plans, misunderstand his character, and -are ignorant of the historical facts. Imaginary situations in an -imaginary state of things, rise up in minds that possess a power and -facility in combining images. Mr. Pitt’s ambition was conversant with -old situations in the old state of things, which furnish nothing to the -imagination, though much to the wishes. In his endeavours to realise his -father’s plan of reform, he was probably as sincere as a being, who had -derived so little knowledge from actual impressions, could be. But his -sincerity had no living root of affection: while it was propped up by -his love of praise and immediate power, so long it stood erect, and no -longer. He became a member of the Parliament, supported the popular -opinions, and in a few years, by the influence of the popular party, was -placed in that high and awful rank in which he now is. The fortunes of -his country, we had almost said the fates of the world, were placed in -his wardship—we sink in prostration before the inscrutable dispensations -of Providence, when we reflect in whose wardship the fates of the world -were placed. - -The influencer of his country and of his species was a young man, the -creature of another’s predetermination, sheltered and weather-fended -from all the elements of experience; a young man, whose feet had never -wandered, whose very eye had never turned to the right or to the left, -whose whole track had been as curveless as the motions of a fascinated -reptile! It was a young man, whose heart was solitary, because he had -existed always amid objects of futurity, and whose imagination too was -unpopulous, because those objects of hope, to which his habitual wishes -had transferred, and as it were, projected his existence, were all -familiar and long established objects. A plant sown and reared in a -hot-house, for whom the very air that surrounded him, had been regulated -by the thermometer of previous purpose; to whom the light of nature had -penetrated only through glasses and covers, who had had the sun without -the breeze; whom no storm had shaken; on whom no rain had pattered; on -whom the dews of Heaven had not fallen! A being, who had had no feelings -connected with man or nature; no spontaneous impulses; no unbiassed and -desultory studies; no genuine science; nothing that constitutes -individuality in intellect; nothing that teaches brotherhood in -affection. Such was the man, such, and so denaturalized the spirit, on -whose wisdom and philanthropy the lives and living enjoyments of so many -millions of human beings were made unavoidably dependent. From this time -a real enlargement of mind became almost impossible. Pre-occupations, -intrigue, the undue passion and anxiety, with which all facts must be -surveyed; the crowd and confusion of these facts, none of them seen, but -all communicated, and by that very circumstance, and by the necessity of -perpetually classifying them, transmuted into words and generalities; -pride, flattery, irritation, artificial power; these, and circumstances -resembling these, necessarily render the heights of office barren -heights, which command indeed a vast and extensive prospect, but attract -so many clouds and vapours, that, most often, all prospect is precluded. -Still, however, Mr. Pitt’s situation, however inauspicious for his real -being, was favourable to his fame. He heaped period on period; persuaded -himself and the nation, that extemporaneous arrangement of sentences was -eloquence; and that eloquence implied wisdom. His father’s struggles for -freedom, and his own attempts, gave him an almost unexampled popularity; -and his office necessarily associated with his name all the great -events, that happened during his administration. There were not, -however, wanting men, who saw through the delusion: and refusing to -attribute the industry, integrity, and enterprising spirit of our -merchants, the agricultural improvements of our landholders, the great -inventions of our manufacturers, or the valor and skilfulness of our -sailors, to the merits of a Minister: they have continued to decide on -his character from those acts and those merits which belong to him, and -to him alone. Judging him by this standard, they have been able to -discover in him no one proof or symptom of a commanding genius. They -have discovered him never controlling, never creating, events, but -always yielding to them with rapid change, and sheltering himself from -inconsistency by perpetual indefiniteness. In the Russian War, they saw -him abandoning meanly what he had planned weakly, and threatened -insolently. In the debates on the Regency, they detected the laxity of -his constitutional principles, and received proofs that his eloquence -consisted not in the ready application of a general system to particular -questions, but in the facility of arguing for or against any question by -specious generalities, without reference to any system. In these -debates, he combined what is most dangerous in democracy, with all that -is most degrading in the old superstitions of Monarchy, and taught an -inherency of the office in the person of the King, which made the office -itself a nullity, and the Premiership, with its accompanying majority, -the sole and permanent power of the State. And now came the French -Revolution. This was a new event; the old routine of reasoning, the -common trade of politics, were to become obsolete. He appeared wholly -unprepared for it. Half favouring, half condemning, ignorant of what he -favoured, and why he condemned; he neither displayed the honest -enthusiasm and fixed principle of Mr. Fox, nor the intimate acquaintance -with the general nature of man, and the consequent prescience of Mr. -Burke. After the declaration of war, long did he continue in the common -cant of office, in declamation about the Scheld, and Holland, and all -the vulgar causes of common contests, and when at last the immense -genius of his new supporter had beat him out of these words (words -signifying places and dead objects, and signifying nothing more) he -adopted other words in their places, other generalities—Atheism and -Jacobinism, phrases, which he had learnt from Mr. Burke, but without -learning the philosophical definitions and involved consequences, with -which that great man accompanied those words. Since the death of Mr. -Burke, the forms and the sentiments, and the tone of the French, have -undergone many and important changes: how indeed is it possible, that it -should be otherwise, while man is the creature of experience? But still -Mr. Pitt proceeds in an endless repetition of the same general phrases. -This is his element: deprive him of general and abstract phrases, and -you reduce him to silence. But you cannot deprive him of them. Press him -to specify an individual fact of advantage to be derived from a war, and -he answers, Security. Call upon him to particularise a crime, and he -exclaims, Jacobinism. Abstractions defined by abstractions—generalities -defined by generalities! As a minister of finance, he is still, as ever, -the man of words and abstractions, figures, Custom-house reports, -imports and exports, commerce and revenue—all flourishing, all splendid. -Never was such a prosperous country as England under his administration. -Let it be objected, that the agriculture of the country is, by the -overbalance of commerce, and by various and complex causes, in such a -state, that the country hangs as a pensioner for bread on its -neighbours, and a bad season uniformly threatens us with famine, this -(it is replied) is owing to our prosperity—all prosperous nations are in -great distress for food. Still prosperity, still general phrases, -uninforced by one single image, one single fact of real national -amelioration, of any one comfort enjoyed, where it was not before -enjoyed, of any one class of society becoming healthier, or wiser, or -happier. These are things, these are realities; and these Mr. Pitt has -neither the imagination to body forth, or the sensibility to feel for. -Once, indeed, in an evil hour intriguing for popularity he suffered -himself to be persuaded to evince a talent for the real, the individual; -and he brought in his Poor Bill. When we hear the Minister’s talents for -finance so loudly trumpeted, we turn involuntarily to his Poor Bill, to -that acknowledged abortion, that unanswerable evidence of his ignorance -respecting all the fundamental relations and actions of property, and of -the social union. - -As his reasonings, even so is his eloquence. One character pervades his -whole being. Words on words finely arranged, and so dexterously -consequent, that the whole bears the semblance of argument, and still -keeps awake a sense of surprise; but when all is done, nothing -rememberable has been said; no one philosophical remark, no one image, -not even a pointed aphorism. Not a sentence of Mr. Pitt’s has ever been -quoted, or formed the favourite phrase of the day, a thing unexampled in -any man of equal reputation. But while he speaks, the effect varies -according to the character of his auditor. The man of no talent is -swallowed up in surprise: and when the speech is ended, he remembers his -feelings, but nothing distinct of that which produced them; (how -opposite an effect to that of nature and genius, from whose works the -idea still remains, when the feeling is passed away, remains to connect -itself with other feelings, and combine with new impressions!). The mere -man of talent hears him with admiration, the mere man of genius with -contempt; the philosopher neither admires nor contemns, but listens to -him with a deep and solemn interest, tracing in the effects of his -eloquence the power of words and phrases, and that peculiar constitution -of human affairs in their present state, which so eminently favours this -power. - -Such appears to us to be the Prime Minister of Great Britain, whether we -consider him a statesman or an orator. The same character betrays itself -in his private life, the same coldness to realities, to images of -realities, and to all whose excellence relates to reality. - -He has patronised no science, he has raised no man of genius from -obscurity; he counts no one prime work of God among his friends. From -the same source he has no attachment to female society, no fondness for -children, no perceptions of beauty in natural scenery; but he is fond of -convivial indulgences, of that stimulation, which, keeping up the glow -of self-importance and the sense of internal power, gives feelings -without the mediation of ideas. - -These are the elements of his mind; the accidents of his fortune, the -circumstances that enabled such a mind to acquire and retain such a -power, would form the subject of a philosophical history, and that too -of no scanty size. We scarcely furnish the chapter of contents to a work -which would comprise subjects so important and delicate, as the causes -of the diffusion and intensity of secret influence, the machinery and -state intrigue of marriages, the overbalance of the commercial interest; -the panic of property struck by the late Revolution, the -short-sightedness of the careful, the carelessness of the far-sighted; -and all those many and various events which have given to a decorous -profession of religion, and a seemliness of private morals, such an -unwonted weight in the attainment and preservation of public power. We -are unable to determine whether it be more consolatory or humiliating to -human nature, that so many complexities of event, situation, character, -age, and country, should be necessary in order to the production of a -Mr. Pitt.’ - - - - - AN EXAMINATION OF MR. MALTHUS’S DOCTRINES - - - I. OF THE GEOMETRICAL AND ARITHMETICAL SERIES - -Wallace, the author of ‘_Various Prospects of Mankind, Nature, and -Providence_,’ was the first person, we believe, who applied the -principle of the superior power of increase in population over the means -of subsistence, as an insuperable objection to the arguments for the -perfectibility of man, for which, in other respects, this author was an -advocate. He has devoted a long and elaborate Essay to prove these two -points:—1. That there is a natural and necessary inability in the means -of subsistence to go on increasing always in the same ratio as the -population, the limits of the earth necessarily limiting the actual -increase of the one, and there being no limits to the tendency to -increase in the other; 2. That the checks which have hitherto, and which -always _must_ keep population down to the level of the means of -subsistence, are _vice_ and _misery_; and consequently, that in a state -of perfectibility, as it is called, viz. in a state of perfect wisdom, -virtue, and happiness, where these indispensable checks to population, -vice and misery, were entirely removed, population would go on -increasing to an alarming and most excessive degree, and unavoidably end -in the utmost disorder, confusion, vice and misery.—(See _Various -Prospects, &c._ p. 113–123.) - -The principle laid down by this author, that population could not go on -for ever increasing at its natural rate, or free from every restraint, -either moral or physical, without ultimately outstripping the utmost -possible increase of the means of subsistence, we hold to be -unquestionable, if not self-evident: the other principle assumed by the -original author, viz. that vice and misery are the only possible checks -to population, we hold to be false as a matter of fact, and peculiarly -absurd and contradictory, when applied to that state of society -contemplated by the author, that is to say, one in which abstract reason -and pure virtue, or a regard to the general good, should have got the -better of every animal instinct and selfish passion. Of this, perhaps, a -word hereafter. But be this as it may, both the principle of the -necessary increase of the population beyond the means of subsistence, -and the application of that principle as a final obstacle to all Utopian -perfectibility schemes, are borrowed (whole) by Mr. Malthus from -Wallace’s work. This is not very stoutly denied by his admirers; but, -say they, Mr. Malthus was the first to reduce the inequality between the -possible increase of food and population to a mathematical certainty, to -the arithmetical and geometrical ratios. In answer to which, we say, -that those ratios are, in a strict and scientific view of the subject, -entirely fallacious—a pure fiction. For a grain of corn or of -mustard-seed has the same or a greater power of propagating its species -than a man, till it has overspread the whole earth, till there is no -longer any room for it to grow or to spread farther. A bushel of wheat -will sow a whole field: the produce of that field will sow twenty -fields, and produce twenty harvests. Till there are no longer fields to -sow, that is, till a country or the earth is exhausted, the means of -subsistence will go on increasing in more than a geometrical ratio; will -more than double itself in every generation or season, and will more -than keep pace with the progress of population; for this is supposed -only to double itself, where it is unchecked, every twenty years. -Therefore it is not true as an abstract proposition, that of itself, or -in the nature of the growth of the produce of the earth, food can only -increase in the snail-pace progress of an arithmetical ratio, while -population goes on at a swinging geometrical rate: for the food keeps -pace, or more than keeps pace, with the population, while there is room -to grow it in, and after that room is filled up, it does not go on, even -in that arithmetical ratio—it does not increase at all, or very little. -That is, the ratio, instead of being always true, is never true at all: -neither before the soil is fully cultivated, nor afterwards. Food does -not increase in an arithmetical series in China, or even in England: it -increases in a geometrical series, or as fast as the population, in -America. The rates at which one or the other increase naturally, or can -be made to increase, have no relation to an arithmetical and geometrical -series. They are co-ordinate till the earth, or any given portion of it, -is occupied and cultivated, and, after that, they are quite -disproportionate: or rather, both stop practically at the same instant; -the means of subsistence with the limits of the soil, and the population -with the limits of the means of subsistence. All that is true of Mr. -Malthus’s doctrine, then, is this, that the tendency of population to -increase remains after the power of the earth to produce more food is -gone; that the one is limited, the other unlimited. This is enough for -the morality of the question: his mathematics are altogether spurious. -Entirely groundless as they are, they have still been of the greatest -use to Mr. Malthus, in alarming the imaginations and confounding the -understandings of his readers. For, if the case had been represented as -it stands, the increase of population would have seemed, till the limits -of the earth were full, a great moral good; and after they were passed, -a physical impossibility, the state of society remaining the same. But, -by means of the arithmetical and geometrical series, ever present to the -mental eye, and overlaying the whole question, whether applicable to it -or not, it seems, first, as if this inordinate and unequal pressure of -population on the means of subsistence was, at all times, and in all -circumstances, equally to be dreaded, and equally inevitable; and again, -as if, the more that population advanced, the greater the evil became, -the actual excess as well as the tendency to excess. For it appears by -looking at the scale, at the ‘stop-watch’ of the new system of morals -and legislation, as if, when the population is at 4, the means of -subsistence is at 3; so that there is here only a deficit of 1 in the -latter, and a small corresponding quantity of _vice_ and _misery_; but -that when it gets on to 32, the means of subsistence being only 6, here -is a necessary deficiency of food, and all the comforts of life, to 26 -persons out of 32, so that life becomes an evil, and the world a -wretched lazar-house, a monstrous sink of misery and famine, one foul -abortion, in proportion as it is full of human beings enjoying the -comforts and necessaries of life. It consequently follows, that the more -we can, by the wholesome _preventive_ checks of vice and misery, keep -back the principle of population to its first stages, and the means of -subsistence to as low a level as possible, we keep these two mechanical, -and otherwise unmanageable principles, in closer harmony,—hinder the one -from pressing excessively on the other, and by producing the least -possible quantity of good, prevent the greatest possible quantity of -evil. This doctrine is false in fact and theory. Its advocates do not -understand it, nor is it intelligible. The actual existence of 26 -persons in want, when there is only food for six out of 32, is a chimera -which never entered the brains of any one not an adept in Mr. Malthus’s -mathematical series; the population confessedly never can or does exceed -the means of subsistence in a literal sense; and the tendency to exceed -it in a moral sense, that is, so as to destroy the comforts and -happiness of society, and occasion vice and misery, does not depend on -the actual population supported by actual means of subsistence, but -solely on the greater or less degree of _moral restraint_, in any number -of individuals (ten hundred or ten millions), inducing them to go beyond -or stop short of impending vice and misery in the career of population. -The instant, however, any increase in population, with or without an -increase in the means of subsistence, is hinted, the disciples of Mr. -Malthus are struck with horror at the vice and misery which must ensue -to keep this double population down; nay, mention any improvement, any -reform, any addition to the comforts or necessaries of life, any -diminution of vice and misery, and the infallible result in their -apprehensive imaginations is only an incalculable increase of vice and -misery, from the increased means of subsistence, and the increased -population that would follow. They have but this one idea in their -heads; it comes in at every turn, and nothing can drive it out. Twice -last year did Major Torrens go down to the City Meeting with Mr. -Malthus’s arithmetical and geometrical ratios in his pocket, as a double -and effectual bar to Mr. Owen’s plan, or, indeed, if he is consistent, -to any other plan of reform. He appeared to consider these ratios as -decisive against any philosophical scheme of _perfectibility_, and as -proportionably inimical to any subordinate approximation to any such -ultimate visionary perfection. He argued that Mr. Owen’s ‘projected -villages,’ if realised in all their pauper splendour, and to the -projector’s heart’s content, would, by providing for the support and -increased comforts of an additional population, only (by that very -means) give a double impetus to the mechanical operation of the ratios -in question, and produce a double quantity of crime and misery, by -making the principle of population press with extended force on the -means of subsistence. This is what we cannot comprehend. Suppose Mr. -Owen’s plan, or any other, would afford double employment, double -comfort and subsistence to the poor throughout the country, where would -be the harm of this, where the objection, near or remote, except on the -false principles laid down or insinuated in Mr. Malthus’s work? For -instance, if another island such as England could by an enchanter be -conjured up in the middle of the sea, with all the same means of -subsistence, arts, trades, agriculture, manufactures, institutions, -laws, &c. as this country, we ask whether this new country would not be -a good in proportion to the number of beings maintained in such a state -of comfort: or, if these gentlemen will have it so, in proportion to the -increase of population pressing on the means of subsistence? We say it -would be a good, just in the same sense and proportion that it would be -an evil, if England as it is, with all its inhabitants, means of -subsistence, arts, trades, manufactures, agriculture, institutions, -laws, King, Lords and Commons, were sunk in the sea? Who would not weep -for England so sunk,—who would not rejoice to see another England so -rising up out of the same element? The good would be immense, and the -evil would be none: for it is evident, that though the population of -both islands would be double that of either singly, it is the height of -absurdity to suppose this would increase the tendency of the population -to press more upon the means of subsistence, or to produce a greater -quantity of vice and misery in either, than if the one or the other did -not exist. But the case is precisely the same if we suppose England -itself, _our_ England, to be doubled in population and the means of -subsistence:—if we suppose such an improvement in our arts, trade, -manufactures, agriculture, institutions, laws, every thing, possible, as -to maintain double the same number of Englishmen, in the same or in a -greater degree of comfort and enjoyment, of liberty, virtue, knowledge, -happiness, and independence. The population being doubled would not -press more unequally on double the means of subsistence, than half that -population would press on half those means of subsistence. If this -increase would be an evil, the destroying half the present population, -and half the present means of subsistence, the laying waste more lands, -the destroying arts and the implements of husbandry, the re-barbarising -and the re-enslaving the country, would be a good. The sinking the -maritime counties with all their inhabitants in the Channel, instead of -‘redeeming tracts from the sea,’ would be a great good to the community -and the State; the flooding the fen districts would do something, in -like manner, to prevent the pressure of the principle of population on -the level of the means of subsistence; and if thirty-nine out of forty -of the counties could be struck off the list of shires, and the whole -island reduced to a sand-bank, the King of England would reign, -according to these speculatists, over forty or forty thousand times the -quantity of liberty, happiness, wisdom, and virtue, that he now does, -having no subjects, or only a select few, for the principle of -population to commit its ravages upon, by overstepping the means of -subsistence. The condition of New Zealand must approach nearer to the -_beau ideal_ of political philosophy contemplated by these persons, than -the state of Great Britain in the reign of George III. Such is the -logical result of their mode of reasoning, though they do not push it to -this length;—they only apply it to the defence of all existing abuses, -and the prevention of all timely reform! Its advocates are contented to -make use of it as a lucky diversion against all Utopian projects of -perfectibility, and against every practical advance in human -improvement. But they cannot consistently stop here, for it requires not -only a shrinking back from every progressive refinement, but a perpetual -deterioration and retrograde movement from the positive advances we have -made in civilization, comfort, and population, to the lowest state of -barbarism, ignorance, and depopulation—till we come back to the age of -acorns and pig-nuts, and reduce this once flourishing, populous, free, -industrious, independent, and contented people, to a horde of wandering -savages, housing in thickets, and living on dewberries, shell-fish, and -crab-apples. _This will never do._ - - - - - ON THE ORIGINALITY OF MR. MALTHUS’S ESSAY - - -We asserted in a former article, upon what we thought sufficient and -mature grounds, that the author of the ‘Essay on Population’ had taken -the leading principle of that essay, and the general inference built on -it, from Wallace’s work, entitled, ‘Various Prospects of Mankind, Nature -and Providence.’ We here repeat that assertion; and to enable our -readers to judge for themselves, shall give the passage in Wallace on -which it is founded. It is as follows:— - -‘But without entering further into these abstracted and uncertain -speculations, it deserves our particular attention that as no Government -which hath hitherto been established is free from all seeds of -corruption, or can be expected to be eternal; so if we suppose a -Government to be perfect in its original frame, and to be administered -in the most perfect manner, after whatever model we suppose it to have -been framed, such a perfect form would be so far from lasting for ever, -that it must come to an end so much the sooner on account of its -perfection. For, though happily such Governments should be firmly -established—though they should be found consistent with the reigning -passions of human nature, though they should spread far and wide—nay, -though they should prevail universally, they must at last involve -mankind in the deepest perplexity, and in universal confusion. For how -excellent soever they may be in their own nature, they are altogether -inconsistent with the present frame of nature, and with a limited extent -of earth. - -‘Under a perfect Government, the inconveniences of having a family would -be so entirely removed, children would be so well taken care of, and -every thing become so favourable to populousness, that though some -sickly seasons or dreadful plagues in particular climates might cut off -multitudes, yet in general, mankind would increase so prodigiously, that -the earth would at last be overstocked, and become unable to support its -numerous inhabitants. - -‘How long the earth, with the best culture of which it is capable from -human genius and industry, might be able to nourish its perpetually -increasing inhabitants, is as impossible as it is unnecessary to be -determined. It is not probable that it could have supported them during -so long a period as since the creation of Adam. But whatever may be -supposed of the length of this period, of necessity it must be granted, -that the earth could not nourish them for ever, unless either its -fertility could be continually augmented, or by some secret in nature, -like what certain enthusiasts have expected from the philosopher’s -stone, some wise adept in the occult sciences should invent a method of -supporting mankind quite different from any thing known at present. Nay, -though some extraordinary method of supporting them might possibly be -found out, yet if there was no bound to the increase of mankind, which -would be the case under a perfect Government, there would not even be -sufficient room for containing their bodies upon the surface of the -earth, or upon any limited surface whatsoever. It would be necessary, -therefore, in order to find room for such multitudes of men, that the -earth should be continually enlarging in bulk, as an animal or vegetable -body. - -‘Now since philosophers may as soon attempt to make mankind immortal, as -to support the animal frame without food, it is equally certain that -limits are set to the fertility of the earth; and that its bulk, so far -as is hitherto known, hath continued always the same, and probably could -not be much altered without making considerable changes in the solar -system. It would be impossible, therefore, to support the great numbers -of men who would be raised up under a perfect government; the earth -would be overstocked at last, and the greatest admirers of such fanciful -schemes must foresee the fatal period when they would come to an end, as -they are altogether inconsistent with the limits of that earth in which -they must exist. - -‘What a miserable catastrophe of the most generous of all human systems -of Government! How dreadfully would the Magistrates of such -commonwealths find themselves disconcerted at that fatal period, when -there was no longer any room for new colonies, and when the earth could -produce no farther supplies! During all the preceding ages, while there -was room for increase, mankind must have been happy; the earth must have -been a paradise in the literal sense, as the greatest part of it must -have been turned into delightful and fruitful gardens. But when the -dreadful time should at last come, when our globe, by the most diligent -culture, could not produce what was sufficient to nourish its numerous -inhabitants, what happy expedient could then be found out to remedy so -great an evil? - -‘In such a cruel necessity, must there be a law to restrain marriage? -Must multitudes of women be shut up in cloisters, like the ancient -vestals or modern nuns? To keep a balance between the two sexes, must a -proportionable number of men be debarred from marriage? Shall the -Utopians, following the wicked policy of superstition, forbid their -priests to marry; or shall they rather sacrifice men of some other -profession for the good of the state? Or shall they appoint the sons of -certain families to be maimed at their birth, and give a sanction to the -unnatural institution of eunuchs? If none of these expedients can be -thought proper, shall they appoint a certain number of infants to be -exposed to death as soon as they are born, determining the proportion -according to the exigencies of the state; and pointing out the -particular victims by lot, or according to some established rule? Or, -must they shorten the period of human life by a law, and condemn all to -die after they had completed a certain age, which might be shorter or -longer, as provisions were either more scanty or plentiful? Or, what -other method should they devise (for an expedient would be absolutely -necessary) to restrain the number of citizens within reasonable bounds? - -‘Alas! how unnatural and inhuman must every such expedient be accounted! -The natural passions and appetites of mankind are planted in our frame, -to answer the best ends for the happiness both of the individuals and of -the species. Shall we be obliged to contradict such a wise order? Shall -we be laid under the necessity of acting barbarously and inhumanly? Sad -and fatal necessity! And which, after all, could never answer the end, -but would give rise to violence and war. For mankind would never agree -about such regulations. Force, and arms, must at last decide their -quarrels, and the deaths of such as fell in battle, leave sufficient -provisions for the survivors, and make room for others to be born. - -‘Thus the tranquillity and numerous blessings of the Utopian governments -would come to an end; war, or cruel and unnatural customs, be -introduced, and a stop put to the increase of mankind, to the -advancement of knowledge, and to the culture of the earth, in spite of -the most excellent laws and wisest precautions. The more excellent the -laws had been, and the more strictly they had been observed, mankind -must have sooner become miserable. The remembrance of former times, the -greatness of their wisdom and virtue, would conspire to heighten their -distress; and the world, instead of remaining the mansion of wisdom and -happiness, become the scene of vice and confusion. Force and fraud must -prevail, and mankind be reduced to the same calamitous condition as at -present. - -‘Such a melancholy situation, in consequence merely of the want of -provisions, is, in truth, more unnatural than all their present -calamities. Supposing men to have abused their liberty, by which abuse -vice has once been introduced into the world; and that wrong notions, a -bad taste, and vicious habits have been strengthened by the defects of -education and government, our present distresses may be easily -explained. They may even be called natural, being the natural -consequences of our depravity. They may be supposed to be the means by -which Providence punishes vice; and by setting bounds to the increase of -mankind, prevents the earth’s being overstocked, and men being laid -under the cruel necessity of killing one another. But to suppose that, -in the course of a favourable Providence, a perfect government had been -established, under which the disorders of human passions had been -powerfully corrected and restrained; poverty, idleness, and war -banished; the earth made a paradise; universal friendship and concord -established, and human society rendered flourishing in all respects; and -that such a lovely Constitution should be overturned, not by the vices -of men, or their abuse of liberty, but by the order of nature itself, -seems wholly unnatural, and altogether disagreeable to the methods of -Providence. - -‘By reasoning in this manner, it is not pretended that ’tis unnatural to -set bounds to human knowledge and happiness, or to the grandeur of -society, and to confine what is finite to proper limits. It is certainly -fit to set just bounds to every thing according to its nature, and to -adjust all things in due proportion to one another. Undoubtedly, such an -excellent order is actually established throughout all the works of God, -in his wide dominions. But there are certain primary determinations in -nature, to which all other things of a subordinate kind must be -adjusted. A limited earth, a limited degree of fertility, and the -continual increase of mankind, are three of these original -constitutions. To these determinations, human affairs, and the -circumstance of all other animals, must be adapted. In which view, it is -unsuitable to our ideas of order, that while the earth is only capable -of maintaining a determined number, the human race should increase -without end. This would be the necessary consequence of a perfect -government and education. On which account it is more contrary to just -proportion, to suppose that such a perfect government should be -established, in such circumstances, than that by permitting vice, or the -abuse of liberty, in the wisdom of Providence, mankind should never be -able to multiply so as to be able to overstock the earth. - -‘From this view of the circumstances of the world, notwithstanding the -high opinion we have of the merits of Sir Thomas More, and other admired -projectors of perfect governments in ancient or modern times, we may -discern how little can be expected from their most perfect systems. - -‘As for those worthy philosophers, patriots, and law-givers, who have -employed their talents in framing such excellent models, we ought to do -justice to their characters, and gratefully to acknowledge their -generous efforts to rescue the world out of that distress into which it -has fallen, through the imperfection of government. Sincere, and ardent -in their love of virtue, enamoured of its lovely form, deeply interested -for the happiness of mankind, to the best of their skill, and with -hearts full of zeal, they have strenuously endeavoured to advance human -society to perfection. For this, their memory ought to be sacred to -posterity. But if they expected their beautiful systems actually to take -place, their hopes were ill founded, and they were not sufficiently -aware of the consequences. - -‘The speculations of such ingenious authors enlarge our views, and amuse -our fancies. They are useful for directing us to correct certain errors -at particular times. Able legislators ought to consider them as models, -and honest patriots ought never to lose sight of them, or any proper -opportunity of transplanting the wisest of their maxims into their own -governments, as far as they are adapted to their particular -circumstances, and will give no occasion to dangerous convulsions. But -this is all that can be expected. Though such ingenious romances should -chance to be read and admired, jealous and selfish politicians need not -be alarmed. Such statesmen need not fear that ever such airy systems -shall be able to destroy their craft, or disappoint them of their -intention to sacrifice the interests of mankind to their own avarice or -ambition. There is too powerful a charm, which works secretly in favour -of such politicians, which will for ever defeat all attempts to -establish a perfect government. There is no need of miracles for this -purpose. The vices of mankind are sufficient. And we need not doubt but -Providence will make use of them, for preventing the establishment of -governments which are by no means suitable to the present circumstances -of the earth.’—See ‘Various Prospects of Mankind, Nature, and -Providence,’ chap. 4. p. 113. 1761. - -Here then we have not only the same argument stated, but stated in the -same connexion, and brought to bear on the very same subject to which it -is applied by the author of the Essay on Population. The principle, and -the consequences deduced from it, are exactly the same. It may happen -(and often does) that one man is the first to make a particular -discovery or observation, and that another draws from it an important -inference of which the former was not at all aware. But this is not the -case in the present instance. As far as general reasoning will go, it is -impossible that any thing should be stated more clearly, more fully and -explicitly, than Wallace has here stated the argument against the -progressive and ultimate amelioration of human society, from the sole -principle of population. We have already seen that the addition which -Mr. Malthus has made to the argument, from the geometrical and -arithmetical series, is a fallacy, and not an improvement. The -conclusion itself insisted on in the above passage, by Wallace, appears -to us no better than a contradiction in terms. Of the possibility of -realising such a Utopian system as he first supposes, that is, of making -every motive and principle of action in the human mind absolutely and -completely subservient to the dictates of reason and the calculation of -consequences, we do not say a word; but we _do_ say, that if such a -system is possible, and if it were realised, it would not be destroyed -by the principle of population, that is, by the unrestrained propagation -of the species from a blind, headlong, instinctive, irrational impulse, -and with a total and sovereign disregard of the fatal and overwhelming -consequences which would ensue. The argument is a solecism; but if -Wallace shewed his ingenuity in inventing it, Mr. Malthus has not shown -his judgment in adopting it. Through the whole of the first edition of -the Essay on Population, the author assumed the impulse to propagate the -species as a law, and a physical necessity of the same force as that of -preserving the individual, or, in other words, he sets down, 1st, -hunger, 2d, the sexual appetite, as two co-ordinate, and equally -irresistible principles of action. It was necessary that he should do -this, in order to bear out his conclusion against the Utopian systems of -his antagonists; for, in order to maintain that this principle of -population would be proof against the highest possible degree of reason, -we must suppose it to be an absolute physical necessity. If reason has -any practical power over it, the highest reason must be able to attain -an habitual power over it. Mr. Malthus, however, having by the rigid -interpretation which he gave to his favourite principle, or by what he -called the _iron law of necessity_, succeeded in laying the bugbear of -the modern philosophy, relaxed considerably in the second and following -editions of his book, in which he introduced _moral restraint_ as a -third check upon the principle of population, in addition to the two -only ones of vice and misery, with which he before combated the Utopian -philosophers; and though he does not lay an exaggerated or consistent -stress on this third check, yet he thinks something may be done to -lighten the intolerable pressure, the heavy hand of vice and misery, by -flattering old maids, and frightening the poor into the practice of -moral restraint! It will be recollected by those who are familiar with -the history of Mr. Malthus’s writings, that his first and grand effort -was directed against the modern philosophy. The use which this author -has since made of his principle, and of the arithmetical and geometrical -ratios to shut up the workhouse, to _snub_ the poor, to stint them in -their wages, to deny them relief from the parish, and preach lectures to -them on the new invented crime of matrimony, was an afterthought; of the -merit of which we shall speak in another article. - - - - - ON THE PRINCIPLE OF POPULATION AS AFFECTING THE SCHEMES OF UTOPIAN - IMPROVEMENT - - ‘A swaggering paradox, when once explained, soon sinks into an unmeaning - common-place.’ - - -This excellent saying of a great man was never more strictly applicable -to any system than it is to Mr. Malthus’s paradox, and his explanation -of it. It seemed, on the first publication of the Essay on Population, -as if the whole world was going to be turned topsy-turvy, all our ideas -of moral good and evil, were in a manner confounded, we scarcely knew -whether we stood on our head or our heels: but after exciting -considerable expectation, giving us a good shake, and making us a little -dizzy, Mr. Malthus does as we do when we shew the children -_London_,—sets us on our feet again, and every thing goes on as before. -The common notions that prevailed on this subject, till our author’s -first population-scheme tended to weaken them, were that life is a -blessing, and that the more people could be maintained in any state in a -tolerable degree of health, comfort and decency, the better: that want -and misery are not desirable in themselves, that famine is not to be -courted for its own sake, that wars, disease and pestilence are not what -every friend of his country or his species should pray for in the first -place: that vice in its different shapes is a thing that the world could -do very well without, and that if it could be got rid of altogether, it -would be a great gain. In short, that the object both of the moralist -and politician was to diminish as much as possible the quantity of vice -and misery existing in the world: without apprehending that by thus -effectually introducing more virtue and happiness, more reason and good -sense, that by improving the manners of a people, removing pernicious -habits and principles of acting, or securing greater plenty, and a -greater number of mouths to partake of it, they were doing a disservice -to humanity. Then comes Mr. Malthus with his octavo book, and tells us -there is another great evil, which had never been found out, or at least -not sufficiently attended to till his time, namely, excessive -population: that this evil was infinitely greater and more to be dreaded -than all others put together; and that its approach could only be -checked by vice and misery: that any increase of virtue or happiness was -the direct way to hasten it on; and that in proportion as we attempted -to improve the condition of mankind, and lessened the restraints of vice -and misery, we threw down the only barriers that could protect us from -this most formidable scourge of the species, population. Vice and misery -were indeed evils, but they were absolutely necessary evils; necessary -to prevent the introduction of others of an incalculably and -inconceivably greater magnitude; and that every proposal to lessen their -actual quantity, on which the measure of our safety depended, might be -attended with the most ruinous consequences, and ought to be looked upon -with horror. I think that this description of the tendency and -complexion of Mr. Malthus’s first essay is not in the least exaggerated, -but an exact and faithful picture of the impression, which is made on -every one’s mind. - -After taking some time to recover from the surprise and hurry into which -so great a discovery would naturally throw him, he comes forward again -with a large quarto, in which he is at great pains both to say and unsay -all that he has said in his former volume; and upon the whole concludes, -that population is in itself a good thing, that it is never likely to do -much harm, that virtue and happiness ought to be promoted by every -practicable means, and that the most effectual as well as desirable -check to excessive population is _moral restraint_. The mighty discovery -thus reduced to, and pieced out by common sense, the wonder vanishes, -and we breathe a little freely again. Mr. Malthus is, however, by no -means willing to give up his old doctrine, or _eat his own words_: he -stickles stoutly for it at times. He has his fits of reason and his fits -of extravagance, his yielding and his obstinate moments, fluctuating -between the two, and vibrating backwards and forwards with a dexterity -of self-contradiction which it is wonderful to behold. The following -passage is so curious in this respect that I cannot help quoting it in -this place. Speaking of the Reply of the author of the Political Justice -to his former work, he observes, ‘But Mr. Godwin says, that if he looks -into the past history of the world, he does not see that increasing -population has been controlled and confined by vice and misery _alone_. -_In this observation I cannot agree with him._ I will thank Mr. Godwin -to name to me any check, that in past ages has contributed to keep down -the population to the level of the means of subsistence, that does not -fairly come under some form of vice or misery; except indeed the check -of _moral restraint, which I have mentioned in the course of this work_; -and which to say the truth, whatever hopes we may entertain of its -prevalence in future, has undoubtedly in past ages operated with very -inconsiderable force.’[65] When I assure the reader that I give him this -passage fairly and fully, I think he will be of opinion with me, that it -would be difficult to produce an instance of a more miserable attempt to -reconcile a contradiction by childish evasion, to insist upon an -argument, and give it up in the same breath. Does Mr. Malthus really -think that he has such an absolute right and authority over this subject -of population, that provided he mentions a principle, or shews that he -is not ignorant of it, and cannot be caught _napping_ by the critics, he -is at liberty to say that it has or has not had any operation, just as -he pleases, and that the state of the fact is a matter of perfect -indifference? He contradicts the opinion of Mr. Godwin that vice and -misery are not the only checks to population, and gives as a proof of -his assertion, that he himself truly has mentioned another check. Thus -after flatly denying that moral restraint has any effect at all, he -modestly concludes by saying that it has had some, no doubt, but -promises that it will never have a great deal. Yet in the very next -page, he says, ‘On this sentiment, whether virtue, prudence or pride, -which I have already noticed under the name of moral restraint, or of -the more comprehensive title, the _preventive_ check, it will appear, -that in the sequel of this work, I shall lay considerable stress.’ p. -385. This kind of reasoning is enough to give one the headache. - -The most singular thing in this singular performance of our author is, -that it should have been originally ushered into the world as the most -complete and only satisfactory answer to the speculations of Godwin, -Condorcet and others, or to what has been called the modern philosophy. -A more complete piece of wrong-headedness, a more strange perversion of -reason could hardly be devised by the wit of man. Whatever we may think -of the doctrine of the progressive improvement of the human mind, or of -a state of society in which every thing will be subject to the absolute -control of reason, however absurd, unnatural, or impracticable we may -conceive such a system to be, certainly it cannot without the grossest -inconsistency be objected to it, that such a system would necessarily be -rendered abortive, because if reason should ever get the mastery over -all our actions, we shall then be governed entirely by our physical -appetites and passions, without the least regard to consequences. This -appears to me a refinement on absurdity. Several philosophers and -speculatists had supposed that a certain state of society very different -from any that has hitherto existed was in itself practicable; and that -if it were realised, it would be productive of a far greater degree of -human happiness than is compatible with the present institutions of -society. I have nothing to do with either of these points. I will allow -to any one who pleases that all such schemes are ‘false, sophistical, -unfounded in the extreme.’ But I cannot agree with Mr. Malthus that they -would be _bad_, in proportion as they were _good_; that their excellence -would be their ruin; or that the true and only unanswerable objection -against all such schemes is that very degree of happiness, virtue, and -improvement, to which they are supposed to give rise. And I cannot agree -with him in this, because it is contrary to common sense, and leads to -the subversion of every principle of moral reasoning. Without perplexing -himself with the subtle arguments of his opponents, Mr. Malthus comes -boldly forward, and says, ‘Gentlemen, I am willing to make you large -concessions, I am ready to allow the practicability and the -desirableness of your schemes; the more happiness, the more virtue, the -more refinement they are productive of, the better; all these will only -add to the “exuberant strength of my argument”; I have a short answer to -all objections, to be sure I found it in an old political receipt-book, -called Prospects, &c. by one Wallace, a man not much known, but no -matter for that, _finding is keeping_, you know:’ and with one smart -stroke of his wand, on which are inscribed certain mystical characters, -and algebraic proportions, he levels the fairy enchantment with the -ground. For, says Mr. Malthus, though this improved state of society -were actually realised, it could not possibly continue, but must soon -terminate in a state of things pregnant with evils far more -insupportable than any we at present endure, in consequence of the -excessive population which would follow, and the impossibility of -providing for its support. - -This is what I do not understand. It is, in other words, to assert that -the doubling the population of a country, for example, after a certain -period, will be attended with the most pernicious effects, by want, -famine, bloodshed, and a state of general violence and confusion; this -will afterwards lead to vices and practices still worse than the -physical evils they are designed to prevent, &c. and yet that at this -period those who will be the most interested in preventing these -consequences, and the best acquainted with the circumstances that lead -to them, will neither have the understanding to foresee, nor the heart -to feel, nor the will to prevent the sure evils to which they expose -themselves and others, though this advanced state of population, which -does not admit of any addition without danger is supposed to be the -immediate result of a more general diffusion of the comforts and -conveniences of life, of more enlarged and liberal views, of a more -refined and comprehensive regard to our own permanent interests, as well -as those of others, of correspondent habits and manners, and of a state -of things, in which our gross animal appetites will be subjected to the -practical control of reason. The influence of rational motives, of -refined and long-sighted views of things is supposed to have taken the -place of narrow, selfish, and merely sensual motives: this is implied in -the very statement of the question. ‘What conjuration and what mighty -magic’ should thus blind our philosophical descendants on this single -subject in which they are more interested than in all the rest, so that -they should stand with their eyes open on the edge of a precipice, and -instead of retreating from it, should throw themselves down headlong, I -cannot comprehend; unless indeed we suppose that the impulse to -propagate the species is so strong and uncontrolable, that reason has no -power over it. This is what Mr. Malthus was at one time strongly -disposed to assert, and what he is at present half inclined to retract. -Without this foundation to rest on, the whole of his reasoning is -unintelligible. It seems to me a most childish way of answering any one, -who chooses to assert that mankind are capable of being governed -entirely by their reason, and that it would be better for them if they -were, to say, No, for if they were governed entirely by it, they would -be much less able to attend to its dictates than they are at present: -and the evils, which would thus follow from the unrestrained increase of -population, would be excessive.—Almost every little Miss, who has had -the advantage of a boarding-school education, or been properly tutored -by her mamma, whose hair is not of an absolute flame-colour, and who has -hopes in time, if she behaves prettily, of getting a good husband, waits -patiently year after year, looks about her, rejects or trifles with half -a dozen lovers, favouring one, laughing at another, chusing among them -‘as one picks pears, saying, this I like, that I loathe,’ with the -greatest indifference, as if it were no such very pressing affair, and -_all the while behaves very prettily_:—why, what an idea does Mr. -Malthus give us of the grave, masculine genius of our Utopian -philosophers, their sublime attainments and gigantic energy, that they -will not be able to manage these matters as decently and cleverly as the -silliest woman can do at present! Mr. Malthus indeed endeavours to -soften the absurdity by saying that moral restraint at present owes its -strength to selfish motives: what is that to the purpose? If Mr. Malthus -chooses to say, that men will always be governed by the same gross -mechanical motives that they are at present, I have no objection to make -to it; but it is shifting the question: it is not arguing against the -state of society we are considering from the consequences to which it -would give rise, but against the possibility of its ever existing. It is -absurd to object to a system on account of the consequences which would -follow if we once suppose men to be actuated by entirely different -motives and principles from what they are at present, and then to say, -that those consequences would necessarily follow, because men would -never be what we suppose them. It is very idle to alarm the imagination -by deprecating the evils that must follow from the practical adoption of -a particular scheme, yet to allow that we have no reason to dread those -consequences, but because the scheme itself is impracticable.—But I am -ashamed of wasting the reader’s time and my own in thus beating the air. -It is not however my fault that Mr. Malthus has written nonsense, or -that others have admired it. It is not Mr. Malthus’s nonsense, but the -opinion of the world respecting it, that I would be thought to -compliment by this serious refutation of what in itself neither deserves -nor admits of any reasoning upon it. If, however, we recollect the -source from whence Mr. Malthus borrowed his principle and the -application of it to improvements in political philosophy, we must allow -that he is merely passive in error. The principle itself would not have -been worth a farthing to him without the application, and accordingly he -took them as he found them lying snug together; and as Trim having -converted the old jack-boots into a pair of new mortars immediately -planted them against whichever of my uncle Toby’s garrisons the allies -were then busy in besieging, so the public-spirited gallantry of our -modern engineer directed him to bend the whole force of his clumsy -discovery against that system of philosophy which was the most talked of -at the time, but to which it was the least applicable of all others. -Wallace, I have no doubt, took up his idea either as a paradox, or a -_jeu d’esprit_, or because any thing, he thought, was of weight enough -to overturn what had never existed any where but in the imagination; or -he was led into a piece of false logic by an error we are very apt to -fall into, of supposing because he had never been struck himself by the -difficulty of population in such a state of society, that therefore the -people themselves would not find it out, nor make any provision against -it. But though I can in some measure excuse a lively paradox, I do not -think the same favour is to be shewn to the dull, dogged, voluminous -repetition of an absurdity. - -I cannot help thinking that our author has been too much influenced in -his different feelings on this subject, by the particular purpose he had -in view at the time. Mr. Malthus might not improperly have taken for the -motto of his first edition,—‘These three bear record on earth, vice, -misery, and population.’ In his answer to Mr. Godwin, this principle was -represented as an evil, for which no remedy could be found but in -evil;—that its operation was mechanical, unceasing, necessary; that it -went straight forward to its end, unchecked by fear, or reason, or -remorse; that the evils, which it drew after it, could only be avoided -by other evils, by actual vice and misery. Population was, in fact, the -great Devil, the untamed Beelzebub that was only kept chained down by -vice and misery, and which, if it were once let loose from these -restraints, would go forth, and ravage the earth. That they were, of -course, the two main props and pillars of society, and that the lower -and weaker they kept this principle, the better able they were to -contend with it: that therefore any diminution of that degree of them, -which at present prevails, and is found sufficient to keep the world in -order, was of all things chiefly to be dreaded.—Mr. Malthus seems fully -aware of the importance of the stage-maxim, To elevate and surprise. -Having once heated the imaginations of his readers, he knows that he can -afterwards mould them into whatever shape he pleases. All this bustle -and terror, and stage-effect, and theatrical mummery was only to serve a -temporary purpose, for all of a sudden the scene is shifted, and the -storm subsides. Having frighted away the boldest champions of modern -philosophy, this monstrous appearance, full of strange and inexplicable -horrors, is suffered quietly to shrink back to its natural dimensions, -and we find it to be nothing more than a common-sized tame looking -animal, which however requires a chain and the whip of its keeper to -prevent it from becoming mischievous. Mr. Malthus then steps forward and -says, ‘The evil we were all in danger of was not population,—but -philosophy. Nothing is to be done with the latter by mere reasoning. I, -therefore, thought it right to make use of a little terror to accomplish -the end. As to the principle of population you need be under no alarm; -only leave it to me, and I shall be able to manage it very well. All its -dreadful consequences may be easily prevented by a proper application of -the motives of common prudence and common decency.’ If, however, any one -should be at a loss to know how it is possible to reconcile such -contradictions, I would suggest to Mr. Malthus the answer which Hamlet -makes to his friend Guildenstern, ‘’Tis as easy as lying: govern these -ventiges (the poor-rates and private charity) with your fingers and -thumb, and this same instrument will discourse most excellent music; -look you, here are the stops,’ (namely, Mr. Malthus’s Essay and Mr. -Whitbread’s Poor Bill).[66] - - - - - ON THE APPLICATION OF MR. MALTHUS’S PRINCIPLE TO THE POOR LAWS - - -In speaking of the abolition of the Poor Laws, Mr. Malthus says:— - -‘To this end, I should propose a regulation to be made, declaring, that -no child born from any marriage, taking place after the expiration of a -year from the date of the law, and no illegitimate child born two years -from the same date, should ever be entitled to parish assistance. And to -give a more general knowledge of this law, and to enforce it more -strongly on the minds of the lower classes of people, the clergyman of -each parish should, after the publication of banns, read a short -address, stating the strong obligation on every man to support his own -children; the impropriety, and even immorality, of marrying without a -prospect of being able to do this; the evils which had resulted to the -poor themselves from the attempt which had been made to assist by public -institutions in a duty which ought to be exclusively appropriated to -parents; and the absolute necessity which had at length appeared of -abandoning all such institutions, on account of their producing effects -totally opposite to those which were intended. - -‘This would operate as a fair, distinct, and precise notice, which no -man could well mistake, and, without pressing hard on any particular -individuals, would at once throw off the rising generation from that -miserable and helpless dependence upon the government and the rich, the -moral as well as physical consequences of which are almost incalculable. - -‘After the public notice which I have proposed had been given, and the -system of poor-laws had ceased with regard to the rising generation, if -any man chose to marry, without a prospect of being able to support a -family, he should have the most perfect liberty so to do. Though to -marry, in this case, is, in my opinion, clearly an immoral act, yet it -is not one which society can justly take upon itself to prevent or -punish; because the punishment provided for it by the laws of nature -falls directly and most severely upon the individual who commits the -act, and through him, only more remotely and feebly, on the society. -When Nature will govern and punish for us, it is a very miserable -ambition to wish to snatch the rod from her hands, and draw upon -ourselves the odium of executioner. To the punishment therefore of -Nature he should be left, the punishment of want. He has erred in the -face of a most clear and precise warning, and can have no just reason to -complain of any persons but himself when he feels the consequences of -his error. All parish assistance should be most rigidly denied him; and -he should be left to the uncertain support of private charity. He should -be taught to know, that the laws of Nature, which are the laws of God, -had doomed him and his family to starve,[67] for disobeying their -repeated admonitions; that he had no claim of _right_ on society for the -smallest portion of food, beyond that which his labour would fairly -purchase; and that if he and his family were saved from feeling the -natural consequences of his imprudence, he would owe it to the pity of -some kind benefactor, to whom, therefore, he ought to be bound by the -strongest ties of gratitude.’ - -This passage has been well answered by Mr. Cobbett in one word, -‘Parson’;—the most expressive apostrophe that ever was made; and it -might be answered as effectually by another word, which I shall omit. -When Mr. Malthus asserts, that the poor man and his family have been -doomed to starve by the laws of nature, which are the laws of God, he -means by the laws of God and nature, the physical and necessary -inability of the earth to supply food for more than a certain number of -human beings; but if he means that the wants of the poor arise from the -impossibility of procuring food for them, while the rich roll in -abundance, or, we will say, maintain their dogs and horses, &c. out of -their ostentatious superfluities, he asserts what he knows not to be -true. Mr. Malthus wishes to confound the necessary limits of the produce -of the earth with the arbitrary and artificial distribution of that -produce according to the institutions of society, or the caprice of -individuals, the laws of God and nature with the laws of man. And what -proves the fallacy is, that the laws of man in the present case actually -afford the relief, which he would wilfully deny; he proposes to repeal -those laws, and then to tell the poor man impudently, that ‘the laws of -God and nature have doomed him and his family to starve, for disobeying -their repeated admonitions,’ stuck on the church-door for the last -twelve months! ’Tis much. - -I have in a separate work made the following remarks on the above -proposal, which are a little cavalier, not too cavalier;—a little -contemptuous, not too contemptuous; a little gross, but not too gross -for the subject.— - -‘I am not sorry that I am at length come to this passage. It will I hope -decide the reader’s opinion of the benevolence, wisdom, piety, candour, -and disinterested simplicity of Mr. Malthus’s mind. Any comments that I -might make upon it to strengthen this impression must be faint and -feeble. I give up the task of doing justice to the moral beauties that -pervade every line of it, in despair. There are some instances of an -heroical contempt for the narrow prejudices of the world, of a perfect -refinement from the vulgar feelings of human nature, that must only -suffer by a comparison with any thing else. - -I shall not myself be so uncandid as not to confess, that I think the -poor laws bad things; and that it would be well, if they could be got -rid of, consistently with humanity and justice. This I do not think they -could in the present state of things, and other circumstances remaining -as they are. The reason why I object to Mr. Malthus’s plan is, that it -does not go to the root of the evil, or attack it in its principle, but -its effects. He confounds the cause with the effect. The wide spreading -tyranny, dependence, indolence, and unhappiness, of which Mr. Malthus is -so sensible, are not occasioned by the increase of the poor-rates, but -these are the natural consequence of that increasing tyranny, -dependence, indolence, and unhappiness occasioned by other causes. - -Mr. Malthus desires his readers to look at the enormous proportion in -which the poor-rates have increased within the last ten years. But have -they increased in any greater proportion than the other taxes, which -rendered them necessary, and, which I think, were employed for much more -mischievous purposes? I would ask, what have the poor got by their -encroachments for the last ten years? Do they work less hard? Are they -better fed? Do they marry oftener, and with better prospects? Are they -grown pampered and insolent? Have they changed places with the rich? -Have they been cunning enough, by means of the poor-laws, to draw off -all their wealth and superfluities from the men of property? Have they -got so much as a quarter of an hour’s leisure, a farthing candle, or a -cheese-paring more than they had? Has not the price of provisions risen -enormously? Has not the price of labour almost stood still? Have not the -government and the rich had their way in every thing? Have they not -gratified their ambition, their pride, their obstinacy, their ruinous -extravagance? Have they not squandered the resources of the country as -they pleased? Have they not heaped up wealth on themselves, and their -dependents? Have they not multiplied sinecures, places, and pensions? -Have they not doubled the salaries of those that existed before? Has -there been any want of new creations of peers, who would thus be -impelled to beget heirs to their titles and estates, and saddle the -younger branches of their rising families, by means of their new -influence, on the country at large? Has there been any want of -contracts, of loans, of monopolies of corn, of a good understanding -between the rich and the powerful to assist one another, and to fleece -the poor? Have the poor prospered? Have the rich declined? What then -have they to complain of? What ground is there for the apprehension, -that wealth is secretly changing hands, and that the whole property of -the country will shortly be absorbed in the poor’s fund? Do not the poor -create their own fund? Is not the necessity for such a fund first -occasioned by the unequal weight with which the rich press upon the -poor; and has not the increase of that fund in the last ten years been -occasioned by the additional exorbitant demands, which have been made -upon the poor and industrious, which, without some assistance from the -public, they could not possibly have answered? Whatever is the increase -in the nominal amount of the poor’s fund, will not the rich always be -able ultimately to throw the burthen of it on the poor themselves? But -Mr. Malthus is a man of general principles. He cares little about these -circumstantial details, and petty objections. He takes higher ground. He -deduces all his conclusions, by an infallible logic, from the laws of -God and nature. When our Essayist shall prove to me, that by these paper -bullets of the brain, by his ratios of the increase of food, and the -increase of mankind, he has prevented one additional tax, or taken off -one oppressive duty, that he has made a single rich man retrench one -article at his table: that he has made him keep a dog or a horse the -less, or part with a single vice, arguing from a mathematical -admeasurement of the size of the earth, and the number of inhabitants it -can contain, he shall have my perfect leave to disclaim the right of the -poor to subsistence, and to tie them down by severe penalties to their -good behaviour, on the same profound principles. But why does Mr. -Malthus practise his demonstrations on the poor only? Why are they to -have a perfect system of rights and duties prescribed to them? I do not -see why they alone should be put to live on these metaphysical -board-wages, why they should be forced to submit to a course of -_abstraction_; or why it should be meat and drink to them, more than to -others, to do the will of God. Mr. Malthus’s gospel is preached only to -the poor!—Even if I approved of our author’s plan, I should object to -the principle on which it is founded. The parson of the parish, when a -poor man comes to be married—No, not so fast. The author does not say, -whether the lecture he proposes is to be read to the poor only, or to -all ranks of people. Would it not sound oddly, if when the squire, who -is himself worth a hundred thousand pounds, is going to be married to -the rector’s daughter, who is to have fifty, the curate should read them -a formal lecture on their obligation to maintain their own children and -not turn them on the parish? Would it be necessary to go through the -form of the address, when an amorous couple of eighty presented -themselves at the altar? If the admonition were left to the parson’s own -discretion, what affronts would he not subject himself to, from his -neglect of old maids, and superannuated widows, and from his applying -himself familiarly to the little shopkeeper, or thriving mechanic? Well, -then, let us suppose that a very poor hard-working man comes to be -married, and that the clergyman can take the liberty with him: he is to -warn him first against fornication, and in the next place against -matrimony. These are the two greatest sins which a poor man can commit, -who can neither be supposed to keep his wife, nor his girl. Mr. Malthus, -however, does not think them equal: for he objects strongly to a country -fellow’s marrying a girl whom he has debauched, or, as the phrase is, -making an honest woman of her, as aggravating the crime; because, by -this means, the parish will probably have three or four children to -maintain instead of one. However, as it seems rather too late to give -advice to a man who is actually come to be married, it is most natural -to suppose that he would marry the young woman in spite of the lecture. -Here then he errs in the face of a precise warning, and should be left -to the punishment of _nature_, the punishment of severe want. When he -begins to feel the consequences of his error, all parish assistance is -to be rigidly denied him, and the interests of humanity imperiously -require that all other assistance should be withheld from him, or most -sparingly administered. In the meantime, to reconcile him to this -treatment, and let him see that he has nobody to complain of but -himself, the parson of the parish comes to him with the certificate of -his marriage, and a copy of the warning he had given him at the time, by -which he is taught to know that the laws of nature, which are the laws -of God, had doomed him and his family to starve for disobeying their -repeated admonitions; that he had no claim of right to the smallest -portion of food beyond what his labour would actually purchase; and that -he ought to kiss the feet and lick the dust off the shoes of him, who -gave him a reprieve from the just sentence which the laws of God and -nature had passed upon him. To make this clear to him, it would be -necessary to put the Essay on Population into his hands, to instruct him -in the nature of a geometrical and arithmetical series, in the necessary -limits to population from the size of the earth; and here would come in -Mr. Malthus’s plan of education for the poor, writing, arithmetic, the -use of the globes, &c. for the purpose of proving to them the necessity -of their being starved. It cannot be supposed that the poor man (what -with his poverty and what with being priest-ridden) should be able to -resist this body of evidence, he would open his eyes to his error, and -“would submit to the sufferings that were absolutely irremediable, with -the fortitude of a man, and the resignation of a Christian.” He and his -family might then be sent round the parish in a starving condition, -accompanied by the constables and _quondam_ overseers of the poor, to -see that no person, blind to “the interests of humanity,” practised upon -them the abominable deception of attempting to relieve their remediless -sufferings; and by the parson of the parish, to point out to the -spectators the inevitable consequences of sinning against the laws of -God and man. By celebrating a number of these _Auto da fes_ yearly in -every parish, the greatest publicity would be given to the principle of -population, “the strict line of duty would be pointed out to every man,” -enforced by the most powerful sanctions; justice and humanity would -flourish, they would be understood to signify that the poor have no -right to live by their labour, and that the feelings of compassion and -benevolence are best shewn by denying them charity; the poor would no -longer be dependent on the rich, the rich could no longer wish to reduce -the poor into a more complete subjection to their will, all causes of -contention, of jealousy, and of irritation would have ceased between -them, the struggle would be over, each class would fulfil the task -assigned by heaven; the rich would oppress the poor without remorse, the -poor would submit to oppression with a pious gratitude and resignation; -the greatest harmony would prevail between the government and the -people; there would be no longer any seditions, tumults, complaints, -petitions, partisans of liberty, or tools of power; no grumbling, no -repining, no discontented men of talents proposing reforms, and -frivolous remedies, but we should all have the same gaiety and lightness -of heart, and the same happy spirit of resignation that a man feels when -he is seized with the plague, who thinks no more of the physician, but -knows that his disorder is without cure. The best-laid schemes are -subject, however, to unlucky reverses. Some such seem to lie in the way -of that pleasing Euthanasia, and contented submission to the grinding -law of necessity, projected by Mr. Malthus. We might never reach the -philosophic temper of the inhabitants of modern Greece and Turkey in -this respect. Many little things might happen to interrupt our progress, -if we were put into ever so fair a train. For instance, the men might -perhaps be talked over by the parson, and their understandings being -convinced by the geometrical and arithmetical ratios, or at least so far -puzzled, that they would have nothing to say for themselves, they might -prepare to submit to their fate with a tolerable grace. But I am afraid -that the women might prove refractory. They never will hearken to -reason, and are much more governed by their feelings than by -calculations. While the husband was instructing his wife in the -principles of population, she might probably answer that “she did not -see why her children should starve, when the squire’s lady or the -parson’s lady kept half a dozen lap-dogs, and that it was but the other -day, that being at the hall, or the parsonage-house, she heard Miss -declare that not one of the brood that were just littered should be -drowned—It was _so inhuman_ to kill the poor little things—Surely the -children of the poor are as good as puppy-dogs! Was it not a week ago -that the rector had a new pack of terriers sent down, and did I not hear -the squire swear a tremendous oath, that he would have Mr. Such-a-one’s -fine hunter, if it cost him a hundred guineas? Half that sum would save -us from ruin.”—After this curtain-lecture, I conceive that the husband -might begin to doubt the force of the demonstrations he had read and -heard, and the next time his clerical monitor came, might pluck up -courage to question the matter with him; and as we of the male sex, -though dull of apprehension, are not slow at taking a hint, and can draw -tough inferences from it, it is not impossible but the parson might be -_gravelled_. In consequence of these accidents happening more than once, -it would be buzzed about that the laws of God and nature, on which so -many families had been doomed to starve, were not so clear as had been -pretended. This would soon get wind amongst the mob: and at the next -grand procession of the Penitents of famine, headed by Mr. Malthus in -person, some discontented man of talents, who could not bear the -distresses of others with the fortitude of a man and the resignation of -a Christian, might undertake to question Mr. Malthus, whether the laws -of nature or of God, to which he had piously sacrificed so many victims, -signified any thing more than the limited extent of the earth, and the -natural impossibility of providing for more than a limited number of -human beings; and whether those laws could be justly put in force, to -the very letter, while the actual produce of the earth, by being better -husbanded, or more equally distributed, or given to men and not to -beasts, might maintain in comfort double the number that actually -existed, and who, not daring to demand a _fair_ proportion of the -produce of their labour, humbly crave charity, and are refused out of -regard to the interests of justice and humanity. Our philosopher, at -this critical juncture not being able to bring into the compass of a few -words all the history, metaphysics, morality, and divinity, or all the -intricacies, subtleties, and callous equivocations contained in his -quarto volume, might hesitate and be confounded—his own feelings and -prejudices might add to his perplexity—his interrogator might persist in -his question—the mob might become impatient for an answer, and not -finding one to their minds, might proceed to extremities. Our -unfortunate Essayist (who by that time would have become a bishop) might -be ordered to the lamp-post, and his book committed to the flames,—I -tremble to think of what would follow:—the poor-laws would be again -renewed, and the poor no longer doomed to starve by the laws of God and -nature! Some such, I apprehend, might be the consequences of attempting -to enforce the abolition of the poor-laws, the extinction of private -charity, and of instructing the poor in their metaphysical rights.’ - - - - - QUERIES RELATING TO THE ESSAY ON POPULATION - - -Query 1. Whether the real source of Mr. Malthus’s Essay is not to be -found in a work published in the year 1761, entitled, ‘Various Prospects -of Mankind,’ by a Scotchman of the name of Wallace? Or whether this -writer has not both stated the principle of the disproportion between -the unlimited power of increase in population, and the limited power of -increase in the means of subsistence, which principle is the -corner-stone of the Essay; and whether he has not drawn the very same -inference from it that Mr. Malthus has done, viz. that vice and misery -are necessary to keep population down to the level of the means of -subsistence? - -2. Whether the chapter in Wallace, written expressly to prove these two -points (or in other words, to shew that the principle of population is -necessarily incompatible with any great degree of improvement in -government or morals) does not completely anticipate Mr. Malthus’s work, -both in its principle and its conclusion? - -3. Whether the idea of an arithmetical and geometrical series by which -Mr. Malthus has been thought to have furnished the precise rule or -_calculus_ of the disproportion between food and population, is not, -strictly speaking, inapplicable to the subject; inasmuch as in new and -lately occupied countries, the quantity of food may be made to increase -nearly in the same proportion as population, and in all old and well -cultivated countries must be stationary, or nearly so? Whether, -therefore, this mode of viewing the subject has not tended as much to -embarrass as to illustrate the question, and to divert the mind from the -real source of the only necessary distinction between food and -population, namely, the want of sufficient room for the former to grow -in; a grain of corn, as long as it has room to increase and multiply, in -fact propagating its species much faster even than a man? - -4. Whether the argument borrowed from Wallace, and constituting the -chief scope and tenor of the first edition of the Essay, which professed -to overturn all schemes of human perfectibility and Utopian forms of -government from the sole principle of population, does not involve a -plain contradiction;—both these authors, first of all, supposing or -taking for granted a state of society in which the most perfect order, -wisdom, virtue, and happiness shall prevail, and then endeavouring to -shew that all these advantages would only hasten their own ruin, and end -in famine, confusion, and unexampled wretchedness, in consequence of -taking away the only possible checks to population, _vice_ and _misery_? -Whether this objection does not suppose mankind in a state of the most -perfect reason, to be utterly blind to the consequences of the -unrestrained indulgence of their appetites, and with the most perfect -wisdom and virtue regulating all their actions, not to have the -slightest command over their animal passions? There is nothing in any of -the visionary schemes of human perfection so idle as this objection -brought against them, which has no more to do with the reasonings of -Godwin, Condorcet, &c. (against which Mr. Malthus’s first Essay was -directed) than with the prophecies of the Millennium! - -5. Whether, in order to give some colour of plausibility to his -argument, and to prove that the highest conceivable degree of wisdom and -virtue could be of no avail in keeping down the principle of population, -Mr. Malthus did not at first set out with representing this principle, -to wit, the impulse to propagate the species, as a law of the same order -and cogency as that of satisfying the cravings of hunger; so that reason -having no power over it, vice and misery must be the necessary -consequences, and only possible checks to population? - -6. Whether this original view of the subject did not unavoidably lead to -the most extravagant conclusions, not only by representing the total -removal of all vice and misery as the greatest evil that could happen to -the world, but (what is of more consequence than this speculative -paradox) by throwing a suspicion and a stigma on all subordinate -improvements or plans of reform, as so many clauses or sections of the -same general principle? Whether the quantity of vice and misery -necessary to keep population down to the level of the means of -subsistence, being left quite undetermined by the author, the old -barriers between vice and virtue, good and evil, were not broken down, -and a perfect latitude of choice allowed between forms of government and -modes of society, according to the temper of the times, or the taste of -individuals; only that vice and misery being always the _safe side_, the -presumption would naturally be in favour of the most barbarous, -ignorant, enslaved, and profligate? Whether the stumbling-block thus -thrown in the way of those who aimed at any amendment in social -institutions, does not obviously account for the alarm and opposition -which Mr. Malthus’s work excited on the one hand, and for the cordiality -and triumph with which it was hailed on the other? - -7. Whether this view of the question, which is all in which the Essay -differs fundamentally from the received and less startling notions on -the subject, is not palpably, and by the author’s subsequent confession, -false, sophistical, and unfounded? - -8. Whether the additional principle of _moral restraint_, inserted in -the second and following editions of the Essay as one effectual, and as -the only desirable means of checking population, does not at once -overturn all the paradoxical conclusions of the author respecting the -state of man in society, and whether nearly all these conclusions do not -still stand in Mr. Malthus’s work as they originally stood, as false in -fact as they are inconsistent in reasoning? Whether, indeed, it was -likely, that Mr. Malthus would give up the sweeping conclusions of his -first Essay, the fruits of his industry and the pledges of his success, -without great reluctance; or in such a manner as not to leave the -general plan of his work full of contradictions and almost -unintelligible? - -9. Whether, for example, in treating of the durability of a perfect form -of government, Mr. Malthus has not ‘sicklied over the subject with the -same pale and jaundiced cast of thought,’ by supposing vice and misery -to be the only effectual checks to population; and in his tenacity on -this his old and favourite doctrine, whether he has not formally -challenged his opponents to point out any other, ‘except indeed’ (he -adds, recollecting himself) ‘moral restraint,’ which however he -considers as of no effect at all? - -10. Whether, consistently with this verbal acknowledgment and virtual -rejection of the influence of moral causes, the general tendency of Mr. -M.’s system is not to represent the actual state of man in society as -nothing better than a blind struggle between vice, misery, and the -principle of population, the effects of which are just as mechanical as -the ebbing and flowing of the tide, and to bury all other principles, -all knowledge, or virtue, or liberty, under a heap of misapplied facts? - -11. Whether, instead of accounting for the different degrees of -happiness, plenty, populousness, &c. in different countries, or in the -same country at different periods, from good or bad government, from the -vicissitudes of manners, civilization, and knowledge, according to the -common prejudice, Mr. Malthus does not expressly and repeatedly declare -that political institutions are but as the dust in the balance compared -with the inevitable consequences of the principle of population; and -whether he does not treat with the utmost contempt all those, who not -being in the secret of ‘the grinding law of necessity,’ had before his -time superficially concluded that moral, political, religious, and other -positive causes were of considerable weight in determining the happiness -or misery of mankind? It were to be wished that the author, instead of -tampering with his subject, and alternately holding out concessions, and -then recalling them, had made one bold and honest effort to get rid of -the bewildering effects of his original system, by affording his readers -some clue to determine, both in what manner and to what extent other -causes, independent of the principle of population, actually combine -with that principle (no longer pretended to be absolute and -uncontroulable) to vary the face of nature and society, under the same -general law, and had not left this most important _desideratum_ in his -work, to be apocryphally supplied by the ingenuity and zeal of his -apologists? - -12. Whether Mr. Malthus does not uniformly discourage every plan for -extending the limits of population, and consequently the sphere of human -enjoyment, either by cultivating new tracts of soil, or improving the -old ones, by repeating on all occasions the same stale, senseless -objection, that, _after all_, the principle of population will press as -much as ever on the means of subsistence; or in other words, that though -the means of subsistence and comfort will be increased, there will be a -proportionable increase in the number of those who are to partake of it? -Or whether Mr. Malthus’s panic fear on this subject has not subsided -into an equally unphilosophical indifference? - -13. Whether the principle of moral restraint, formerly recognized in Mr. -Malthus’s latter writings, and in reality turning all his paradoxes into -mere impertinence, does not remain a dead letter, which he never calls -into action, except for the single purpose of torturing the poor under -pretence of reforming their morals? - -14. Whether the avowed basis of the author’s system on the poor-laws, is -not the following:—that by the laws of God and nature, the rich have a -right to starve the poor whenever they (the poor) cannot maintain -themselves; and whether the deliberate sophistry by which this right is -attempted to be made out, is not as gross an insult on the understanding -as on the feelings of the public? Or whether this reasoning does not -consist in a trite truism and a wilful contradiction; the truism being, -that whenever the earth cannot maintain all its inhabitants, that then, -by the laws of God and nature, or the physical constitution of things, -some of them must perish; and the contradiction being, that the right of -the rich to withhold a morsel of bread from the poor, while they -themselves roll in abundance, is a law of God and nature, founded on the -same physical necessity or absolute deficiency in the means of -subsistence? - -15. Whether the commentators on the Essay have not fallen into the same -unwarrantable mode of reasoning, by confounding the real funds for the -maintenance of labour, _i.e._ the actual produce of the soil, with the -scanty pittance allowed out of it for the maintenance of the labourer -(after the demands of luxury and idleness are satisfied) by the -positive, varying laws of every country, or by the caprice of -individuals? - -16. Whether these two things are not fundamentally distinct in -themselves, and ought not to be kept so, in a question of such -importance, as the right of the rich to starve the poor by system? - -17. Whether Mr. Malthus has not been too much disposed to consider the -rich as a sort of Gods upon earth, who were merely employed in -distributing the goods of nature and fortune among the poor, who -themselves neither ate nor drank, ‘neither married nor were given in -marriage,’ and consequently were altogether unconcerned in the limited -extent of the means of subsistence, and the unlimited increase of -population? - -18. Lastly, whether the whole of the reverend author’s management of the -principle of population and of the necessity of moral restraint, does -not seem to have been copied from the prudent Friar’s advice in Chaucer? - - ‘Beware therefore with lordes for to play, - Singeth Placebo:— - To a poor man men should his vices tell, - But not to a lord, though he should go to hell.’ - - - END OF POLITICAL ESSAYS - - - - - ADVERTISEMENT AND BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTES - FROM - THE ELOQUENCE OF THE BRITISH SENATE - - - - - BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE - - -This work was published in two 8vo volumes in 1807 with the following -title-page: ‘The Eloquence of the British Senate; or, Select Specimens -from the Speeches of the most Distinguished Parliamentary Speakers. From -the beginning of the Reign of Charles I. to the Present Time. With -Notes, Biographical, Critical, and Explanatory. Two Volumes. London: -Printed for Thomas Ostell, No. 3, Ave Maria Lane, Ludgate St. 1807.’ In -the following year the work appeared with another title-page, which -contains the same title, and proceeds ‘By William Hazlitt. In Two -Volumes. London: Printed for J. Murray, Fleet-Street, and J. Harding, -St. James’s-Street, London; and A. Constable and Co., Edinburgh. 1808.’ - - - - - ADVERTISEMENT - - -This collection took its rise from a wish which the compiler had -sometimes felt, in hearing the praises of the celebrated orators of -former times, to know what figure they would have made by the side of -those of our own times, with whose productions we are better acquainted. -For instance, in reading Burke, I should have been glad to have had the -speeches of Lord Chatham at hand, to compare them; and I have had the -same curiosity to know, whether Walpole had any thing like the dexterity -and plausibility of Pitt. As there are probably other readers, who may -have felt the same kind of curiosity, I thought I could not employ my -time better than in attempting to gratify it. Besides, it is no more -than a piece of justice due to the _mighty dead_. It is but right we -should know what we owe to them, and how far we have improved upon, or -fallen short of them. Who could not give almost any thing to have seen -Garrick, and Betterton, and Quin? Our politicians are almost as -short-lived a race as our players, ‘who strut and fret an hour upon the -stage, and then are heard no more.’ The event, and the hero of the -moment, engross all our attention, and in the _vastness_ of our present -views, we entirely overlook the past. Those celebrated men of the last -age, the Walpoles, the Pulteneys, the Pelhams, the Harleys, the -Townshends, and the Norths, who filled the columns of the newspapers -with their speeches, and every pot-house with their fame, who were the -mouthpieces of their party, nothing but perpetual smoke and bounce, -incessant volley without let or intermission, who were the wisdom of the -wise, and the strength of the strong, whose praises were inscribed on -every window-shutter or brick-wall, or floated through the busy air, -upborne by the shouts and huzzas of a giddy multitude,—all of them are -now silent and forgotten; all that remains of them is consigned to -oblivion in the musty records of Parliament, or lives only in the shadow -of a name. I wished therefore to bring them on the stage once more, and -drag them out of that obscurity, from which it is now impossible to -redeem their _fellow-actors_. I was uneasy till I had made the -monumental pile of octavos and folios, ‘wherein I saw them quietly -inurned, open its ponderous and marble jaws,’ and ‘set the imprisoned -wranglers free again.’ It is possible that some of that numerous race of -orators, who have sprung up within the last ten years, to whom I should -certainly have first paid my compliments, may not be satisfied with the -space allotted them in these volumes. But I cannot help it. My object -was to revive what was forgotten, and embody what was permanent; and not -to echo the loquacious babblings of these accomplished persons, who, if -all their words were written in a book, the world would not contain -them. Besides, living speakers may, and are in the habit of printing -their own speeches. Or even if this were not the case, there is no -danger, while they have breath and lungs left, that they will ever -suffer the public to be at a loss for daily specimens of their polished -eloquence and profound wisdom. - -There were some other objects to be attended to in making this -collection, as well as the style of different speakers. I wished to make -it a history, as far as I could, of the progress of the language, of the -state of parties at different periods, of the most interesting debates, -and in short, an abridged parliamentary history for the time. It was -necessary that it should serve as a common-place book of all the -principal topics, of the _pros_ and _cons_ of the different questions, -that may be brought into dispute. If, however, this work has the effect -which I intend it to have, it will rather serve to put a stop to that -vice of _much speaking_, which is the fashion of the present day, by -shewing our forward disputants how little new is to be said on any of -these questions, than offer a temptation to their vanity to enrich -themselves out of the spoils of others. I have also endeavoured to -gratify the reader’s curiosity, by sometimes giving the speeches of men -who were not celebrated for their eloquence, but for other things; as -Cromwell, for example. If, therefore, any one expects to find nothing -but eloquent speeches in these volumes, he will certainly be -disappointed. A very small volume indeed, would contain all the recorded -eloquence of both houses of parliament. - -As to the notes and criticisms, which accompany the speeches, I am aware -that they are too long and frequent for a work of this nature. If, -however, the reader should not be of opinion that ‘the things themselves -are neither new nor rare,’ he is at liberty to apply the next line of -the satire to them,—he may naturally enough wonder, ‘how the devil they -got there.’ The characters of Chatham, Burke, Fox, and Pitt, are those -which are the most laboured. As to the first of these, I am not so -certain. It was written in the heat of the first impression which his -speeches made upon me: and perhaps the first impression is a fair test -of the effect they must produce on those who heard them.—But farther I -will not be answerable for it. As to the opinions I have expressed of -the three last speakers, they are at least my settled opinions, and I -believe I shall not easily change them. In the selections from Burke, I -have followed the advice of friends in giving a whole speech, whereas I -ought to have given only extracts. - -For the bias which may sometimes appear in this work, I shall only -apologize by referring the impartial reader to the different characters -of Fox and Burke. These will, I think, shew, that whatever my prejudices -may be, I am not much disposed to be blinded by them. - - - - - BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTES - - -KING CHARLES I.—Came to the crown in 1625, and was beheaded in 1648. The -following is his speech from the throne on meeting his first parliament. -It contains nothing very remarkable, but may serve as a specimen of the -stile that was in use at the time. The chief subject of the speech is -the war with Spain, in which the country was then engaged. There is also -an allusion to the plague, which at that time prevailed in London. - - -SIR EDWARD COKE, (_Lord Chief Justice, and author of the Institutes_,) -was born in 1550, and died in 1634. He was removed from his office in -1616, and first joined the popular side in parliament in 1621. There is -the same quaintness and pithiness in the other speeches which are given -of this celebrated lawyer, that will be found in the following one. It -is a little remarkable, that almost all the abuses of expenditure, and -heads of œconomical reform, which were the objects of Mr. Burke’s famous -bill, are here distinctly enumerated. - - -SIR ROBERT COTTON, (_the famous Antiquary_,) was born in 1570, and died -1631. He was made a baronet by James I. and was one of the opposition -party in the time of his successor. The speech which follows was -occasioned by some offence taken by the court at the severe reflections -cast upon the duke of Buckingham in the house of commons. It is, as one -might expect, learned, full of facts and authorities, containing matters -which no doubt were thought to be of great weight and moment. - - -GEORGE VILLIERS, (_Created Duke of Buckingham by James I._,) was born -1592, and was assassinated by Felton in 1628. It is said that he had -originally but an indifferent education. Perhaps it was owing to this -that there is more ease and vivacity, and less pedantry, in the stile of -his speeches, than in those of most of his contemporaries. We can hardly -account for it from his having been privately tutored by king James the -First. The subject of the following speech was the war with Spain, and -recovery of the Palatinate. - - -DR. JOHN WILLIAMS, (_Keeper of the Great Seal_, _Bishop of Lincoln_, -_and afterwards Archbishop of York_,) was born in Caernarvonshire in -Wales in 1582, and died in 1650. He preached James the First’s funeral -sermon, in which he compared him to king Solomon. How well he was -qualified for this courtly task may be seen by the following specimen. - -The following speech I have thought worth preserving, as it pretty -clearly shews the relation which at this time was understood to subsist, -and the tone that prevailed, between the king and his parliament. - - -SIR HENEAGE FINCH was recorder of London. I have given his speech on -being appointed speaker, as a curious instance of the flowery stile then -in vogue. It is full of far-fetched thoughts, and fulsome compliments. - - -JOHN SELDEN, (_The well-known Author of Table-Talk, and other works of -great learning_,) was born in 1584, and died in 1654. He was member at -different times for Great Bedwin, in Wiltshire, and Lancashire, and -through his whole life a strenuous oppositionist. - - -SIR DUDLEY DIGGES, born in 1583, was made master of the rolls in 1636, -and died in 1639. I have already given one or two specimens of the -pompous stile; but as the following extract soars to a still sublimer -pitch, I could not resolve to omit it. After a slight introduction to -the charge brought forward against the duke of Buckingham, his titles -were formally enumerated, and then Sir Dudley Digges proceeded. - - -MR. JOHN PYM, one of the great leaders of the republican party, was -member for Tavistock. He died in 1643. The subject of the speech is the -charge against the duke of Buckingham, of which he was one of the -managers. It certainly contains a great deal of good sense, strongly -expressed. - - -MR. WANDESFORD.—This long and closely reasoned speech about a -posset-drink, and sticking-plaister, applied by the duke of Buckingham -to James I. a little before his death, is a proof of the gravity with -which our ancestors could treat the meanest subjects, when they were -connected with serious consequences. - - -SIR DUDLEY CARLETON.—One may collect from the following speech of Sir -Dudley Carleton’s that he was a great traveller, and a very well-meaning -man. He was born 1573, and died 1631. Before his death he was created -Viscount Dorchester. - - -MR. CRESKELD.—If the thoughts in the following introduction to an -elaborate legal dissertation are conceits, they are nevertheless -ingenious and poetical conceits. - - -ROBERT RICH, (_Created Earl of Warwick, and Lord Rich of Leeze, by James -I._).—I have given the following speech on the right of the crown to -imprison the subject without any reason shewn, for its good sense and -logical acuteness. - - -FRANCIS ROUSE was a native of Cornwall. He represented Truro in the long -parliament, was one of the lay members of the assembly of divines, and -speaker of Barebone’s parliament, and died in 1659. His speech against a -Dr. Manwaring, who had written a flaming monarchical sermon, is so -remarkable for its fanatical absurdity, and the uncouthness of the -stile, that it certainly deserves a place in this collection, as a -curiosity. - - -SIR JOHN ELLIOTT.—The following is a noble instance of parliamentary -eloquence; for the strength and closeness of the reasoning, for the -clearness of the detail, for the earnestness of the stile, it is -admirable: it in some places reminds one strongly of the clear, plain, -convincing, irresistible appeals of Demosthenes to his hearers. There is -no affectation of wit, no studied ornament, no display of fancied -superiority; his whole heart and soul are in his subject, he is full of -it; his mind seems as it were to surround and penetrate every part of -it; nothing diverts him from his purpose, or interrupts the course of -his reasoning for a moment. The force and connection of his ideas give -vehemence to his expressions, and he convinces others, because he is -thoroughly impressed with the truth of his own opinions. A certain -political writer of the present day might be supposed to have borrowed -his _dogged_ stile from this speaker. - - -SIR BENJAMIN RUDYARD was member for Wilton. That which is here given is -by far the best speech of his extant. It might pass for the heads of one -of Burke’s speeches, without the ornaments and without the elegance. It -has all the good sense, and moral wisdom, only more plain and practical. - - -SIR ROBERT PHILIPS.—In this apparently unstudied address, we meet, for -the first time, with real warmth and eloquence. - -This gentleman was not one of those who make speeches out of mere parade -and ostentation; he never spoke but when he was in earnest, nor indeed -till he was in a downright passion. - - -EDMUND WALLER (_The celebrated Poet_,) was born in 1605, and died in -1687. He was member for St. Ives. At first he was hostile to the court; -but he seems to have been very wavering and undecided in his political -opinions, and changed his party very often, according to his whim or -convenience. I do not think there is any thing in the following speech -very excellent, either for the matter or manner of it. - -It would be hard to deny that the following speech is a good one, when -we know that it saved the author’s life. Indeed, nothing can be imagined -better calculated to soothe the resentment of the house of commons, or -flatter their pride, than the concluding part of this address. Not even -one of his own amorous heroes could fawn and cringe, and swear and -supplicate, and act a feigned submission, with more suppleness and -dexterity, to avert the mortal displeasure of some proud and offended -beauty, than Mr. Waller has here employed to appease the fury, and -insinuate himself once more into the good graces of his political -paramour, the house of commons. In this, however, he succeeded no -farther than to receive his life at her hands; which it seems he had -forfeited by conspiring to deliver up the city to the king. - - -LORD GEORGE DIGBY, (_Son of the first Earl of Bristol_,) was born in -1612, and died in 1676. He was member for Dorsetshire in the long -parliament. He at first opposed the court, but afterwards joined the -royal party, and was expelled. - - -SIR JOHN WRAY, (_Member for Lincolnshire_).—His speech is chiefly -remarkable for the great simplicity of the stile, and as an instance of -the manner in which an honest country gentleman, without much wit or -eloquence, but with some pretensions to both, might be supposed to -express himself at this period. - - -THOMAS WENTWORTH, (_Earl of Strafford_,) was a gentleman of an ancient -family in Yorkshire, and created a peer by Charles I. He at first -opposed the court with great virulence and ability; but afterwards -became connected with it, and recommended some of the most obnoxious -measures. After a bill of attainder was passed against him, at the -instigation of the commons, the king refused for a long time to give his -assent to it, till at last lord Strafford himself wrote to advise him to -comply, which he did with great reluctance. He was beheaded 1641. -Whatever were his faults, he was a man of a fine understanding, and an -heroic spirit; and undoubtedly a great man. What follows is the -conclusion of his last defence before the house of lords. - - -DR. JOSEPH HALL, (_Bishop of Exeter and afterwards of Norwich_,) was -born in 1574, and died 1656. He suffered a good deal from the Puritans. -He is celebrated, without much reason, for the fineness of his writings. - -This speech has more feeling in it than the Bishop generally discovers. -It shews that ‘passion makes men eloquent.’ - - -BULSTRODE WHITLOCKE, (_Member for Great Marlow, Buckinghamshire_,) was -born in 1605, and died in 1676. In 1653 he was sent ambassador to -Sweden. He was a man of great learning, and he appears also to have -possessed moderation and good sense. He was the author of the Memorials. - -The following speech displays so much knowledge, and such deep research -into the imperfect and obscure parts of English history, that though it -is long, and from the nature of the subject somewhat uninteresting, I -thought it right to let it stand, as a monument of legal learning in the -17th century. A country may be as different from itself, at different -times, as one country is from another; and one object that I have -chiefly had in view in this work, has been to select such examples as -might serve to mark the successive changes that have taken place in the -minds and characters of Englishmen within the last 200 years. - -The distinctive character of the period of which we are now speaking -was, I think, that men’s minds were stored with facts and images, almost -to excess; there was a tenacity and firmness in them that kept fast hold -of the impressions of things as they were first stamped upon the mind; -and ‘their ideas seemed to lie like substances in the brain.’ Facts and -feelings went hand in hand; the one naturally implied the other; and our -ideas, not yet exorcised and squeezed and tortured out of their natural -objects, into a subtle essence of pure intellect, did not fly about like -ghosts without a body, tossed up and down, or upborne only by the -ELEGANT FORMS of words, through the _vacuum_ of abstract reasoning, and -sentimental refinement. The understanding was invigorated and nourished -with its natural and proper food, the knowledge of things without it; -and was not left, like an empty stomach, to prey upon itself, or starve -on the meagre scraps of an artificial logic, or windy impertinence of -ingenuity self-begotten. What a difference between the grave, clear, -solid, laborious stile of the speech here given, and the crude -metaphysics, false glitter, and trifling witticism of a modern legal -oration! The truth is, that the affectation of philosophy and fine taste -has spoiled every thing; and instead of the honest seriousness and -simplicity of old English reasoning in law, in politics, in morality, in -all the grave concerns of life, we have nothing left but a mixed species -of bastard sophistry, got between ignorance and vanity, and generating -nothing. - - -WILLIAM LENTHALL, (_An eminent Lawyer_, _and Speaker of the Long -Parliament_,) was member for Woodstock. He was born 1591, and died 1662. -This high-flown address to General Fairfax, is a model of the adulatory -stile. Surely a great man does not stand in need of so much praise. - - -OLIVER CROMWELL, (_Member for Cambridge_, _born 1599_, _died 1658_).—I -have given the following speeches of his, to shew that he was not so bad -a speaker as is generally imagined. The world will never (if they can -help it) allow one man more than one excellence; and if he possesses any -one quality in the highest degree, they then, either to excite a foolish -wonder, or to gratify a lurking vanity, endeavour to find out that he is -as much below the rest of mankind in every thing else. Thus it has been -the fashion to suppose, because Cromwell was a great general and -statesman, that therefore he could not utter a sentence that was -intelligible, or that had the least connection, or even common sense in -it. But this is not the fact. His speeches, though not remarkable either -for their elegance or clearness, are not remarkable for the contrary -qualities. They are pithy and sententious; containing many examples of -strong practical reason, (not indeed of that kind which is satisfied -with itself, and supplies the place of action) but always closely -linked, and serving as a prelude to action. His observations are those -of a man who does not rely entirely on words, and has some other -resource left him besides; but who is neither unwilling nor unable to -employ them, when they are necessary to his purpose. If they do not -convey any adequate idea of his great abilities, they contain nothing -from which one might infer the contrary. They are just such speeches as -a man must make with his hand upon his sword, and who appeals to that as -the best decider of controversies. They are full of bustle and -impatience, and always go directly to the point in debate, without -preparation or circumlocution. - - -JOHN THURLOE, (_Author of the State Papers_, _and confidential Secretary -to Cromwell_,) was born in 1616, and died in 1668. The following speech -of his is interesting, as it shews the temper of the times; it is shrewd -and vulgar enough. - - -RICHARD CROMWELL, succeeded his father in the Protectorate; but soon -after, not being able to retain the government in his hands, he -resigned, and went abroad. He died 1712. It is curious to have something -of a man who, from the weakness either of his understanding or passions, -tamely lost a kingdom which his father had gained. - - -CHARLES II. was born 1630, and died 1685. This prince is justly -celebrated for his understanding and wit. There is, however, nothing -remarkable in his speeches to parliament, of which the following is a -very fair specimen. - - -EDWARD HYDE, (_Earl of Clarendon_, _and Lord Chancellor of England_,) -was born in 1608, and died abroad in 1673. He was a steady adherent to -the royal party, but in 1667 he was accused of treason, and obliged to -withdraw secretly into France. He was a man of great abilities, and -wrote the well-known history of the Rebellion. His daughter was married -to James II. - - -GEORGE VILLIERS, (_Second Duke of Buckingham_,)—Born 1627, died 1688. He -is famous for having written the satirical play of the Rehearsal. His -speech at a grave conference between the lords and commons, to decide -the limits of the judicial authority of the former, is very like what -one might expect from him. He seems chiefly anxious to avoid the -imputation of knowing or caring more about the matter than became a -gentleman, and a wit; at the same time he talks very well about it. - - -LORD BRISTOL.—I have given the following Speech, because it discovers a -quaint sort of familiar common sense. - - -HENEAGE FINCH, (_First Earl of Nottingham_, _Son of Sir Heneage Finch_,) -was born 1621, and died 1682. He was member for Oxford, and in 1670 -appointed attorney general, and afterwards lord keeper and lord -chancellor. In this latter office he succeeded Lord Clarendon. He was -rather an elegant speaker. - - -SIR LEOLINE JENKINS, (_An eminent Civilian and Statesman_,) was born in -Glamorganshire, in 1623, and died 1685. He was one of the -representatives of the University of Oxford, and principal of Jesus -College. - - -LORD WILLIAM RUSSELL, (_Who is generally looked upon as one of the great -martyrs of English liberty_,) was born 1641, and beheaded 1683, on the -same charge of treason on which Algernon Sidney was also condemned to -suffer death. - - -EARL OF CAERNARVON.—The account of this speech is singular enough. -‘Among the speakers on this occasion was the earl of Caernarvon, who is -said never to have spoken before; but having been heated with wine, and -rallied by the duke of Buckingham on his never speaking, he said he -would speak that very afternoon; and this having produced some wager -between them, he went into the house with a resolution to speak on any -subject that should offer itself. He accordingly stood up, and delivered -himself to the following effect:’ - - -ANTHONY ASHLEY COOPER was born at Winborn, in Dorsetshire, in 1621, and -died 1683. In 1640, he was chosen member for Tewksbury. In 1672, he was -created earl of Shaftesbury, and appointed lord chancellor. This office -he did not long retain, as he was a man of fiery passions, turbulent, -violent, and self-willed; and was constantly opposing the schemes and -measures of whatever party he was connected with. He is the person -described by Dryden under the character of Achitophel. There is an -instance recorded of his great sagacity, which carries the _prophetic -spirit_ of common sense as far as it can go. It is said that he had been -to dine with lady Clarendon and her daughter, who was at that time -privately married to the duke of York; and as he returned home with -another nobleman who had accompanied him, he suddenly turned to him, and -said, ‘Depend upon it, the duke has married Hyde’s daughter.’ His -companion could not comprehend what he meant; but on explaining himself, -he said, ‘Her mother behaved to her with an attention and a marked -respect, that is impossible to account for in any other way; and I am -sure of it.’ This shortly afterwards proved to be the case. The -celebrated author of The Characteristics was his grandson. - - -HENRY BOOTH, (_Lord Delamere_, _and afterwards created Earl of -Warrington_,) was member for Cheshire in the time of Charles II. and a -great opposer of the court, and popery. He was committed to the Tower -for high-treason, by James II. but was acquitted. He died 1694. There is -a collection of his speeches in one volume, octavo. That which I have -given is not, perhaps, the best; but there is an air of homely interest -in it, a mixture of local and personal feeling, which makes it the most -amusing. The independent country gentleman, the justice of the peace, -the _custos rotulorum_, (to which latter office he appears to have been -as much attached as justice Shallow himself could be,) his own personal -disinterestedness, his political zeal, and his great friendship for sir -Thomas Manwaring, who seems to have been a man of much importance in his -time, though now totally forgotten, are all brought together in a way -that I like exceedingly; and I can assure the reader, that if I do not -present him with a good collection, by following my own inclination in -taking those speeches which I like myself, and merely because I like -them, I should, however, make a much worse in any other way. - - -JOHN, LORD SOMERS, was born 1652, and died 1710. He was member for -Worcester in the convention parliament, where he was appointed to manage -the conference with the lords, on the abdication of king James, and in -1697 was made lord chancellor. He was one of the principal persons -employed in bringing about the revolution. From this and the following -speeches two things appear to me tolerably clear, in opposition to the -theories both of Mr. Burke and Dr. Price on the subject; that the great -constitutional leaders who were concerned in producing this event, -believed first, that the hereditary right to the crown was not absolute, -but conditional; or that there was an original fundamental compact -between the king and people, the terms of which the former was bound to -fulfil to make good his title; secondly, that so long as these -conditions were complied with, the people were bound to maintain their -allegiance to the lawful successor, and not left at liberty to choose -whom they pleased, having no other law to govern them in their choice -than their own will, or fancy, or sense of convenience. There was indeed -an estate of inheritance, but then this was tied down and limited by -certain conditions, which, if not adhered to, the estate became lapsed -and forfeited. There was no question as the case stood, either of -sovereign absolute power, or of natural rights: the rights and duties of -both parties were defined and circumscribed by a constitution and order -of things already established, and which could not be infringed on -either side with impunity: that is, they were exactly in the state of -all contracting parties, neither of them independent, but each having a -check or control over the other: the one had no right to enforce his -claim if he did not perform what was _in the agreement_, and the other -party, so long as this was done, could not be _off their bargain_. The -king could not therefore be said to hold his crown ‘in contempt of the -people,’ for both were equally responsible and bound to one another, and -both stood equally in awe of one another, or of the _law_. But in case -of any difference on this head, the right to decide must of course -belong to those who had the power; for by the very nature of the thing -there is nothing to restrain those who have power in their hands from -exercising it, but the sense of right and wrong; and where they think -they have a right to act, what is there to hinder them from acting in -vindication of what they conceive to be their right? I am not here -entering into the abstract question of government, nor do I pretend to -say that this is the true law and constitution of England; I am only -stating what was understood to be so by the prime movers and abettors of -the revolution of 1688. - - -DANIEL FINCH, (_Second Earl of Nottingham_,) was born 1647, and died -1730. He was all his life an active politician, without being devoted to -any party. He seems to have gone just as far as his principles would -carry him, and no farther; and therefore often stood still in his -political career. - - -SIR ROBERT HOWARD, (_Who is known as a Political and Dramatic Writer_,) -was the son of the earl of Berkshire, knighted at the restoration. He -died about 1700. - - -WILLIAM III. (_Prince of Orange_,) was born at the Hague in 1650. He was -the son of William, prince of Orange, and Henrietta, daughter of king -Charles I. He married the daughter of James II.; and in consequence of -the arbitrary conduct of that monarch, was invited over in 1688, to take -possession of the crown in his stead. He died 1702, by a fall from his -horse. He was a man of great abilities, both as a statesman and general. - - -SIR CHARLES SEDLEY, (_One of the Wits and Poets of the Court of Charles -II._,) was born about 1639, and died 1701. His daughter had been -mistress to James II. who made her countess of Dorchester; so that, on -being asked why he was so great a favourer of the revolution, he -replied, ‘From a principle of gratitude: for since his majesty has made -my daughter a countess, it is fit I should do all I can to make his -daughter a queen.’ - - -SIR JOHN KNIGHT, (_Member for Bristol_).—This worthy citizen, (of whom I -am sorry I can learn no more than his title, and the place which he -represented,) shall make his appearance, and at full length, though he -should be received with as dreadful a storm of criticism, as that which -he describes in the outset of his speech. He is a true Englishman, a -perfect islander. He seems to have as thorough a hatred for the -continent, and all its inhabitants, as if he had been first swaddled in -the leaky hold of a merchantman, or had crawled out of the mud of the -Bristol channel. He is not merely warm, he perfectly _reeks_ with -patriotism, and antipathy to all foreigners. For the last hundred years, -we have only been working on this model, and I do not see that we can -get much beyond it. We have, it is true, refined the stile, filled up -the outlines, added elegance to fury, and expanded our prejudices into -systems of philosophy. But we have added nothing to the stock. The -design and principles remain the same; and they are unalterable. The -pattern is closely copied from human nature. Indeed, I do not know -whether the best examples of modern declamation on this subject, will be -found to be much better than awkward affectation, and laboured -extravagance, in which the writers scarcely seem to believe themselves, -if we compare them with the spirit, the natural expression, the force, -and broad decided manner of this great master! - -For my own part, I confess I like the blunt, uncouth, _bear-garden_ -stile; the coarse familiarity, and virulent abuse of this honest knight, -better than the studied elegance of modern invective. The stile is -suited to the subject. Every thing is natural and sincere, and warm from -the heart. Here are no fine-spun theories, no affected rancour, no -attempts to bind fast the spell of ignorance, by the calling in of -‘metaphysical aid,’ or to make use of the ice of philosophy as a -burning-glass to inflame the violence of the passions. Downright -passion, unconquerable prejudice, and unaffected enthusiasm, are always -justifiable; they follow a blind, but sure instinct; they flow from a -real cause; they are uniform and consistent with themselves; and their -mischiefs, whatever they are, have certain limits, may be calculated -upon, and provided against. But fine reasoning, and gross feelings, do -not accord well together. We may apply to them what has been said of -love, _non bene conveniunt, nec in una sede morantur majestas et amor_. -It is an unnatural union, which can produce nothing but distortion. We -are not at present hurried away by the honest ebullitions of resentment, -or blind zeal, but are in that state described by Shakespeare, in which -‘reason panders will.’ No one is offended at the ravings, the fierce -gestures of a madman; but what should we think of a man who affected to -start, to foam at the mouth, and feigned himself mad, only to have an -opportunity for executing the most mischievous purposes? We are not -surprised to see poisonous weeds growing in a wilderness; but who would -think of transplanting them into a cultivated garden? I am therefore -glad to take refuge from the mechanic, cold-blooded fury, and mercenary -malice of pretended patriotism, in the honest eloquence, ‘the downright -violence and storm of passion’ of this real enthusiast. - - -LORD BELHAVEN. The following Speech is inserted in the debates of this -period. Though it does not come regularly within the plan of this -collection, yet I thought I might be allowed to give it for the sake of -diversifying the stile of the work, and as a curious record of national -feeling. As to the stile, ‘it has the melancholy madness of poetry, -without the inspiration.’ It has all the forms of eloquence, but not all -the power; and is an excellent instance to shew how far mere _manner_ -will go. There can be little doubt but that this oration must have -produced a very great effect; and yet there is nothing in it which any -man might not say who was willing to indulge in the same strain of -academic description. But it adopts the language of imagination, mimics -her voice and gestures, conforms to her style by a continued profusion -of figure and personification, and is full of that eloquence which -consists in telling your mind freely, and which carries the hearer along -with it, because you never seem to doubt for a moment of his sympathy, -or that he does not take as great an interest in the question as you do. -There is no captious reserve, no surly independence, no affected -indifference, no fear of committing yourself, or exposing yourself to -ridicule by giving a loose to your feelings; but every thing seems -spoken with a full heart, sensible of the value of the cause it -espouses, and only fearful of failing in expressions of zeal towards it, -or in the respect that is due to it. Perhaps, what I have here stated -may serve to point out the characteristic difference between the -eloquence of the English and the French. The latter avail themselves of -all the advantages that art and trick and adventitious ornament can -give; and they are chiefly anxious to produce an effect by the most -obvious means. If their thoughts are but fine, they do not care how -common they are: this is because they have more vanity than pride, and -are willing to be pleased at any rate. On the other hand, an -Englishman’s muse is generally the spleen. He is for defying others into -sympathy, and had rather incur their contempt than endeavour to gain -their good opinion by shewing a desire to please them. He likes to do -every thing in the most difficult way, and from a spirit of -contradiction. Accordingly, his eloquence (when it is forced from him) -is the best that can be, because it is of nature’s doing, and not his -own, and comes from him in spite of himself. However, there is a sort of -gallantry in eloquence as well as in love. To coquet with the muses, to -dally with the fair forms of speech, to be full of nothing but -apostrophes, interjections, interrogations, to be in raptures at the -sight of a capital letter, and to take care never to lose a fine thought -any more than a fine girl, for fear of putting a question, are the only -means by which a man without imagination can hope to be an orator; as it -is only by being a coxcomb, that a man who is not handsome can ever -think of pleasing the women! But to return from this digression to the -speech itself, it contains a good deal of warmth and animation, and if -the author had been a young man, would have done him credit. - - -GEORGE I. was the son of the Elector of Hanover, by Sophia, -grand-daughter of James I. He was born in 1660, and succeeded queen -Anne, in 1714. He died suddenly, abroad, in 1727. He talks of the throne -of his ancestors with a pious simplicity. - - -ROBERT HARLEY, (_Eldest Son of Sir Edward Harley_, _and afterwards Earl -of Oxford_,) was born 1661, and died 1724. His politics in the latter -part of the reign of queen Anne, rendered him obnoxious in the -succeeding reign; and in 1715, he was accused of high-treason, but was -at length acquitted. He was the friend of Swift. - - -SIR THOMAS HANMER, (_Member for Suffolk_,) was born in 1676; he was -chosen speaker of the house of commons in 1713, and died in 1746. He -published an edition of Shakespeare. He was a very respectable speaker. -The following address contains a sort of summary of the politics of the -day, and gathers up the ‘threads of shrewd and politic design’ that were -snapped short at the end of the preceding reign. - -If this speech does not contain good sound English sense, I do not know -where we shall look for it. - - -SIR RICHARD STEELE was born at Dublin, though the year in which he was -born is not known, and died in 1729. He was member for Boroughbridge in -Yorkshire. I have made the following extract less for the sake of the -speech than the speaker; for I could not pass by the name of an author -to whom we owe two of the most delightful books that ever were written, -the Spectator and Tatler. As a party man he was a most furious Whig. - - -MR. (afterwards SIR) ROBERT WALPOLE was born at Houghton, in Norfolk, in -1674, and died 1745. In 1700, he was chosen member of parliament for -Lynn. In 1705, he was appointed secretary at war; and in 1709, treasurer -of the navy; but, on the change of ministers, he was voted guilty of -corruption, and expelled the house. The whig party strenuously supported -him; and he was re-elected for Lynn, though the election was declared -void. At the accession of George I. he was made paymaster of the forces; -but two years after he resigned, and joined the opposition. Another -change taking place in 1725, he took the lead in administration, being -chosen first lord of the treasury, and chancellor of the exchequer. He -maintained himself in this situation till 1742, when he resigned, and -was created earl of Oxford, with a pension of 4,000 _l._ a year. - -We may form as good an idea of the talents of this celebrated man as a -speaker in the house of commons, from the following speech as from any -that he has left behind him. He may be considered as the first who (if -the similitude be not too low to be admitted, I confess nothing can be -lower) threw the house of commons into the form of a regular debating -society. In his time debate was organized; all the common-place topics -of political controversy were familiar in the mouths of both parties. -The combatants on each side, in this political warfare, were regularly -drawn up in opposition to each other, and had their several parts -assigned them with the greatest exactitude. - - ‘The popular harangue, the tart reply, - ‘The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit,’ - -appeared in all their combined lustre. The effect of this system could -not be different from what it has turned out. The house of commons, -instead of being the representative and depository of the collective -sense of the nation, has become a theatre for wrangling disputants to -declaim in the scene of noisy impertinence and pedantic folly. An empty -shew of reason, a set of words has been substituted for the silent -operation of general feeling and good sense; and ministers referring -every thing to this flimsy standard have been no longer taken up in -planning wise measures, but in studying how to defend their blunders. It -has been usual to draw a sort of parallel between the person of whom we -are speaking, and the late Mr. Pitt. For this perhaps there is little -more foundation than the great length of their administrations, and -their general ability as leaders of the debates in parliament. If I were -disposed to make a comparison of this kind, I should attempt to describe -them by their differences rather than their resemblances. They had both -perhaps equal plausibility, equal facility, and equal presence of mind; -but it was of an entirely different kind, and arose from different -causes in each of them. Walpole’s manner was more natural and less -artificial; his resources were more the result of spontaneous vigour and -quickness of mind, and less the growth of cultivation and industry. If -the late minister was superior to his predecessor in office in logical -precision, in the comprehensive arrangement of his subject, and a -perfect acquaintance with the topics of common-place declamation, he was -certainly at the same time very much his inferior in acuteness of -understanding, in original observation, and knowledge of human nature, -and in lively, unexpected turns of thought. Pitt’s readiness was not -owing to the quickness or elasticity of his understanding, but to a -perfect self-command, a steadiness and inflexibility of mind, which -never lost sight of the knowledge which it had in its possession, nor -was ever distracted in the use of it. Nothing ever assumed a new shape -in passing through his mind: he recalled his ideas just as they were -originally impressed, and they neither received nor ever threw a -sparkling light on any subject with which he connected them, either by -felicity of combination, or ingenuity of argument. They were of that -loose, general, unconnected kind, as just to fill the places they were -brought out to occupy in the rank and file of an oration, and then -returned mechanically back to their several stations, to be ready to -appear again whenever they were called for. Walpole’s eloquence, on the -other hand, was less an affair of reminiscence, and more owing to -present invention. He seems to have spoken constantly on the spur of the -occasion; without pretending to exhaust his subject, he often put it in -a striking point of view; and the arguments into which he was led in -following the doublings and windings of a question, were such as do not -appear to have occurred to himself before nor to have been made use of -by others. When he had to obviate any objection, he did not do it so -much by ambiguity or evasion, as by immediately starting some other -difficulty on the opposite side of the question, which blunted the edge -of the former, and staggered the opinion of his hearers. The stile of -their speeches is also marked by the same differences as their mode of -reasoning. In the one you discover the ease and vivacity of the -gentleman, of the man of the world; in the other the studied correctness -of the scholar. The one has the variety, simplicity, and smartness of -conversation; the other has all the fulness, the pomp, the premeditated -involutions and measured periods of a book, but of a book not written in -the best stile. The one is more agreeable and insinuating; the other -more imposing and majestic. Not to spin out this comparison to an -unnecessary length I should think that Walpole was less completely armed -for entering the lists with his antagonists, but that his weapons were -keener, and more difficult to manage; that Pitt had more art, and -Walpole more strength and activity; that the display of controversial -dexterity was in Walpole more a trial of wit, and in Pitt more an affair -of science; that Walpole had more imagination, and Pitt more -understanding; if, indeed, any thing can entitle a man to the praise of -understanding, which is neither valuable, nor his own. - - -FRANCIS ATTERBURY, (_Bishop of Rochester_,) was born in 1662. His -eloquence brought him early into notice. His political principles were -very violent, and engaged him in several controversies. He assisted Dr. -Sacheverel in drawing up his defence. When the rebellion broke out in -1715, he and bishop Smalridge refused to sign the Declaration of the -bishops; and in 1722 he was apprehended and committed to the Tower, on -suspicion of being concerned in some plot to bring in the Pretender. He -was sentenced to be banished for life, and left the kingdom in 1723. He -died at Paris in 1732. He is now chiefly remembered as an elegant -writer, and as the intimate friend of Pope and Swift. The following is -the conclusion of his defence before the house of lords. - - -ALLEN (afterwards LORD) BATHURST, (_The Son of Sir Benjamin Bathurst_,) -was born in 1684, and educated at Oxford. In 1705 he was chosen member -for Cirencester in Gloucestershire. He joined the tory party, and was -one of the opposers of Walpole’s administration. He was created a peer -in 1711. He died in 1775, aged 91. He lived on terms of the greatest -intimacy with Swift, Pope, and other literary men. He was one of the -ablest speakers of the house of lords; and I think, that at the time -when most of his speeches were made, the house of lords contained more -excellent speakers, and divided the palm of eloquence more equally with -the house of commons, than at any other period. One reason why it is -morally impossible that the house of peers should ever be able to rival -the house of commons in the display of splendid talents, is, that all -questions of importance are first debated in the house of commons. Even -if the members of the upper house had any thing of their own to say, the -words are fairly taken out of their mouths. - - -PHILIP, DUKE OF WHARTON, was born about 1699. He first attached himself -to the Pretender, when he was abroad and quite a young man. He then -returned home and made his peace with government. After this he became a -violent oppositionist; and having at length reduced his fortune by his -extravagance, he went abroad again, where he once more attached himself -to the Pretender, and died 1731. He is represented as a man of talents -by Pope, who has given him a niche in one of his satires. - - -MR. SHIPPEN was member for Saltash. He was one of the most vehement and -vigorous opposers of the measures of government through the whole of -this reign; and, no doubt, had imbibed a very strong tincture of -Jacobitism. But he was a man of great firmness and independence of mind, -a manly, vigorous, and correct speaker; and whatever his personal -motives or sentiments might have been, the principles which he uniformly -avowed and maintained, were sound and constitutional. - - -SIR W. WYNDHAM, (_Member for Somersetshire_,) was born 1687. In 1710 he -was made secretary at war, and in 1713 chancellor of the exchequer. He -was dismissed from his place on the accession of George I. and being -suspected of having a concern in the rebellion in 1715, was committed to -the Tower, but liberated without being brought to a trial. He died 1740. -It was to him that Lord Bolingbroke addressed that celebrated letter in -defence of himself, which is the best of all his works. - - -EARL OF STRAFFORD. I can find no particular account of the author of -this speech, though I suppose he was a descendant of the great lord -Strafford. A noble line seldom furnishes more than one great name. The -succeeding branches seldom add any thing to the illustriousness of the -stock, and are so far from keeping up the name, that they are lost in -it. However I do not discover any marks of degeneracy in the present -instance: one may trace a sort of family likeness in the sentiments; the -pedigree of the mind seems to have been well kept up. There is a -nobility of soul as well as of blood; and the feelings of humanity so -closely and beautifully expressed in the conclusion of this speech, are -such as we should expect from the cultivated descendant of ‘a man of -honour and a cavalier.’ - - -HORACE WALPOLE, (_Brother to Sir Robert_,) was member for Yarmouth. He -seems to have been little inferior to the minister in facility of -speaking, and a certain ambidexterity of political logic. He had the art -to make the question assume at will whatever shape he pleased, and to -make ‘the worse appear the better reason.’ But this seems to have been -more a trick, or an habitual readiness in the common-place forms of -trivial argument, and less owing to natural capacity and quickness of -mind, than it was in his brother. There is also less ease and more -slovenliness, less grace and more of the affectation of it, than are to -be found in his brother’s speeches. He appears more desirous of shewing -his art than of concealing it, and to be proud of the trappings of -ministerial authority which excite the spleen and envy of his opponents. - - -WILLIAM PULTENEY, (_afterwards Earl of Bath_,) was born 1682, and died -1764. He was the bitterest opponent Sir Robert Walpole ever had, (which -is said to have arisen from some difference between them at the outset -of their political career) and he at length succeeded in driving him -from his situation. He was member for Heydon, in Yorkshire. He lost all -the popularity he had gained by his long opposition to the ministerial -party, when he was made a peer, and sunk into obscurity and contempt. I -think the following is the best of his speeches. He was, however, in -general, a very able speaker. The stile of his speeches is particularly -good, and exactly fitted to produce an effect on a mixed audience. His -sentences are short, direct, pointed; yet full and explicit, abounding -in repetitions of the same leading phrase or idea, whenever this had a -tendency to rivet the impression more strongly in the mind of the -hearer, or to prevent the slightest obscurity or doubt. He also knew -perfectly well how to avail himself of the resources contained in the -stately significance, and gross familiarity of the dialect of the house -of commons. To talk in the character of a great parliamentary leader, to -assume the sense of the house, to affect the extensive views and -disinterested feelings that belong to a great permanent body, and to -descend in a moment to all the pertness and scurrility, the conceit and -self-importance of a factious bully, are among the great arts of -parliamentary speaking. Dogmatical assumptions, consequential airs, and -big words, are what convince and overawe the generality of hearers, who -always judge of others by their pretensions, and feel the greatest -confidence in those who have the least doubt about themselves. There is -also in this gentleman’s speeches, a character, which indeed they had in -common with most of the speeches of the time; that is, they discover a -general knowledge of the affairs of Europe, and of the intrigues, -interests, and engagements of the different courts on the continent; -they shew the statesman, and the man of business, as well as the orator. -These minute details render the speeches of this period long and -uninteresting, which prevented me from giving so many of them as the -ability displayed in them would otherwise have required. This diplomatic -eloquence seems to have been gaining ground from the time of the -revolution. We may see from Lord Bolingbroke’s writings how much the -study of such subjects was in fashion in his time. - - -SIR GILBERT HEATHCOTE was an alderman of London. He spoke frequently in -the house about this period, and always in a plain, sensible manner. - - -JOHN LORD CARTERET, (_afterwards Earl of Granville_,) succeeded his -father George lord Carteret when very young. He was educated at Oxford, -and took his seat in the house of lords in 1711, where he distinguished -himself by his zeal for the Hanover succession. In 1719, he went -ambassador to Sweden, and in 1724, was appointed viceroy of Ireland, -where his administration, at a very trying period, was generally -applauded for its wisdom and moderation. He died in 1763. He was a man -of abilities, an highly amiable character, and a great encourager of -learned men. To him it was that the celebrated Hutcheson dedicated his -elegant treatise on beauty and virtue. - - -MR. CAMPBELL, (_Member for Pembrokeshire_).—He seems in this debate to -have steered clear of any thing like common sense, with such dexterity, -that it would be no difficult matter to pronounce him more knave than -fool. A man cannot be so ingeniously in the wrong by accident. There is -a striking resemblance between the arguments here used, and some that -have been brought forward on more recent occasions. Change the form, the -names, and the date, and in reading this, and the following speech, you -would suppose yourself to be reading the contents of a modern newspaper. -It is astonishing how trite, how thread-bare this subject of politics is -worn; how completely every topic relating to it is exhausted; how little -is left for the invention of low cunning to plume itself upon, or for -honest ambition to boast of! Those who have it in their power may very -wisely devote themselves to politics, either to serve their own ends, or -to serve the public; but it is too late to think of acquiring -distinction in this way. A man can at present only be a retail dealer in -politics: he can only keep a sort of huckster’s shop of ready made -goods. Do what he can, he can only repeat what has already been said a -thousand times, and make a vain display of borrowed wisdom or folly. -“’Twas mine, ’tis his, and may be any man’s.” What gratification there -can be in this to any one, who does not live entirely in the echo of his -own name, I do not understand. I should as soon think of being proud of -wearing a suit of second hand clothes, or marrying another man’s -cast-off mistress. In the beaten path of vulgar ambition, the dull, the -mechanical, the superficial, and the forward press on, and are -successful, while the man of genius, ashamed of his competitors, shrinks -from the contest and is soon lost in the crowd. - - -SAMUEL SANDYS, (_Member for Worcester_,) was one of the most frequent -and able speakers of this period. What his principles were I do not -know: for the side which any person took at this time, was a very -equivocal test of his real sentiments; toryism, through this and the -preceding reign, generally assuming the shape of resistance to the -encroachments of the prerogative, and attachment to the liberties of the -people. - - -PHILIP DORMER STANHOPE, (_Earl of Chesterfield_,) was born in 1694. He -was educated at Cambridge, after which he went abroad, and on his return -to England, became a member of the house of commons. In 1726 he -succeeded his father in the house of peers. He was appointed lord -lieutenant of Ireland in 1745, where he continued till 1748. He died -1773. I have given a greater number of his speeches than of any person’s -about this time, because I found them more ingenious, and amusing, and -elegant, than any others. They are steeped in classical allusion; and he -seems always anxious to adjust the dress, and regulate the forms of the -English constitution, by the looking-glass of the Roman commonwealth. -There may be a little sprinkling of academic affectation in this, but it -is much more agreeable than the diplomatic impertinence and official -dulness, which were at that time so much in vogue. His speeches are, in -this respect, a striking contrast to those of Pulteney, Pitt, Pelham, -&c. It has been said that they want force and dignity. If it be meant -that they are not pompous and extravagant, I shall admit the truth of -the objection. But I cannot see why ease is inconsistent with vigour, or -that it is a sign of wisdom to be dull. If his speeches contain as much -good sense, and acute discrimination as those of his rivals, as clearly -expressed, and seasoned with more liveliness of fancy, I should be -disposed to listen to them more attentively, or to read them oftener, -than if, as is often the case, their strength consisted in mere violence -and turbulence, and their only pretensions to wisdom arose from their -want of wit. There is something very peculiar in the form of his -sentences. He perpetually takes up the former part of a sentence, and by -throwing it into the next clause, gives a distinctness and pointedness -to every separate branch of it. His sentences look like a succession of -little smart climaxes. ‘And, therefore, an administration without -esteem—without authority among the people, let their power be never so -great—let their power be never so arbitrary, will be ridiculed. The -severest edicts—the most terrible punishments, cannot prevent it. If any -man, therefore, thinks that he has been censured—if any man thinks he -has been ridiculed, upon any of our public theatres,’ &c. ‘As no man is -perfect, as no man is infallible,’ &c. See his speech on the theatres. -This method, is, I suspect, borrowed from the French: where it suits -with the turn of a man’s mind, it is agreeable enough, and must have a -very good effect in speaking. It is, at least, better than our modern -style of rhetorical architecture, where the nominative case is mounted -up at the top of the page, and the verb fixed at the bottom; than those -circular ladders, and winding-staircases in language, where the whole -hangs suspended in an airy round, and the meaning drops down through the -middle. The late Mr. Pitt was a master of this involved style. - - -SIR JOHN ST. AUBIN, (_Member for Cornwall_,) was one of that phalanx of -ability and energy, that regularly withstood the insidious -encroachments, and undermining influence of Walpole’s administration. -Their motives for this were no doubt various; but the knowledge, the -soundness of understanding, the firmness and perseverance displayed in -pursuit of their object, cannot be too much admired, and have never been -surpassed. The great questions which had occupied men’s minds from the -time of the revolution, and which still continued to agitate them as -much as ever, the interest in them being kept alive by the doubtful -issue of the contest, had given them a manly tone, a solidity and -fervour which could hardly be produced in any other circumstances. I may -say that men’s minds were never so truly English as they were at this -period. Even the leaven of Jacobitism, which was mingled up with the -sentiments of many of the party, must have contributed to add a zest, a -poignancy, a bitterness of indignation to their opposition to that -overbearing influence, and despotic sway, for the undue exercise of -which they had seen a family, to which they were strongly attached, -driven from the throne. The principles of liberty assented to by both -parties, also gave a freedom and animation to the debates of this -period, and an advantage in attacking any unconstitutional or unpopular -measure, which nothing but the great abilities of the minister, aided by -the general confidence in the government, could have resisted so long as -they did. The following speech of Sir J. St. Aubin, has been often -referred to, and it is one of the most elegant and able compositions to -be found in the records of the house of commons. - - -SIR WATKIN WILLIAMS WYNNE was member for Denbighshire. It cannot be -denied that the following speech is a real and close examination of the -question. - - -MR. (afterwards SIR) JOHN BARNARD was originally a merchant, and was -chosen to represent the city of London in parliament, in consequence of -the abilities he displayed on being appointed by the body of wine -merchants to state before the house of lords their objections to a bill -then pending. He continued to represent the city forty years, and so -much to the satisfaction of his constituents, that they erected a statue -to him in the exchange. He was knighted by George II. He was born 1685, -and died 1764. - - -GEORGE (LORD) LYTTLETON, (_The eldest son of Sir T. Lyttleton_,) was -born 1709, and died 1773. He distinguished himself both as a speaker and -a writer. He appears (as far as I can understand,) to have been one of -those men, who gain a high reputation, not so much by deserving, as by -desiring it; who are constantly going out of their way in search of -fame, and therefore can scarcely miss it; who are led to seize on the -shewy and superficial parts of science by an instinct of vanity, as the -surest means of attracting vulgar applause; who by aiming at what is -beyond them, do at least all that they are capable of; whose anxiety to -distinguish themselves from others, serves them in the place of genius; -and who obtain the good opinion of the public merely by shewing their -deference to it. This character, it must be confessed, however, is -generally united with sensibility and an elegant turn of mind, and is -therefore entitled to some credit: for next to the possession of real -excellence, I think we ought to respect the admiration of it, and the -wish to possess it, or whatever in our power comes the nearest to it. - -I must confess that the following Speech on abolishing certain feudal -jurisdictions in Scotland is one of the most elegant and ingenious in -this collection. - - -WILLIAM PITT, (_afterwards Earl of Chatham_,) was born at Boconnock, in -Cornwall, in 1708, and died in 1778. He was originally an officer in the -army, but was chosen member for Old Sarum in 1735. His history is too -well-known to need repeating here. I shall say something of his talents -as a speaker hereafter. - - -PHILIP YORKE, (_afterwards Earl of Hardwicke_,) was born 1690, died -1764. He was brought into parliament for Lewes in Sussex in 1718. In -1736, he was made lord chancellor, which situation he held for twenty -years. He is said to have been a great lawyer. If so, a great lawyer may -be a very little man. There is in his speech a _petiteness_, an -insignificant subtlety, an affected originality, a trifling formality, -which any one, not accustomed to the laborious fooleries and idle -distinctions of the law, would be ashamed of. All those of his speeches -that I have read are in the same minute stile of special-pleading, -accompanied with the same apologies for the surprize which must be -occasioned by his microscopical discoveries and methodical -singularities. - - -JOHN CAMPBELL, (_Second Duke of Argyle_,) was born 1671, and entered -young into the army. He served under the duke of Marlborough: he also -distinguished himself as a statesman, and was an active promoter of the -union, for which he incurred great odium among his own countrymen. In -1712, he was appointed commander in chief in Scotland, and in 1715, he -routed the earl of Mar’s army at Dumblain, and forced the pretender to -quit the kingdom. Notwithstanding his eminent services to the state, he -was deprived of several high offices which he held, for his opposition -to Sir Robert Walpole. He died in 1743. There is a noble monument -erected to his memory in Westminster Abbey. His speeches are -characterized by a rough, plain, manly spirit of good sense, and a -zealous attachment to the welfare of his country. - - -HONOURABLE EDWARD COKE.—The following speech contains some reflections -that are not inapplicable to the present times. It is curious to observe -how exact a picture the author has exhibited of the present state of -Europe, how literally his fears have been verified, and yet how utterly -unfounded and chimerical they were at the time. One might be tempted to -suppose, in reading the dreams of these forward and self-pleasing -prognosticators, that the scheme of universal empire, with which the -rulers of France have been so often complimented, had familiarized her -imagination to the design, and engendered those high thoughts of -ambition and vanity which have at length rendered her power, not a -glittering phantom, an idle bugbear, a handle for crooked policy, for -low manœuvres, and petty, vexatious, endless hostility, the plaything of -orators and statesmen, but a tremendous and overwhelming reality, that -like a vast incubus overlays the continent of Europe, and benumbs its -lethargic energies. - - -SIR DUDLEY RYDER.—To those who have to wade through the crude, -undigested mass of the records of parliament, there is such a tedious -monotony, such a dreary vacuity of thought, such an eternal -self-complacent repetition of the same worn-out topics, which seem to -descend like an inheritance from one generation to another, that it is -some relief to escape now and then from the dull jargon of political -controversy. I have given the following speech, though it is -sufficiently dry and uninteresting in itself, because it a little varies -the prospect, and contains something that looks like ingenuity and -argument. - - -HENRY FOX, ESQ., (_afterwards Lord Holland_,) was the father of the late -celebrated C. J. Fox. Perhaps the reader may be able to trace some -resemblance in their manner of speaking; the same close consecutive mode -of reasoning, and the same disposition to _go round_ his subject, and -view it in its various aspects and bearings. - - -MR. GRENVILLE.—The following is a neat, clear, logical, and I think -masterly speech on the subject. Nothing could be put in a more simple or -forcible manner. - - -WILLIAM MURRAY, (_Earl of Mansfield_,) was the fourth son of the earl of -Stormont, and born at Perth in 1705. He was educated at Westminster -school, and afterwards at Oxford, where he took his degrees. On being -called to the bar, his eloquence gained him many admirers; and he was -called by Pope ‘the silver-tongued Murray.’ In 1742, he became -solicitor-general, and was elected member of parliament. In 1754, he was -made attorney-general, and in 1756, chief justice of the king’s bench, -soon after which he was created baron Mansfield. He resigned his office -in 1788, owing to his infirmities, and died in 1793. The reputation -which he acquired, both as a lawyer and a speaker, was not unmerited. I -believe his character has been in all respects as justly appreciated as -that of most men. He was undoubtedly a man of great abilities and great -acquirements; but he was neither a very great nor a very honest man. He -was a man of nice perceptions, of an acute and logical understanding, of -a clear and comprehensive mind, as far as the habits of his profession -and his pursuits in life would suffer him to be so. Indeed it is -difficult to say, what are the capacities of a man of this character, -whose views are cramped and confined by the servility of office; who -adjusts the dimensions of his understanding according to the size of the -occasion; whose reason is constantly the puppet of his will; whose -powers expand in the gleam of popularity, or shrink and shrivel up at -the touch of power. There was a natural antipathy between his mind and -lord Chatham’s. The one was ardent and impetuous: the other was cool, -circumspect, wary, delighting in difficulties and subtlety, proud rather -of distrusting its natural feelings and detecting errors in them, than -impatient of any thing that thwarted their course, and exerting all its -powers to prove them to be right. The manner in which lord Chatham -always spoke of Mansfield was the most pointed that could be: Junius did -not treat him with more sarcastic bitterness and contempt. Indeed there -is a striking coincidence between the opinions and sentiments of that -celebrated writer, and those of lord Chatham, in many respects. They had -the same political creed and the same personal prejudices. Chatham had -not only the same marked dislike to lord Mansfield, but he had evidently -the same personal dislike to the king, always directing his censures not -so much against his measures, as the man; always tracing them beyond his -ministers to the throne itself, and connecting them with a deliberate -plan to overturn the balance of the constitution, and undermine the -liberties of the people. He has expressed the same unpopular opinion -respecting the impressing of seamen that Junius has done; which is -rather singular in two men professing so strong an attachment to the -liberty of the subject, and who so generally appealed to popular -feelings. It is to be remembered, also, that Junius speaks of certain -mysterious arrangements, and expresses himself concerning certain -characters, in a tone of confidence and with a degree of asperity which -could hardly be expected in any one who was not personally acquainted -with the secrets of the cabinet. As to the differences of stile between -Junius’s letters and lord Chatham’s speeches, though they are very -great, I do not think they are so great but that they may be accounted -for from the mere difference between writing and speaking. The materials -themselves are not essentially different: the difference is in the -manner of working them up. There is none of that pointed neatness, that -brilliant contrast, that artificial modulation, and elaborate complexity -in the style of lord Chatham’s speeches that there is in Junius; and -there is a flow, a rapidity, a vehemence and ardour in them, that is -totally wanting in Junius. At the same time, I can easily conceive that -a man like lord Chatham, who has gained the highest reputation as an -orator, and was satisfied with the proofs he had given of the force and -solidity of his mind, should take a pride in exciting the admiration of -the public by the neatness and elegance of his compositions, by adding -delicacy to strength, by the minute refinements and graceful ornaments -of style: as your bold, dashing designers have generally (to shew the -versatility of their talents) executed their small cabinet pieces in a -style of the most highly finished correctness. On the other hand, it is -not at all likely that lord Chatham, even supposing him to have been -master of all the subtlety and exactness of Junius, would have spoken in -any other manner than he did. It would have been nearly impossible to -speak as Junius writes; and besides, he was a man of too much sense to -forego the advantages which his person, voice, and manner afforded him -in that impressive, simple, manly style which he adopted, and which they -could not have afforded him equally in any other, for the reputation of -an elegant speaker. As to the character which Junius gives of lord -Chatham, it is just such a character as a man would give of himself. -Both his silence and his praise are suspicious. Though I do not, on the -whole, think it probable that lord Chatham was the author of Junius, yet -I think that he was by far the most likely person that has been named. -He was about equal to the task. He had the same pith and nerve, the same -acuteness and vigour: he worked in the same metal as Junius, with a -little less sharpness and fineness in the execution, and more boldness -in the design. Burke was above it, Dunning was below it. It was -physically impossible that Burke should have been the author. He could -no more have written Junius, from the exuberance and originality of his -mind, than Dunning could have written it, from the poverty of his. The -speeches of the latter are ‘as dry as the remainder biscuit after a -voyage.’ No human art could have moulded his stiff set meagre sentences, -with all the technical formality and servile exactness of a legal -document, into the harmonious combinations and graceful inflections of -Junius’s style. It is most likely that it will never be known who Junius -really was, and I do not wish it ever should; it is a sort of singular -phenomenon, and curious riddle in the history of literature. It is -better that it should remain a secret, and be something to wonder at, -than that by it’s being explained, every one should become perfectly -satisfied and perfectly indifferent about it. - - -CHARLES PRATT, (_Earl Camden_,) was the son of Sir John Pratt, and born -in the year 1713. He was educated at Cambridge. He made little figure -for many years after he was called to the bar; but at length, by the -interest of the chancellor Henley, he obtained considerable practice, -and was recommended by him to the friendship of Mr. Pitt, afterwards -lord Chatham. By this means, he successively rose to the stations of -attorney-general, chief justice of the common pleas, and lord -chancellor. He distinguished himself in the latter situations by taking -a decided part against the government, in favour of Wilkes. For this, he -had the freedom of the city of London voted him in a gold box, and his -portrait was stuck up in Guildhall. He was made president of the council -after the American war, which situation he held till his death, in 1794. -He appears to have been a mere party man, without any abilities -whatever, and without that sense of his own deficiencies which atones -for the want of them. He was the legal mouth-piece of Chatham, the -judicial oracle of the party, who gravely returned the answers that were -given him by the political priesthood, of whom he was the organ. He was -one of those dull, plodding, headstrong, honest men, with whom so large -a part of the community naturally sympathise, and of whom it is always -convenient to have one at least in every administration, or -antiministerial party. To the generality of mankind, dulness is the -natural object of sympathy and admiration; it is the element in which -they breathe; it is that which is best fitted to their gross capacities. -The divinity of genius is itself too dazzling an object for them to -behold, and requires the friendly interposition of some thick cloud to -dim its lustre, and blunt the fierceness of its rays. The people love to -idolize greatness in some vulgar representation of it, and to worship -their own likeness in stocks and stones. Lord Camden was just the man to -address those who can only assent, but cannot reason. With men of this -character, the strength of the reasoning always weakens the force of the -argument; their heads will only bear a certain quantity of thought, and -by attempting to enlighten, you only confound their understandings. Any -thing like proof always operates as a negative quantity upon their -prejudices, because it puts them out of their way, and they cannot get -into any other. Nothing can be more feeble than the following reply of -his to lord Mansfield, in which he had pledged himself to prove—I know -not what. He was more ready to throw down his pledges than to redeem -them, (to speak in the parliamentary style). This was of little -consequence. Though often foiled, it did not abate his ardour, or lessen -his confidence: he was still _staunch_ to his cause, and (no matter -whether right or wrong in his argument,) he was always sure of his -conclusion. The less success a man has in maintaining his point, the -more does he shew his steadiness and attachment to his object in -persevering in it in spite of opposition; and the proof of fortitude -which he thus gives must naturally induce all those of the same sanguine -disposition, who have the same zeal and the same imbecility in the -defence of truth, to make common cause with him. Such was lord Camden; -of whom, however, (lest I should seem to have conceived some hasty -prejudice against him,) I must confess that I am by no means convinced -that he was not quite as great a man as the generality of those who have -risen by the same gradations to the same high offices that he did, -either before or since his time. - - -COLONEL BARRE.—He was one of the most strenuous opposers of lord North’s -administration. Junius says, ‘I would borrow a simile from Burke, or a -sarcasm from Barre.’ There is a vein of shrewd irony, a lively, -familiar, conversational pleasantry running through all his speeches. -_Garrit aniles ex re fabellas._ His eloquence is certainly the most -_naïve_, the most unpremeditated, the most gay and heedless, that can be -imagined. He was really and naturally what Courteney (afterwards) only -pretended to be. [Hazlitt adds in a note]—I am sorry that I can give no -account of this celebrated character. Indeed, I have to apologize to the -reader for the frequent defects and chasms in the biographical part of -the work. I have looked carefully into the dictionaries, but unless a -man happens to have been a nonconformist divine in the last century, a -chymist, or the maker of a new spelling and pronouncing dictionary, his -name is hardly sure of obtaining a place in these learned compilations. -The writers seem, by a natural sympathy, more anxious to bring obscure -merit into notice, than to gratify the idle curiosity of the public -respecting characters on which a dazzling splendor has been shed, by the -accidental circumstances of situation, by superficial accomplishments, -and shewy talents. In giving the history of illustrious statesmen or -politicians, they are very uncertain helps; but if any one had to make -out a list of antiquarians, schoolmasters, or conjurors, he would find -them complete for his purpose. The Barres, the Grenvilles, and the -Townshends, are forgotten; while the Dyches, the Fennings, the Lillys, -and the Laxtons, vie with the heroes and sages of antiquity, in these -motley lists of fame, which like death, level all ranks, and confound -all distinctions. - - -FREDERICK, LORD NORTH, (_afterwards Earl of Guildford_,) was born in -1732. He succeeded Mr. C. Townshend as chancellor of the exchequer, and -in 1770 was made first lord of the treasury, in which situation he -continued till the close of the American war. He died in 1792. His -speeches are in general, like the following, short, shrewd, and lively, -and quite free from the affectation of oratory. He spoke like a -gentleman, like a man of sense and business, who had to explain himself -on certain points of moment to the country, and who in doing this did -not think that his first object was to shew how well he could play the -orator by the hour. The following masterly character is given of him by -Burke. ‘He was a man of admirable parts; of a general knowledge; of -versatile understanding fitted for every sort of business; of infinite -wit and pleasantry; of a delightful temper; and with a mind most -perfectly disinterested. But it would be only to degrade myself by a -weak adulation, and not to honour the memory of a great man, to deny -that he wanted something of the vigilance and spirit of command that the -time required.’ - -The following Speech is a most masterly defence of himself. It is a -model in its kind. - - -MR. BURKE was born at Dublin, January 1, 1730. His father was a -respectable attorney, and a Protestant. He received his school education -under Abraham Shackleton, a Quaker; and whenever Mr. Burke afterwards -visited Ireland, he always went to see his old tutor. In 1746, he -entered as a scholar at Trinity College, which he left, after taking his -bachelor’s degree, in 1749. Not long after, he became candidate for the -professorship of logic, at Glasgow, but did not succeed. In 1753, he -entered himself of the Inner Temple, but he did not apply very closely -to the study of the law, and supported himself by writing for the -booksellers. In 1756, he published his Vindication of Natural Society, -and in 1757 his Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful. He was first brought -into parliament for the borough of Wendover, by the interest of lord -Rockingham, to whom he had been private secretary. He soon after -published his Thoughts on the Causes of the Present Discontents. In -1774, he was invited by the citizens of Bristol to become one of their -representatives; but at the next election, he was rejected by them, for -having supported the free trade of Ireland and the Catholic claims, and -was returned for Malton, in Yorkshire. The rest of his political life is -too well known to need recapitulating here. The part he took against the -French revolution was the most important and memorable event of his -life. He withdrew from parliament in 1794, leaving his seat for Malton -to his son, who died shortly after. This hastened his death, which -happened in July, 1797. The best character of him, and perhaps the -finest that ever was drawn of any man, is that by Goldsmith, in his poem -of Retaliation. - - -THE HONOURABLE C. J. FOX was born Jan. 13, 1748. He was educated first -at Eton and afterwards at Hertford College, Oxford. He was returned to -Parliament for Midhurst in 1768. He was at first on the side of -ministry, but declared himself on the side of opposition on the dispute -with America. He became secretary for foreign affairs in 1782, and again -in 1806, when it was too late for his country and himself. He died -September, 1806. Of this great man I shall speak more at large when I -come to his later speeches. The following boyish rhapsody, on a question -relating to the Lowther estate, is remarkable only for its contrast to -the speeches which he made afterwards—for its affectation and bluster -and imbecility. It may be easily believed, as is reported of him, that -at the time he made this and other speeches like it, he wore red heels -and blue powder, and was distinguished as the greatest coxcomb in -Europe. He was not then the same figure that I afterwards beheld in the -Louvre, with hairs grown grey in the service of the public, with a face -pale and furrowed with thought, doing honour to the English character as -its best representative, conciliating by his frank, simple, unaffected -manners, the affection and esteem of strangers, and wandering carelessly -and unconsciously among those courts and palaces, whose profound policy -and deep-laid machinations he alone, by his wisdom and the generous -openness of his nature, was able to resist. His first acquaintance with -Burke seems to have been the æra of his manhood; or rather, it was then -that he first learned to know himself, and found his true level. A man -in himself is always the same, though he may not always appear to be so. - - -SIR W. MEREDITH.—This speech discovers true zeal and earnestness. It -seems to belong to an earlier period of our history. - -I have already said something in praise of his speeches. They have in -them what an old poet calls ‘veins of nature’—a heartfelt simplicity, -before which wit, and elegance, and acuteness, and the pomp of words, -sink into insignificance. - - -MR. SAWBRIDGE.—Junius praises this city orator and patriot for his -republican firmness. If he is to be taken as a model of the republican -character, he does not, in my opinion, reflect much credit on it. In the -following speech there is all the impudence, indecency, grossness, and -vulgarity, of a factious demagogue. This character, I know not how, -unfortunately sprung up in the beginning of the present reign. - - -COLONEL (afterwards GEN.) BURGOYNE was the natural son of lord Bingley. -His defeat and capture by general Gates determined the issue of the -contest with America. As a writer and a speaker, he had more success, -though he aimed at more than he effected. His Heiress is a feeble, -though a very elegant comedy; and in his speeches, which are modelled -according to the rules of Cicero, his own abilities and his own modesty -take up half of the paper, and the reader’s attention is equally divided -between the speaker and the subject. At the same time, if they were a -little less affected, they would not be without merit. - - -MR. JENKINSON. (_The present Earl of Liverpool_). - - ‘Servetur ad imum - ‘Qualis ab incœptu processerit, & sibi constet.’ - - -HON. TEMPLE LUTTREL.—I have introduced the following Speech as an -exquisite specimen of unaccountably absurd affectation. - - -MR. WILKES, (_the Lord Mayor_).—This celebrated man was born in 1728. In -1761, he was elected member for Aylesbury, about which time he excited -the indignation of ministry by publishing a periodical paper, called the -North Briton, for the forty-fifth number of which he was apprehended by -a general warrant. He was however liberated, and became the patriot of -the day. He was soon after expelled the house for his Essay on Woman. He -was repeatedly returned for Middlesex after this, but the election was -always declared void, till 1774, when he took his seat without -opposition. The following speech in his own defence contains the -clearest, most logical, and best argued case, that has been made out on -that side of the question. He takes the same ground, and often uses the -same words as Junius, but I think he establishes his point more -satisfactorily. He was a clear, correct, able, and eloquent speaker. His -conversational talents were very brilliant. He was a very ugly and a -very debauched man, but a great favourite with the women, whom he -accordingly satirized without mercy. He died 1797. - - -MR. DUNNING, (_afterwards Lord Ashburton_,) was born at Ashburton, in -Devonshire, in 1731. After studying some time under his father, who was -an attorney, he entered at the Temple, and on being called to the bar, -soon rose to eminence in his profession: he obtained a seat in -parliament, and became one of the most distinguished members of -opposition at this period. He died 1782. The following is the most -brilliant display of his eloquence that I have met with; which I was at -some pains to pick out from among the shreds and patches that remain of -his speeches. In general, he was neither an elegant nor an agreeable -speaker. His style was dry, harsh, formal, and pedantic. His legal -knowledge is said to have been very great: but as this is a subject -which I do not understand, I must leave it to the lawyers to pronounce -his panegyric in ‘good set terms’ of their own. - - -THOMAS (LORD) LYTTLETON succeeded his father in 1773. He was a young man -of great talents, but very profligate in his manners. He died in 1779, -at the age of 35. - - -WILLIAM PITT, (_son of the late Earl of Chatham_,) was born in 1759. He -was educated at Cambridge. He entered at Lincoln’s-Inn, and was called -to the bar, where he had not much practice. He was just returned to -parliament for the borough of Appleby. The following is the first speech -he made in the house, on economical reform. He became chancellor of the -exchequer in 1783, which office he continued till 1801. He then retired, -but came in again in 1804, and continued in that office till his death, -January 1806. - - -MR. SHERIDAN.—Richard Brinsley Sheridan, one of the most brilliant -speakers that ever appeared in the house of commons, was born in 1750. -He was known to the public before he came into parliament, as having -written the best comedies of the age. He was returned member for -Stafford in 1780, which place he continued to represent till the last -election, in 1806, when he succeeded Fox as member for Westminster. On -Fox’s accession to office in the beginning of the same year, he was -appointed treasurer of the navy. The following is his first speech in -the house. He has said more witty things than ever were said by any one -man in the house of commons: but at present one may say of him, ‘The -wine of life is drunk and but the lees remain.’ - -I have retained the compliment with which the following speech is -prefaced in the report from which it is taken, ‘that it was the most -brilliant reply that perhaps was ever made in the House of Commons,’ -because I am half inclined to be of the same opinion. The expression -_brilliant_ belongs peculiarly to Sheridan’s style of eloquence. For -brilliant fancy, for vivacity of description, for animation, for -acuteness, for wit, for good sense and real discrimination, for seeing -the question at once just in the right point of view, being neither -perplexed with the sophisms of others, nor led away by the warmth of his -own imagination, he was (I do not say he is) equal to any of his -competitors; for he has got none left (except indeed Windham, who is -however as different a man as can be). I have made more _fuss_ about -some other speakers, but to say the truth, he is about as good as the -best of them. He was undoubtedly the second public man after Fox, both -with respect to talents, and firmness to his principles. - - -SIR GEORGE SAVILLE, (_Member for Yorkshire_,) distinguished himself by -his opposition to the American war, and by bringing in the bill for the -repeal of the penal statutes against the Roman Catholics. His speeches -abound with real wit and humour. He died 1784, at the age of 59. - - -MR. GRATTAN.—I do not, I confess, like this style, though it is what -many people call eloquent. There is a certain spirit and animation in -it, but it is over-run with affectation. It is at the same time -mechanical, uncouth, and extravagant. It is like a piece of Gothic -architecture, full of quaintness and formality. It is ‘all horrid’ with -climax and alliteration and epithet and personification. ‘From injuries -to arms, and from arms to liberty: precedent and principle, the Irish -volunteers, and the Irish parliament.’ I am not fond of these double -facings, and splicings and clenches in style. They too much resemble a -garden laid out according to Pope’s description, - - ‘Where each alley has a brother, - And half the platform just reflects the other.’ - - -MR. CURRAN.—This celebrated pleader has been called by some, who -probably intended it as a compliment, the Irish Erskine. I do not know -what the effect of their manner may be, having never heard them; but -this I know, that as to their _written_ speeches, there is no comparison -either with respect to brilliancy or solidity between Erskine’s speeches -and those of Curran. The speeches of the latter are also free from that -affectation, or false glitter, which is the vice of Irish eloquence. -Every Irish orator thinks himself bound to be a Burke. But according to -the old axiom, no man is bound to do that which he cannot. - - -MR. CANNING.—This gentleman writes verses better than he makes speeches. -If he had as much understanding as he has wit, he would be a great man: -but that is not the case. _Non omnia possumus omnes._ However, there is -a degree of elegance and brilliancy, and a certain ambitious tip-toe -elevation in his speeches. But they want manliness, force, and dignity. -His eloquence is something like a bright, sharp-pointed sword, which, -owing to its not being made of very stout metal, bends and gives way, -and seems ready to snap asunder at every stroke; and he is perpetually -in danger of having it wrested out of his hands. - - -MR. HORNE TOOKE.—I shall only say of the following speech that it is -worthy of the celebrated man by whom it was delivered. - - - - - NOTES - - - - - FREE THOUGHTS ON PUBLIC AFFAIRS - - - PAGE - - 2. _‘There is wisdom,’ etc._ _Proverbs_ xv. 22. - - _The late administration._ Pitt’s second ministry. Pitt died on - Jan. 23, 1806, and Fox became Foreign Secretary in the Ministry - of ‘All the Talents.’ - - 3. _Mr. Addington._ Henry Addington (1757–1844), created Viscount - Sidmouth in 1805, was Prime Minister and Chancellor of the - Exchequer during the peace negotiations. - - _Came home to the bosoms, etc._ Bacon, Dedication to the Essays - (1625). - - 5. _‘The unconquerable will,’ etc._ _Paradise Lost_, I. 106–9. - - _‘The still small voice,’ etc._ _1 Kings_ xix. 12. - - 6. _It certainly had this good effect._ ‘The peace of Amiens,’ said - Coleridge, ‘deserved the name of peace, for it gave us unanimity - at home, and reconciled Englishmen with each other’ (_The - Friend_, section I. Essay 6). - - 7. _The incautious surrender of Malta._ By the treaty of Amiens - (1802) Malta was restored to the Knights of St. John. By the - first Peace of Paris (1814) it was given to England. - - _One to whose authority, etc._ Few people at the time recognised - the importance of Malta to Great Britain. Lord Nelson himself - spoke slightingly of it, and so did Pitt. See _Parl. Hist._ - XXXVI., _passim_, for the discussions in Parliament. Coleridge, - in _The Friend_ (see especially Essays 3, 4, 5, and 6 of ‘The - Third Landing-Place’), while defending the retention of Malta, - admitted that Nelson was right in denying that Malta was the key - of Egypt (Bohn’s ed., p. 382). - - 8. _‘Against infection,’ etc._ _Richard II._, Act II. Scene 1. - - 10. ‘_Another Iliad of woes._’ Burke’s _Regicide Peace_ (_Select - Works_, ed. Payne, p. 116). Cf. ‘From hence those tears, that - Ilium of our woe.’ Dryden’s _The Medal_, l. 67. - - 12. _The partition of Poland._ In 1795. Suwarroff, the Russian - general, stormed Ismael on Dec. 11, 1790, and Warsaw on Nov. 4, - 1794. ‘Thirty thousand persons, of whom one half were - inhabitants of the town, perished in the assault of Ismael’ - (Alison, _History of Europe_, X. 455). At Warsaw ‘about twelve - thousand citizens, of every age and sex, were put to the sword’ - (_ib._, III. 526). - - 14. _Had not Austria, etc._ Precipitated, he means, by the subsidising - policy of Pitt. The battle of Austerlitz (Dec. 2, 1805) - completely crushed Austria. - - _The character of Mr. Pitt, etc._ Hazlitt repeated this - ‘character’ down to ‘And in its liquid texture,’ etc. (p. 18), - in his _Political Essays_ (see _ante_, pp. 346–350) and in _The - Round Table_ (see Vol. I. pp. 125–128). - - 15. _The fog and haze._ A phrase of Burke’s (_Reflections on the - Revolution in France, Select Works_, ed. Payne, II. 55). - - Note. _When Mr. Fox last summer._ On June 21, 1805. See Hansard’s - _Parl. Debates_, V. 542. - - 16. _Described by Hobbes._ _Behemoth_ (_Works_, ed. Molesworth, VI. - 240). - - 18. _‘Not matchless,’ etc._ _Paradise Lost_, VI. 341–2. - - _‘And in its liquid texture,’ etc._ _Paradise Lost_, VI. 348–9. - - Note. Hazlitt printed this essay of Coleridge’s in _Political - Essays_ (see _ante_, pp. 350–356) under the title of ‘Pitt and - Buonaparte.’ - - 20. _‘Some happier island,’ etc._ Pope, _Essay on Man_, I. 106–8. - - 21. _‘Virtue is not their habit,’ etc._ Burke’s _Regicide Peace_ (ed. - Payne, p. 105). - - 22. _‘Lay the fault upon themselves,’ etc._ Julius Cæsar, Act I. Scene - 2. - - _‘Dull as her lakes,’ etc._ Goldsmith’s _The Traveller_, l. 312. - - 23. _‘When, stript,’ etc._ Goldsmith’s _The Traveller_, ll. 355–60. - - _‘They think there is nothing real,’ etc._ ‘They think there is - nothing worth pursuit, but that which they can handle; which - they can measure with a two-foot rule; which they can tell upon - two fingers.’ Burke’s _Regicide Peace_ (ed. Payne, p. 105). - - - - - POLITICAL ESSAYS - - -The title-page contained a motto from _Twelfth Night_ (Act I. Scene 5): -‘Come, draw the curtain, shew the picture,’ - - 29. John Hunt (1780?–1848), an elder brother of Leigh Hunt, was - with him the joint founder of _The Examiner_ in 1808. The two - brothers were at first joint proprietors, John being printer and - manager and Leigh Hunt editor. John Hunt was twice in prison, - for two years (1813–5) for a libel on the Prince Regent, and - again for one year (1821–2) for a libel on the House of Commons. - For an account of his services to journalism see Fox Bourne’s - _English Newspapers_ (I. 335–51). - - 32. ‘_In contempt of the choice of the people._’ Burke’s _Reflections - on the Revolution in France_ (_Select Works_, ed. Payne, II. - 17). In his _Appeal from the New to the Old Whigs_ (1791) Burke - defends and elaborates the constitutional doctrines of the - _Reflections_. - - 33. ‘_The envy of less happier lands._’ _Richard II._, Act II. Scene - 1. - - _Sworn brother to the Pope._ Because the sworn enemy of Hazlitt’s - hero, Napoleon, who abolished the Inquisition in Spain in 1808. - Ferdinand VII. restored it in 1814. - - _Arbuthnot._ John Arbuthnot (1667–1735), whose famous pamphlet - _The History of John Bull_ (as it was afterwards called) - appeared in 1712. - - _Flocci, etc._ These words are the beginning of a rule in the old - Latin grammars which brings together a number of words meaning - ‘of no account.’ See _Letters of Charles Lamb_ (ed. Ainger), I. - 62. - - 34. _‘One fate attends,’ etc._ Southey’s _Carmen Nuptiale_, Stanza 51. - - ‘_At one fell swoop._’ _Macbeth_, Act IV. Scene 3. - - _‘That painted sepulchre,’ etc._ ‘_Whited_ sepulchres,’ etc. _St. - Matthew_ xxiii. 27. - - _‘Bogs, dens,’ etc._ _Paradise Lost_, II. 621–2. - - 35. ‘_Awhile they stood abashed._’ - - ‘abashed the Devil stood, - And felt how awful goodness is.’ - _Paradise Lost_, IV. 846–7. - - _‘Never can true reconcilement,’ etc._ _Ib._, IV. 98. - - 36. _Lord Castlereagh._ Robert Stewart (1769–1822), who became - Viscount Castlereagh in 1796, and second Marquis of Londonderry - in 1821, was Irish Chief Secretary during the Rebellion and the - passing of the Act of Union (1798–1801), War Secretary - (1807–1809), and Foreign Secretary from 1812 till his death. - After the death of Pitt he may be regarded as the chief - representative of Great Britain in the struggle against - Napoleon. That accounts for Hazlitt’s hatred, but he was for - many reasons (some of which appear in the _Political Essays_) - the best hated minister of his time. - - _Benjamin Constant_ (1767–1830), the French Liberal politician, - was banished from France in 1802 for denouncing the despotic - acts of Napoleon. He returned to France after the restoration of - the Bourbons and advocated constitutional freedom. - - _‘That Harlot old,’ etc._ Southey’s _Carmen Nuptiale_, Stanza 52. - - _Douce humanité._ A phrase used by Burke in speaking of the - revolution party in France. _A Letter to a Noble Lord_ (_Works_, - Bohn, V. 140). - - 37. _‘At this day,’ etc._ Wordsworth’s _The Excursion_, Book IV. - - ‘_Tickling commodities._’ _King John_, Act II. Scene 1. - - _The case of the Income-Tax._ The ministry’s five per cent - property tax (as it was called) was rejected by the House of - Commons on March 19, 1816, by 238 votes to 201. See Walpole’s - _History of England_, I. 408–10. - - ‘_A feeling disputation._’ _Henry IV._, Part I., Act III. Scene 1. - - 38. _Mr. Robson brought forward, etc._ On March 4, 1802. The bill was - for £19 odd. On March 8, Addington admitted that it had not been - paid. See _Parl. Hist._ XXXVI. 346–50. - - _The Great Vulgar and the Small._ Cowley, Horace, _Odes_, III. 1. - - 39. _Never is, etc._ Pope’s _Essay on Man_, I. 93. In Hazlitt’s - composite portrait of ‘a Reformer,’ there seems to be a good - deal of Godwin. - - _Mr. Place._ Francis Place (1771–1854), the radical tailor. John - Cam Hobhouse (1786–1869), Byron’s friend, was defeated at - Westminster by George Lamb in February 1819. For Place’s - _Report_ to the Westminster electors, presented to a public - meeting, Feb. 9, 1819, see Wallas, _Life of Francis Place_, - 134–9. - - 40. _One of these virtuosos._ The description seems to fit Hazlitt’s - conception of Godwin. See _Spirit of the Age_. - - _Nicolas Gimcracks of Reform._ See Hazlitt’s _Table Talk_ (‘On - will making’), where the will of ‘a certain virtuoso,’ Nicholas - Gimcrack, is quoted from _The Tatler_ (No. 216). - - _‘Pleased with a feather,’ etc._ Pope’s _Essay on Man_, II. 276. - - ‘_The giant-mass._’ _Troilus and Cressida_, Act I. Scene 3. - - _Another, more bold, etc._ Cobbett, no doubt. - - 41. _Dance the hays._ _Love’s Labour’s Lost_, Act V. Scene 1. - - _‘Perpetual circle,’ etc._ - - ‘——that in quaternion run - Perpetual circle, multiform, and mix - And nourish all things,’ etc. - _Paradise Lost_, V. 181–3. - - _Going with Sancho, etc._ _Don Quixote_, Second Part, Book II., - chaps, xx. and xxi. - - ‘_The best of kings._’ See vol. I., note to p. 305. - - 42. _Epicuri de grege porcus._ Horace, _Epistles_, I. iv. 16. - - _‘When a great wheel,’ etc._ _King Lear_, Act II. Scene 4. - - _A Theophilanthropist._ The name of a sect established by Thomas - Paine in Paris in 1797. - - _‘Wiser in his generation,’ etc._ _St. Luke_ xvi. 8. - - 42. ‘_Servile slaves._’ _The Faerie Queene_, Book II. Canto vii. St. - 33. - - 43. _‘Screw their courage,’ etc._ _Macbeth_, Act I. Scene 7. - - 44. _‘Are subdued,’ etc._ _Othello_, Act I. Scene 3. - - _Holland House._ Best described by Macaulay in the _Edinburgh - Review_ (July 1841—_Essays_, Lord Holland). The third Lord - Holland (1773–1840) was a consistent champion of Buonaparte, - which makes it strange that Hazlitt should have written and - republished this sneer at Holland House. - - _My Lord Erskine._ Thomas Erskine (1750–1823), the great Whig - advocate, Lord Chancellor in the ‘Talents’ Ministry (1806–7). He - had recently been decorated by the Regent with the Knighthood of - the Thistle. - - _‘Untaught knaves,’ etc._ _Henry IV._, Part I. Act I. Scene 3. - - _Ultima ratio regum._ It was a maxim of Richelieu’s that ‘le canon - est l’_ultima ratio_ des rois.’ - - _‘Strange that such difference,’ etc._ John Byrom, _On the Feuds - between Handel and Bononcini_. - - _‘Nearly are allied,’ etc._ Dryden’s _Absalom and Achitophel_, - Part I. 163–4. - - _The ********* and ********* Reviews._ The _Edinburgh_ and - _Quarterly Reviews_. - - 46. _‘Letting I dare not,’ etc._ _Macbeth_, Act I. Scene 7. - - _‘But ’tis the fall,’ etc._ Pope, _Epilogue to the Satires_, I. - 143 _et seq._ - - 47. _‘And such other gambol faculties,’ etc._ _Henry IV._, Part II. - Act II. Scene 4. - - _The Marquess Wellesley’s opening speech._ On April 9, 1813. - Richard Colley Wellesley (1760–1842), the eldest brother of the - Duke of Wellington, created Marquess Wellesley in 1799 for his - services in India, had been Foreign Secretary from 1809 to 1812, - but had failed to form a ministry after the assassination of - Percival, and was now out of office. - - _‘All hail him,’ etc._ Pope, _The Dunciad_, ii. 267–8. - - Note. The passage in the text is not quite accurately quoted from - _The Morning Chronicle_ (April 14, 1813). John Wilson Croker - (1780–1857) was Secretary to the Admiralty for twenty-two years - (1809–30). - - _‘Strange that such difference,’ etc._ See _ante_, note to p. 44. - - _‘Fillip the ears,’ etc._ _Henry IV._, Part II. Act I. Scene 2. - - 48. MR. SOUTHEY, POET LAUREAT. From _The Morning Chronicle_, Sept. - 18, 1813. See Lockhart’s _Life of Scott_ (vol. III. p. 88) and - Southey’s Preface to vol. III. of the collected edition of his - Poems (1837) for particulars as to Southey’s laureateship. He - made it a condition of his acceptance of the post that he should - not be required to write the old formal odes, but that he should - be free to choose his own time for celebrating any great public - event. - - _Mr. Croker, to whom, etc._ Southey’s _Life of Nelson_, dedicated - to Croker, was published in 1813, with a motto from Canning’s - _Ulm and Trafalgar_ (1806). - - _Lord Liverpool._ Robert Banks Jenkinson (1770–1828), after 1796 - known by courtesy as Lord Hawkesbury, and raised to the peerage - with that title in 1803, succeeded his father as Earl of - Liverpool in 1808, and was Prime Minister for fifteen years - (1812–27). The second Marquis of Hertford (1743–1822) was Lord - Chamberlain from 1812 to 1821. - - 49. MR. SOUTHEY’S NEW-YEAR’S ODE. This paper is reprinted from - _The Morning Chronicle_, Jan. 8, 1814. - - ‘_Poets succeed best in fiction._’ The reply of Edmund Waller to - Charles II., who had complained of the inferiority of the poet’s - verses on the Restoration as compared with his panegyric on - Cromwell. - - _Duke’s Place._ Situated within the priory of Holy Trinity without - Aldgate, belonging to the Duke of Norfolk. ‘A new church in the - priory precinct, dedicated to St. James, was consecrated January - 2, 1622–23, and became one of the most notorious places in - London for those irregular marriages which, under the name of - Fleet marriages, were the cause of so much scandal in the latter - half of the seventeenth century, and until they were put an end - to by the Act of 1753,’ Wheatley and Cunningham’s _London Past - and Present_, i. 532. - - _Academy of compliments._ See note to vol. I. p. 235. - - 50. _‘Age after age,’ etc._ Stanza 8. - - _The Lady’s Magazine._ ‘The Lady’s Magazine or entertaining - Companion for the fair sex’ (1770–1818). - - _‘Open thy gates, O Hanover,’ etc._ Stanza 16. - - 51. _Like Virgil._ _Georgics_, i. 80. - - _‘And France,’ etc._ Stanza 18. - - _Very nearly succeeded._ In _The Morning Chronicle_ appeared the - following paragraph: ‘As Mr. Southey’s Ode by no means satisfied - the poetical appetite which it had excited in us, we turned - after reading it, to Spenser’s fine Canto on Mutability, and - afterwards to some lines written by one who did not join the - song of the avengers _twice_. Mr. Southey, by the new form of - publishing his Ode, having prevented us from gratifying our - readers with it as _a public entertainment_, we shall try to - make amends by these lines of Milton, which, we believe, have - not yet been quoted in The Times.’ [Here follow ll. 113–131 of - _Lycidas_]. - - DOTTRELL-CATCHING. From _The Morning Chronicle_, Jan. 27, 1814. - - ‘_Spunge, you are dry again._’ _Hamlet_, Act IV. Scene 2. - - _A celebrated writer._ This appears to have been Edward Sterling - (Vetus). See p. 99. - - 52. _Struldbruggs._ _Gulliver’s Travels_ (Voyage to Laputa), Part III. - Chap. x. - - _Eiconoclastes Satyrane._ ‘Satyrane’s Letters’ was the name given - to Coleridge’s letters from Germany, published in _The Friend_ - in 1809, and republished in _Biographia Literaria_. Hazlitt - concluded his letter to _The Morning Chronicle_ with a quotation - from Wordsworth (_Ode, Intimations of Immortality_, Stanza 10)— - - ‘What though the radiance which was once so bright,’ etc. - - THE BOURBONS AND BONAPARTE. From _The Morning Chronicle_, Dec. 6, - 1813. - - 53. _The virtuous Moreau._ Jean Victor Moreau (1761–1813), banished by - Napoleon in 1804, returned to Europe in 1813 and joined the - allies. He died in Sept. 1813 of a wound received from a French - cannon-ball at the battle of Dresden. For Hazlitt’s opinion of - Moreau see his _Life of Napoleon_, chap. xlix. - - 54. _‘Bid him prepare,’ etc._ _Henry V._, Act IV. Scene 4. - - _‘Reverbs,’ etc._ _King Lear_, Act I. Scene 1. - - _‘Flows on to the Propontic,’ etc._ - - ‘——Like to the Pontic sea, - Whose icy current and compulsive course - Ne’er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on - To the Propontic and the Hellespont!’ - _Othello_, Act III. Scene 3. - - ‘_The deserter of Smorgonne._’ At Smorgoni Buonaparte left his - army on Dec. 5, 1812, during the retreat from Moscow. - - _Sir Humphrey Davy._ Sir Humphry Davy (1778–1829), the great - natural philosopher, knighted in 1812. - - 55. _Like Hellenore, etc._ See _The Faerie Queene_, Book III. Cantos - ix. and x. - - 56. _‘This is the very coinage,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act III. Scene 4. - - _No such army._ In _The Morning Chronicle_ there is the following - note to this passage: ‘One is here reminded of the pathetic - exhortation addressed to honest _Sly_, in the _Taming of the - Shrew_ [Induction, Scene 2]:— - - “Why, Sir, you know no house, - Nor no such men as you have reckon’d up, - As Stephen Sly, and Old John Naps of Greece, - And Peter Turf, and Henry Pimpernel, - And twenty more such names and men as these, - Which never were, nor no man ever saw.” - - The difference in the two cases is, that poor _Sly_ was persuaded - out of his senses by other people, and that our paragraph writer - would persuade his readers out of theirs.’ - - ‘_To the very echo._’ _Macbeth_, Act V. Scene 3. - - 57. _Darkness that might be felt._ _Exodus_, x. 21. - - ‘_Impaling fire._’ ‘Impaled with circling fire.’ _Paradise Lost_, - II. 647. - - VETUS. From _The Morning Chronicle_, Nov. 19, 1813. ‘Vetus’ was - the signature of Edward Sterling (1773–1847), who became a - regular member of _The Times_ staff, and earned for it the - nickname of ‘The Thunderer.’ Some of the Letters of Vetus were - republished in 1812. See Carlyle’s _Life of John Sterling_, who - was Edward Sterling’s son. - - 58. _‘A cry of hell-hounds,’ etc._ _Paradise Lost_, II. 654. - - ON THE COURIER AND TIMES NEWSPAPERS. From _The Morning Chronicle_, - Jan. 21, 1814. - - 59. _Formally signified from the throne._ See the Prince Regent’s - speech on opening Parliament Nov. 4, 1813, and Lord Liverpool’s - speech on the Address (_Hansard_, xxvii. 5, 22). - - _Lord Castlereagh._ Castlereagh represented England informally at - the Congress of Châtillon (February and March, 1814) where he - opposed the restoration of the Bourbons by the arms of the - allies. - - 60. ‘_What, stab men in the dark._’ ‘Kill men i’ the dark.’ _Othello_, - Act V. Scene 1. - - _The Editor of ‘The Times.’_ Hazlitt’s brother-in-law, John - (afterwards Sir John) Stoddart (1773–1856) was editor from 1812 - to 1817. - - 61. _‘Of heroic sentiment,’ etc._ Burke’s _Reflections on the - Revolution in France_ (_Select Works_, ed. Payne, II. 89). - - _The treaty of Pilnitz._ A declaration signed by the Emperor of - Austria and the King of Prussia in August, 1791, the object of - which was to secure the safety of Louis XVI. after his - imprisonment by the Revolution government. Fox described the - treaty, or rather the declaration, as ‘an act of hostile - aggression,’ and Hazlitt hated it because it ‘gave its sanction - to the invasion of France, and commenced the war of the - Revolution (_Life of Napoleon_, Chap. v.). - - _The French ‘petit maitre.’_ _Roderick Random_, Chap, xliii. - - _Don Quixote._ Book III. Chap. xv. - - 62. _‘That we might spill our blood,’ etc._ ‘The blood of man should - never be shed but to redeem the blood of man. It is well shed - for our family, for our friends, for our God, for our country, - for our kind.’ Burke’s _Regicide Peace_ (_Select Works_, ed. - Payne, p. 67). - - _‘The meanest peasant,’ etc._ A phrase of Vetus’s. See p. 75. - - _Carl John._ Jean Baptiste Jules Bernadotte (1764–1844), the son - of a lawyer. - - He was elected heir to the crown of Sweden and succeeded to the - throne as Charles XIV. in 1818. Hazlitt of course hated ‘this - man’ (as he contemptuously calls him) as a traitor to his idol - Buonaparte. See _Life of Napoleon_ (Chap. xliii, especially). - Bernadotte had married an early love of Buonaparte’s, and ‘thy - little son’ (Oscar) was the Emperor’s god-son. Sweden joined the - alliance against Napoleon in April, 1812. - - _‘Monarchize,’ etc._ _Richard II._, Act III. Scene 2. - - _‘The flame of sacred vehemence,’ etc._ _Julius Caesar_, Act III. - Scene 2. - - 63. _General Blucher’s manifesto._ Hazlitt probably refers to a - manifesto addressed by Blücher to the Army of Silesia on Jan. 3, - 1814, in which he says, ‘Now you are going to pass the Rhine to - force peace from the enemy who cannot console himself for having - lost, in two campaigns, the conquest which he had made during - nineteen years.’ - - _Favourably interpreted._ In _The Morning Chronicle_ the article - proceeded as follows:—‘The classical pen of _The Courier_ not - long ago charged us with spoiling one of the finest passages in - Shakespeare. We should be sorry if the charge were true, because - we have really more respect for this great English genius than - for a whole legion of “gentlemen and men of honour,” of the old - or the new stamp, by tradition or by patent. We have not indeed - read the extracts in _The Courier_ from Mr. Coleridge’s Lectures - at Bristol, and wanting that new light, may perhaps be blind - idolaters. - - ‘There are, however, one or two passages in the play of - _Coriolanus_ besides the fine one which we are said to have - marred, which we thought conveyed a great deal of meaning. The - first is the speech of _Aufidius_ [Act V. Scene 3], which seems - to us a transcript of what must pass in Buonaparte’s mind, in - reading the hyperboles of _The Times_ and _The Courier_— - - “I’m glad thou set’st thy mercy and thy honour - At difference in thee: out of this I’ll work - Myself a former fortune.” - - The second [Act III. Scene 2] we leave for their own application. - - “Away, my disposition, and possess me - Some harlot’s spirit: the smiles of knaves - Tent in my cheeks, and school-boys’ tears take up - The glasses of my sight: a beggar’s tongue - Make motion through my lips.—I will not do it, - Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth, - And by my body’s action, teach my mind - A most inherent baseness.” - - ‘It is said that there is no reason why we should not _propose_ to - the French people (there was a time when we would not suffer - them to chuse for themselves) the restoration of the Bourbons. - Why no, except that it is a great piece of impudence to hint to - them as a modest proposal, and in the way of free choice, what - we have been endeavouring to impose upon them so long as a - matter of necessity. The question is, whether we are to enforce - the adoption of this free boon by the same process as before. - _The Times_ say, “We have given a native Prince to Holland and - to Spain. Why then not to France?” Does the writer still persist - that there is no difference between the two cases? - - ‘We have made these remarks, not with a view to irritate or - recriminate, but to resist irritation and recrimination, by - which we can at this moment gain nothing that we ought to gain. - There is one ground of peace, just, honourable, attainable, - secure, and permanent, which is laid down in the Declaration of - the Allies, and by his Majesty’s Ministers—there is another, - recommended by _The Times_ and _Courier_, and pursued by the - Cossacks, namely, the desolation and degradation of France—which - is neither safe, nor just, nor practicable, nor desirable. If - the Allies, for any contingent advantage, or to gratify any old - grudge, for any fancies or for any prejudices, throw away their - present opportunities of making peace, and of making it - permanent by the very act of having made it in the spirit of - moderation and justice—if they forego their present imposing - attitude, of having repelled invasion and maintained their own - independence, for the chance of retorting aggression on others, - and insulting that national independence which they profess to - consider as inviolable, by dictating to France her form of - government under pretence of offering her peace, then we say, - they will richly deserve to reap all the natural consequences of - their mistaken policy. On their heads and on those of their - advisers be the responsibility.’ - - ILLUSTRATIONS OF VETUS. _The Morning Chronicle_, Dec. 2, 1813. - - _‘Those nauseous harlequins,’ etc._ Dryden, Epilogue to Sir G. - Etherege’s ‘The Man of Mode, or Sir Fopling Flutter’ (1676). - - 64. _Don Adriano de Armado._ In _Love’s Labour’s Lost_. ‘Will you hear - this letter with attention? As we would hear an oracle.’ Act I. - Scene 1. - - ‘_I am Sir Oracle._’ _Merchant of Venice_, Act I. Scene 1. - - _The hero of Cervantes._ _Don Quixote_, Part I. Book II. Chap. xi. - - _To ‘hitch it,’ etc._ - - ‘Whoe’er offends at some unlucky time - Slides into verse, and hitches in a rhyme.’ - Pope, _Imitations of Horace_, Satire I. Book II. - - _His last letter._ _The Times_, Nov. 23, 1813. - - 65. _Bobadil._ Ben Jonson’s _Every Man in his Humour_ (first produced - 1598). - - 67. ILLUSTRATIONS OF VETUS (_continued_). _The Morning Chronicle_, - Dec. 10, 1813. - - _‘He is indeed,’ etc._ _The Man of Mode; or Sir Fopling Flutter_, - Act I. - - ‘_Fools aspiring to be knaves._’ Pope, Epilogue to the Satires, i. - 165. - - 70. _Still true to the war—and himself._ In _The Morning Chronicle_ - Hazlitt quotes, ‘Oh, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,’ etc., from - Shakespeare’s Sonnets (No. 116). - - 68. _Peachum._ See _The Beggar’s Opera_, Act I. Scene 1. - - 71. _The treaty of 1763._ The Peace of Paris, by which England kept - her conquests in America. France recognised the independence of - the States in 1778. - - _‘With centric,’ etc._ _Paradise Lost_, VIII. 83. - - 72. _‘I will have ransom,’ etc._ _Henry V._, Act IV. Scene 4. - - ‘_The fierce extremes._’ _Paradise Lost_, II. 599. - - 73. ILLUSTRATIONS OF VETUS (_continued_). _The Morning Chronicle_, - Dec. 16, 1813. - - _‘Madmen’s epistles,’ etc._ _Twelfth Night_, Act V. Scene 1. - - ‘_Events ... in Holland._’ The Dutch had revolted from Napoleon, - and declared for the Prince of Orange, who landed in Holland - (from England) on Nov. 27, 1813. - - _Spenser’s Allegory._ _The Faerie Queene_, Book II. Canto v. - - ‘_Made of penetrable stuff._’ _Hamlet_, Act III. Scene 4. - - ‘_Leer malign._’ _Paradise Lost_, IV. 503. - - 74. _Vattel._ Eméric de Vattel (1714–1767), whose _Droits des Gens_ - was published in 1758, and was frequently translated. - - _‘Think, there’s livers out of England,’ etc._ _Cymbeline_, Act - III. Scene 4. - - _Anacharsis Cloots._ For Jean Baptiste Cloots, who assumed the - name of Anacharsis, see Burke’s _Regicide Peace_ (ed. Payne), - pp. 296 _et seq._ - - 75. _Lord Castlereagh’s Speech._ On Nov. 17, 1813. See Hansard’s - _Parl. Debates_, XXVII. 132 _et seq._ - - _‘Why so,’ etc._ _Macbeth_, Act III. Scene 4. - - Note. _Cursory Strictures on the Charge of Chief-Justice Eyre._ - See the essay on Godwin in Hazlitt’s _Spirit of the Age_. - - 76. ‘_To knot and gender in._’ _Othello_, Act IV. Scene 2. - - ‘_Mere midsummer madness._’ _Twelfth Night_, Act III. Scene 4. - - _‘For in this lowest deep,’ etc._ _Paradise Lost_, IV. 76. - - _The Sun and the Star._ ‘The Sun,’ a Tory evening paper founded in - 1802 by George Rose. ‘The Star,’ the first London evening paper, - founded in 1788 by Peter Stuart. - - 77. _Political E. O. tables._ See vol. i., note to p. 145. - - ‘_Struggled to get free._’ _Hamlet_, Act III. Scene 3. - - 78. _Doctor Pedro Positive._ See _Don Quixote_, Part II. Book III. - Chaps, xlvii. and xlix. - - _But we deny._ The rest of the essay from this point appeared - first in _The Morning Chronicle_ for Dec. 18, 1813. - - 79. _‘Like a devilish engine,’ etc._ _Paradise Lost_, IV. 17. - - _‘So small a drop,’ etc._ _Cymbeline_, Act IV. Scene 2. - - 80. _‘The stone which the builders rejected,’ etc._ Psalms cxviii. 22. - - 81. _‘This large discourse of reason,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act IV. Scene - 4. - - 82. _The murdered D’Enghien._ The Duc d’Enghien, eldest son of the - Prince de Condé, was executed on March 21, 1804, to avenge - Pichegru’s plot against the life of Buonaparte. - - 85. _‘His yoke,’ etc._ _St. Matthew_ xi. 30. - - ILLUSTRATIONS OF VETUS. From _The Morning Chronicle_, Jan. 3, - 1814. - - _‘Take him,’ etc._ _Romeo and Juliet_, Act III. Scene 2. - - _‘Our occupation,’ etc._ _Othello_, Act III. Scene 3. - - _‘Aggravate his voice,’ etc._ _Midsummer Night’s Dream_, Act I. - Scene 2. - - _He is not the first enthusiast, etc._ Hazlitt refers to the - well-known story of Ixion. - - 86. _That of Parolles._ In _The Morning Chronicle_ Hazlitt appends a - note in which he applies the reference: ‘Vetus does not relish - our quotations from the Poets. The following is, however, so - applicable, that we insert it: Parolles, “What the devil should - move me to the recovery of this drum, not being ignorant of the - possibility. Tongue, I will put you into a butter-woman’s mouth, - and buy myself another of Bajazet’s mule, if you prattle me into - these perils.” _All’s Well that Ends Well_,’ Act IV. Scene 1. - - _Dr. Parr’s Spital Sermon._ Preached before the Lord Mayor on - Easter Monday, 1800, and published with notes in 1801. It - consisted chiefly of an attack on Godwin’s _Political Justice_. - See the essay on Godwin in Hazlitt’s _Spirit of the Age_, and, - for Sir James Mackintosh’s _Lectures_, the essay on Mackintosh. - - _‘One of these patriots,’ etc._ These three paragraphs are far - beside the mark if they were aimed at Hazlitt, who cared little - for Godwin’s social philosophy. - - 87. ‘_Scrub._’ Farquhar’s _The Beaux-Stratagem_. - - Note. _‘In heaven,’ etc._ _St. Matthew_, xxii. 30. - - 88. _‘Confound the ignorant,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act II. Scene 2. - - 89. _‘The latter end,’ etc._ ‘The latter end of his commonwealth - forgets the beginning.’ _Tempest_, Act II. Scene 1. - - 90. ILLUSTRATIONS OF VETUS (_concluded_). From _The Morning - Chronicle_, Jan. 5, 1814. - - _‘What do you read,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act II. Scene 2. - - 90. _Don Quixote’s books._ See _Don Quixote_, Book I. chap. i. - - 91. _Patriotism in modern times, etc._ This passage, down to ‘broad - and firm basis,’ had already been republished by Hazlitt. See - vol. i. (_Round Table_) pp. 67–8. - - 92. _It was said, etc._ By Rousseau, _Emile_, Liv. iv. p. 279 (édit. - Garnier). - - _‘A painted sepulchre,’ etc._ See _ante_, note to p. 34. - - Note 2. _Canning’s Jaggernaut Speech._ In the debate on Foreign Treaties, - Nov. 17, 1813. See Hansard’s _Parl. Debates_, XXVII. 144–152. - - 93. _Tempora mollia fandi._ _Æneid_, iv. 293. - - _‘Smoothing,’ etc._ ‘Smoothing the raven down of darkness till it - smiled.’ _Comus_, 251–2. - - _‘Airs from heaven,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act I. Scene 4. - - _‘Thrust us,’ etc._ _Henry IV._, Part II. Act II. Scene 1. - - 95. _That profound politician._ Malthus. See _ante_, pp. 356 _et seq._ - - 96. ‘_What appetite he may._’ _Henry VIII._, Act III. Scene 2. - - ON THE LATE WAR. Published in _The Champion_, April 3, 1814. - - 97. _‘The great statesman,’ etc._ Pitt. - - _‘Their pound of carrion-flesh,’ ‘’tis theirs,’ etc._ _Merchant of - Venice_, Act IV. Scene 1. - - _‘’Tis an indifferent piece of work,’ etc._ _Taming of the Shrew_, - Act I. Scene 1. - - _‘Fierce as a comet,’ etc._ _Paradise Lost_, II. 708. - - ‘_Bear fardels._’ _Hamlet_, Act III. Scene 1. - - _‘Was not,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act I. Scene 2. - - 98. _‘The pilot,’ etc._ Canning’s verses, ‘The Pilot that weathered - the storm,’ were composed for the first (1802) of the birth-day - dinners in honour of Pitt. - - _Our great war-minister._ He means Pitt. - - 99. _Odia in longum, etc._ Tacitus, _Agricola_, I. 69. - - _If Titus, etc._ See Suetonius, VIII. 8. - - ‘_Full circle home._’ _King Lear_, Act V. Scene 3. - - ‘_The child and champion of Jacobinism._’ This phrase occurred in - Coleridge’s report of Pitt’s speech of Feb. 17, 1800. See - _Essays on his own Times_ (II. 294). Mrs. Coleridge, the editor - of that work, says in a note (III. 1010): ‘It is remarkable that - the striking expression, applied to Buonaparte—“the child and - the champion of Jacobinism”—which was continually repeated - afterwards, does not occur in the speech as reported in _The - Times_, though it reappears in the later edition of it in the - collection of Pitt’s speeches.’ The words occur in Hansard. See - _Parl. Debates_, XXXIV. 1443. - - _Mr. Whitebread._ Samuel Whitbread (1758–1815), the famous Whig - member. - - 101. PRINCE MAURICE’S PARROT. Published originally in _The - Examiner_, July 10, 1814, and later in _The Champion_, Sept. 18, - 1814. - - Charles Maurice Talleyrand de Périgord, Prince of Benevento, was - the representative of France at the Congress of Vienna (1814). - Castlereagh was the representative of England. - - 102. _‘With so little web,’ etc._ _Othello_, Act II. Scene 1. - - 103. _The Prince of Benevento._ Napoleon created Talleyrand a Prince of - the Empire under this title in 1806. - - _The ex-Bishop of Autun._ Talleyrand was appointed Bishop of Autun - by Louis XVI. in 1789. - - _His friend._ Croker. - - WHETHER THE FRIENDS, _etc._ From _The Champion_, Oct. 23, 1814. - - _An excellent article._ By Leigh Hunt in _The Examiner_, Oct. 16, - 1814. - - 105. _‘Vows made in pain,’ etc._ _Paradise Lost_, IV. 97. - - _‘Why so,’ etc._ _Macbeth_, Act III. Scene 4. - - _‘The right divine,’ etc._ Pope’s _Dunciad_, IV. 188. - - 106. _‘All power,’ etc._ _St. Matthew_ xxviii. 18. - - ‘_The milk of human kindness._’ _Macbeth_, Act I. Scene 5. - - _The Crown Prince of Sweden._ Bernadotte. - - ‘_All hail hereafter._’ _Macbeth_, Act I. Scene 5. - - 108. _The dexterous prince, etc._ Talleyrand. - - _The act of Mr. Fox’s administration._ March 25, 1807. - - 109. _‘A very currish performance,’ etc._ _Two Gentlemen of Verona_, - Act IV. Scene 4. - - _Mr. Pye’s._ Henry James Pye (1745–1813), Southey’s predecessor in - the laureateship. - - 110. _Mr. Croker was wrong, etc._ See _ante_, p. 48. - - _Once a Jacobin, etc._ ‘This charitable adage was at one time - fashionable in the ministerial circles; and Mr. Pitt himself, in - one of his most powerful speeches, gave it every advantage, that - is derivable from stately diction.’ Coleridge, _Essays on his - own Times_, II. 542. Coleridge refers to Pitt’s speech of Feb. - 17, 1800. See _ante_, note to p. 99. - - _Old Sarum._ See _post_, note to p. 157. - - _‘The friendship,’ etc._ _Carmen Nuptiale_, Proem, Stanza 9. - - ‘_Glassy essence._’ _Measure for Measure_, Act II. Scene 2. - - 111. _Joseph Fox or Joseph Lancaster._ Joseph Fox, a Quaker and trustee - of the Lancastrian Society. Southey was a vehement supporter of - Lancaster’s rival, Bell. - - ‘_Practice of Piety._’ ‘The Practice of Piety, directing a - Christian how to walk that he may please God,’ by Lewis Bayly, - Bishop of Bangor, was published early in the seventeenth - century, and became enormously popular. - - 112. _Geo. Fox._ George Fox (1624–1690), the founder of the Society of - Friends. - - _‘Bear thou,’ etc._ _Carmen Nuptiale_, The Dream, Stanza 50. - - 113. _‘Yea in this now,’ etc._ _Ib._, Proem, Stanzas 9 and 10. - - _As to Spenser._ Spenser received a pension of £50 a year from the - Crown in 1590–1, but was not formally poet-laureate. William - Whitehead (1715–1785) was laureate from 1757. - - 114. _‘Look to thy sire,’ etc._ _Carmen Nuptiale_, The Dream, Stanza - 32. - - THE LAY OF THE LAUREATE, _etc._ (concluded). From _The Examiner_, - July 14, 1816. - - _‘Hamlet, thou hast,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act III. Scene 4. - - 115. _‘Proudly I raised,’ etc._ _Carmen Nuptiale_, Proem, Stanza 11. - - _‘This lovely pair,’ etc._ _Ib._, The Dream, Stanzas 73–7. - - 116. ‘_Old, old Master Shallow._’ _Henry IV._, Part II., Act III. Scene - 2. - - _Snug’s the word._ _Midsummer Night’s Dream_, Act III. Scene 1. - - _‘The wars,’ etc._ _The Faerie Queene_, Book II. Canto ix. Stanza - 56. - - 117. ‘_Brunswick’s fated line._’ _Carmen Nuptiale_, The Dream, Stanza - 30. - - ‘_Re-risen cause of evil._’ _Ib._, Proem, Stanza 14. - - _‘Speed thou the work,’ etc._ _Ib._, The Dream, Stanza 81. - - 118. _The massacres of Nismes._ In July 1815, after the restoration of - the Bourbons. - - 119. ‘_Quite chopfallen._’ _Hamlet_, Act V. Scene 1. - - _As Christopher Sly says._ _Taming of the Shrew_, Induction, Scene - 2. - - _The death of Porlier._ General Porlier revolted against Ferdinand - of Spain, but, being captured, was put to death in Nov. 1815. - - 120. _‘Que peut inspirer,’ etc._ _Athalie_, Act III. Scene 3. - - Note 1. See Vol. I., note to p. 214. - - Note 2. _One of them_, Leigh Hunt. _The other_, Charles Lamb. ‘A - celebrated General,’ the Duke of Wellington. George Garrard - (1760–1826) and Peter Turnerelli (1774–1839) exhibited busts at - the Royal Academy. - - 121. ‘_Two of the fearfullest wild-fowl living._’ _Midsummer Night’s - Dream_, Act III. Scene 1. - - _A British Lion, etc._ _Carmen Nuptiale_, The Dream, Stanza 19–21. - - A NEW VIEW OF SOCIETY, _etc._ _The Examiner_, Literary Notices, - No. 6., Aug. 4, 1816. - - For an account of Robert Owen (1771–1858) and his schemes see - Leslie Stephen’s _English Utilitarians_, II. 119–124. - - 122. _‘Old, old,’ etc._ See _ante_, note to p. 116. - - _My Lord Shallow._ Lord Castlereagh, presumably. - - _‘Applaud him,’ etc._ _Macbeth_, Act V. Scene 3. - - _‘Chaunting remnants,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act IV. Scene 3. - - _‘No, no,’ etc._ _Ib._ Act IV. Scene 5. - - ‘_Like a cloud over the Caspian._’ _Paradise Lost_, II. 714–716. - - _‘Thy bones,’ etc._ _Macbeth_, Act III. Scene 4. - - 123. _Lubber-land._ A name given in the 16th century to the imaginary - Land of Cockaigne. See Ellis, _Specimens of the Early English - Poets, I._ 95. - - ‘_Durham’s golden stalls._’ ‘Though placed in golden Durham’s - second stall.’ Cowper, _Truth_, 120. - - _There was one head._ Hazlitt refers to George III. - - _‘Thus repelled,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act II. Scene 2. - - 124. ‘_An old saw._’ _As You Like It_, Act II. Scene 7. - - _‘If to do,’ etc._ _Merchant of Venice_, Act I. Scene 2. - - _Two of our most loyal booksellers._ John Murray (1778–1843), - publisher of the _Quarterly_, and John Hatchard (1769–1849) - bookseller to the Queen. - - _Mr. Wilberforce._ For William Wilberforce (1759–1833) see - Hazlitt’s _Spirit of the Age_. - - ‘_To pull an old house about their ears._’ Cf. ‘Let them pull all - about mine ears.’ _Coriolanus_, Act III. Scene 2. - - 125. _The Lord-Chancellor._ Eldon. - - 126. ‘_The good and wise._’ Southey’s _Carmen Nuptiale_, Proem, Stanza - 9. - - _Dr. Parr, etc._ See _ante_, p. 86. - - In _The Examiner_ for Sept. 1, 1816 (Literary Notices, No. 10) - were published two letters referring to this article of - Hazlitt’s, one, signed ‘Z’ defending Owen, the other, signed ‘A. - C.,’ denying that the improvements claimed by Owen had actually - taken place at New Lanark. The letters are followed by two - columns of editorial comment which may or may not be the work of - Hazlitt. - - 127. _The Speech of Charles C. Western, etc._ _The Examiner_, Literary - Notices, No. 7. August 11, 1816. - - Charles Callis Western (1767–1844), an Essex landowner and member - for the county. For his long services in Parliament and as a - pamphleteer on behalf of the agricultural interest and of prison - reform, he was raised to the peerage as Baron Western in 1833, - after having been defeated at the first election after the - passing of the Reform Bill. Henry Peter Brougham (1778–1868) was - at this time (1816) member for Winchelsea. See Hazlitt’s sketch - of him in _The Spirit of the Age_, and the notes thereon. He was - Lord-Chancellor from 1830–1834. - - _The tale of Slaukenbergius._ _Tristram Shandy_, Vol. IV. - - ‘_Aye, there’s the rub._’ _Hamlet_, Act III. Scene 1. - - _Lord Camden._ The son of Lord-Chancellor Camden. In 1780 he was - appointed one of the tellers of the exchequer, a post which he - held for sixty years. In 1808 the emoluments of the office - amounted to £23,000 per annum. In 1812 Camden relinquished the - income, and so before his death in 1840 had sacrificed a quarter - of a million. - - 128. _Mr. Horner._ Francis Horner (1778–1817), one of the founders of - the _Edinburgh Review_, and one of the chief hopes of the Whigs - in Parliament. - - 130. Note. _The Friend_, Section 1. Essay 7, ‘On the vulgar Errors - respecting Taxes and Taxation.’ - - 131. Note. _‘The road had done,’ etc._ _The Beggar’s Opera_, Act - II. Scene 1. - - 132. _Walcheren._ Seven thousand men died during the disastrous - expedition to Walcheren. - - SPEECHES IN PARLIAMENT, _etc._ (_concluded_). _The Examiner_, - Literary Notices, No. 8, Aug. 18, 1816. - - _‘Come, let us,’ etc._ Swift’s _Polite Conversation_, Dialogue 1. - - _‘Relieve the killing languor,’ etc._ Burke’s _Reflections on the - Revolution in France_ (_Select Works_, ed. Payne, II 120). - - _‘If the poor,’ etc._ Burke, _Thoughts and Details on Scarcity_ - (1795), _Works_, Bohn, V. 84. - - 133. _Like the dagger._ Burke’s dagger scene occurred during a debate - on the Alien Bill, Dec. 28, 1792. See _Parl. Hist._, XXX. 189. - - 134. _As the vapours, etc._ See p. 231. - - 136. _‘They toil not,’ etc._ _St. Matthew_, vi. 28. - - _Like Lord Peter, in the ‘Tale of a Tub.’_ See Section 4. - - 138. A LAY-SERMON, _etc._ _The Examiner_, Literary Notices, No. - 11, Sept. 8, 1816. Cf. Hazlitt’s sketch of Coleridge in _The - Spirit of the Age_. - - _‘Function,’ etc._ _Macbeth_, Act I. Scene 3. - - _‘Or in Franciscan’ etc._ _Paradise Lost_, III. 480. - - _‘Omne ignotum,’ etc._ Tacitus, _Agricola_, Chap. XXX. - - _Cock-Lane Ghost._ For ‘the story of a Ghost in Cock-Lane, which, - in the year 1762, had gained very general credit in London,’ see - Boswell’s _Life of Johnson_ (ed. G. B. Hill), I. 406–8, and - Lang’s _Cock-Lane and Common Sense_. - - ‘_A penny for his thoughts._’ An old saying embalmed in John - Heywood’s _Proverbs_ and Swift’s _Polite Conversation_ - (Introduction). - - 139. ‘_Secret Tattle._’ Congreve’s _Love for Love_. - - ‘_Yet virgin of Proserpina from Jove_,’ _Paradise Lost_, IX. 396. - - _The Friend, etc._ _The Friend; a literary, moral, and political - weekly Paper, excluding personal and party politics and the - events of the day_ (1809–1810), was re-issued in one volume in - 1812, and with additions and alterations (rather a _rifacimento_ - than a new edition), in 1818. The articles in the _Courier_ and - the _Watchman_ and the _Conciones ad Populum_ were posthumously - republished in _Essays on his own Times_ (3 vols. 1850), edited - by his daughter Sara. - - _Barmecide._ _Arabian Nights’ Entertainment_, The Barber’s Story - of his Sixth Brother. - - _‘He never is,’ etc._ Altered from Pope’s _Essay on Man_, I. 96. - - _Marplot._ Mrs. Centlivre’s (1667?–1723), _Busy Body_ (1709). - - _‘Sublime piety’ of Jordano Bruno._ See _The Friend_, Essays - Introductory, Essay 16. - - 140. _Damns a tragedy, etc._ See _Satyrane’s Letters_ (Biographia - Literaria, Bohn, p. 258). - - _The late Mr. Howard._ John Howard (1726–1790), the prison - reformer. - - _Voltaire dull._ _The Friend_, The First Landing-Place, Essay 1. - Cf. _The Round Table_, Vol. I. p. 116. - - _‘Ample scope’ etc._ Gray’s _The Bard_. - - 141. _‘That wantons,’ etc._ _Romeo and Juliet_, Act II. Scene 6. - - 141. _‘Or like,’ etc._ Burns’s _Tam O’ Shanter_. - - _‘Like to a man,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act III. Scene 3. - - 142. _‘Less than arch-angel’ etc._ _Paradise Lost_, I. 593–4. - - _The ——._ The poet-laureate (Southey) presumably. - - _‘To stand himself’ etc._ _The Beggar’s Opera_, Act I. Scene 1. - - _When his six Irish friends, etc._ See _The Round Table_, Vol. i. - p. 54. - - 143. THE STATESMAN’S MANUAL, _etc._ _The Examiner_, Literary - Notices, No. 21, Dec. 29, 1816. - - _Here is the true Simon Pure._ Mrs. Centlivre’s _A Bold Stroke for - a Wife_ (1718). - - _‘And tis a kind of good deed,’ etc._ _Henry VIII._, Act III. - Scene 2. - - 144. ‘_Still harping on my daughter._’ _Hamlet_, Act II. Scene 2. - - 146. _The impertinent barber, etc._ _The Thousand and One Nights_, The - Story told by the Tailor. - - _‘And the time that Solomon reigned’ etc._ See I _Kings_ xi. 42–3, - and xii. 1–20. - - Note. In _The Examiner_ this note continued: ‘Hypocrisy does not - relate to the degree of success with which a man imposes on - himself, but on the motives which make him attempt it. The - greatest hypocrites are those who can impose most successfully - on themselves, that is, conceal from their own minds their - sinister motives for judging, or suppress their real, - _under_-opinions. We think it a piece of hypocrisy for a man to - insinuate, after reading this part of the Bible, that that - Manual of the Statesman is favourable to the doctrine of Divine - Right.’ - - 147. _‘Imposture,’ etc._ Quoted from Coleridge’s _Statesman’s Manual_. - - 148. _Burs and kecksies._ _Henry V._, Act V. Scene 2. - - _A Colquhoun._ Patrick Colquhoun (1745–1820), London Police - magistrate and social reformer, author of _A Treatise on the - Police of the Metropolis_ (1795). - - ‘_Oh thou particular fellow._’ _Henry VI._, Part II. Act IV. Scene - 2. - - ‘_Secret Tattle._’ See _ante_, note to p. 139. - - 149. _We well remember, etc._ See Hazlitt’s Essay, ‘My First - Acquaintance with Poets,’ from which it appears that it was - Coleridge himself who made the remark about Thomson. The - ‘solitary ale-house’ was at the Valley of Rocks near Lynton. - - _Mr. Southey’s ‘Tract on the Madras System.’_ An article of - Southey’s in the _Quarterly Review_ for October 1811, reprinted - as ‘Origin, Nature, and Object of the New System of Education.’ - Hazlitt has in mind a note of Coleridge’s in the _Lay Sermon_ - (Bell’s edition, p. 328), where he says, ‘See Mr. Southey’s - tract on the new or Madras system of education: especially - towards the conclusion, where with exquisite humour as well as - with his usual poignancy of wit he has detailed Joseph - Lancaster’s disciplinarian inventions,’ etc. For an account of - the Madras system of education and of the warfare between Joseph - Lancaster (1770–1838) and Andrew Bell (1753–1832), and between - their respective followers, see Leslie Stephen’s _The English - Utilitarians_, II. 17 _et seq._ - - _The late African expedition._ Lord Exmouth’s successful - bombardment of Algiers in August 1816. - - 152. MR. COLERIDGE’S LAY-SERMON. This letter is the germ of the - well-known essay entitled ‘My First Acquaintance with Poets,’ - which Hazlitt afterwards contributed to the third number of - Leigh Hunt’s short-lived review _The Liberal: Verse and Prose - from the South_. The present letter (except the two last - paragraphs) was repeated in the essay which was first - republished in _Literary Remains_ (1836). - - 152. _‘Il y a des impressions,’ etc._ A favourite quotation from - Rousseau’s _Confessions_. - - _His text._ _St. John_ vi. 15. - - _‘Rose like a steam,’ etc._ _Comus_, l. 556. - - _‘Of one crying,’ etc._ _St. Matthew_ iii. 3–4. - - 153. _‘Such were the notes,’ etc._ Pope’s _Epistle to Robert, Earl of - Oxford_, l. 1. - - _‘Like to that sanguine flower,’ etc._ _Lycidas_, l. 106. - - _Like Timon._ _Timon of Athens_, Act III. Scene 6. - - Note.—‘The Correspondent; consisting of letters, moral, political, - and literary, between eminent writers in France and England.’ - The English articles were arranged by Dr. Stoddart. - - 154. _Bonaparte and Müller._ This fragment appeared in _The Examiner_ - on Dec. 15, 1816. Johannes von Müller (1752–1809) was introduced - to Napoleon after the battle of Jena (1806). His collected works - appeared in 27 vols. (1800–1817). - - 155. ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE TIMES NEWSPAPER. _The Examiner_, - Literary Notices, No. 19, Dec. 15, 1816. - - _‘Out of these convertites,’ etc._ _As You Like It_, Act V. Scene - 4. - - ‘_All honourable men._’ _Julius Caesar_, Act III. Scene 2. - - _‘But all is conscience,’ etc._ Chaucer, _Prologue_, 150. - - 156. _The Recruiting Officer._ Farquhar’s _The Recruiting Officer_, Act - I. Scene 1. - - _Miss Lucy Lockitt._ _The Beggar’s Opera_, Act II. - - 157. _Here comes one of them._ Wordsworth. Hazlitt perhaps refers to a - conversation with Wordsworth at Alfoxden, though that must have - been in 1798, not 1800. - - _A Sonnet to the King._ The Sonnet (entitled ‘November 1813’) - beginning ‘Now that all hearts are glad,’ etc. - - _‘Such recantation,’ etc._ _The Excursion_, Book III. - - _‘Proud Glaramara,’ etc._ Wordsworth, _To Joanna_. - - _Sir Robert Wilson’s gallant conduct._ In assisting Lavalette to - escape from Paris on Jan. 10, 1816. Wilson and two others, - Captain Hutchinson and Mr. Bruce, were tried in Paris and - sentenced to three months’ imprisonment. - - _Joan of Arc._ Published in 1796. The first edition contained in - Book II. some lines by Coleridge which were afterwards - published, with additions, as _The Destiny of Nations_ in - _Sibylline Leaves_ (1817). Southey refers to the poem - (Preface, 1837) as ‘crudely conceived, rashly prefaced, and - prematurely hurried into the world.’ _The Examiner_ in 1816 - published a selection of ‘Specimens of Early Jacobin Poetry,’ - entitled ‘Acanthologia.’ One of these (Aug. 25, 1816) was the - ‘Inscription for a Monument at Old Sarum,’ with a motto from the - _Quarterly Review_, ‘A Reformer is worse than a housebreaker.’ - - _Fire, Famine and Slaughter._ First published in _The Morning - Post_ (Jan. 8, 1798) and republished in _Sibylline Leaves_ - (1817) with an apologetic preface. Gale and Fenner, publishers - of the _Statesman’s Manual_, carried on business in Paternoster - Row. - - _‘Whose grief,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act V. Scene 1. - - 158. _The editor of ‘The Times.’_ Dr. Stoddart. - - _King Cambyses’ vein._ _Henry IV._, Part I. Act II. Scene 4. - - ‘_Horrors on horror’s head accumulating._’ _Othello_, Act III. - Scene 3. - - _Mr. Koenig’s new press._ The steam printing-press of Frederick - Koenig was adopted by _The Times_ in 1814, the number for Nov. - 29 containing the announcement that ‘our journal of this day - presents to the public the practical result of the greatest - improvement connected with printing since the discovery of the - art itself,’ See Fox Bourne’s _English Newspapers_, I. 356. - - 158. _Dr. Slop’s curse._ This name was frequently applied to Stoddart - after he had become editor of _The New Times_. In 1820 William - Hone published a burlesque on _The New Times_, entitled ‘A Slap - at Slop.’ - - _The roasting of Protestants._ At Nismes. See _ante_, p. 118. - - _Lord Castlereagh’s Letter to Mon Prince._ A letter from - Castlereagh, dated Vienna, 11th October 1814, addressed to - Prince Hardenberg, the representative of Prussia at the Vienna - Congress, in which Castlereagh states that he can raise no - objection to the incorporation of Saxony with the Prussian - monarchy. The letter provoked much comment in the press during - the following year and was referred to in the House of Commons - (April 10, 1815). - - 159. _Like Perillus’s bull._ The bronze bull made for Phalaris by - Perillus, who was himself its first victim:— - - ‘Thus Phalaris Perillus taught to low, - And made him season first the brazen cow. - A rightful doom, the laws of nature cry, - ’Tis, the artificers of death should die.’ - Dryden, Ovid’s _Art of Love_, I. 737–40. - - ‘_His most sweet voice._’ _Coriolanus_, Act II. Scene 3. - - _Mr. Walter._ John Walter the Second (1776–1847), son of the - founder of _The Times_, who died in 1812. - - _‘Thy stone,’ etc._ Pope, _Ode on St. Cecilia’s Day_, 66–7. - - ‘_Once a Jacobin always a Jacobin._’ Coleridge contributed an - article under this heading to _The Morning Post_ (_Essays on his - own Times_, II. 542), in which he stated that Pitt in one of his - most powerful speeches (Feb. 17, 1800) had given the adage - ‘every advantage that is derivable from stately diction.’ - According to Coleridge’s own report (_Essay on his own Times_, - II. 295) Pitt said: ‘The mind once tainted with Jacobinism can - never be wholly free from the taint; I know no means of - purification; when it does not break out on the surface, it - still lurks in the vitals; no antidote can approach the subtlety - of the venom, no length of quarantine secure us against the - obstinacy of the pestilence.’ See _ante_, note to p. 110. - - 160. ‘_What’s Hecuba to him or he to Hecuba._’ For this and the two - succeeding quotations see _Hamlet_, Act II. Scene 2. - - _That unfortunate Miss Bailey._ George Colman the Younger’s _Love - Laughs at Locksmiths_, Act II. - - _‘Society became,’ etc._ Wordsworth, _The Excursion_, Book III. - - 161. _Proof against conviction._ In _The Examiner_ this paragraph was - succeeded by the following passage:—‘What a pity he is not a - poet or a man of genius! (Your dull fellows ought to be honest; - for every body ought to be something.) He might then instead of - wholesome truths have given us agreeable lies; for plain facts, - pompous fictions; he might have strewed the flowers of poetry on - the rotten carcase of corruption, and have made the ugly face of - war look amiable at a distance. He might have trumped up a - romantic episode about the Duchess d’Angouleme,[68] as Mr. Burke - did about her wretched mother, or have seen visions on the - mountain tops like Mr. Wordsworth, or have dreamt a dream more - in the manner of Spenser than The Laureat’s Lay. There might - then have been something like an observation, a thought, a - trope, a jest, a lucky epithet, a well written sentence, in all - the long, dreary, heavy columns of _The Times_ newspaper. But as - our author cannot soar, he grovels; and no one ever sunk so low. - He is a perfect Grub-street. His want of eloquence renders him - abusive; he has no power over _words_, or he would not call - _names_ at the rate he does. He throws dirt and rubbish at the - heads of his adversaries, because he can get nothing else to - throw. Do you think he would go on for ever with that round of - slang-phrases, dreadful to the ear, and petrific even to behold; - monstrous, prodigious, unutterable, without argument, without - sense or decency, calculated only to stupify or disgust, with - which he piles up the columns of _The Times_ newspaper, if he - had any resources either of imagination or understanding? It is - the want of power equal to his will, that inflames his malice - and inflates his style; he makes up for what he wants in - strength, by coarseness; for what he wants in variety, by - repetition; for what he wants in sallies of wit, by systematic - dulness; for what he wants in reason, by brutal outrage. And - then, did any mortal ever read such a style? The flowers of - Billingsgate, arranged according to the rules of Lindley - Murray’s English Exercises, with all the ridiculous pedantry of - subjunctive moods and adverbial expletives: - - “In many a winding bout - Of linked dulness long drawn-out.”[69] - - It is as if the celebrated pastry-cook in Cornhill[70] should get - cart-loads of mud to do up in twelfth cakes, with cuts of kings, - queens, and bishops, for his Christmas customers. All that is - low in understanding, vulgar and sordid in principle in city - politics, is seen exuding from the formal jaws of _The Times_ - newspaper, as we see the filth, and slime, and garbage, and - offal of this great city pouring into the Thames, from the - sewers and conduit-pipes of the scavenger’s company. It is a - patent water-closet for the dirty uses of legitimacy: a leaden - cistern for obsolete prejudices and upstart sophistry “to knot - and gender in.”[71] Is this an exaggerated account? No. We have - not words to do justice to the subject. _The Times_ newspaper is - a phenomenon without any parallel in history: it is the triumph - of the reign of George III. It is supposed to be the organ of - the Stock Exchange politics; and, to be sure, there is a - wonderful sympathy between them. Neither Burke nor Junius would - have done so well. There is nothing in the pages of _The Times_ - that can lose in loftiness or elegance by repetition in the - money-market, or draw off the attention of the bulls and bears - from their ledgers, or their soups and venison. The vulgarity of - the Editor’s style might even receive a romantic tincture from - the Hebraism of its pronunciation, and its monotony would - be agreeably relieved by the discordant gabble of that - disinterested congregation of stock-jobbing Jews and Gentiles. - The secret of the composition of _The Times_ is this. The city - wants a bugbear to suit their interest, and the Editor of the - city paper creates a bugbear out of his malice. He nicknames - this bugbear, but as he does not believe in it, he repeats his - nickname ten or a dozen times every day, till by so doing he - begins to believe it. They begin to believe it too; and the echo - and buz of the Stock Exchange gives him courage to go on. He - then tries other and more odious nicknames, which he and others - believe, not because they are true, but because they are odious, - and gratify the malice of the writer, and answer the readers’ - ends. Thus the city and the city Editor go on hand in hand, - creating a bugbear out of nothing, and swelling it into a - monster, heaping all sorts of vices and deformities upon it, and - believing them all, in proportion as they are incredible and - contradictory—if they are disproved, repeating them the - louder—making the disgust, fear and hatred, which their bugbear - inspires, a proof of its existence, and determined more - and more to indulge their disgust, fear and hatred, in - proportion as their passions and prejudices have no other - foundation than their own spite and credulity—drowning reason - in passion—overcoming common sense, by shocking common - decency—believing in the chimeras of their own brain, from their - very hideousness, as children put faith in apparitions, in - proportion to their dread of them—ringing everlastingly in each - other’s ears, what they each wish to believe; and believing that - there is some reason for the everlasting din and noise they - make, because they make it—creating a war-bugbear, because they - wanted something to go to war with, requiring the same wanton - and unprincipled sacrifices of the blood and treasure of their - country to be made to this phantom of their own making, as to - the direst necessity; and persisting in the justice and wisdom - of their measures, from the very miseries which these helpmates - of the Bourbons have brought upon the world—to gratify the - mercantile avarice of the Stock Exchange and the literary vanity - of its tool, the Editor of _The Times_. The interest of the - Stock Exchange, and the philosophy of the Editor of _The Times_, - no longer, however, draw the same way and we suspect they will - soon dissolve partnership. Such writers do their country best - service in the end; “kept like an apple in the jaw of an ape, - first mouthed, and last swallowed: it is but squeezing them, and - spunge, you shall be dry again.”[72] - - 161. ILLUSTRATIONS, _etc._ ON MODERN LAWYERS AND POETS. _The - Examiner_, Literary Notices, No. 20, Dec. 22, 1816. - - _Facilis, etc._ _Æneid_, VI. 126 _et seq._ - - _‘Let no man,’ etc._ _Merchant of Venice_, Act II. Scene 9. - - 162 _Sam Sharpset._ In Thomas Morton’s (1764?–1838) _The Slave_, - acted at Covent Garden, Nov. 12, 1816. - - _‘The Devil,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act II. Scene 2. - - _‘Britain’s warriors,’ etc._ - - ‘Of Britain’s Court ... a proud assemblage there, - Her Statesmen, and her Warriors, and her Fair.’ - Southey, _Carmen Nuptiale_, The Dream, Stanza 16. - - 163. _‘Ours is an honest employment,’ etc._ _Beggar’s Opera_, Act I. - Scene 1. - - _If he finds it in his retainer._ In _The Examiner_ Hazlitt adds - in a parenthesis, ‘See the State Trials for 1794.’ Edward Law - (1750–1818), created Lord Ellenborough and Lord Chief Justice of - England in 1802, was one of the counsel for the Crown against - Hardy and Horne Tooke in 1794. - - ‘_Look on both indifferently._’ Julius Caesar, Act I. Scene 2. - - 164. _Garrow._ See note to Vol. II. p. 186. - - 165. ‘_The lodged hatred._’ _Merchant of Venice_, Act I. Scene 4. - - _Marshal Ney._ Ney was shot on Dec. 7, 1815. - - _The declaration of the 25th of March._ Hazlitt refers to the - Declaration of the Allied Powers (Vienna, 13th March, 1815) - which proclaimed that Buonaparte by returning from Elba, had - ‘placed himself without the pale of civil and social relations.’ - - 165. _‘With famine,’ etc._ _Henry V._, Act I. Chorus. - - 166. _‘My soul,’ etc._ Goldsmith, _The Traveller_, 165. - - ‘_Carnage was the daughter of Humanity._’ See note to Vol. I. 214. - - _Pantisocracy’s equal hills._ Pantisocracy, defined by Southey as - ‘the equal government of all,’ was to have been carried into - practice in America by Southey, and Coleridge, and others, but - Southey abandoned the scheme. See Mrs. Sandford’s _Thomas Poole - and his Friends_. - - _The spirit of poetry, etc._ Hazlitt published this paragraph in - _The Round Table_. See Vol. I. pp. 151–3, and notes. - - ‘_Constrained by mastery._’ - - ‘That Love will not submit to be controlled - By mastery.’ - Wordsworth, _The Excursion_, Book VI. - - ‘_Heaven’s own tinct._’ _Cymbeline_, Act II. Scene 2. - - _‘Being so majestical,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act I. Scene 1. - - 168. ‘_No figures nor no fantasies._’ _Julius Caesar_, Act II. Scene 1. - - ‘_No trivial fond records._’ _Hamlet_, Act I. Scene 5. - - _‘The bare earth,’ etc._ - - ‘To the bare trees, and mountains bare, - And grass in the green field.’ - Wordsworth, _To my Sister_. - - 169. ‘THE TIMES’ NEWSPAPER, _etc._ _The Examiner_, Literary - Notices, No. 22, Jan. 12. 1817. - - _‘Doubtless the pleasure,’ etc._ Butler’s _Hudibras_, Canto iii. - - _We some time ago, etc._ See _ante_, pp. 121–7. - - _What we said about Coriolanus._ Hazlitt refers to a theatrical - criticism of his own which appeared in _The Examiner_ on Dec. - 15, 1816, and was reprinted in _A View of the English Stage_, - and also (with a few variations) in _Characters of Shakespeare’s - Plays_. See Vol. I. of the present edition, pp. 214 _et seq._ - - ‘_Bore through its castle walls._’ _Richard II._, Act III. Scene - 2. - - _In the year 1792._ Burke’s pensions were granted in 1794. Paine’s - trial took place in Dec. 1792, after he had escaped to Paris. - - 170. _‘Oh, name him not,’ etc._ _Julius Caesar_, Act II. Scene 1. - - 171. ‘_Empty praise or solid pudding._’ Pope’s _Dunciad_, I. 52. - - _Companions of Ulysses._ ‘He [Buonaparte] dispersed the - _Compagnons du Lys_, as Ulysses slew the suitors.’ Hazlitt’s - _Life of Napoleon_, Chap. liii. - - 172. Note 1. _James Madison._ President of the United States during the war - with England, 1812–1814. - - _Tom Jones._ Book I. Chaps, x.–xiii. - - 175. _Omne tulit punctum._ Horace, _Ars Poetica_, 343. - - _The last of these props, etc._ Stoddart left _The Times_ at the - beginning of 1817. The following passage in _The Examiner_ is - omitted from the essay as republished: ‘It was to force this - living image of kingly power, this wretched mockery of divine - right, this spurious offspring of the foul blatant Beast, back - on the French that has been the cause, the end and origin, of - all this mischief: and it was for having kept it in check for so - many years by his valour and genius, for having put a hook in - its nostrils, and made it lower its grisly crest, and cease its - horrid roar, and retire to its obscure, obscene den, that - Buonaparte was nicknamed by the two celebrated persons - above-mentioned ‘the enemy of the human race’; and if instead of - packing off Louis the Desired from Hartwell, we had sent over - that idol of eastern temples the _Boa Constrictor_ from - Piccadilly, on the same proud errand, decorated with the symbols - of the Universe and of Ancient Wisdom, instead of Lilies and San - Benitos, we can see no possible reason why John Bull and the - French people might not have been equally satisfied: nor what - should have hindered Mr. Southey from adapting one of Wesley’s - hymns to the occasion, or Mr. Wordsworth from mouthing out some - deep no-meaning about “royal fortitude,” and “time-hallowed - laws,” or Mr. Coleridge from proving that the Serpent was the - more ancient and sacred symbol of the two.’ - - ‘_In contempt of the will of the people._’ Burke, _Reflections on - the Revolution in France_ (_Select Works_, ed. Payne, II. 17). - - 176. _Odia in longum, etc._ Tacitus, _Annals_, I. 69. - - _Three poets._ Wordsworth, Southey, and Coleridge. - - 177. INTERESTING FACTS, _etc._ _The Examiner_, Literary Notices, - No. 23, Feb. 2, 1817. - - _‘Come draw the curtain,’ etc._ _Twelfth Night_, Act I. Scene 5. - - ‘_The dark blanket._’ _Macbeth_, Act I. Scene 5. - - ‘_Pah! and smells so._’ _Hamlet_, Act V. Scene 1. - - _‘That harlot old,’ etc._ See _ante_, note to p. 36. - - ‘_Sweet thunder._’ _Midsummer Night’s Dream_, Act IV. Scene 1. - - 178. _‘She has changed,’ etc._ _Henry VI._, Part II., Act III. Scene 2. - - _‘Dressed in a robe,’ etc._ ‘A fair hot wench in flame-coloured - taffeta.’ _Henry IV._, Part I., Act I. Scene 2. - - _‘Stand now,’ etc._ Hazlitt quotes sundry scriptural denunciations - of Babylon. See _Isaiah_, chap, xlvii., and _Revelations_, chap. - xvii. - - ‘_The uses of legitimacy._’ Cf. ‘Sweet are the uses of adversity.’ - _As You Like It_, Act II. Scene 1. - - 179. _Lord William Bentinck._ Lord William Cavendish Bentinck - (1774–1839), afterwards Governor-General of India, went in 1811 - to Sicily as envoy and commander-in-chief of the British forces. - In 1814 he commanded an expedition against Genoa. - - 180. _Sir Robert Wilson._ Sir Robert Thomas Wilson (1777–1849), who, - after a stormy life, was appointed Governor of Gibraltar, was at - this time with the Austrian army in Italy. - - _‘How little knew’st thou,’ etc._ Rowe’s _The Fair Penitent_, Act - IV. Scene 1. - - _‘You have in part redeemed your errors,’ etc._ The reference is - probably to Wilson’s share in the escape of Lavalette. See - _ante_, p. 157. - - _The immortal Congress._ Bentinck had issued a declaration at - Genoa promising independence to that city and the support of - England in effecting the unity of Italy, but the declaration was - disavowed by Castlereagh at the Vienna Congress. - - 181. _The Duke of Levis._ François, Duc de Levis (1720–87), created - Marshal of France in 1783 and Duc in 1784, fought against - England in the American War. - - 183. INTERESTING FACTS, _etc._ (concluded). _The Examiner_, - Literary Notices, No. 24, Feb. 9, 1817. - - 186. _We are glad the Duke is not an Englishman._ In _The Examiner_ - Hazlitt wrote, ‘Is not the Duke an Irishman?’ - - 192. _The fool in Lear._ See Act II. Scene 4. - - _Berthier._ Louis Alexandre Berthier (1753–1815), one of - Napoleon’s marshals, who committed suicide or was murdered at - Bamberg, in Bavaria, on June 1, 1815. - - 192. ‘_A master-leaver, and a fugitive._’ _Antony and Cleopatra_, Act - IV. Scene 9. - - WAT TYLER; A DRAMATIC POEM, _etc._ _The Examiner_, Literary - Notices, No. 25, March 9, 1817. - - _Wat Tyler; a Drama_, which Southey had written ‘in the course of - three mornings in 1794,’ was surreptitiously published in 1817, - with a Preface suitable to recent circumstances, and an - injunction to restrain the publication was refused by Lord Eldon - on the ground of the mischievous tendency of the work. Southey - defended himself from the charge of inconsistency in _A Letter - to William Smith, M.P._ See _ante_, pp. 210–232. He himself - published the Drama in the 1837 edition of his Poems, in order, - as he says, ‘that it may not be supposed I think it any reproach - to have written it, or that I am more ashamed of having been a - republican, than of having been a boy.’ - - _‘So was it,’ etc._ Wordsworth’s ‘_My heart leaps up._’ - - 193. _The Article on Parliamentary Reform._ Republished in - _Essays, Moral and Political_, I. 327 _et seq._ - - ‘_Fierce extremes._’ _Paradise Lost_, II. 599. - - ‘_Present ignorant thought._’ Cf.— - - ‘Thy letters have transported me beyond - This ignorant present.’ - _Macbeth_, Act I. Scene 5. - - _‘Discourse of reason,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act I. Scene 2 and Act IV. - Scene 4. - - _The woman that deliberates is lost._ Addison’s _Cato_, Act IV. - Scene 1. - - _‘His poor virtue,’ etc._ _Henry IV._, Part II., Act II. Scene 4. - - 194. _John Ball._ John Ball, the preacher of social equality, was - executed in 1381 for his share in Tyler’s rebellion. See Burke’s - account of ‘that reverend patriarch of sedition’ in _An Appeal - from the New to the Old Whigs_ (_Works_, Bohn, III. 88), and - William Morris’s _A Dream of John Ball_ (1888) for the view of a - modern disciple. - - ‘_A sort of squint._’ Cf. _A Letter to William Gifford_, vol. I. - p. 379. - - _Morceau I._ _Wat Tyler_, Act I. - - ‘_Privileg’d r——s._’ ‘Ruffians’ in the 1837 edition. - - 195. _Morceau II._ Act I. - - 196. _Morceau III._ Act I. - - _Morceau IV._ Act II. Scene 1. - - _‘When Adam delv’d,’ etc._ The text of John Ball’s famous sermon. - ‘Of this sapient maxim, however,’ says Burke, ‘I do not give him - for the inventor. It seems to have been handed down by - tradition, and had certainly become proverbial.’ - - 197. _Morceau V._ Act II. Scene 1. - - 198. _Morceau VI._ Act II. Scene 3. - - 199. _Morceau VII._ Act III. Scene 1. - - 200. _Morceau the Last._ Act III. Scene 2. - - THE COURIER, ETC. From _The Examiner_, March 30, 1817. - - _‘Doth not the appetite alter,’ etc._ _Much Ado about Nothing_, - Act II. Scene 3. - - _In the Courier._ Coleridge wrote two letters in _The Courier_ - (March 17, 18, 1817) and two letters for the _Westminster - Review_ (which were not printed there) vindicating Southey from - the charge of apostacy. All these letters were reprinted in - _Essays on his own Times_, pp. 939–962. See J. D. Campbell’s - _Samuel Taylor Coleridge_, p. 230. - - 201. ‘_Somewhat smacks._’ _Merchant of Venice_, Act II. Scene 2. - - _The Editor of this Paper._ Leigh Hunt. - - 203. ‘_The Man of Humanity._’ The reference is to Canning’s and Frere’s - well-known parody of Southey, ‘The Friend of Humanity and the - Knife-Grinder.’ - - _‘This, this,’ etc._ _Julius Caesar_, Act III. Scene 2. - - _‘That the law,’ etc._ Wordsworth, _The Excursion_, Book IV. - - 204. _His Irish pension._ Southey was for a short time (1800–1) private - secretary to Isaac Corry, the Chancellor of the Irish Exchequer. - - 205. _His Joan of Arc._ _Joan of Arc_ was published in 1796, the - Sonnets, etc., in 1797 and 1801, _Letters written during a short - residence in Spain and Portugal_ in 1797, the _Annual Anthology_ - in 1799–1800. - - _The Fall of Robespierre._ _The Fall of Robespierre: An Historic - Drama._ _By S. T. Coleridge, of Jesus College, Cambridge._ - Published at Cambridge in 1794. Southey wrote Acts II. and III. - - _All that Mr. Coleridge ever did in poetry._ _The Ancient Mariner_ - appeared in _Lyrical Ballads_ (1798); _Christabel_, written at - various times between 1797 and 1800, was not published till - 1816, though Wordsworth had at first intended to include it in - the _Lyrical Ballads_ of 1800; _The Three Graves_, written - between 1797 and 1809, was published in _Sibylline Leaves_ - (1817); a volume of _Poems_ appeared in 1796 (2nd edit. 1797); - and _Remorse, A Tragedy in Five Acts_, written in 1797, was - published in 1813. - - 206. _With a single exception._ Hazlitt presumably refers to Scott. - - _‘Their lofty,’ etc._ Coleridge, _Essays on his own Times_, iii. - 948. - - _‘Left behind by him,’ etc._ _Ib._ p. 945. - - _‘Tuning his mystic harp,’ etc._ - - ‘Coleridge and Southey, Lloyd and Lamb and Co., - Tune all your mystic harps to praise Lepaux.’ - Canning’s _The New Morality_ in _The Anti-Jacobin_. - - ‘_Quiring to the young-eyed cherubins._’ _Merchant of Venice_, Act - V. Scene 1. - - 207. _‘Every moment brings,’ etc._ _Wat Tyler_, Act II. Scene 2. - - 208. _‘Is not poetry, etc._ _As You Like It_, Act III. Scene 3. - - _‘Constant chastity,’ etc._ Spenser, _Epithalamion_, 191–3. - - 209. _‘Through the allegiance,’ etc._ Spenser, _The Faerie Queene_, - Book I. Canto iii. St. 1. - - ‘_Rapes and ravishments._’ _All’s Well that Ends Well_, Act IV. - Scene 3. - - ‘_Exaggerated evils._’ Coleridge says that the speeches in _Wat - Tyler_ were intended ‘as exaggerated truths characteristic of - heated minds.’ - - _‘Horrible shadows,’ etc._ _Macbeth_, Act III. Scene 4. - - _‘Within the book,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act I. Scene 5. - - _Herodias’s daughter._ _St. Matthew_ xiv. 6–8. - - _‘No speculation,’ etc._ _Macbeth_, Act III. Scene 4. - - 210. ‘_Come, let me clutch thee._’ _Ib._ Act II. Scene 1. - - ‘_Tickling commodity._’ ‘That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling - Commodity. _King John_, Act II. Scene 1. - - _‘The chief dread,’ etc._ This phrase is from the second of - Coleridge’s _Courier_ articles on _Wat Tyler_. - - A LETTER TO WILLIAM SMITH, ETC. _The Examiner_, Literary Notices, - No. 27, May 4, 1817. Southey’s Letter was included in his - _Essays Moral and Political_ (vol. II. pp. 3–31), to which - reference should be made. - - _Mr. Burke’s celebrated ‘Letter,’ etc._ ‘A letter from the Right - Hon. Edmund Burke, to a noble Lord on the attacks made upon him - and his pension, in the House of Lords, by the Duke of Bedford - and the Earl of Lauderdale, early in the present session of - Parliament. 1796.’ (_Works_, Bohn, V. 110–151.) - - 210. _The Abbé Sieyes’s pigeon-holes._ Burke’s _Letter_, p. 142. - - 211. ‘_A swan-like end._’ _Merchant of Venice_, Act III. Scene 2. - - _‘The ruling passion,’ etc._ Varied from Pope’s _Moral Essays_, i. - 178–9. - - _‘There is,’ etc._ _St. Matthew_ v. 48. - - 212. _‘As fortune,’ etc._ _Measure for Measure_, Act II. Scene 1. - - _‘I, Robert Shallow,’ etc._ ‘He shall not abuse Robert Shallow, - esquire.’ _The Merry Wives of Windsor_, Act I. Scene 1. - - _Spencean._ The ‘Spencean Philanthropists,’ who took their - name from Thomas Spence (1750–1814), advocated a form of - land-nationalisation, and included among them the Spa-fields - rioters. See Harriet Martineau’s _History of the Peace_ - (Bell), I. 81–88. ‘Ex-Spencean’ appears to be a pun of Sir - Francis Burdett’s. The word was applied by him to the - ministers ‘who had got possession of the purse of the - people.’ Debate in the House of Commons, Feb. 24, 1817. - - _‘To know my deed,’ etc._ _Macbeth_, Act II. Scene 2. - - ‘_Blind with the pin and web._’ _Winter’s Tale_, Act I. Scene 2. - - 213. _‘Dost thou think,’ etc._ _Twelfth Night_, Act II. Scene 3. - - _Mr. Alderman Smith._ Mr. Alderman Joshua Jonathan Smith, when - sitting in Quarter Sessions to hear an application for a licence - to hold meetings, said: ‘The object of the Act is to put down - all political debate whatever.’ See _The Examiner_, April 27, - 1817. - - _Mr. Wynne_. Charles Watkin Williams Wynn (1775–1850), who - allowed Southey £160 per annum from 1796 to 1807. He sat for - Montgomeryshire from 1799 till his death, and successively - held sundry subordinate offices. His elder brother and he were - known as Bubble and Squeak, and when he was proposed for the - Speakership in 1817, Canning feared that members might be - tempted to call him ‘Mr. Squeaker.’ - - _Mr. Canning’s want of regularity._ During the Debate on the - Address, Jan. 29, 1817. - - 214. _‘In the third tier,’ etc._ See _ante_, p. 150. - - _The person who published ‘Wat Tyler.’_ The publishers were - Sherwood, Neely and Jones. - - 215. _‘Upon his brow,’ etc._ _Romeo and Juliet_, Act III. Scene 2. - - 217. _‘Found him poor,’ etc._ Goldsmith’s _Deserted Village_, l. 414. - - _‘Be to her faults,’ etc._ Prior’s _An English Padlock_. - - 218. _‘What’s here,’ etc._ _Timon of Athens_, Act IV. Scene 3. - - A LETTER TO WILLIAM SMITH, ESQ., _etc._ (_continued_). _The - Examiner_, Literary Notices, No. 27, May 11, 1817. - - _‘What word,’ etc._ _Paradise Lost_, IX. 1144. - - ‘_Mark you his absolute John._’ ‘Mark you his absolute “shall”?’ - _Coriolanus_, Act III. Scene 1. - - _The Commander-in-Chief._ The Duke of York retired in 1809 in - consequence of the disclosures made in the House of Commons. - Mrs. Clarke made use of her influence with the Duke to obtain - promotion for officers who paid her for her assistance. The Duke - was re-instated in 1811. - - ‘_The reading rabble._’ Hazlitt is probably referring to - Coleridge’s contemptuous passage on ‘The Reading Public.’ See - _ante_, pp. 149–150. - - _Roderic Random._ See Chap. xxxiv. - - _An exalted Personage._ The Prince Regent. - - 219. ‘_As pure as sin with baptism._’ _Henry V._, Act I. Scene 2. - - _‘The collusion,’ etc._ _Love’s Labour’s Lost_, Act IV. Scene 2. - - _Mr. Gifford._ See Vol. I. p. 456. - - _‘The lovely Marcia,’ etc._ Addison’s _Cato_, Act I. Scene 4. - - 220. _The Inscription at Chepstow Castle._ This Inscription of - Southey’s in honour of the regicide Henry Martin was parodied by - Canning and Frere in the _Anti-Jacobin_ in the famous - ‘Inscription for the door of the cell at Newgate, where Mrs. - Brownrigg, the ‘Prentice-cide was confined previous to her - execution.’ - - 221. _Irritabile genus vatum._ Horace, _Epistles_, ii. 2, 102. - - _The last Quarterly._ See Southey’s _Essays, Moral and Political_, - Essay VII. He defines Sir Richard Phillips as ‘Knight and - Ex-Sheriff, Buonapartist, Member of the Society for Abolishing - War, Pythagorean, and Spencean Philanthropist.’ - - _‘Why man,’ etc._ _Julius Caesar_, Act I. Scene 2. - - _Has overlaid the posthumous birth of the young Shiloh._ The - reference is to Joanna Southcott. See _post_, note to p. 297. - - 224. _Like Mr. Cobbett._ Cobbett had been in Newgate for two years - (1810–1812) and fined £1000 for an article on military flogging, - and had recently (March, 1817) been obliged to leave England - from the fear of a second imprisonment. - - A LETTER TO WILLIAM SMITH, ESQ., _etc._ (_concluded_). _The - Examiner_, Literary Notices, No. 28, May 18, 1817. - - 225. _The Monthly._ Established in 1796 by Richard (afterwards Sir - Richard) Phillips, the vegetarian publisher. See Vol. II. p. - 177. - - _‘The hour when I escap’d,’ etc._ Beattie, _The Minstrel_, Stanza - 40. - - _Doctors Price and Priestley._ Richard Price (1723–1791), whose - sermon on Nov. 4, 1789 is so violently attacked by Burke in his - _Reflections on the Revolution in France_, and Joseph Priestley - (1733–1804) were Unitarians, ‘hot men’ as Burke called them. - They figure together in a note of Boswell’s (_Life of Johnson_, - ed. G. B. Hill, IV. 238). - - 226. _Don Giovanni._ _Don Juan_ had been given at the King’s - Theatre on April 12, 1817. See Hazlitt’s _Dramatic Essays_. - - _‘Damn you,’ etc._ _The Rivals_, Act II. Scene 1. - - 227. _‘For a man,’ etc._ This line from _Hamlet_ (Act V. Scene 2) - formed the motto to _The Spirit of the Age_. - - _‘Children and champions,’ etc._ See _ante_, p. 99. - - _‘A consummation,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act III. Scene 1. - - ‘_O fool, fool, fool._’ _Twelfth Night_, Act IV. Scene 2. - - 228. _Half Luddite._ The Luddites, bands of workmen who destroyed - machinery, chiefly in the Midlands, had shown their greatest - activity in the preceding year, 1816. - - 229. _In his speech from the Throne._ On Jan. 28, 1817, Regent said - that the Estimates ‘had been formed upon a full consideration of - all the present circumstances of the country, with an anxious - desire to make every reduction in our Establishments which the - safety of the Empire and sound policy allow.’ A disorderly crowd - attended him back to St. James’s Palace after the opening of - Parliament, and the windows of his carriage were broken. - - 231. _‘O what delicate wooden spoons,’ etc._ _Don Quixote_, Part II. - Chap, lxvii. - - _But Lord Castlereagh, etc._ Croker’s salary was raised from £3000 - to £4000 in March 1816, the vote being passed by a majority of - only 29 (March 20). - - _Flocci, etc._ See _ante_, note to p. 33. - - 232. _‘The high leaves,’ etc._ See Southey’s _The Holly Tree_, Stanza - 5. - - _Some evenings ago._ June 23, 1817, when Castlereagh proposed the - first reading of a Bill for further suspending the Habeas Corpus - Act. - - 232. _Castles and Oliver._ Violent debates took place in Parliament - during 1817 and 1818 in connection with the employment of Castle - and Oliver by the Government. See Hansard, _Parl. Debates_, - XXXVI. and XXXVIII., and Walpole’s _History of England_, I. - Chap. v. Castle was the chief witness against the Spa-Fields - rioters. Oliver supplied continuous reports of the progress of - insurrection in the two following years, 1817 and 1818. - - 233. _Lingo in the play._ O’Keefe’s _Agreeable Surprise_ (1798). - - _Mr. Wynne._ See _ante_, note to p. 213. - - _Lord Lascelles’s hat._ Henry Lascelles (1767–1841), a Yorkshire - member, succeeded to the Earldom of Harewood in 1820. - - _That preux chevalier._ Dr. Stoddart left _The Times_ early in - 1817 and entered into an arrangement with the proprietor of _The - Day_, in accordance with which that paper became known as _The - Day and New Times_. See Fox Bourne’s _English Newspapers_, I. - 359–60. - - _‘The age of chivalry,’ etc._ Burke’s _Reflections on the - Revolution in France_ (_Select Works_, ed. Payne, II. 89). - - 234. _There is no imputation, etc._ This was a remark of Mr. Lee Keck - in course of the debate. - - _Fielding’s hero._ See _Jonathan Wild_, chap. xiii. - - ON THE SPY-SYSTEM (_continued_). From _The Morning Chronicle_, - July 15, 1817. - - _The debate._ On July 11, 1817. - - _Genoa._ It was part of Brougham’s charge against the Government - that they had taken no effective steps on behalf of British - merchants of Genoa, who were treated by the Chamber of Commerce - at Genoa with every species of oppression and violence, and in - particular had been assessed for the professed purpose of buying - a frigate for the King of Sardinia. - - 235. ‘_Petty tyrant._’ Cf. ‘The little tyrant of his fields withstood.’ - Gray’s _Elegy_, l. 58. - - _Spanish America._ Brougham accused ministers of failing to - observe neutrality ‘in the great and interesting struggle of the - people of South America to rescue themselves from the most - odious tyranny that ever disgraced the history of the world.’ - - 237. _Mr. Finnerty._ Peter Finnerty (1766?–1822) was imprisoned for two - years from Oct. 1797 for his account of the trial and execution - of William Orr. He afterwards became parliamentary reporter on - _The Morning Chronicle_. In Feb. 1811 he was imprisoned for - eighteen months for a libel charging Castlereagh with cruelty in - Ireland. - - _Mr. Judkin Fitzgerald._ For a sketch of Thomas Judkin Fitzgerald, - High Sheriff of Tipperary, see Lecky’s _History of Ireland_ - (Cabinet edition, IV. 277 _et seq._). A verdict against him of - £500 damages for illegal acts committed in order to suppress the - rebellion in Ireland led to the case being brought before - Parliament and to the passing of a wider Act of Indemnity. - - _‘And struts,’ etc._ ‘Will sneaks a scriv’ner, an exceeding - knave.’ Pope, _Moral Essays_, I. 154. - - _‘Innocent of the knowledge,’ etc._ _Macbeth_, Act III. Scene 2. - - 238. ON THE TREATMENT OF STATE PRISONERS. From _The Morning - Chronicle_, July 17, 1817. - - _Mr. Hiley Addington._ See the debate in the House of Commons on - July 2, 1817. Hiley Addington was a brother of Lord Sidmouth, of - whom it was said, - - ‘When his periods hobble vilely - What “hear hims” burst from brother Hiley!’ - - 238. _Thomas Evans_, imprisoned on suspicion under the Habeas Corpus - Suspension Act, was Librarian to the Society of Spencean - Philanthropists. - - Note. _Mother Brownrigg._ Elizabeth Brownrigg, a midwife, who was - executed in 1767 for the murder of her apprentice, Mary - Clifford. See _ante_, note to p. 220. - - Note. ‘_Comfit-makers wives’ oaths_’ _Henry IV._, Part I., Act - III. Scene 1. - - 239. _‘As a lamb’ etc._ _Isaiah_ liii. 7. - - ‘_Poor, poor dumb mouths._’ _Julius Caesar_, Act III. Scene 2. - - _‘Camels in their war,’ etc._ _Coriolanus_, Act II. Scene 1. - - _Sir Robert Filmer._ Sir Robert Filmer (d. 1653), the absolutist, - whose ‘Patriarcha, or the Natural Power of Kings asserted,’ was - published in 1680. - - 240. _‘Where is the madman,’ etc._ See _post_, p. 285, where much of - this matter is repeated. - - _The Opposition and the Courier._ From _The Morning Chronicle_, - July 19, 1817. - - _‘To acquaint us,’ etc._ _Macbeth_, Act III. Scene 1. - - 241. _As Mr. Canning formerly thought._ Canning resigned from the Duke - of Portland’s ministry in 1809, and did not join Lord - Liverpool’s ministry till 1816. The Foreign Office was offered - to him in 1812, but he refused to take it with the condition - that Castlereagh should lead the House of Commons. - - ENGLAND IN 1798, _etc._ From _The Morning Chronicle_, Aug. 2, - 1817. - - 243. ON THE EFFECTS OF WAR AND TAXES. From _The Morning - Chronicle_, Aug. 13, 1817. - - _‘Great princes,’ etc._ Cowper’s _The Task_, Book V. - - _Not even the Finance Committee._ The Government had recently - appointed a Select Committee to consider the receipts and - expenditure for 1817, 1818, and 1819, and to report from time to - time what reductions might be made in the expenditure. - - 244. Note. _‘And ever,’ etc._ _L’Allegro_, l. 136. - - 246. _The Pavilion at Brighton._ Begun by the Prince of Wales in 1784. - - _‘Minions of the moon,’ etc._ _Henry IV._, Part I., Act I. Scene - 2. - - 247. _‘If we made,’ etc._ _Henry IV._, Part II., Act II. Scene 4. - - _‘The gout,’ etc._ _Measure for Measure_, Act III. Scene 1. - - 249. _A writer, whose own fault, etc._ Coleridge. See his Essay ‘On the - Vulgar Errors respecting Taxes and Taxation.’ _The Friend_ - (Section I., Essay 7). - - _Mr. Southey in his late pamphlet._ _The Letter to William Smith._ - See _Essays, Moral and Political_, II. 28. - - 250. CHARACTER OF MR. BURKE. Copied in _The Champion_, Oct. 5, - 1817, from an article by Hazlitt in the _Edinburgh Review_, Vol. - XXVIII. pp. 503–7, Aug. 1817, on ‘Coleridge’s _Literary Life_.’ - - 252. _The word ‘abdication.’_ _Reflections on the Revolution in France_ - (_Select Works_, ed. Payne, II. 31–2). - - 253. _‘Never so sure,’ etc._ Pope, _Moral Essays_, II. 51–2. - - 254. ON COURT INFLUENCE. From No. 1 (Jan. 3, 1818) of _The Yellow - Dwarf_, ‘a Weekly Miscellany’ founded by John Hunt, and - continued to No. 21 (May 23, 1818). - - _‘To be honest,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act II. Scene 2. - - _‘But still the world,’ etc._ Thomson, _The Seasons_ (Autumn, l. - 233). - - 255. _Doctors Parr and Burney._ See Vol. I., note to p. 64. - - 256. ‘_A certificate of merit._’ ‘At every step of my progress in life, - (for in every step was I traversed and opposed), and at every - turnpike I met, I was obliged to show my passport.’ _A Letter to - a Noble Lord_ (_Works_, Bohn, V. 125). - - 256. _‘Thou hast it now,’ etc._ _Macbeth_, Act III. Scene 1. - - ‘_Swept and garnished._’ _St. Luke_ xi. 25. - - 257. _Indignatio facit versus._ Juvenal, _Satires_, i. 79. - - _William Burke._ A kinsman, not the brother of Edmund. For his - letters to James Barry, the painter, see Barry’s _Works_ (1809). - - _‘And with it,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act III. Scene 1. - - 258. _‘Escap’d,’ etc._ See _ante_, note to p. 225. - - _‘Britain’s warriors,’ etc._ See _ante_, note to p. 162. - - 259. _Not ‘gain but glory.’_ ‘For gain, not glory winged his roving - flight.’ Pope, _Satires_, V. 71. - - _‘In their Livery,’ etc._ _Antony and Cleopatra_, Act V. Scene 2. - - _That sweet smile, etc._ _Henry VIII._, Act III. Scene 2. - - ON COURT INFLUENCE (_concluded_). From No. 2 (Jan. 10, 1818) of - _The Yellow Dwarf_. - - 260. _‘Pierces through,’ etc._ _As You Like It_, Act II. Scene 1. - - _‘Whosoever shall stumble,’ etc._ _St. Matthew_, xxi. 44. - - _For ‘scorn to point,’ etc._ _Othello_, Act IV. Scene 2. - - 261. _‘A consummation,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act III. Scene 1. - - _A certain distinguished character._ Castlereagh, who was regarded - as mainly responsible for the disastrous Walcheren expedition in - 1809. For his vindication of the Government spies, see _ante_ - pp. 232–8. - - _Reynolds._ Thomas Reynolds (1771–1836) had long been notorious as - an informer in the Irish rebellion. His name appeared on the - grand jury which returned a true bill against Wilson and others - for high treason in connection with the Spa Field riots, and the - Government felt obliged to send him out of England on the - Consular service. See Lecky’s _History of Ireland_, Chap. X. - - _The Attorney-General._ Sir Samuel Shepherd (1760–1840) succeeded - Garrow in 1817. - - _Mr. Coleridge._ Coleridge’s _Biographia Literaria_ was published - in 1817. For the passage referred to on Anti-Jacobin slanders, - see note at the end of Chap. iii. - - 262. _His present friend and associate._ Gifford. See Hazlitt’s _Letter - to William Gifford_ (vol. I. p. 401). - - _‘The cynosure,’ etc._ _L’Allegro_, l. 80. - - 263. _Have lately made an attempt, etc._ Hazlitt seems to refer to an - article of Southey’s republished (_Essays, Moral and Political_, - II. 35–107) under the title ‘On the Rise and Progress of Popular - Disaffection,’ and to Coleridge’s _Statesman’s Manual_. - - _In discharge of an old debt._ See note to the Essay ‘On the - Tendency of Sects’ in _The Round Table_ (vol. I. p. 51) where, - after showing in the Essay that ‘there is a natural tendency in - sects to narrow the mind,’ he says, ‘we shall some time or other - give the reverse of the picture.’ - - 264. _‘Or if severe,’ etc._ - - ‘—— or, if severe in aught, - The love he bore to learning was in fault.’ - Goldsmith, _The Deserted Village_, ll. 205–6. - - _Dissenters are the safest partisans, etc._ This passage is - repeated from the last paragraph of the Essay ‘On the Tendency - of Sects.’ - - _The ‘hortus siccus’ of dissent._ Burke, _Reflections on the - Revolution in France_ (_Select Works_, ed. Payne, II. 14). - - _Non ex quovis, etc._ Erasmus, _Adagiorum Chiliades_, ‘Munus - aptum.’ - - 265. _But we have known some such, etc._ Hazlitt seems to have had his - father in his mind when he wrote this description. Cf. _The - Round Table_ (On Pedantry), vol. I. p. 82. - - _The Book of Martyrs._ The name by which from the date (1563) of - its publication John Foxe’s (1516–1587) _Actes and Monuments_ - was known. The martyrdoms of John Huss (1415) and Jerome of - Prague (1416) are narrated therein. John Ziska, leader of the - extreme Hussite party. - - _Neale’s History of the Puritans._ Daniel Neal’s (1648–1743) - _History of the Puritans_ (1732–8). - - _Calamy’s Account, etc._ Edmund Calamy’s (1671–1732) _Account of - the Ministers, Lecturers, Masters and Fellows of Colleges and - Schoolmasters who were Ejected or Silenced after the Restoration - in 1660_, originally part of his ‘Abridgment’ (1702) of Richard - Baxter’s posthumous ‘Narrative, etc. of his Life and Times,’ was - separately published in the second edition of the ‘Abridgment’ - (1713). The number of ‘two thousand’ ejected (given by Hazlitt) - appeared on the title-page in Samuel Palmer’s edition of Calamy - (1802). - - 266. _Silver-tongued Bates._ William Bates (1625–1699) and John Howe - (1630–1705), two of the ejected divines. - - _Lardner’s Credibility of the Gospel History._ By Nathaniel - Lardner (1684–1768), published 1727–1757. - - _The Fratres Poloni._ See vol. II., note to p. 165. This work and - probably the others referred to in this Essay formed part of the - Library of Hazlitt’s father. - - _‘Glory to God,’ etc._ _St. Luke_ ii. 14. - - ‘_Time-rent._’ Coleridge’s Sonnet to Schiller. - - In _The Yellow Dwarf_ Hazlitt concluded as follows:—‘Happy are - they, who live in the dream of their own existence, and see all - things by the light of their own minds: who walk by faith and - hope, not by knowledge; to whom the guiding star of their youth - still shines from afar, and into whom the spirit of the world - has not entered! They have not been ‘hurt by the archers,’[73] - nor has the iron entered into their souls. They live in the - midst of arrows and of death, unconscious of harm. The evil - thing comes not nigh them. The shafts of ridicule pass unheeded - by, and malice loses its sting. The example of vice does not - rankle in their breasts, like the poisoned shirt of Nessus. Evil - impressions fall off from them, like drops of water. The yoke of - life is to them light and supportable. The world has no hold on - them. They are in it, not of it; and a dream and a glory is ever - about them.’ Cf. Hazlitt’s _Reply to Malthus_, vol. IV. p. 104. - - ON THE CLERICAL CHARACTER. From No. 4 (Jan. 24, 1818) of _The - Yellow Dwarf_. This and the two following essays may be taken as - a further attempt to discharge the ‘old debt’ referred to on p. - 263. - - _‘Now mark,’ etc._ Cowper, _The Task_, I. 725. - - _‘And in Franciscan,’ etc._ _Paradise Lost_, III. 480. - - 268. _‘To counterfeiten chere,’ etc._ Chaucer, _Canterbury Tales_, The - Prologue, ll. 139–141. - - 269. _‘The collusion,’ etc._ _Love’s Labour’s Lost_, Act IV. Scene 2. - - 270. _‘Eremites and friars,’ etc._ _Paradise Lost_, III. 474–5. - - 271. ON THE CLERICAL CHARACTER (_continued_). From No. 5 (Jan. 31, - 1818) of _The Yellow Dwarf_. - - 272. _It is better to marry than burn._ ‘But if they cannot contain, - let them marry: for it is better to marry than to burn.’ _1 - Corinthians_ vii. 9. - - _‘Continents,’ says Hobbes, etc._ _Human Nature_, (_Works_, ed. - Molesworth, IV. 50). - - 273. _‘Where’s that palace,’ etc._ _Othello_, Act III. Scene 3. - - ‘_Pure in the last recesses of the mind._’ This line, which is - perhaps quoted by Hazlitt more frequently than any other, is - from Dryden’s translation from the Second Satire of Persius, l. - 133. - - _‘While they,’ etc._ _Othello_, Act III. Scene 3. - - _The Society for the Suppression of Vice._ See _The Round Table_, - vol. p. 1. 60. - - 275. _‘To be conformed,’ etc._ _Romans_ xii. 2. - - _‘Like little wanton boys,’ etc._ _Henry VIII._, Act III. Scene 2. - - _‘Glimpses,’ etc._ Wordsworth’s Sonnet, ‘The world is too much - with us.’ - - 276. _‘Who far,’ etc._ Dryden’s _The Hind and the Panther_, i. 312–3. - - _Bishop Watson’s Life._ Richard Watson (1737–1816), Professor of - Chemistry at Cambridge, and afterwards Bishop of Llandaff. His - life, written by himself, was published by his son in 1817. - - Mosheim’s _Institutiones Historiæ Ecclesiasticæ_ was published in - 1726 (Eng. trans. 1765–8), Anthony Wood’s _Athenæ Oxonienses_ in - 1691–2. - - 277. ON THE CLERICAL CHARACTER (_concluded_). From No. 6 (Feb. 7, - 1818) of _The Yellow Dwarf_. - - _‘One fate,’ etc._ For this and the two following quotations from - Southey, see his _Lay of the Laureate_, and _ante_, pp. 109 _et - seq._ - - 278. _Launce._ _Two Gentlemen of Verona_, Act IV. Scene 4. - - 279. _Sir John Oldcastle._ ‘The good Lord Cobham,’ the original of - Shakespeare’s Falstaff. He was hanged as a heretic in 1417. - - ‘_Blind with double darkness._’ Hazlitt elsewhere quotes, ‘with - double darkness bound,’ and possibly recalls a line (593) in - _Samson Agonistes_, ‘But yield to double darkness nigh at hand.’ - - 280. _Brandreth._ Jeremiah Brandreth executed on Nov. 7, 1817 for an - attempt at insurrection into which he had been trapped by Oliver - the spy. - - _‘They will have them to shew,’ etc._ Burke, _Reflections on the - Revolution in France_ (_Select Works_, ed. Payne, II. 121). - - _An eminent poet._ Probably Southey, who in his letter to _William - Smith, Esq., M.P._ said that the Government ‘must curb the - seditious press, and keep it curbed. For this purpose, if the - laws are not at present effectual, they should be made so.’ - - 281. _Deprecated by Mr. Burke._ _Reflections on the Revolution in - France_ (_Select Works_, ed. Payne, II. 104–105), and _Thoughts - on French Affairs_ (_Works_, Bohn, III. 353). - - _‘At this day,’ etc._ Wordsworth, _The Excursion_, Book IV. - - 282. _By ‘the sufferance of supernal power.’_ _Paradise Lost_, I. 241. - - WHAT IS THE PEOPLE? From No. 10 (March 7, 1818) of _The Yellow - Dwarf_. - - ‘_A vile jelly._’ _King Lear_, Act III. Scene 7. - - 284. ‘_The unbought grace of life._’ Burke’s _Reflections on the - Revolution in France_ (_Select Works_, ed. Payne, II. 89). - - Note. Cf. _ante_, pp. 174–175. - - 285. _Latter Lammas._ _I.e._, never. - - _‘Miraturque,’ etc._ Virgil, _Georgics_, II. 82. - - _Mr. Coke_ was Thomas William Coke (1752–1842), member for Norfolk - (except for one short interval) from 1776 to 1832, and - well-known for his zeal in the reform of agriculture. He was - created Earl of Leicester of Holkham in 1837. - - Note. Lord Balmerino was executed in 1746, and the famous Simon - Fraser, Lord Lovat, in 1747, for participation in the Jacobite - Rebellion of 1745. - - 287. _‘Gods to punish,’ etc._ _Coriolanus_, Act III. Scene 1. - - _‘Why, what a fool,’ etc._ _The Tempest_, Act II. Scene 2. - - 288. _‘Because men,’ etc._ Cowper, _The Task_, V. 192. - - _‘Cribbed,’ etc._ _Macbeth_, Act III. Scene 4. - - _‘The right divine,’ etc._ Pope’s _Dunciad_, IV. 188. - - _‘Broad and casing,’ etc._ _Macbeth_, Act III. Scene 4. - - 289. _‘Like the rainbow’s,’ etc._ Burns, _Tam O’ Shanter_. Hazlitt - changes the order of the lines. - - _‘Enthroned in the hearts of Kings._’ _Merchant of Venice_, Act - IV. Scene 1. - - _‘And levy,’ etc._ _Paradise Lost_, II. 501–502. - - _‘Steeped in poverty,’ etc._ _Othello_, Act IV. Scene 2. - - 290. Note. Captain James Burney’s (1750–1821) _Buccaneers of - America_, a part of his _Chronological History of the - Discoveries in the South Sea or Pacific Ocean_, was published in - 1816. - - 291. _Mr. C—— or Lord C——._ Canning and Castlereagh. - - _‘Any faction,’ etc._ Cf. _An Appeal from the New to the Old - Whigs_ (_Works_, Bohn, III. 45). - - 292. WHAT IS THE PEOPLE? (_concluded_). From No. II (March 14, - 1818) of _The Yellow Dwarf_. - - 293. _‘If they had not ploughed,’ etc._ _Judges_, xiv. 18. - - 295. _When Mr. John Gifford, etc._ John Gifford or John Richards Green - (1758–1818) was editor of _The Anti-Jacobin Review and Magazine_ - which succeeded the famous _Anti-Jacobin or Weekly Examiner_ in - 1798. The denunciation of Coleridge and his friends referred to - in the text was made in a note to the poem of _The New Morality_ - in _The Beauties of the Anti-Jacobin_ (1799). See Vol. I. note - to p. 401, and the _Athenaeum_, May 31, 1900. - - _‘Make him a willow-cabin,’ etc._ _Twelfth Night_, Act I. Scene 5. - - _He indeed assures us, etc._ Southey’s _Essays, Moral and - Political_, I. 420–421. - - 296. _Mr. Locke has observed._ _An Essay concerning Human - Understanding_, Book IV. Chap. xx. - - 297. _Like Orlando’s brother._ _As You Like It_, Act I. Scene 1. - - ‘_Stying us._’ ‘_And here you sty me in this hard rock._’ _The - Tempest_, Act I. Scene 2. - - _Joanna Southcott._ Joanna Southcott (1750–1814) had recently - caused an extraordinary amount of excitement in the country by - her promise to bring forth into the world the second Christ. - - ‘_When the sky falls._’ ‘Si les nues tomboyent, esperoyt prendre - les alouettes.’ _Rabelais_, Book I. Chap. xi. - - 298. _‘Hold a barren sceptre,’ etc._ _Macbeth_, Act III. Scene 1. - - _‘For the Son to tread,’ etc._ - - ‘Look to thy sire, and in his steady way, - As in his Father’s he, learn thou to tread.’ - Southey’s _Carmen Nuptiale_, The Dream, Stanza 32. - - _The two Ferdinands._ Ferdinand I. of Naples and Ferdinand VII. of - Spain. - - 299. _Poor Evans._ See _ante_, p. 238. - - 300. _Mr. Cobbett himself, etc._ See _ante_, p. 224. - - 301. _His Lisbon Job._ Canning had gone to Lisbon in 1814, and had been - appointed ambassador extraordinary, at a salary of £14,000, to - receive the King of Portugal on his return from Brazil. The king - did not return after all, and Canning’s appointment was - represented by the Opposition as a job. A vote of censure was - moved in the House of Commons on May 6, 1817, and defeated by a - majority of 174. - - 301. _‘Duller,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act I. Scene 5. - - _‘The dim suffusion,’ etc._ - - ‘But thou - Revisit’st not these eyes, that roll in vain - To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn; - So thick a drop serene hath quenched their orbs, - Or dim suffusion veiled.’ - _Paradise Lost_, III. 22–26. - - _‘Making Ossa,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act V. Scene 1. - - 302. _‘As gross,’ etc._ _Othello_, Act III. Scene 3. - - 303. _‘A necessity,’ etc._ Burke, _Reflections on the Revolution in - France_. (_Select Works_, ed. Payne, II. 114). - - ‘_Too foolish fond and pitiful._’ Hazlitt seems to refer to Lear’s - words to Cordelia (Act _IV._ Scene 7), ‘I am a very foolish fond - old man.’ - - _‘Did never wrong,’ etc._ Hazlitt seems to have in mind the words, - ‘Know, Caesar doth not wrong, nor without cause will he be - satisfied.’ _Julius Caesar_, Act III. Scene 1. - - 304. _Exit by Mistake._ Produced at the Haymarket in July, 1816. - See Hazlitt’s Dramatic Essays. - - 305. ON THE ROYAL CHARACTER. From No. 20 (May 16, 1818) of _The - Yellow Dwarf_. - - 306. _‘There’s a divinity,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act IV. Scene 5. - - 307. _Coates._ Francis Cotes (1725–1770). - - 310. _One Englishman._ He means Burke. - - _Master of Hoyle._ Edmond Hoyle’s (1672–1769) _Short Treatise on - the Game of Whist_ was published in 1742. - - _The Jockey club._ Founded in the middle of the eighteenth - century. - - 311. _Cibber tells us._ Apology for the _Life of Mr. Colley Cibber_, - Chap. ii. - - _Jefferies._ Jeffreys was appointed Lord Chief Justice in 1683, - and is perhaps chiefly remembered for his famous circuit in the - west of England in 1685 after the accession of James II., who - made him Lord Chancellor. - - THE FUDGE FAMILY IN PARIS. From No. 17 (April 25, 1818) of _The - Yellow Dwarf_. - - ‘_Set it down, my tables._’ _Hamlet_, Act I. Scene 5. - - ‘_A full solempne man._’ Chaucer, _The Canterbury Tales_, - Prologue, l. 209. - - 312. _A merry Andrew._ Gifford perhaps. - - _The more pitiful Jack-Pudding._ It is plain from a note in _The - Yellow Dwarf_ that Hazlitt refers to Canning. - - ‘_Immortal verse._’ _L’Allegro_, 137. - - _‘Tam knew,’ etc._ Burns’s _Tam O’ Shanter_. - - _A late celebrated wit and orator._ Probably Curran, who died in - October 1817. - - ‘_A certain little gentleman._’ Moore’s description of himself in - the Preface to _The Fudge Family in Paris_. - - Note. _‘I look down,’ etc._ _Othello_, Act V. Scene 2. - - 313. _In the ‘Vicar of Wakefield.’_ Chapter xi. - - ‘_The damnable face-making._’ _Hamlet_, Act III. Scene 2. - - _‘The flocci-nauci,’ etc._ See _ante_, note to p. 33. - - _Dr. S——._ Dr. Stoddart. See _ante_, note to p. 153. - - _And ‘find no dawn,’ etc._ _Paradise Lost_, III. 24. - - ‘_Blind mouth._’ _Lycidas_, 119. - - ‘_His sweet voice._’ _Coriolanus_, Act _II._ Scene 3. - - 314. _Billingsgate slang._ Billingsgate was notorious for its coarse - language as early as Fuller. See Wheatley and Cunningham, - _London Past and Present_, I. 183. - - 314. _‘With shame,’ etc._ _Richard II._, Act II. Scene 1. - - _‘Like a rebel’s whore.’_ _Macbeth_, Act I. Scene 2. - - _Brangle, etc._ Cf. - - ‘And Noise and Norton, Brangling and Breval, - Dennis and Dissonance, and captious Art.’ - Pope, _The Dunciad_, II. 238–9. - - _‘The pillar’d firmament,’ etc._ _Comus_, ll. 598–9. - - 315. _‘The sad historian,’ etc._ ‘The sad historian of the pensive - plain.’ Goldsmith, _The Deserted Village_, l. 136. - - _‘As precious,’ etc._ _Julius Caesar_, Act II. Scene 1. - - _‘Return,’ etc._ Letter IV. - - _E******._ E—gl—d in the original. - - 317. _Indignatio facit versus._ See _ante_, note to p. 257. - - 318. _‘Yes—’twas a cause,’ etc._ Letter XI. - - 319. _‘By the bye though,’ etc._ Letter I. - - _‘Good Viscount S—dm—th,’ etc._ Letter IX. - - 321. _‘They do not cut up,’ etc._ Burke, _Letter to a Noble Lord_ - (_Works_, Bohn, V. 145). - - CHARACTER OF LORD CHATHAM. First published as one of the critical - notices in _The Eloquence of the British Senate_. - - ‘_A flame of sacred vehemence._’ _Comus_, l. 795. - - 323. _‘Flew an eagle flight,’ etc._ _Timon of Athens_, Act I. Scene 1. - - _‘Sailing with,’ etc._ Gray, _The Progress of Poesy_, ll. 116–7. - - ‘_Both end and use._’ Cf. ‘His actions’, passions’, being’s use - and end.’ Pope, _Essay on Man_, I. 66. - - _‘Laps it,’ etc._ _Comus_, l. 257. - - 325. CHARACTER OF MR. BURKE. First published in _The Eloquence of - the British Senate_. - - _The following speech._ On presenting to the House of Commons (on - the 11th February 1780) a plan for the better security of the - independence of Parliament, and the economical reformation of - the civil and other establishments (_Works_, Bohn, II. 55). - - 326. _‘The elephant,’ etc._ _Paradise Lost_, IV. 345–7. - - _‘Native and endued,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act IV. Scene 7. - - 328. Note. In _The Eloquence of the British Senate_ this note - proceeded: ‘and he produced less effect on the mob that compose - the English Public than Paine or Joel Barlow, at least at the - time.’ Joel Barlow (1755–1812), the American poet, was, like - Paine, an active sympathiser with the French Revolution. - - 329. ‘_Alas! Leviathan was not so tamed._’ Cowper, _The Task_, II. 322. - - _The corner stone, etc._ _Psalms_, cxviii. 22. - - _To the Jews, etc._ _1 Corinthians_ i. 23. - - 333. _‘How charming,’ etc._ _Comus_, l. 476. - - 336. _Dr. Johnson observed._ See his _Life of Pope_ (_Works_, Oxford, - 1825), VIII. 329. - - Note. ‘_Proud keep of Windsor._’ _A letter to a Noble Lord_ - (_Works_, Bohn, V. 137). - - 337. _A person._ Hazlitt’s early friend, Joseph Fawcett, perhaps. See - _Table Talk_, On Criticism. - - CHARACTER OF MR. FOX. From _The Eloquence of the British Senate_, - where the ‘Character’ begins: ‘I have hitherto deferred giving - any opinion on the talents of eminent speakers, till I could - present the reader with something that might justify the - encomiums passed upon them; as the following is one of the most - memorable of Mr. Fox’s speeches, I shall prefix to it a sort of - character, the best I can give, of this celebrated man.’ The - speech referred to was on the War with France, delivered in - 1794. - - Note. ‘_Craftily qualified._’ _Othello_, Act II. Scene 3. - - 339. _‘Whose sound,’ etc._ _King Lear_, Act I. Scene 1. - - _That is an automaton._ In _The Eloquence of the British Senate_ - Hazlitt has the following note to this passage: ‘I ought to beg - pardon of the polite reader for thus rudely contrasting these - two celebrated men and leaders of parties together. It has of - late become more fashionable to consider them in the light of - the United Friends. But as I am no sign-painter, I hope I may be - excused for not adhering exactly to the _costume_ of the times. - This agreeable idea might however, if skilfully executed, be - improved into a very appropriate sign for the tap-room of the - house of commons. My Lord Howick the other day drew a pleasing - picture of them _shaking hands in Elysium_. It must be owned - that this is pretty and poetical. Happy, well assorted pair! - Methinks I see you, bowing to one another, with repeated - assurances of friendship and esteem, but half believed, just - like—lord Grenville and lord Howick in the park! This was - probably what his lordship had in his mind at the time: but as - our _young_ orators generally love to shew that they have _read_ - the classics, so perhaps his lordship was willing to shew that - he had not _forgot_ them. It is pleasing to see great men - sweetening the cares of state with the flowers of poetical - allusion; condescending to turn with a benign countenance from - the serious realities of life, to the lighter scenes of fable - and romance; still wandering, (as in their boyish days) with - Dido and Æneas, and taking an imaginary trip from Downing Street - to the Elysian Fields, and from the Elysian Fields back again! - After all, I do not know that it would be any disgrace to Mr. - Fox to associate with Mr. Pitt in the other world, if we - recollect the company he kept in this. Lord H—— I believe, on - the same occasion, quoted Dryden, and compared the late duke of - Brunswick to Darius. Really, his lordship’s researches in poetry - are astonishing; they are almost as extensive and profound as - his knowledge of the affairs of Europe, or of the fate of - battles! There is some excuse, however, for this last mentioned - quotation, as though the passage quoted was by no means new in - itself, yet the particular application of it must certainly have - been very new to his lordship’s mind, and one which the public - might not have been disposed to give him credit for without some - positive evidence. To complete the solemnity of the scene, - nothing more was wanting but for the whole house to have joined - chorus in this affecting and well known specimen of elegiac - sadness, particularly as it had been already set to music, one - would suppose for this very purpose.’ - - Note 1. Hazlitt refers to an article on Fox by William Godwin - published in _The Morning Chronicle_, Nov. 22, 1806. - - Note 2. John Upton published an edition of _The Faerie Queen_ in - 1758. - - 340. _Lord Lansdown._ Lord Shelburne, created Marquis of Lansdowne in - 1784. - - 342. _‘Jutting frieze,’ etc._ _Macbeth_, Act I. Scene 6. - - 344. _‘With mighty wings,’ etc._ _Paradise Lost_, I. 20–2. - - 345. ‘_The dazzling fence of argument._’ Cf. - - ‘Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric, - That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence.’ - _Comus_, ll. 790–1. - - 345. ‘_An honest man’s the noblest work of God._’ Pope’s _Essay on - Man_, IV. 248. - - 346. _What Burke said of him._ In a speech on the Army Estimates (Feb. - 9, 1790), in which he replied to Fox’s eulogy of the French - Revolution. See _Works_, Bohn, III. 273–4. - - CHARACTER OF MR. PITT, 1806. See _ante_, pp. 14 _et seq._ and - notes. - - 349. Note. The passage referred to is from Pitt’s Speech on the - Regency, delivered on January 16, 1789. - - 350. PITT AND BUONAPARTE. This essay by Coleridge is reprinted in - _Essays on His Own Times_, vol. II. pp. 319–329. The editor - (Coleridge’s daughter Sara, the wife of Henry Nelson Coleridge), - referring to the essay, says (I. lxxxv. note), ‘“The character - of Pitt” is given to my Father on the repeated testimony of Mr. - Stuart, which indeed was scarcely needed to confirm the strong - internal evidence of both style and matter.’ See J. D. - Campbell’s _Samuel Taylor Coleridge_, p. 108. - - 356. AN EXAMINATION OF MR. MALTHUS’S DOCTRINES. From No. 14 (April - 4, 1818) of _The Yellow Dwarf_. In these concluding papers - Hazlitt repeats the substance of the more elaborate criticism - which he had already published in 1807, under the title of _A - Reply to Malthus_. See that work and Hazlitt’s sketch of Malthus - in _The Spirit of the Age_ (vol. IV. of the present edition). - - 359. _Major Torrens._ Robert Torrens (1780–1864), who, after serving in - the Royal Marines, retired on half-pay, and devoted himself to - economical study. - - 361. _This will never do._ Perhaps this is a reference to the famous - opening words of the _Edinburgh Review_ article on Wordsworth’s - _Excursion_ (xxiv. p. 1). The _Edinburgh_ had defended Malthus. - - ON THE ORIGINALITY OF MR. MALTHUS’S ESSAY. This essay does not - seem to have been published in _The Yellow Dwarf_. - - 367. ON THE PRINCIPLE OF POPULATION, ETC. From Hazlitt’s _Reply to - Malthus_, Letter III. See vol. IV. of the present edition. - - 371. _‘What conjuration,’ etc._ _Othello_, Act I. Scene 3. - - 373. _‘These three bear record,’ etc._ Cf. _1 John_ v. 7. - - _‘’Tis as easy as lying,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act III. Scene 2. - - 374. _‘To this end,’ etc._ Malthus’s _Essay, etc._ (2nd Ed. 1803), pp. - 538–540. - - 375. _Well answered by Mr. Cobbett._ Cobbett addressed a letter ‘To - Parson Malthus’ (_Political Register_, May 1819) beginning - abruptly ‘Parson.’ ‘No assemblage of words,’ he says, ‘can give - an appropriate designation of you; and therefore, as being the - single word which best suits the character of such a man, I call - you _Parson_,’ _etc._ - - 376. _In a separate work._ See his _Reply to Malthus_ in vol. IV. of - the present edition. - - 381. QUERIES RELATING TO THE ESSAY ON POPULATION. No. 23 of _The - Round Table_ series in _The Examiner_ (Oct. 29, 1815), which is - in the form of a letter addressed to the President of the Round - Table, and begins as follows:—‘Sir,—You some time ago inserted - in your Paper [Round Table, No. 26, Feb. 15, 1815] a letter from - _A Mechanic_, who seemed strangely puzzled by a learned friend - of his, who thwarts him in all his notions, political, moral, - domestic and economical, by interrogatories put to him out of - Mr. Malthus’s _Essay on Population_. I do not know whether your - Correspondent has got rid of his troublesome acquaintance; but - if he has not, I think he will be able to do it by putting to - him the following questions as to the merits of Mr. Malthus and - his work, which I met with in the course of my reading this - morning, and which it appears to me to be incumbent on the - admirers of that gentleman to answer, Aye or No.’ - - 383. _‘Sicklied over,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act II. Scene 1. - - 385. _‘Neither married,’ etc._ _St. Matthew_ xxii. 30. - - _‘Beware therefore,’ etc._ Chaucer, _The Canterbury Tales_, The - Somnour’s Tale, ll. 2074 _et seq._ - - - - - ADVERTISEMENT, ETC., FROM ‘THE ELOQUENCE OF THE BRITISH SENATE’ - - -All the biographical and critical notes, introductory to the selected -Speeches, are here reproduced, except (1) a few which consist merely of -dates, and (2) the ‘characters’ of Chatham, Burke, Fox and Pitt. These -were republished by Hazlitt in _Political Essays_, and will be found in -the present reprint of that work (see _ante_, pp. 321–350). Where there -are two notes on the same speaker, they have been printed together under -the same heading. In cases where Hazlitt specially mentions a particular -speech, a reference to that speech is given below. Hazlitt himself, in -the Table of Contents, described the following as the ‘principal -biographical notices,’ viz., in vol. I., Cromwell, Whitlocke, Lord -Belhaven, Mr. Pulteney, Lord Chesterfield, Sir John St. Aubin, and Sir -Robert Walpole; and, in vol. II., Lord Chatham, Lord Mansfield, Lord -Camden, Mr. Burke, Mr. Fox, and Mr. Pitt. - - 389. _‘Who strut and fret,’ etc._ _Macbeth_, Act V. Scene 5. - - 390. _‘Wherein I saw them,’ etc._ _Hamlet_, Act I. Scene 4. - - ‘_Set the imprisoned wranglers free again._’ Cowper, _The Task_, - Book IV. 34. - - 391. _‘The things themselves,’ etc._, - - ‘The things we know are neither rich nor rare.’ - Pope, _Prologue to the Satires_, 171. - - 393. _Sir Edward Coke._ The speech selected by Hazlitt was delivered on - a Motion for Supply, Aug. 5, 1625 (_Parl. Hist._ II. 11.). On a - phrase of Coke’s ‘to petition the King rather for a _logique_ - than a _rhetorique_ hand,’ Hazlitt has the following note: ‘This - mode of expression seems natural enough to any one who was - familiar with Cicero’s description of the difference between - logic and rhetoric, and who knew that most of his hearers either - were, or would be thought, equally learned. It was a convenient - short-hand language to those who were hardly ever accustomed to - think or speak but in classical allusions, and which no one - could affect to misunderstand without first exposing his own - ignorance:—it was a sort of _word to the wise_. So that its - being abrupt and far-fetched would be a recommendation of it, - and would even give it an air of simplicity with men of deep - learning, as being more in the way of their habitual and - favourite train of ideas. But this stile, which may be called - the abstruse or pedantic, is soon exploded when knowledge - becomes more generally diffused, and the pretension to it - universal: when there are few persons who profess to be very - learned, and none are contented to be thought entirely ignorant; - when every one who can read is a critic; when the reputation of - taste and good sense is not confined to an acquaintance with the - Greek and Latin authors, and it is not thought necessary to a - man’s understanding an eloquent discourse, or even to his making - one, that he should ever have read a definition either of logic - or rhetoric.’ - - 393. _Mr. Burke’s famous Bill._ For the better security of the - independence of Parliament and the economical reformation of the - civil and other establishments. Hazlitt included in his - selections Burke’s great speech (Feb. 11, 1780) introducing the - Bill. - - 393. _Sir Robert Cotton._ The speech was delivered on Aug. 6, 1825 - (_Parl. Hist._, II. 14). - - 394. _Dr. John Williams._ Speech on opening Parliament, Feb. 26, 1626 - (_Parl. Hist._, II. 39). - - _Sir Heneage Finch._ Speech on Feb. 6, 1626 (_Parl. Hist._, II. - 41). - - _Sir Dudley Carleton._ Speech on May 12, 1626 (_Parl. Hist._, II. - 120). - - 395. _Mr. Creskeld._ Speech on the Detention of some Members of the - House, March 25, 1627 (_Parl. Hist._, II. 240). - - _Sir Francis Rouse._ Speech on June 3, 1628 (_Parl. Hist._, II. - 377). - - _Sir John Elliott._ Speech on Public Affairs, June 3, 1628 (_Parl. - Hist._, II. 380). - - _A certain political writer._ Cobbett presumably. - - _Sir Benjamin Rudyard._ Speech on the State of Religion, June 3, - 1628 (_Parl. Hist._, II. 385). - - _Edmund Waller._ The speech referred to in the first paragraph was - a speech on the Supply, April 22, 1640 (_Parl. Hist._, II. 555); - that referred to in the second paragraph a speech praying for a - mitigation of the sentence passed upon him by Parliament, July - 4, 1643 (_Parl. Hist._, III. 140). - - 397. _Dr. Joseph Hall._ The speech which shews that ‘passion makes men - eloquent’ was a speech in defence of the Church and Clergy, 1641 - (_Parl. Hist._, II. 987). - - _Bulstrode Whitlocke._ The speech referred to in the second - paragraph was a speech on changing the old Law style, Feb. 1641 - (_Parl. Hist._, II. 1078). - - 398. _William Lenthall._ Speech on Nov. 13, 1646 (_Parl. Hist._, III. - 530). - - _Oliver Cromwell._ Hazlitt gave the brief speech in the House of - Commons on Dec. 9, 1644, another small fragment, and Cromwell’s - speech dissolving the second Protectorate Parliament (Feb. 4, - 1658). - - _John Thurloe._ Speech in vindication of the Bill to tax Royalists - (1656). - - 399. _Richard Cromwell._ Speech on the Meeting of Parliament (1658). - - _Charles II._ Speech on the second Meeting of Parliament, May 8, - 1661 (_Parl. Hist._, IV. 178). - - _Lord Bristol._ Speech on the Test Act, March 15, 1672 (_Parl. - Hist._, IV. 564). - - 400. _Earl of Caernarvon._ Speech on the impeachment of Lord Danby, - Dec. 23, 1678 (_Parl. Hist._, IV. 1074). - - _Henry Booth._ Speech on putting certain Justices out of - commission (1681). - - 401. _John, Lord Somers._ Hazlitt gives the speeches of Somers, Lord - Nottingham, Sir George Treby and Sir Robert Howard on the - Abdication of James II. (1688). - - ‘_In contempt of the people_.’ See _ante_, note to p. 175. - - 402. _Sir John Knight._ Speech against the proposal for naturalising - foreign protestants, March 1694 (_Parl. Hist._, V. 851). Knight - concluded his speech with the motion ‘that the serjeant be - commanded to open the doors, and let us first kick this Bill out - of the house, and then foreigners out of the kingdom.’ Knight - was member for Bristol 1692–1695, plotted for the restoration of - James and died in obscurity in 1718. - - 403. ‘_Metaphysical aid._’ _Macbeth_, Act I. Scene 5. - - _‘Non bene,’ etc._ Ovid, _Metamorphoses_, II. 846. - - ‘_Reason panders will._’ _Hamlet_, Act III. Scene 4. - - _‘The downright violence,’ etc._ ‘My downright violence and storm - of fortunes.’ _Othello_, Act I. Scene 3. - - _Lord Belhaven._ Speech in the Scottish Convention, against the - Union, printed in Appendix to Vol. VI. of _Parl. Hist._, p. - cxlii. - - 404. _‘The melancholy madness,’ etc._ Junius, Letter VII. - - 405. _George I._ Speech on his accession. - - _Sir Thomas Hanmer._ The first speech referred to was the - Speaker’s address to the Throne (1715), the second a speech on - the Reduction of the Army (1717). - - _‘Threads’ etc._ Cowper, _The Task_, III. 147. - - _Sir Richard Steele._ Speech on annual parliaments (1716). - - 406. _The following speech._ Speech on the Triennial Bill, March 13, - 1734 (_Parl. Hist._, IX. 471). Walpole having referred to some - inconveniences of the democratical form of government, Hazlitt - makes the following remarks in a note:— - - ‘Sir Robert here, by entirely leaving out the consideration of the - other parts of our constitution which are intended to operate as - checks and correctives of the democratic part, very ingeniously - models the house of commons according to his own wishes, and at - the same time in such a manner as to answer the purposes of all - the other parts, and in fact to render them unnecessary. It has - always been pretended that the house of commons was but one - branch of the legislative—the representative of the people; and - that an antidote to any evils that might arise from this part of - the system was wisely provided in the other branches, which were - to represent property and power; but care has been taken to make - sure of the remedy in the first instance, namely by inoculating - the patient before the disease was caught, and making the house - of commons itself never anything more than the representative of - property and power.’ - - _‘The popular harangue,’ etc._ Cowper, _The Task_, IV. 31–32. - - 408. _A niche in one of his satires._ _Moral Essays_, I. 174–209. - - 409. _Earl of Strafford._ Speech on the Mutiny Bill, Feb. 22, 1732 - (_Parl. Hist._, VIII. 1008). Thomas Wentworth, third Earl of - Strafford, ambassador extraordinary at the Hague during the - critical years 1711–1714 (see Swift’s _History of the last four - years of Queen Anne_) was a great-nephew of ‘the great lord - Strafford.’ - - _‘The worse appear,’ etc._ _Paradise Lost_, II. 113–114. - - 410. To Heathcote’s speech, which was on the Establishment of - Excise Officers, Hazlitt has the following note: ‘The - introduction of the excise laws excited an immense ferment - through the kingdom about this time. It was called by Pulteney, - ‘that monster, the Excise.’ And Walpole had more difficulty in - weathering the storm of opposition that rose on this occasion, - than on any other. How tame are we grown! How familiar with that - slavery and ruin, threatened us by so many succeeding prophets - and politicians! We play with the bugbears, and handle them, and - do not find that they hurt us. We look back and smile at the - disproportionate resistance of our inexperienced forefathers to - petty vexations and imaginary grievances, and are like the old - horse in the fable, who wondered at the folly of the young - horse, who refused even to be saddled, while he crouched - patiently under the heaviest burthens.’ - - 411. _Mr. Campbell._ Speech against a bill to prevent officers of - Government from sitting in Parliament, commonly called the Place - Bill, Feb. 26, 1734 (_Parl. Hist._, IX. 367). - - _‘’Twas mine,’ etc._ _Othello_, Act III. Scene 3. - - _Samuel Sandys._ Speech in reply to Campbell. Sandys’s - ‘principles’ consisted of hostility to Walpole, after whose fall - he became Chancellor of the Exchequer and Lord Sandys. In 1742 - he opposed the introduction of his own Place Bill. - - 412. _See his speech on the theatres._ Hazlitt included Chesterfield’s - speech on the Play-house Bill (1737—_Parl. Hist._, X. 319) among - his selections. - - 413. _Sir John St. Aubin._ Speech on the Triennial Bill, March 13, 1734 - (_Parl. Hist._, IX. 400). - - _Sir Watkin William Wynne._ Speech on the same. - - 414. _The following Speech on abolishing, etc._ April, 1747. - - 415. _Honourable Edward Coke._ Speech on the Address, Dec. 1, 1743 - (_Parl. Hist._, XIII. 135). - - _Sir Dudley Rider._ Speech on the Attainder Bill, May 3, 1744 - (_Parl. Hist._, XIII. 859). - - 416. _Mr. Grenville._ Speech on the Stamp Act, January 1766 (_Parl. - Hist._, XVI. 101). - - 418. _‘As dry,’ etc._ _As You Like It_, Act II. Scene 7. - - 419. _Junius says._ Letter LIX. Isaac Barré (1726–1802), son of a - French refugee, served under Wolfe at Quebec and sat in - Parliament under Lord Shelburne’s patronage from 1761 to 1790. - He is one of the many to whom the authorship of Junius has been - attributed. He was author of the phrase ‘sons of liberty’ - applied to the American colonists. - - _Garrit aniles._ Horace, _Satires_, II. 6. 77–8. - - _Courteney._ Hazlitt seems to refer to Boswell’s friend, John - Courtenay (1741–1816), member for Tamworth (1780–1796), who is - described by Wraxall (_Posthumous Memoirs_, V. 4) as ‘eccentric, - fearless, sarcastic, highly informed, always present to himself, - dealing his blows on every side regardless on whom they fell.’ - - 420. _The Barrés, etc._ In the _Dictionary of National Biography_, the - latest of the ‘motley lists of fame,’ Hazlitt would have found - not only the Dyches, the Fennings, the Lillys, and the Laxtons, - but also ‘characters on whom a dazzling splendour has been - shed.’ - - _The following masterly character._ Burke, _Letter to a Noble - Lord_ (_Works_, Bohn, V. 117). - - _The following speech._ On the Bill for doubling the Militia, June - 22, 1779 (_Parl. Hist._, XX. 947). - - Hazlitt has the two following notes on Burke’s speech on American - Taxation (April 19, 1774—_Works_, Bohn, I. 383 _et seq._):— - - ‘The following arguments towards the conclusion of this speech are - so sensible, so moderate, so wise and beautiful, that I cannot - resist the temptation of copying them out, though I did not at - first intend it. Burke’s speeches are to me, in this my - parliamentary progress, what the Duke’s castle was to Sancho: I - could be content to stay there longer than I am able. I have no - inclination to leave the stately palaces, the verdant lawns, the - sumptuous entertainments, the grave discourse, and pleasing - sounds of music, to sally forth in search of bad roads, meagre - fare, and barren adventures. Charles Fox is indeed to come; but - he is but the Knight of the Green Surtout. Pitt is the brazen - head, that delivers mysterious answers; and Sheridan, Master - Peter with his puppet-show. _Mais allons._’ - - ‘Thus was this great man, merely for disclaiming metaphysical - distinctions and shewing their inapplicability to practical - questions, considered as an unintelligible reasoner; as if you - were chargeable with the very folly of which you convict others. - Burke understood metaphysics, and knew their true boundaries: - when he saw others venturing blindly upon this treacherous - ground, and called out to them to stop, shewing them where they - were, they said, this man is a metaphysician. General - unqualified assertions, universal axioms, and abstract rules - serve to embody our prejudices; they are the watch-words of - party, the strong-holds of the passions. It is therefore - dangerous to meddle with them. Solid reason means nothing more - than being carried away by our passions, and solid sense is that - which requires no reflection to understand it.’ - - 421. _The following boyish rhapsody._ For an account of this matter see - Trevelyan’s _Early History of Charles James Fox_, pp. 414 _et - seq._ - - _In the Louvre._ In 1802. See _Memoirs of William Hazlitt_, I. 91. - - 422. _Sir W. Meredith._ Speech on the Lord Mayor and Oliver being - committed to the Tower. - - _Junius praises._ Letter LIX. - - _Servetur ad imum, etc._ Horace, _Ars Poetica_, 126–7. - - _Hon. Temple Luttrell._ Speech on Mr. Buller’s Motion that 2000 - additional seamen be employed for the year 1775, to enforce the - measures of Government in America, Feb. 13, 1775 (_Parl. Hist._, - XVIII. 308). - - _Mr. Wilkes._ Speech on the Motion for expunging the Resolution - respecting his Expulsion, Feb. 22, 1775 (_Parl. Hist._, XVIII. - 358). - - 423. _Mr. Dunning._ Speech on the Bill for punishing Persons suspected - of being Pirates, Feb. 7, 1777 (_Parl. Hist._, XIX. 24). - - ‘_Good set terms._’ _As You Like It_, Act II. Scene 7. - - _William Pitt._ It is strange that Hazlitt mentions only Pitt’s - office of Chancellor of the Exchequer, and not the fact that he - was Prime Minister from 1783 to 1801, and from 1804 till his - death in 1806. - - 424. _‘The wine of life,’ etc._ _Macbeth_, Act II. Scene 3. - - _The following speech._ Sheridan’s speech in reply to Lord - Mornington on the war with France, Jan. 21, 1794. - - _Mr. Grattan._ Speech on moving an Address to the Throne, - containing a Declaration of Rights, April 16, 1782. - - 425. _‘Where each alley,’ etc._ Pope, _Moral Essays_, IV. 117–8. - - _Non omnia possumus omnes._ Virgil, _Eclogues_, VIII. 63. - - _Mr. Horne Tooke._ Speech on the eligibility of clergymen to sit - in Parliament (1801). - ------ - -Footnote 1: - - As to the _real_ grounds and views on which the former coalitions were - begun and carried on, see Burke’s Regicide Peace, Second Part. - -Footnote 2: - - One instance may serve as an example for all the rest:—When Mr. Fox - last summer predicted the failure of the new confederacy against - France, from a consideration of the circumstances and relative - situation of both parties, that is, from an exact knowledge of the - actual state of the case, Mr. Pitt contented himself with - answering—and, as in the blindness of his infatuation he seemed to - think quite satisfactorily,—‘That he could not assent to the - honourable gentleman’s reasoning, for that it went to this, that we - were never to attempt to mend the situation of our affairs, because in - so doing we might possibly make them worse.’ No; it was not on account - of this abstract possibility in human affairs, or because we were not - absolutely sure of succeeding (for that any child might know), but - because it was in the highest degree probable, or _morally_ certain - that the scheme would fail, and leave us in a worse situation than we - were before, that Mr. Fox disapproved of the attempt. There is in this - a degree of weakness and imbecility, a defect of understanding - bordering on idiotism, a fundamental ignorance of the first principles - of human reason and prudence, that in a great minister is utterly - astonishing, and almost incredible. Nothing could ever drive him out - of his dull forms, and naked generalities; which as they are - susceptible neither of degree nor variation, are therefore equally - applicable to every emergency that can happen: and in the most - critical aspect of affairs he saw nothing but the same flimsy web of - remote possibilities and metaphysical uncertainty. In his mind the - wholesome pulp of practical wisdom and salutary advice was immediately - converted into the dry chaff and husks of a miserable logic. - -Footnote 3: - - I would recommend to the reader a masterly and unanswerable essay on - this subject in the Morning Post, by Mr. Coleridge, in February 1800, - from which, and the conversation of the author, most of the above - remarks are taken. I will only add, that it is the property of true - genius to force the admiration even of enemies. No one was ever hated - or envied for his powers of mind, if others were convinced of their - real excellence. The jealousy and uneasiness produced in the mind by - the display of superior talents almost always arises from a suspicion - that there is some trick or deception in the case, and that we are - imposed on by an appearance of what is not really there. True warmth - and vigour communicate warmth and vigour; and we are no longer - inclined to dispute the inspiration of the oracle, when we feel the - ‘presens Divus’ in our own bosoms. But when, without gaining any new - light or heat, we only find our ideas thrown into perplexity and - confusion by an art that we cannot comprehend, this is a kind of - superiority which must always be painful, and can never be cordially - admitted. For this reason the extraordinary talents of Mr. Pitt were - always viewed, except by those of his own party, with a sort of - jealousy, and _grudgingly_ acknowledged; while those of his rivals - were admitted by all parties in the most unreserved manner, and - carried by acclamation. - -Footnote 4: - - Mr. Burke pretends in this Jesuitical Appeal, that a nation has a - right to insist upon and revert to old establishments and prescriptive - privileges, but not to lay claim to new ones; in a word, to change its - governors, if refractory, but not its form of government, however bad. - Thus he says we had a right to cashier James II., because he wished to - alter the laws and religion as they were then established. By what - right did we emancipate ourselves from popery and arbitrary power a - century before? He defends his consistency in advocating the American - Revolution, though the rebels, in getting rid of the reigning branch - of the Royal Family, did not send for the next of kin to rule over - them ‘in contempt of their choice,’ but prevented all such - equivocations by passing at once from a viceroyalty to a republic. He - also extols the Polish Revolution as a monument of wisdom and virtue - (I suppose because it had not succeeded), though this also was a total - and absolute change in the frame and principles of the government, to - which the people were in this case bound by no feudal tenure or divine - right. But he insists that the French Revolution was stark-naught, - because the people here did the same thing, passed from slavery to - liberty, from an arbitrary to a constitutional government, to which - they had, it seems, no prescriptive right, and therefore, according to - the appellant, no right at all. Oh nice professor of humanity! We had - a right to turn off James II. because he broke a compact with the - people. The French had no right to turn off Louis XVI. because he - broke no compact with them, for he had none to break; in other words, - because he was an arbitrary despot, tied to no laws, and they a herd - of slaves, and therefore they were bound, by every law divine and - human, always to remain so, in perpetuity and by the grace of God! Oh - unanswerable logician! - -Footnote 5: - - There is none of this perplexity and jarring of different objects in - the tools of power. Their jealousies, heart-burnings, love of - precedence, or scruples of conscience, are made subservient to the - great cause in which they are embarked; they leave the amicable - division of the spoil to the powers that be; all angry disputes are - hushed in the presence of the throne, and the corrosive, fretful - particles of human nature fly off, and are softened by the influence - of a court atmosphere. Courtiers hang together like a swarm of bees - about a honeycomb. Not so the Reformers; for they have no honeycomb to - attract them. It has been said that Reformers are often indifferent - characters. The reason is, that the ties which bind most men to their - duties—habit, example, regard to appearances—are relaxed in them; and - other and better principles are, as yet, weak and unconfirmed. - -Footnote 6: - - The above criticism first appeared in the _Courier_ newspaper, and was - copied the next day in the _Chronicle_ with the following - remarks:—‘The treasury journals complain of the harsh treatment shewn - to ministers,—let us see how they treat their opponents. If the - following does not come from the poetical pen of the Admiralty - _Croaker_, it is a close imitation of his style.’ - - ‘Strange that such difference should be - ’Twixt Tweedledum and Tweedledee!’ - - Whether it was from the fear of this supposed formidable critic, the - noble Marquis ceased from this time nightly to ‘fillip the ears of his - auditors with a three-man beetle!‘ - -Footnote 7: - - As he is fond of the good old times before the Revolution, the writer - might go still farther back to that magnanimous undertaking, concerted - and executed by the same persons of honour, the partition of Poland. - -Footnote 8: - - See remarks on Judge Eyre’s Charge to the Jury, 1794, by W. Godwin. - -Footnote 9: - - Observe that these critically destructive terms of peace are not - strictly called for by Bonaparte’s persevering and atrocious outrages, - but are at all times rendered necessary by the everlasting enmity of - France. - -Footnote 10: - - ‘In heaven they neither marry nor are given in marriage.’ There is - nothing so provoking as these matter-of-fact Utopia-mongers. - -Footnote 11: - - The style of Vetus bears the same relation to eloquence that gilded - lead does to gold;—it glitters, and is heavy. - -Footnote 12: - - He who speaks two languages has no country. The French, when they made - their language the common language of the courts of Europe, gained - more than by all their other conquests put together. - -Footnote 13: - - See Mr. Canning’s speech on the Jaggernaut.—They manage these things - better in the East (it is to be hoped we shall do so in time here); - otherwise, if there had been any occasion, what pretty Anti-Jacobin - sonnets might not Mr. Canning have written in praise of this - Jaggernaut? Or Mr. Southey, after in vain attempting its overthrow, - might have ‘spun his brains’ into a CARMEN ANNUUM to celebrate his own - defeat. Or Vetus might play off his discovery of the identity of the - strumpet and the goddess Reason, against any disposition to disarm its - power or arrest its progress. - -Footnote 14: - - Of the facility of realising this devout aspiration of the writer in - _The Times_, we have no exact means of judging by his own statements, - for he one day tells us that ‘there is _nothing_ to hinder Lord - Wellington from marching to Paris, and bringing the Usurper to the - block,’ and the next endeavours to excite the panic fears of his - readers, by telling them, in a tone of equal horror and dismay, ‘That - the _monster_ wields at will the force of forty millions of men.’ The - assertions of these writers have no connection with the real state of - things, but depend entirely on their variable passions, and the - purpose they have in view. - -Footnote 15: - - We only wish to add one thing, which is, to protest against the - self-importance of such expressions as the following, which occur - often in Vetus’s letters:—‘_The men I speak of were_’ those, &c. ‘This - sentiment never prevailed with _the better sort_.’ This is an - affectation of the worst part of Burke’s style, his assumption of a - parliamentary tone, and of the representation of the voice of some - corporate body. It was bad enough in him; in Vetus it is intolerable. - -Footnote 16: - - Written originally for the Morning Chronicle. - -Footnote 17: - - The ignorant will suppose that these are two proper names. - -Footnote 18: - - ‘Carnage is her daughter.’—_Mr. Wordsworth’s Thanksgiving Ode._ - -Footnote 19: - - This article falls somewhat short of its original destination, by our - having been forced to omit two topics, the praise of Bonaparte, and - the abuse of poetry. The former we leave to history: the latter we - have been induced to omit from our regard to two poets of our - acquaintance. We must say they have spoiled sport. One of them has - tropical blood in his veins, which gives a gay, cordial, vinous spirit - to his whole character. The other is a mad wag,—who ought to have - lived at the Court of Horwendillus, with Yorick and Hamlet,—equally - desperate in his mirth and his gravity, who would laugh at a funeral - and weep at a wedding, who talks nonsense to prevent the headache, who - would wag his finger at a skeleton, whose jests scald like tears, who - makes a joke of a great man, and a hero of a cat’s paw. The last is - more than Mr. Garrard or Mr. Turnerelli can do. The busts which these - gentlemen have made of a celebrated General are very bad. His head is - worth nothing unless it is put on his men’s shoulders. - -Footnote 20: - - See an article on this subject in Mr. Coleridge’s _Friend_. - -Footnote 21: - - We are somewhat in the situation of _Captain Macheath_ in the - ‘Beggar’s Opera.’ ‘The road had done the Captain justice, but the - gaming-table had been his ruin.’ We have been pretty successful on the - high seas; but the Bank have swallowed it all up. The taxes have - outlived the war, trade, and commerce. _They_ are the soul, the - immortal part of the Pitt system. - -Footnote 22: - - It may be proper to notice, that this article was written before the - Discourse which it professes to criticise had appeared in print, or - probably existed any where, but in repeated newspaper advertisements. - -Footnote 23: - - This work is so obscure, that it has been supposed to be written in - cypher, and that it is necessary to read it upwards and downwards, or - backwards and forwards, as it happens, to make head or tail of it. The - effect is exceedingly like the qualms produced by the heaving of a - ship becalmed at sea; the motion is so tedious, improgressive, and - sickening. - -Footnote 24: - - Does this verse come under Mr. C.’s version of _Jus Divinum_? - -Footnote 25: - - That is, in a sense not used and without any intelligible meaning. - -Footnote 26: - - If these are the worst passions, there is plenty of them in this - Lay-Sermon. - -Footnote 27: - - A paper set up at this time by Dr. Stoddart. - -Footnote 28: - - When this work was first published, the King had copies of it bound in - Morocco, and gave them away to his favourite courtiers, saying, ‘It - was a book which every gentleman ought to read.’ - -Footnote 29: - - Our loyal Editor used to bluster a great deal some time ago about - putting down James Madison, and ‘the last example of democratic - rebellion in America.’ In this he was consistent and logical. Could he - not, however, find out another example of this same principle, by - going a little farther back in history, and coming a little nearer - home? If he has forgotten this chapter in our history, others who have - profited more by it have not. He may understand what we mean, by - turning to the story of the two elder Blifils in _Tom Jones_. - -Footnote 30: - - _Simon Lee, the old Huntsman_, a tale by Mr. Wordsworth, of which he - himself says, - - ‘It is no tale, but if you think, - Perhaps a tale you’ll make it.’ - - In this view it is a tale indeed, not ‘of other times,’ but of these. - -Footnote 31: - - During the retreat, the king was ever seen where the danger was - greatest. Foremost in the ranks, he continually charged the Austrians - in person. When his affairs grew desperate, it became evident that he - sought for death in the field. At the head of a few of his cavalry, - whom he constantly preceded, he often charged the enemy to their very - cannons’ mouth. How he escaped amidst so many dangers appears - miraculous. He might well say that ‘he had sought death, but had not - been able to find it.’ - -Footnote 32: - - Let no country go about to enslave another with impunity. For out of - the very dregs of rottenness and debasement will arise a low creeping - fog of servility, a stench of corruption to choak the life of liberty, - wherever it comes—a race of fortune-hunting, dastard, busy, hungry, - heartless slaves and blood-suckers, eager to fawn upon power and - trample upon weakness, with no other pretensions than want of - principle, and a hatred of those who possess what they want. Ireland - has given us Castlereagh, Wellington, Burke. Is she not even with us? - Let her smile now from her hundred hills, let her shake with laughter - through her thousand bogs! Ireland, last of the nations, repose in - peace upon thy green western wave! Thou and the world are quits. - -Footnote 33: - - Here the reader may, if he pleases, read over again the last note. - -Footnote 34: - - _Encore un coup._ This Duke is an Irishman. Pray, suppose the Allies - were to declare the Protestant succession illegitimate, and the King - of Sardinia, not the Prince Regent, the hereditary proprietor of the - English throne and people in perpetuity and in a right line, would - this annul the validity of his Grace’s grants? - -Footnote 35: - - Of the three persons that Mr. Coleridge, by a most preposterous - anachronism, has selected to compose his asinine auditory, Mr. Hunt - was at the time in question a boy at school, not _a stripling bard_ of - nineteen or nine and twenty, but a real school-boy ‘declaiming on the - patriotism of Brutus.’ As to Mr. Cobbett, he would at that time, had - they come in his way, with one kick of his hard hoofs, have made a - terrible crash among ‘the green corn’ of Mr. Southey’s Jacobin - Pan’s-pipe, and gone near to knock out the musician’s brains into the - bargain. The second person in this absurd trinity, who certainly - thinks it ‘a robbery to be made equal to the other two,’ was the only - hearer present at the rehearsal of Mr. Southey’s overtures to Liberty - and Equality, and to that ‘long-continued asinine bravura,’ which - rings in Mr. Coleridge’s ears, but which certainly was not - unaccompanied, for he himself was present; and those who know this - gentleman, know that on these occasions he plays the part of a whole - chorus. - -Footnote 36: - - A sarcastic writer, like Mr. Southey, might here ask, whether it was a - disappointment in sharing the estate of some rich landed proprietor - that made Mr. Southey turn short round to a defence of sinecures and - pensions? We do not know, but here follows a passage, which ‘some - skulking scoundrel’ in the _Quarterly Review_ appears to have aimed at - Mr. Southey’s early opinions and character:—‘As long as the smatterer - in philosophy confines himself to private practice, the mischief does - not extend beyond his private circle—his neighbour’s wife may be in - some danger, and his neighbour’s property also; if the distinctions - between _meum_ and _tuum_ should be practically inconvenient to the - man of free opinions. But when he commences professor of moral and - political philosophy for the benefit of the public—the fables of old - credulity are then verified, his very breath becomes venomous, and - every page which he sends abroad carries with it poison to the - unsuspicious reader.’ Such is the interpretation given by the - anonymous writer to the motives of smatterers in philosophy; this - writer could not be Mr. Southey, for ‘_he_ never imputes evil motives - to men merely for holding the opinions he formerly held,’ such as the - evils of the inequality of property, &c. - -Footnote 37: - - Not the Editor of this Paper, but the writer of this Article. - -Footnote 38: - - Perhaps Mr. Southey will inform us some time or other, whether in - Italy also it is the people, and not the Pope, who wants reforming. - -Footnote 39: - - _Dues_ of Office, we suppose. - -Footnote 40: - - It is the making light of the distresses and complaints of our - victims, because we have them in our power, that is the principle of - all cruelty and tyranny. Our pride takes a pleasure in the sufferings - our malice has inflicted; every aggravation of their case is a - provocation to new injuries and insults; and their pretensions to - justice or mercy become ridiculous in proportion to their hopelessness - of redress. It was thus that Mother Brownrigg whipped her prentices to - death; and in the same manner our facetious Editor would work himself - up to apply the thumb-screw to any one who was unable to resist the - application, with a few ‘forsooths,’ and other such ‘comfit-makers - wives’ oaths.’ - -Footnote 41: - - That he might be deemed so no longer, Mr. COLERIDGE soon after became - _passionate for war_ himself; and ‘swell’d the war-whoop’ in the - Morning Post. ‘I am not indeed silly enough,’ he says, ‘to take as any - thing more than a violent hyperbole of party debate, Mr. FOX‘s - assertion that _the late war_ (1802) _was a war produced by the_ - MORNING POST; or I should be proud to have the words inscribed on my - tomb.’—_Biographia Literaria_, vol. i. p. 212. - -Footnote 42: - - We never knew but one instance to contradict this opinion. A person - who had only fourpence left in the world, which his wife had put by to - pay for the baking of some meat and a pudding, went and laid it out in - purchasing a new string for a guitar. Some on this occasion quoted the - lines, - - ‘And ever against _eating_ cares, - Wrap me in soft Lydian airs.’ - -Footnote 43: - - We hope Mr. Southey has not found the truth of the latter part of the - passage. ‘Rich gifts wax poor, when givers prove unkind.’ - -Footnote 44: - - ‘And for the Bishops (in Edward VI.‘s days), they were so far from any - such worthy attempts, as that they suffered themselves to be the - common stales to countenance, with their prostituted gravities, every - politick fetch that was then on foot, as oft as the potent Statists - pleased to employ them. Never do we read that they made use of their - authority, and high place of access, to bring the jarring nobility to - Christian peace, or to withstand their disloyal projects: but if a - toleration for Mass were to be begged of the King for his sister Mary, - lest Charles the Fifth should be angry, who but the grave prelates, - _Cranmer_ and _Ridley_, must be sent to extort it from the young King! - But out of the mouth of that godly and royal child, Christ himself - returned such an awful repulse to those halting and time-serving - Prelates, that, after much importunity they went their way, not - without shame and tears.’—_Milton_—_Of Reformation in England, and the - Causes that have hitherto hindered it._ - -Footnote 45: - - This passage is nearly a repetition of what was said before; but as it - contains the sum and substance of all I have ever said on such - subjects, I have let it stand. - -Footnote 46: - - What is the amount of this right of Mr. Coke’s? It is not greater than - that of the Lords Balmerino and Lovatt to their estates in Scotland, - or to the heads upon their shoulders, the one of which however were - forfeited, and the other stuck upon Temple Bar, for maintaining, in - theory and practice, that James II. had the same right to the throne - of these realms, independently of his merits or conduct, that Mr. Coke - has to his estate at Holkham. So thought they. So did not think George - II. - -Footnote 47: - - See the description of Gargantua in Rabelais. - -Footnote 48: - - The Government of Ovando, a Spanish Grandee and Knight of Alcantara, - who had been sent over to Mexico soon after its conquest, exceeded in - treachery, cruelty, wanton bloodshed, and deliberate extortion, that - of all those who had preceded him; and the complaints became so loud, - that Queen Isabel on her death-bed requested that he might be - recalled; but Ferdinand found that Ovando had sent home _much gold_, - and he retained him in his situation.—_See Capt. Burney’s History of - the Buccaneers._ - -Footnote 49: - - See Coleridge’s ‘Friend,’ No. 15. - -Footnote 50: - - ‘I look down towards his feet; - But that’s a fable.’—OTHELLO. - -Footnote 51: - - ‘I have thought it prudent to omit some parts of Mr. Phelim Connor’s - letter. He is evidently an intemperate young man, and has associated - with his cousins, the Fudges, to very little purpose.’ - -Footnote 52: - - ‘Somebody (Fontenelle, I believe) has said, that if he had his hand - full of truths, he would open but one finger at a time; and I find it - necessary to use the same sort of reserve with respect to Mr. Phelim - Connor’s very plain-spoken letters. The remainder of this Epistle is - so full of unsafe matter of fact, that it must, for the present at - least, be withheld from the public.’ - -Footnote 53: - - ‘To commemorate the landing of Louis le Desiré from England, the - impression of his foot is marked out upon the pier at Calais, and a - pillar with an inscription raised opposite to the spot.’ - -Footnote 54: - - This character was written in a fit of extravagant candour, at a time - when I thought I could do justice, or more than justice, to an enemy, - without betraying a cause. - -Footnote 55: - - For instance: he produced less effect on the mob that compose the - English House of Commons than Chatham or Fox, or even Pitt. - -Footnote 56: - - As in the comparison of the British Constitution to the ‘proud keep of - Windsor,’ &c. the most splendid passage in his works. - -Footnote 57: - - If I had to write a character of Mr. Fox at present, the praise here - bestowed on him would be ‘craftily qualified.’ His life was deficient - in the three principal points, the beginning, the middle, and the end. - He began a violent Tory, and became a flaming patriot out of private - picque; he afterwards coalesced with Lord North, and died an - accomplice with Lord Grenville. But—_what I have written, I have - written_. So let it pass. - -Footnote 58: - - See an excellent character of Fox by a celebrated and admirable - writer, which appeared in the _Morning Chronicle_, November, 1806, - from which this passage is taken as nearly as I could recollect it. - -Footnote 59: - - There is an admirable, judicious, and truly useful remark in the - preface to Spenser (not by Dr. Johnson, for he left Spenser out of his - poets, but by _one_ Upton,) that the question was not whether a better - poem might not have been written on a different plan, but whether - Spenser would have written a better one on a different plan. I wish to - apply this to Fox’s _ungainly_ manner. I do not mean to say, that his - manner was the best possible, (for that would be to say that he was - the greatest man conceivable), but that it was the best for him. - -Footnote 60: - - This may seem to contradict what I have before said of Chatham—that he - spoke like a man who was discharging a duty, &c. but I there spoke of - the tone he assumed, or his immediate feelings at the time, rather - than of the real motives by which he was actuated. - -Footnote 61: - - To this character none of those who could be compared with him in - talents had the least pretensions, as Chatham, Burke, Pitt, &c. They - would _blackguard_ and bully any man upon the slightest provocation, - or difference of opinion. - -Footnote 62: - - One instance may serve as an example for all the rest:—When Mr. Fox - last summer (1805) predicted the failure of the new confederacy - against France, from a consideration of the circumstances and relative - situation of both parties, that is, from an exact knowledge of the - actual state of things, Mr. Pitt contented himself with answering—and, - as in the blindness of his infatuation, he seemed to think quite - satisfactorily,—‘That he could not assent to the honourable - gentleman’s reasoning, for that it went to this, that we were never to - attempt to mend the situation of our affairs, because in so doing we - might possibly make them worse.’ No; it was not on account of this - abstract possibility in human affairs, or because we were not - absolutely sure of succeeding (for that any child might know), but - because it was in the highest degree probable, or _morally_ certain, - that the scheme would fail, and leave us in a worse situation than we - were before, that Mr. Fox disapproved of the attempt. There is in this - a degree of weakness and imbecility, a defect of understanding - bordering on idiotism, a fundamental ignorance of the first principles - of human reason and prudence, that in a great minister is utterly - astonishing, and almost incredible. Nothing could ever drive him out - of his dull forms, and naked generalities; which, as they are - susceptible neither of degree nor variation, are therefore equally - applicable to every emergency that can happen: and in the most - critical aspect of affairs, he saw nothing but the same flimsy web of - remote possibilities and metaphysical uncertainty. In his mind the - wholesome pulp of practical wisdom and salutary advice was immediately - converted into the dry chaff and husks of a miserable logic. - -Footnote 63: - - I do remember one passage which has some meaning in it. At the time of - the Regency Bill, speaking of the proposal to take the King’s servants - from him, he says, ‘What must that great personage feel when he waked - from the trance of his faculties, and asked for his attendants, if he - were told that his subjects had taken advantage of his momentary - absence of mind, and stripped him of the symbols of his personal - elevation.’ There is some grandeur in this. His admirers should have - it inscribed in letters of gold; for they will not find another - instance of the same kind. - -Footnote 64: - - I would recommend to the reader a masterly and unanswerable essay on - the subject, in the Morning Post, by Mr. Coleridge, (see above) from - which most of the above remarks are taken. See also Dr. Beddoes’s - Letter on the public merits of Mr. Pitt. I will only add, that it is - the property of true genius, to force the admiration even of enemies. - No one was ever hated or envied for his powers of mind, if others were - convinced of their real excellence. The jealousy and uneasiness - produced in the mind by the display of superior talents almost always - arises from a suspicion that there is some trick or deception in the - case, and that we are imposed on by an appearance of what is not - really there. True warmth and vigour communicate warmth and vigour; - and we are no longer inclined to dispute the inspiration of the - oracle, when we feel the ‘_presens Divus_’ in our own bosoms. But - when, without gaining any new light or heat, we only find our ideas - thrown into perplexity and confusion by an art that we cannot - comprehend, this is a kind of superiority which must always be - painful, and can never be cordially admitted. For this reason the - extraordinary talents of Mr. Pitt were always viewed, except by those - of his own party, with a sort of jealousy, and _grudgingly_ - acknowledged; while those of his rivals were admitted by all parties - in the most unreserved manner, and carried by acclamation. - -Footnote 65: - - The prevalence of this check may be estimated _by the general - proportion_ of virtue and happiness in the world, for if there were no - such check, there could be nothing but vice and misery. - -Footnote 66: - - Written in 1807, at a time when Mr. Whitbread’s scheme was in - agitation in the House of Commons, and Mr. Malthus used to wait in the - lobbies with his essay in his hand, for the instruction and - compliments of Honourable Members. The above article is taken from a - Reply to Mr. Malthus, one of my very early Essays, the style of which - is, I confess, a little exuberant, but of the arguments I see no - reason to be ashamed. - -Footnote 67: - - Altered in the last edition, to ‘suffer.’ - -Footnote 68: - - Daughter of Marie Antoinette. Burke’s ‘romantic episode’ is in - ‘Reflections on the Revolution in France’ (_Select Works_, ed. Payne, - II. 89). - -Footnote 69: - - From _L’Allegro_, 139. - -Footnote 70: - - Birch’s, No. 15 Cornhill. Samuel Birch (1757–1841), the proprietor, - was Lord Mayor 1814–15. The shop (now famous for turtle soup) still - retains some old features. - -Footnote 71: - - _Othello._ Act IV. Scene 2. - -Footnote 72: - - _Hamlet_, Act IV. Scene 2. - -Footnote 73: - - Cowper, _The Task_ III. 113. - - - Printed by T. and A. CONSTABLE, (late) Printers to Her Majesty at the - Edinburgh University Press - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES - - - 1. P. 423, changed “as this is a subject which I do not not understand, - I must leave it to the lawyers” to “as this is a subject which I - do not understand, I must leave it to the lawyers”. - 2. P. 441, changed “rifacciamento” to “rifacimento”. - 3. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. - 4. Retained anachronistic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as - printed. - 5. Footnotes have been re-indexed using numbers and collected together - at the end of the last chapter. - 6. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: The collected works of William Hazlitt, Vol. 03 (of 12) - -Author: William Hazlitt - -Editor: A. R. Waller - Arnold Glover - -Other: W. E. Henley - -Release Date: September 12, 2019 [EBook #60286] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF WILLIAM HAZLITT, VOL 3 *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class='tnotes covernote'> - -<p class='c000'><b>Transcriber’s Note:</b></p> - -<p class='c000'>The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='section ph1'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>THE</div> - <div>COLLECTED WORKS OF WILLIAM HAZLITT</div> - <div>IN TWELVE VOLUMES</div> - <div class='c002'>VOLUME THREE</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div><em>All rights reserved</em></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_004.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -<div class='ic001'> -<p><em>Milton’s house N<sup>o</sup>. 19, York Street, Westminster, occupied by Hazlitt 1812–1819.</em></p> -</div> -</div> - -<div class='titlepage'> - -<div> - <h1 class='c003'><span class='xlarge'>THE COLLECTED WORKS OF</span><br /> WILLIAM HAZLITT</h1> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div><span class='large'>EDITED BY A. R. WALLER</span></div> - <div><span class='large'>AND ARNOLD GLOVER</span></div> - <div class='c004'><span class='small'>WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY</span></div> - <div>W. E. HENLEY</div> - <div class='c004'>❦</div> - <div class='c004'>Free Thoughts on Public Affairs</div> - <div class='c004'>Political Essays</div> - <div class='c004'>Advertisement, etc., from The Eloquence of the British Senate</div> - <div class='c004'>❦</div> - <div class='c004'>1902</div> - <div><span class='large'>LONDON: J. M. DENT & CO.</span></div> - <div>McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO.: NEW YORK</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>Edinburgh: T. and A. <span class='sc'>Constable</span>, (late) Printers to Her Majesty</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'>CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - -<table class='table0' summary='CONTENTS'> - <tr> - <th class='c006'></th> - <th class='c007'><span class='small'>PAGE</span></th> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>FREE THOUGHTS ON PUBLIC AFFAIRS</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#FREE'>1</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>POLITICAL ESSAYS</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_25'>25</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>ADVERTISEMENT, ETC., FROM THE ELOQUENCE OF THE BRITISH SENATE</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_387'>387</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>NOTES</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_427'>427</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 id='FREE' class='c005'>FREE THOUGHTS ON PUBLIC AFFAIRS<br /> <span class='small'>IN A LETTER ADDRESSED TO</span><br /> <span class='large'>A MEMBER OF THE OLD OPPOSITION</span></h2> -</div> - -<h3 class='c003'>BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE</h3> - -<p class='c008'>This pamphlet of 46 8vo pages was published by the author himself in 1806. -The title-page was ‘Free Thoughts on Public Affairs, or Advice to a Patriot; in -a Letter addressed to a Member of the Old Opposition. London, Printed by -Taylor & Co., Shoe Lane, and sold by J. Budd, Crown & Mitre, Pall Mall, 1806.’ -Mr. W. C. Hazlitt reprinted the pamphlet from the author’s own copy in 1885 -(Bohn’s Library, <cite>The Spirit of the Age, etc.</cite>), and that reprint forms the text of -the present edition. The pamphlet is exceedingly rare. Mr. Alexander Ireland -knew of only one copy, that which belonged to Mr. W. C. Hazlitt. This he -caused to be transcribed; but it has not been possible to collate the present text -with either the original or Mr. Ireland’s transcription.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_1'>1</span> - <h3 class='c003'>ADVICE TO A PATRIOT;<br /> <span class='small'>IN A LETTER ADDRESSED</span><br /> TO A MEMBER OF THE OLD OPPOSITION</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c009'>Sir, If the opposition of character between the individuals of -different nations is that which attaches every one the most strongly to -his own country; if the love of liberty instilled from our very cradle -is any security for the hatred of oppression; if a spirit of independence, -and a constitutional stubbornness of temper are not forward to -crouch under the yoke of unjust ambition; if to look up with heartfelt -admiration to the great names, whether heroes or sages, which -England has produced, and to be unwilling that the country which -gave birth to Shakespear and Milton should ever be enslaved by a -mean and servile foe; if to love its glory—that virtue, that integrity, -that genius, which have distinguished it from all others, and in -which its true greatness consists,—is to love one’s country, there are -few persons who have a better right than myself (on the score of -sincerity) to offer that kind of advice which is the subject of the -following letter, however weak or defective it may be found.</p> - -<p class='c010'>To love one’s country is to wish well to it; to prefer its interests -to our own; to oppose every measure inconsistent with its welfare; -and to be ready to sacrifice ease, health, and life itself in its defence. -But there is a false kind of patriotism, loud and noisy, and ever ready -to usurp that name from others, as an honourable covering either for -selfish designs or blind zeal, to which I shall make no pretensions. -It has been called patriotism, to flatter those in power at the expense -of the people; to sail with the stream; to make a popular prejudice -the stalking-horse of ambition, to mislead first and then betray; to -enrich yourself out of the public treasure; to strengthen your influence -by pursuing such measures as give to the richest members of the -community an opportunity of becoming richer, and to laugh at the -waste of blood and the general misery which they occasion; to defend -every act of a party, and to treat all those as enemies of their country -who do not think the pride of a minister and the avarice of a few of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_2'>2</span>his creatures of more consequence than the safety and happiness of a -free, brave, industrious, and honest people; to strike at the liberty of -other countries, and through them at your own; to change the -maxims of a state, to degrade its spirit, to insult its feelings, and tear -from it its well-earned and proudest distinctions; to soothe the follies -of the multitude, to lull them in their sleep, to goad them on in their -madness, and, under the terror of imaginary evils, to cheat them of -their best privileges; to blow the blast of war for a livelihood in -journals and pamphlets, and by spreading abroad incessantly a spirit -of defiance, animosity, suspicion, distrust, and the most galling contempt, -to make it impossible that we should ever remain at peace or -in safety, while insults and general obloquy have a tendency to -provoke those passions in others which they are intended to excite.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Being then of opinion, that to flatter is not always the duty of a -friend; that it is no part of the love of one’s country to be blind to -her errors, or to wish her to persist in them; I may take the liberty -of stating freely such observations as have occurred to an unprejudiced -but not indifferent spectator on the present state of things: and there -is at least this advantage in reflections which are not the echo of the -popular cry, that something may be found in them, however unsupported -or frivolous in general, which may be turned to good account -by persons of sounder judgment and more extensive means of information. -It has been said that ‘there is wisdom in a multitude of -counsellors;’ but if they only raise a clamour by repeating all of them -the same thing, I do not see how this advantage can be obtained.</p> - -<p class='c010'>What I would chiefly remark upon is,—How far the principles -and views acted upon by the late administrations are such as to afford -us the safest and most honourable ground for prosecuting a war which -is said to be carried on for the existence of the empire.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Had I to engage with an enemy in a struggle of this kind, the -ground which I should choose to occupy would be such a one as that -he must feel himself to be the aggressor. In a conflict which is to -decide the fate of a people, I think the greatest care should be taken -to remove all doubtful or frivolous causes of debate, to suffer no -sinister motives to divert their minds from the great object in which -they are engaged or lessen their steady confidence in the justice of -their cause. It is hardly to be expected that the mass of a people -should defend the patrimony of independence which they inherit from -their ancestors with the reverence, intrepidity, and dauntless zeal -required of them, when they see a minister ready to gamble it away -for the first idle object that excites his cupidity, or opens a door to -the spirit of intrigue. Examining the conduct of those who were the -advisers and authors of the late renewal of hostilities according to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_3'>3</span>these maxims, which seem to me well founded, it is not easy to -imagine any thing more remote from true dignity, magnanimity, or -wisdom, than the manner in which we chose to enter upon a war on -which we were to stake our all. We chose to rest a dispute, which -was to involve every thing near and dear to us, on a diplomatic -ambiguity; on a technical question, as to the manner how and to -whom we were to give up a barren rock which was of no use to us, -and to which we had resigned all pretensions. It was clear that we -had refused to fulfil our share of a treaty which had been formally -ratified; but the reasons which we gave for doing this were by no -means equally clear and satisfactory. They sounded more like the -excuses of those seeking a pretence for the continuance of an unsuccessful -contest, than the remonstrances of persons sincerely anxious -for peace, and opposed by real difficulties. I remember at the time -when the design of retaining Malta was first made known, every one’s -remark was,—Had we not agreed to give it up? And as to the -official reasons for this change of measures, which were afterwards -detailed to the public with such pomp and circumstance, viz., that it -was to have been given up to the Order that formerly possessed it -only on the supposition of that Order’s remaining entire, though no -such condition had been expressed, and under the guarantee of another -power whose consent had neither been asked or obtained, I believe -that no one who was not either indifferent to peace or desirous of war -ever thought them of sufficient consequence to justify us in exposing -ourselves to unnecessary reproach and odium, and plunging into a sea -of unknown troubles. It is certain that by the generality of people -they could neither be felt nor understood. On this tottering foundation -did Mr. Addington think proper to take his stand. Doubt, -perplexity, evasion, a general indifference as to the immediate object -of the dispute, and a direct accusation of breach of faith on the part -of the enemy were the auspices under which we were to begin a war, -which ought (from the tremendous consequences attached to it) to -have had no motives but what came home to the bosoms and businesses -of men; to every manly, generous, and honest feeling; that might -not have been uttered boldly without fear of contradiction in the face -of an enemy; that must not have beat in every heart, have strung -every arm, and animated every tongue. If the situation of the -country was believed to be at all precarious; if there was even a -chance that the contest might really lead to the dreadful alternative -held out to us, the want either of cautious prudence or of manly -wisdom in ministers was at that time inexcusable. It is no part of -wisdom to hang the fate of kingdoms in the balance with straws. It -is no part of courage to fight, to show that you are not afraid of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_4'>4</span>fighting. Calm steady courage does not distrust itself; nor is it -afraid that by giving up a trifling or doubtful point, it may afterwards -be bullied into dangerous compliances. Firmness and moderation -seem to me not only not incompatible with each other, but that the -one is a necessary consequence of the other. On the other hand, -meanness and pride are nearly allied together. In common life we -should think that a readiness to seize the first occasion of quarrel -shewed a man to be either a bully or a coward; it would seem as if -he was afraid that by deferring his resentment he should either want -courage or opportunity for shewing it another time. Yet the great -excuse for our going into the war was,—that by yielding any thing to -the demands of the enemy, we should soon lose all power of resistance, -and crouch in abject submission at his feet. This was not a proud -confidence in ourselves, but a mean dread of our own pusillanimity -and want of firmness. It was to suppose that we had no security for -our firmness, but in the heat of our passions and the infliction of -mutual injuries. But it may be said, that whatever was the cause -of the war, the consequences were the same. The critical situation -in which we stood, and the threats of the enemy made it necessary -for us to repel force by force, to call forth every energy of which we -were possessed, and to stand forth as one man in defence of the -country. But whatever this might prove as to the conduct of the -people, it forms no justification of the conduct of ministers. It was -not the danger of invasion which produced the taking up arms, but -the determination to take up arms which produced the fear of invasion. -The threatened invasion was not the cause of the war, but the consequence -of it. This reasoning, as applied to the commencement of -the war is preposterous. It is the same absurdity as to give yourself -an infectious disease in order that you may call in the physician, -instead of calling in the physician because you are attacked by the -disease. It is ridiculous, I say, to argue that the war was necessary -to repel the horrors and ravages of invasion; when, if the war had -not taken place, no such evils would have been possible. It was true, -that so long as we determined to carry on the war, it was necessary -to guard ourselves against the consequences of war; but to suppose -(which seemed to be generally the case with the good people of -England in the height of their panic) that to doubt for a moment -of the necessity of the war was the same thing as wishing that the -French might come here and put every one to the sword (when one -chief object of peace would be to prevent all such wild alarms), implies -such an intricate confusion of ideas as I am not able to unravel. At -least I can account for it only in one way; by supposing that this -reluctance to distinguish between the necessity of our going to war, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span>and the necessity of self-defence, brought upon us by it, arose from a -deep consciousness in the human mind of the importance of the -motives by which we have been actuated to the success of our undertakings, -and a belief that he who lessens your confidence in the -grounds of your proceeding, thereby unnerves your resolution, and -lessens your safety. I know that immediate danger, however incurred, -produces the same necessity for self-defence; but it does not produce -the same temper of mind and motives for going through it. It may -also produce the same mechanical courage at the moment; but perseverance, -superiority to fear or disaster, self-confidence, a cheerful -determined submission to the greatest hardships and sufferings from a -sense that they were unavoidable, ‘the unconquerable will, and courage -never to submit or yield, and what else is not to be overcome;’ all -these are not in the gift of fear, or folly, or ignorance, or hatred. It -is therefore of the highest consequence to ascertain the true grounds -and motives of a war, such as the present, and to know the spirit and -sentiments by which it was brought about, and to what part of our -character, whether to its strong or its weak side, whether to our vices -or our virtues, those motives were addressed which called forth our -ardour and readiness to engage in it. It is not from loud boasting, -from what we think or say of ourselves, but from what we really are; -not from a pretended, but real love of justice, of independence, of -honour, and of our country’s welfare, that we can expect the fruits of -victory. If we find in those who lead, no higher principle of action -than a wish to serve their own interests, or gratify their own passions, -and in those who are led, only that zeal which arises from the drunken -uproar of an ale-house, the low credulity of ignorance, or the idle -vanity of wearing a red coat and shouldering a firelock—I will not -say that the situation of the country is desperate indeed, but I think -it is not such as to afford the most solid grounds of confidence in our -security against a spirit of unbounded ambition; the insolence of -almost unexampled success, resentment for supposed injuries, and the -most consummate military skill. ‘The still small voice is wanting.’... -It is not in the order of nature that an administration acting -upon such principles as I have here described should feel, or be -capable of inspiring into others, either true patriotism, a sincere and -manly spirit of independence, or any particle of that high-souled -energy, which is necessary to contend with inordinate ambition, -armed with strength and cunning. That administration is no more: -I trust that its spirit has not survived it!</p> - -<p class='c010'>It seems almost impertinent at present to turn back to the diplomatic -pedantry and legal quibbling by which the retention of Malta was so -gravely justified at the time. After the repeated declarations that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>have been made in parliament, and after having witnessed those tragical -events, to which, it seems, it was the necessary prelude, there can be -little doubt as to the real motives of that measure. From these -motives then we are to form our opinion of the conduct of ministers. -If it was a wise and necessary measure to plunge Europe again into -the calamities of war, to bathe it once more in that ‘fountain of -blood,’ then and then only was our refusing to fulfil our engagements -a wise and necessary determination; for the now avowed reason of -our going to war was, that we might not remain at peace! Here -then was a war voluntarily undertaken for its own sake, peace studiously -shunned, and all the evils consequent upon such a step incurred, for -the sake of making one more desperate effort to reduce the power of -France and humble it with the dust. We therefore entered upon this -wild Quixotic scheme at our own peril, and the responsibility of the -war devolved upon us. We ought therefore to have had strong -grounds, either from a confidence in the result or from the justice of -the principle, for making such an attempt. But we have seen what -has been the result with respect to the other powers of Europe, it -remains to be seen how it will terminate with respect to ourselves. -As to the justice and generosity of the design, I may perhaps speak -of that hereafter.</p> - -<p class='c010'>I will not pretend to censure the general practice of obtaining a -war <em>under false pretences</em>, I leave it to the politicians to settle the rules -of honour among themselves: but I cannot help thinking that in a -war which is to try the spirit of a people, they ought not to be tricked, -or bullied, or unnecessarily forced into it. With respect to the -suspension of the war in consequence of the treaty of Amiens, it -certainly had this good effect (on the supposition that it was absolutely -necessary to go on with the contest), that it gave those who had been -enemies of the old war, and had been afterwards disgusted by the -conduct of the French, but did not like to relinquish their opinion -while the original cause of dispute remained—it gave all persons of -this class (of which there were great numbers) an opportunity to quit -the ranks of discontent without exposing themselves to the charge of -inconsistency. As it was a new war, they thought they had a fair -right to have a new opinion about it; and they exercised their freedom -of election as eagerly in approving the conduct of ministers in entering -upon the present war, as they had done in condemning their continuance -of the former one. For myself, I confess I have always -looked upon the present war as a continuance of the last, carried on -upon the same principles and for the same purposes, only without any -hopes of success, and therefore infinitely more wanton and foolish. -For as, in the commencement of the last war, it was our intention to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span>conquer France, in this we can only hope to defend ourselves. Of -the necessity of this defence there can be but one opinion. But to -confound this with the necessity of the war itself, or to argue as if the -discontinuance of the war would increase the dangers arising from it, -is an improvement in political logic, a luminous arrangement of ideas, -that must have crept in with the benefits of the Union.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The first plea that was made use of to give a colouring of interest -to the renewal of hostilities, before the discovery of that profound -train of policy, the explosion of which has left Europe a heap of -ruins, was, that after the incautious surrender of Malta, it had been -found to be of much greater importance to Great Britain than had -been imagined at the time; and that it could not be suffered to fall -into the hands of the French, or even become subject to their influence, -without endangering one of the chief sources of the wealth and -prosperity of this country. It seems Malta was the enchanted island, -into which Buonaparte was to convey himself by stealth, and thence -passing easily into Egypt was, at another vast stride, to come down -<em>souse</em> upon our possessions in India. With these resting-places, and -the help of the thousand-league boots which our imagination had lent -him, the political magician was to take but a hop, step and a jump, -from one hemisphere into the other. Or, in the language of the day, -Malta was the key to Egypt, and Egypt was the key to our Eastern -conquests. Both the points assumed in this statement were directly -denied, and their fallacy exposed at the time by one to whose authority -or reasonings on the subject I can add nothing; but I may be -permitted to make one general remark with respect to this part of the -subject, that if the mere possibility of the loss of an object of national -aggrandisement is to be considered as a sufficient ground of war, there -never could be such a thing as peace among mankind. If one party -is to be kept in a state of perpetual alarm from a distant apprehension -of losing the superiority they possess in wealth, or luxury, or power, -and the other to be perpetually goaded on by the hope of speculative -plunder; if one party is determined to forgo nothing, and the other to -grasp at everything; if future causes of contention are to be anticipated, -and we are to fight now to defend an object that may never -come into dispute hereafter; if we are not to wait till we see and feel -our danger, but to create it out of every fantastic occasion; if our -selfishness must be of that refined calculating comprehensive kind as -to overlook no possibility of danger or advantage however remote or -uncertain, and at the same time so inflexibly disinterested as to think -no sacrifices too great in pursuit of its favourite object—it is easy to -see that the world would soon be dispeopled. It is well for mankind -that our passions naturally circumscribe themselves, and contain their -<span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span>own antidote within them. The only excuse for our narrow, selfish -passions is their short-sightedness: were it not for this, the jealousies -of individuals and of nations would never leave them a moment’s -interval of rest or quiet. It is well that the headlong passions which -make us rush on our own destruction and that of others are only -excited by gross, palpable objects; and are therefore transient and -limited in their operation. It is well that those motives which owe -nothing to reason in their birth should not afterwards receive either -nourishment or support from it. If in their present desultory state -they produce so many mischiefs, what would be the case if they were -to be organized into systems, and under the direction of pure abstract -reason? Any object that provoked a momentary resentment or -excited our jealousy might plunge us into a war that could only be -expiated by seas of blood. But in a war of mere interest or passion, -it is surely allowable to sit down and count the cost, and to strive to -moderate our pride and resentment instead of inflaming them. Virtue, -truth, and patriotism require nothing of us but an inviolable resolution -and integrity in the defence of those rights which are the common -privilege of humanity; the rest is a calculation of prudence, not a -stern command of duty that admits neither of compromise or delay. -To defend at the point of the sword, and at the risk of every thing -valuable, our title to the possessions that are neither necessary nor -durable in their own nature, that are never worth a hundred years’ -purchase, that may crumble to pieces of their own accord, or slip out -of our hands in various ways before the end of the contest, and which -afterwards will be no more secure ‘against infection and the hand of -war,’ against the insidious or desperate designs of the enemy, against -the breath of accident or unforeseen decay than they were before—is -madness and folly. It is to defeat the intended favours of Fortune, -by paying for them before-hand a price much greater than they can -ever be worth. It is to squander away the whole estate of our -present happiness and comfort in purchasing security for that, for -which no security ever was or can be given—the continued smiles of -fortune. We cannot without a presumption that will involve its own -punishment think of placing beyond the reach of chance or fate that -which by its own nature and the fluctuation of human affairs is liable -to change.</p> - -<p class='c010'>But this must be the case with all distant and maritime possessions: -indeed all naval superiority is attended with this necessary disadvantage; -that, though actual power, it is not self-dependent, or the source -of its own permanence. We cannot secure the possession of the sea -in the same manner by taking ships as we can the possession of the -land by taking fortresses and countries. The longer a successful -<span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>continental warfare is carried on, the more able is the conqueror to -carry it on: every new conquest that he makes furnishes him with -the means of making more, and secures to him what he has already -gained by striking at the heart of power, by disarming resistance, and -by very liberally rewarding the expence and trouble of keeping it—Whereas -the advantages that are gained at sea are, like that element -itself, infinitely treacherous and uncertain. We may take their ships; -but this will not hinder them from building others. We cannot build -forts or erect passes on the seas, or dig them into trenches to keep -out the enemy. We cannot enter their country and cut down their -forests; we cannot enter their ports and destroy their magazines;—all -their means and sources of power remain untouched. We cannot -prevent their exertions, though we may constantly render them -abortive. Thus, while at an enormous expence we maintain our -actual superiority, we make no advances to our object—which is -security; but are rather further from it. If we ever make peace, -which I suppose will happen sooner or later, we shall find that we -have not in any one respect lessened the means or palsied the energies -of our rivals; and while we remain at war we are teaching them two -very dangerous things, resolution and skill. I conceive no power can -be long superior to the attacks of another, unless where it has the -means of crushing its resistance in embryo. Naval dominion is in -this respect what a government would be that should give to insurgents -a free communication with each other, full liberty of forming -plans and of organizing themselves into regular bodies of troops, and -the privilege of never being attacked till they themselves gave the -signal for the onset. Military conquests are therefore in their nature -to a certain degree secure; because in maintaining them we have to -contend with those whom we have bound hand and foot, from whom -we have taken all effectual power of resistance; while in maintaining -our naval superiority, we strengthen our adversary by struggling with -him, since he has the full use of every limb and muscle, has every -inducement as well as opportunity to exert himself to the utmost, and -is in no danger of receiving any material hurt; at least this must be -the consequence where our natural strength and advantages are at -all equal. I know nothing but some such reasoning as this on the -inefficiency of naval advantages, as a means of reducing the enemy to -terms of submission, that could form the least excuse for the late -ministers in their desperate attempt to turn the course of the war -from a channel in which it was sure to be successful, into one in -which it was sure to be disastrous; to throw the game knowingly and -wilfully into the enemy’s hands, and ruin us in our allies. They -seemed to anticipate with fatal apprehension the most splendid success -<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>that ever adorned the annals of the British navy, and to be determined -by an inverted ambition to match it with a pattern, in their own style, -of equal horror, discomfiture, and dismay. They seemed to conspire -maliciously with fortune, in depriving Englishmen of the pure, unalloyed -triumph of that day.—For the present, the errors of the -cabinet have entirely defeated whatever advantages we might have -derived from our naval success; and the effect of our mistaken policy -has been, that while we remain undisputed masters of the seas, and -are grasping at the commerce of the world, we see the ports of -Europe about to be shut against us. War on the continent is therefore -hopeless; war at sea useless, or worse than useless: for methinks -there is neither policy nor wisdom nor humanity ‘in resolving to set -no limits to your hostility but with your existence,’ when you have -to contend with a great and formidable foe; when you only know -that <em>he</em> is safe from your attacks; when you can only distress him, -when you gain no advantage yourself in the mean time, and cannot -possibly gain any that can be put in competition with such an alternative; -when we consider that such a resolution (however heroically -it may be formed) cannot be always persisted in (for the desire of -peace is natural, and war revolting to the human mind); that the -longer it is adhered to, the more mischievous it will become, and the -more dangerous in its consequences afterwards, and will render the -diminution of that maritime preponderance, which we have held with -such a convulsive grasp, more and more an object both of policy and -revenge to other powers.</p> - -<p class='c010'>I have promised to say something of the justice of the war in its -principle, not as a war of defence but as a war of interference; though -I think the less is said on this subject the better; it can only open -‘another Iliad of woes.’ It must lead to a train of recollections that -can be of no use to us at present; or revive sentiments and a spirit -that should be recalled only (if it were possible) to be disclaimed. -The less we retain of a spirit of offence, and the sooner we forget -ourselves in the character of aggressors, in however just a cause, the -better shall we be qualified for our present posture of defence: for -there is no ground of resistance so sure as a determined belief, for the -time at least, that all aggression must be wrong. I am far from -thinking that the arbitrary conduct of a government, even where it -does not affect ourselves, is not a just ground of war, or that the conduct -of the French government was not marked by a spirit of violent -and unjust ambition. Of course if that spirit can be resisted with -effect, there is no injustice, and there is a great deal of policy in -doing it. But before we can plead generous indignation and an -uncontrolable love of justice in excuse for our rashness and imprudence, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>it must be clear that pride, revenge, and the lust of dominion -have had no share in producing this ardent concern for the rights and -liberties of mankind. It is not the nature or justice of the occasion, -but the use intended to be made of it; the principles and views on -which we act, and the character of those with whom we are associated -in a common cause, that gives us a right to arrogate to ourselves the title -of assertors of the liberties of mankind. If, however, our motives -are not such as to be above all suspicion, it is not enough that we -are able to hide them from ourselves, unless we can at the same time -impose upon those who have not the same interest in being deceived -by the thin disguise that covers them. Instead then of enquiring -into the abstract justice of the war (a sort of enquiry now very nearly -exploded, and which would be of little use in guiding our practical -conclusions), let us examine in what manner our remonstrances would -be likely to be received by the government to whom they were -addressed, and how far the common feelings of humanity would -compel them ‘to bow their crested pride’ at the feet of their -accusers. Would they forget then that the undue and dangerous -influence in the affairs of Europe, which was so loudly complained -of, had been the consequence of the combined efforts of all Europe -to accomplish their destruction, and was so far from being the cause -of the hostility of other states, that it was their only security against -it? That their unjust and tyrannical encroachments on the independence -of the neighbouring states had been made in defending their own -independence from the aggressions of which they were made the -instruments? They would say, that to think of restoring the independence -of those countries would be putting into the hands of a -mortal enemy, whom you have just disarmed, the weapons with -which he may most surely effect your destruction; that whatever -advantages they had gained had been bought with their blood, shed -for their country; that if there had been any instance of unjust -aggression, or inordinate ambition, it might at least be <em>accounted for</em> -from that natural jealousy of others, and that fierce impatience of -control, that must become habitual to those who had had every kind -of difficulty to encounter, and who had triumphed over all opposition. -The gigantic strength and towering greatness of France had arisen -from her convulsive struggles for existence, and in the cause of that -liberty which was denied her. They, who had insulted her weakness -and blasted her hopes, had no right to complain of her strength or -her despair. Those who had not been able to make their country -free and happy, would be instigated by a just revenge to make her -great and formidable to her enemies. They might say, ‘You left us -no choice between the highest point of glory, and the most abject -<span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>submission; we must either be conquerors or slaves. If you gained -an advantage, you pursued it; if you were defeated, you returned to -the charge; neither success nor misfortune inclined you to listen to -terms of accommodation: we saw that we could never hope for -peace, but either by giving to France such an ascendancy as would -overawe the rest of Europe, or by throwing ourselves at last on the -mercy of our unrelenting foe. We had not forgotten the partition of -Poland, the massacres of Ismael and Warsaw; and we could not -satisfy ourselves but that those who had had the chief concern in -these events, or had witnessed them without dismay, might have other -objects in view in entering France, besides the tranquillity of the -people, the restoration of order, or a disinterested regard for the -safety of thrones, and the independence of Europe. We could not -conceive that an implacable enmity to France was a full atonement -for all other crimes, or a security for every virtue. Pursued, hunted -down, driven to madness, we turned upon our pursuers, and trampled -them under our feet; and in the career of our fury, and the plenitude -of our triumph, you charge us with excesses, from which we ourselves -were the greatest sufferers; and with not having observed those rules -of justice and moderation, which reason required of us. We were -to have no indemnity, no security: we were to give back every conquest, -as soon as made; to fight every battle over again; to rely -solely on the faith or generosity of our adversaries, as a pledge that -no advantage would be taken of our confidence; or, if it were ten -times betrayed, we were not to complain, as we had no right to -advantages obtained by unjust violence, in a cause that exposed us -to the enmity and detestation of the human race: we were to plead -guilty to our own condemnation; to set the seal on our own infamy, -and to receive as a mark of favour and lenity, whatever implied our -admission into the common rank and privileges of mankind; and, -after endless sacrifices and exertions, we were only to prepare for new -struggles and insults, without ever hoping to end them. But from -whom were we to learn this extreme moderation, or that respect -for the rights of justice or the ties of humanity, which could be -no defence to us? Why were we not to pursue the objects of -our ambition, with the same obstinacy as those with whom we -had to contend pursued the objects of their revenge? It could -hardly be expected that all the concessions were to be made by -those who were intoxicated with the pride of victory, in favour of -those who had reaped nothing but disappointment, and who were -only urged on by a sullen despair. In this manner was the war -protracted, year after year, by open hostility, by civil dissentions, -and pretended treaties; lingered out under various pretexts, which -<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>were artfully substituted for each other as occasion required, so as to -make it impossible ever to arrive at any decisive issue to the contest. -When defeated, the continuance of the war was necessary to their -own defence and safety; when flushed with victory for a time, then -nothing less than full indemnity for the past, as well as security for -the future would satisfy them; and then their favourite object, the -subjugation of France, and destruction of the republic, was resumed -with fresh ardour, and tempted them on till their hopes again ended -in defeat and ruin: thus adapting every aspect of affairs to their own -purposes, they constantly returned in the same circle to the point from -which they set out, and war was always necessary, peace always -unattainable. Or if at any time the fainting resolution and exhausted -strength of our adversaries seemed to promise us that repose which -was so necessary to us, we saw the dying embers of war again eagerly -rekindled by a country that, standing aloof from the contagion, -shouted from her rocky shores to see the flames that consumed the -vitals of Europe. The bitterest enmity that our early struggles in -the cause of liberty had drawn down upon us was to be shewn by a -people “that had long insulted the slavery of Europe, by the loudness -of its boasts of freedom.” English solicitation and English gold were -always ready to defeat that object, which was to be the reward of -so many triumphs, and of so many years of suffering, of havoc, -uncertainty, and dismay. A reluctant peace was at length extorted -from her: but her jealousy, avarice, and pride made her choose to -risk every thing rather than remain in a state so unnatural to her. -Delicate in her moral sentiments, disinterested in all her proceedings, -she was shocked at some violences of ours, which permitted her no -longer to remain an indifferent spectator of the calamities of other -nations, and she sought the first opportunity of evading the treaty -that had been concluded, by alarming the fears of her merchants for -the safety of their Eastern possessions. She lost no time in rousing -to her aid her former confederates in wrong. By her incantations, -the hydra-headed monster, which we thought we had finally subdued, -again feels new life and vigour restored to it, unites its severed folds, -and with its triple crown moves onward to its prey, and France must -submit or perish, that England may preserve her commerce.’ In -some such manner as this would a Frenchman repel the charges -brought against his countrymen; and, if we allow for the strength -of national prejudices, there appears to be some appearance of reason -in what he says.<a id='r1' /><a href='#f1' class='c011'><sup>[1]</sup></a> If the present quarrel had been so managed as to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>have been completely disentangled from the former one, we should -have been better able to answer their reproaches, and I think to -resist their menaces. Had not Austria been precipitated unwisely -into that quarrel in the manner she was, she could not have fallen to -the ground without a struggle.</p> - -<p class='c010'>In what further remarks I have to make, I shall consider whether -the system of internal policy pursued by the late minister was in its -general tendency likely to increase the spirit of independence, and -consequently the security of the country. It seems to me a desirable -object to refer as much as possible of our proceedings both at home -and abroad to the influence of that minister’s character on the national -feelings, and to the blind confidence generally placed in his talents -and integrity. The errors that we have been led into by a confidence -of this sort will be sooner retrieved than if they proceeded from a -change in our own habits and dispositions. It is well if we can save -the credit of our national character, a little at the expence of our -understandings; for I cannot think that our confidence in that -minister was well bestowed. I know it is a general maxim, that we -are not to war with the dead. We ought not, indeed, to trample -on their bodies; but with their <em>minds</em> we may and must make war, -unless we would be governed by them after they are dead. They -who wish their sentiments to survive them in the memories of men, -must also expect to live in their censures.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The character of Mr. Pitt was, perhaps, one of the most singular -that ever existed. With few talents, and fewer virtues, he acquired -and preserved in one of the most trying situations, and in spite of all -opposition, the highest reputation for the possession of every moral -excellence, and as having carried the attainments of eloquence and -wisdom as far as human abilities could go. This he did (strange as -it appears) by a negation (together with the common virtues) of the -common vices of human nature, and by the complete negation of -every other talent that might interfere with the only one which he -possessed in a supreme degree, and which indeed may be made to -include the appearance of all others—an artful use of words, and a -certain dexterity of logical arrangement. In these alone his power -consisted; and the defect of all other qualities, which usually -constitute greatness, contributed to the more complete success of -these. Having no strong feelings, no distinct perceptions, his mind -having no link, as it were, to connect it with the world of external -nature, every subject presented to him nothing more than a <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">tabula -rasa</span></i>, on which he was at liberty to lay whatever colouring of language -he pleased; having no general principles, no comprehensive views of -things, no moral habits of thinking, no system of action, there was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>nothing to hinder him from pursuing any particular purpose by any -means that offered; having never any plan, he could not be convicted -of inconsistency, and his own pride and obstinacy were the -only rules of his conduct. Having no insight into human nature, no -sympathy with the passions of men, or apprehension of their real -designs, he seemed perfectly insensible to the consequences of things, -and would believe nothing till it actually happened. The fog and -haze in which he saw every thing communicated itself to others, and -the total indistinctness and uncertainty of his own ideas tended to -confound the perceptions of his hearers more effectually than the -most ingenious misrepresentation could have done. Indeed, in defending -his conduct he never seemed to consider himself as at all responsible -for the success of his measures, or that future events were in our own -power; but that as the best laid schemes might fail, and there was -no providing against all possible contingencies, this was a sufficient -excuse for our plunging at once into any dangerous or absurd enterprise -without the least regard to consequences. His reserved logic -confined itself solely to the <em>possible</em> and the <em>impossible</em>, and he appeared -to regard the <em>probable</em> and <em>improbable</em>, the only foundation of moral -prudence or political wisdom, as beneath the notice of a profound -statesman; as if the pride of the human intellect were concerned in -never entrusting itself with subjects, where it may be compelled to -acknowledge its weakness.<a id='r2' /><a href='#f2' class='c011'><sup>[2]</sup></a> From his manner of reasoning, he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>seemed not to have believed that the truth of his statements depended -on the reality of the facts, but that the things depended on the order -in which he arranged them in words: you would not suppose him to -be agitating a serious question, which had real grounds to go upon, -but to be declaiming upon an imaginary thesis, proposed as an exercise -in the schools. He never set himself to examine the force of the -objections that were brought against his measures, or attempted to -establish them upon clear, solid grounds of his own; but constantly -contented himself with first gravely stating the logical form, or -dilemma to which the question reduced itself, and then, after having -declared his opinion, proceeded to amuse his hearers by a series of -rhetorical common-places, connected together in grave, sonorous, and -elaborately constructed periods, without ever shewing their real application -to the subject in dispute. Thus if any member of the -opposition disapproved of any measure, and enforced his objections by -pointing out the many evils with which it is fraught, or the difficulties -attending its execution, his only answer was, ‘that it was true there -might be inconveniences attending the measure proposed, but we were -to remember, that every expedient that could be devised might be -said to be nothing more than a choice of difficulties, and that all -that human prudence could do was to consider on which side the -advantages lay; that for his part he conceived that the present -measure was attended with more advantages and fewer disadvantages -than any other that could be adopted; that if we were diverted from -our object by every appearance of difficulty, the wheels of government -would be clogged by endless delays and imaginary grievances; that -most of the objections made to the measure appeared to him trivial, -others of them unfounded and improbable; or that if a scheme free -from all these objections could be proposed, it might after all prove -inefficient; while, in the mean time, a material object remained -unprovided for, or the opportunity of action was lost.’ This mode -of reasoning is admirably described by Hobbes, in speaking of the -writings of some of the Schoolmen, of whom he says, that ‘they had -learned the trick of imposing what they list upon their readers, and -declining the force of true reason by verbal forks, that is distinctions -which signify nothing, but serve only to astonish the multitude of -ignorant men.’ That what I have here stated comprehends the -whole force of his mind, which consisted solely in this evasive -dexterity and perplexing formality, assisted by a copiousness of words -and common-place topics, will, I think, be evident to any one who -carefully looks over his speeches, undazzled by the reputation or -personal influence of the speaker. It will be in vain to look in them -for any of the common proofs of human genius or wisdom. He has -<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>not left behind him a single memorable saying—not one profound -maxim—one solid observation—one forcible description—one beautiful -thought—one humourous picture—one affecting sentiment. He has -made no addition whatever to the stock of human knowledge. He -did not possess any one of those faculties which contribute to the -instruction and delight of mankind—depth of understanding, imagination, -sensibility, wit, vivacity, clear and solid judgment. But it may -be asked, If these qualities are not to be found in him, where are we -to look for them? And I may be required to point out instances of -them. I shall answer then, that he had none of the profound, -legislative wisdom, piercing sagacity, or rich, impetuous, high-wrought -imagination of Burke; the manly eloquence, strong sense, exact -knowledge, vehemence and natural simplicity of Fox; the ease, -brilliancy, and acuteness of Sheridan. It is not merely that he had -not all these qualities in the degree that they were severally possessed -by his rivals, but he had not any of them in any degree. His -reasoning is a technical arrangement of unmeaning common-places, -his eloquence merely rhetorical, his style monotonous and artificial. -If he could pretend to any one excellence in an eminent degree, it -was to taste in composition. There is certainly nothing low, nothing -puerile, nothing far-fetched or abrupt in his speeches; there is a kind -of faultless regularity pervading them throughout; but in the confined, -mechanical, passive mode of eloquence which he adopted, it seemed -rather more difficult to commit errors than to avoid them. A man -who is determined never to move out of the beaten road cannot lose -his way. However, habit, joined to the peculiar mechanical memory -which he possessed, carried his correctness to a degree which, in an -extemporaneous speaker, was almost miraculous; he perhaps hardly -ever uttered a sentence that was not perfectly regular and connected. In -this respect, he not only had the advantage over his own contemporaries, -but perhaps no one that ever lived equalled him in this singular -faculty. But for this, he would always have passed for a common -man; and to this the constant sameness, and, if I may say so, -vulgarity of his ideas must have contributed not a little, as there -was nothing to distract his mind from this one object of his unintermitted -attention; and as even in his choice of words he never -aimed at anything more than a certain general propriety and stately -uniformity of style. His talents were exactly fitted for the situation -in which he was placed; where it was his business not to overcome -others, but to avoid being overcome. He was able to baffle opposition, -not from strength or firmness, but from the evasive ambiguity and -impalpable nature of his resistance, which gave no hold to the rude -grasp of his opponents: no force could bind the loose phantom, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>his mind (though ‘not matchless, and his pride humbled by such -rebuke,’) soon rose from defeat unhurt,</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘And in its liquid texture mortal wound</div> - <div class='line'>Receiv’d no more than can the fluid air.’<a id='r3' /><a href='#f3' class='c011'><sup>[3]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>By this lucky combination of strength and weakness, he succeeded -in maintaining an undiminished influence over the opinions of his own -country for a number of years, in wielding her energies as he pleased, -and guiding the counsels of almost all Europe. With respect to his -influence on the continent, that is an illusion that is past, and not -worth inquiring about; but it may still be of some use to inquire by -what means he strengthened his influence at home, as this may more -immediately concern our future conduct. This I think he effected -in two ways: by lessening the free spirit of the country as much as -he could, and by giving every possible encouragement to its commercial -spirit. I shall not here examine how far both these designs -were wise and salutary at the time; but I conceive that neither a -spirit of dependence nor an unbounded and universal spirit of trade -will be the best security for our safety at present. An indifference -to liberty is not likely to increase the love of independence; nor is -an exclusive regard to private gain likely to produce a disinterested -concern for the public welfare. Mr. Pitt, in making war, always -considered peace as an object perfectly indifferent in itself; and, in -securing the prerogative of the crown, seemed to think that the -privileges of the people did not deserve a moment’s attention. I do -not in this mean to condemn his conduct: perhaps we may suppose -that the restrictions which he introduced on the liberty of the subject, -and the spirit of passive obedience and non-resistance which was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>every where industriously diffused, the contempt and obloquy which -were poured on the very name of liberty, might be required by the -circumstances of the time, and necessary to prevent the contagion of a -dangerous example, and the mischiefs of civil anarchy and confusion. -The public were perhaps justly surfeited with metaphysical treatises -overturning the foundation of all civil rights, and the very notion of -liberty, with historical disquisitions proving that the popular spirit of -political institutions was the bane of all internal quiet and happiness, -the source of endless violence and bloodshed, and the final cause of -their dissolution; that human happiness could never reach its utmost -point of perfection but under the mild and tranquil reign of universal -despotism; that the forms of all governments were alike indifferent, -provided they secured the same servile obedience and death-like -apathy in the state. Perhaps it was then necessary that we should -be told, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ex cathedrâ</span></i>, that the people had nothing to do with the laws -but to <em>obey</em> them: perhaps it was right that we should be amused with -apologies for the corrupt influence of the crown; that integrity, -honour, the love of justice, public spirit, or a zeal for the interests -of the community should be laughed at as absurd chimeras, and that -an ardent love of liberty, or determined resistance to powerful -oppression should be treated as madness and folly. But however -wise or necessary a temporary fashion of this kind might be to -counteract the poison of other views and sentiments, I am sure it -can neither be wise nor safe to continue it at present. We ought to -do every thing in our power to get rid of the effects of so dangerous -a habit as soon as possible. The fewer curbs there are on the spirit -of the people, the more vigorous and determined will it shew itself; -the greater the encouragement that is given to the principles of -liberty, and the greater confidence that is placed in the general -disposition of the country, the greater and more irresistible will be -their habitual attachment to liberty and independence. You give a -manifest advantage to an enemy if you in any way lessen the sources -of enthusiasm, or in any way check the ardour, confine the energy, -degrade the sentiments, or discountenance the erect, manly, independent -spirit of your country. It is dangerous to let any thing -fall into disrepute or contempt which may serve as a watchword to -startle the dull ear, or rouse the frozen blood; but to this purpose it -is not enough that the name is retained, if the habitual feeling is -destroyed. A tame acquiescence in every encroachment of power or -exertion of undue influence, a disposition to assert our own rights or -those of others no further than fear or interest permit, a habit of -looking on the welfare of our country or the rights of mankind as -secondary considerations, no further to be regarded than as they are -<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>connected with our own danger or convenience, these are not the -symptoms of the durable greatness and independence of a people. -The causes of the ruin of states have been almost always laid in the -relaxation of their moral habits and political prejudices. No kingdom -can be secure in its independence against a greater power that is not -free in its spirit, as well as in its institutions. I shall be happy if I -have been mistaken in thinking these observations at all applicable to -our own country: but the observations themselves are serious, and -worth attending to. They are such as have been recognised in all -nations and ages, except those indeed where their having been so -would have rendered them suspected.</p> - -<p class='c010'>On the other hand, a commercial spirit is a very weak as well as -dangerous substitute for a spirit of freedom: a sense of self-interest, -of mere mercenary advantage, can but ill supply the place of principle. -The love of gain, however active or persevering this principle may -be in accomplishing its own particular ends, can never be safely -trusted to as an <em>ally</em> in a cause where there are other objects to be -attended to. Men who are actuated by this sole principle will very -obstinately, no doubt, defend their wealth, while they can retain it; -but when that is no longer the case, they will think nothing else -worth retaining, and meanly compromise their independence for -their safety. That common birthright which they receive from -nature, in which every Englishman has an equal interest as such, -appears of little value in their eyes. Liberty is in their eyes a coarse -homely figure, but for the jewels that sparkle in her hair, and the -rings on her fingers. It is inconceivable to them how a man can -have any attachment to a simple shed, or can take any pride in his -title to that respect, which is due to him only because he feels himself -to be free. They will defend England as connected with her -colonies, with her proud canopies of Eastern state, her distant spicy -groves and the rich spoils of her Western isles; but will they defend -her as she is England, as their country? Strip her of her conquests, -her slaves, and her plantations, her bales of goods, her gold -and silver, and leave her only herself, what would there be in all the -rest worth the labour of a struggle? Her barren acres, her brave, -simple, generous, honest-hearted, hardy race of men, her liberty, her -fame, her integrity they look upon with the most sovereign contempt -and indifference, and would be ready to sacrifice them all for the -purchase of some new golden settlement, ‘some happier island in the -watery waste—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Where slaves no more their native land behold,</div> - <div class='line'>But fiends torment, and Christians thirst for gold.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'><span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>They would defend their country not as her children, but as her -masters; as a property, not as a state. There may be the same pride -and luxury in other classes of men, but they are accompanied with -other feelings, and drawn from other sources. It has been a customary -compliment to consider those as best entitled to come forward conspicuously -in defence of their country who had what is called the -greatest <em>stake</em> in it. This is perhaps true of the real, old hereditary -nobility and gentry, of those who find their names enrolled high in -the annals of their country, whose affections have grown to her soil -as it were in a long course of centuries, who have an interest in looking -forward to posterity, and a pride in looking back upon their -ancestors, who have not only present possessions and advantages to -defend, but feelings of inveterate prejudice and inbred honour to defend -them. The loss of respect, or of their former privileges, is a change -which to them appears like something out of the course of nature, to -which no force or accidental circumstances can ever reconcile them. -They are also men of liberal education; and this is a great point -gained. There is certainly this advantage in a classical education, if -not counteracted by other causes, that it gives men long views; it -accustoms the mind to take an interest in things foreign to itself, to -love virtue for its own sake, to prefer fame to life, and glory to riches, -and to fix our thoughts on the great and permanent instead of -narrow and selfish objects. It teaches us to believe that there is -something really great and excellent in the world, surviving all the -shocks of accident and fluctuations of opinion, and to feel respect for -that which is made venerable by its nature and antiquity instead of -that low and servile dread which bows only to present power and -upstart authority. It is hard to find in minds otherwise formed either -a delicate sense of honour, or an inflexible regard to truth and justice. -But the spirit of trade is the very reverse of all this. It is the -principle of this set of men to cry ‘Long life to the conqueror,’ to feel -a contempt for all obligations that are not founded in self-interest, and -to consider all generous pursuits and the hope of unfading renown as -romance and folly. ‘Virtue is not their habit, they are out of themselves -in any course of conduct recommended only by conscience and -glory.’ They would not give a hundred hogsheads of sugar or a -half-year’s income for all the posthumous fame that was ever acquired -in the world. If things should unhappily ever come to extremities, -they are not the people who will retrieve them, either by their -exertions or example. They have neither grand and elevated views, -nor the warm, genuine feelings of nature. They have no <em>principles</em> of -action. Irresolute, temporizing, every thing is with them made a -subject of selfish calculation. Their friendships as well as their -<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>enmities are the creatures of the occasion. Confident, insolent in the -day of success, and while their cause is triumphant, they are as soon -dejected and driven to despair, when they find the tide turned against -them. Fortune is with them the first of goddesses: success the only -title to authority and respect; and possession the truest right. Accustomed -to all the fluctuations of hope and fear, they consider nothing -stable in human affairs; thrown into the possession of power and -affluence by accidents which they know not how to account for, it can -hardly seem strange to them that they should again be stripped of -them. They do not ‘lay the fault upon themselves but on their stars, -that they are underlings.’ If I hear a man say that we are to give -up our public principles whenever circumstances render it necessary, -that we are to inquire upon all occasions not what is right, but what -is prudent to be done, that those feelings, which lead us to adhere to -the cause of truth and justice if at all unpopular, or to incur any -personal risk or inconvenience in defending what is right, are weak -and vulgar prejudices, I know that that man will be first to truckle to -an enemy, and the last voluntarily to risk his life in defence of his -independence.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The courage of the soldier and the citizen are essentially different. -The one is momentary and involuntary; the other permanent and -voluntary. It is one thing to do all in your power to repel danger -when it is unavoidable, and another to expose yourself to it when you -may avoid going into it. Fear, or rashness, or necessity may be -supposed to kindle all the fury of battle: but principle alone can make -us willing to return to the charge after defeat. It is for this <em>re-action</em> -that we ought to be chiefly prepared. For this nothing can prepare -us but a true love of our country, not taken up as a fashion, but felt -as a duty; a spirit of resistance not measured by our convenience, but -by the strength of our attachment and the real value of the object; -but steady enthusiasm; but a determination never to submit while -hope or life remained, and an indifference to every thing else but that -one great object.</p> - -<p class='c010'>What resistance has Holland ever made to the power of France -from the first moment? Commerce had spread its sordid mantle -completely over her. Wrapped closely up in this, she fell without -resistance and without a groan: she was not of a temper to fall in -love with danger, to court disasters. Since that time she has not -made a struggle or breathed a sigh for her release, but lies supine, -secure, unmoved, and torpid,</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Dull as her lakes that slumber in the storm.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>Two hundred years of commerce and riches, which had gone over -<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>her, since, in that noble struggle for thirty years together, she had -defied the whole power and the utmost vengeance of Spain, had prepared -her for this striking change. But England is not yet quite -commercial: the spirit of trade has not spread its poison through the -whole mass of our blood and vital juices! As I do not wish that -England (with all her high hopes, and called to a far different -destiny) may <em>ever</em> share the fate of Holland, I do not wish that she -may ever resemble her in herself; that every other feeling should -give way to that of interest alone, but that she may tremble at ever -realizing the warning picture of the poet,</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>——‘When, stript of all her charms,</div> - <div class='line'>The land of scholars, and the nurse of arms,</div> - <div class='line'>Where noble stems transmit the patriot flame,</div> - <div class='line'>Where kings have toil’d and poets wrote for fame,</div> - <div class='line'>One sink of level avarice shall lie,</div> - <div class='line'>And scholars, soldiers, kings, unhonour’d die.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Though a state cannot look to its commerce for its security, it may -be involved in endless difficulty and danger by the views of commercial -aggrandizement. The views of men wholly engrossed in such pursuits -are altogether low and mechanical. If they see far, it is always in -a straight line before them; their sagacity is confined to what immediately -concerns their own interest. They are so intent upon that -one object that they overlook every thing else; and their eagerness to -accumulate is such, that they would rather hazard all than relinquish -a pursuit which promises them some new acquisition. While they are -successful, it is impossible to persuade them that they ever can be -otherwise, or to restrain their rashness by any considerations of -prudence or humanity. Actuated only by gross, palpable objects, -and full of themselves, they laugh at all distant danger. All general -reasonings on the principles of human nature, or the operation of -causes by which they do not find themselves influenced, appear to -them perfectly futile and visionary. ‘They think there is nothing real -but that which they can handle; which they can measure with a -two-foot rule, which they can tell upon ten fingers.’ As they believe -money to be the only substantial good, they are also persuaded that it -is the only instrument of power. With this they think themselves -invulnerable, and that the more of it they have, the more secure they -are. As long as their credit remains unimpaired, and their remittances -are regularly made, they consider the fate of battles and the -intrigues of cabinets as of very little comparative importance. They -look up with more awe and admiration to a stock-jobbing broker -surrounded with his clerks than they do to a victorious general at the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>head of his army. The rise and fall of stocks, and the demand for -our manufactures abroad, are in their opinion the only criterions of -national prosperity. On the other hand, whatever affects their own -interest, the loss of an island, or the stopping up of a port, is found -immediately to threaten the ruin of the country. Their fears are as -rash and groundless as their confidence. Every thing in which they -themselves are concerned is viewed through a magnifying medium, -and demands all our vigilance and attention, while every thing else -dwindles into insignificance. I therefore think there ought to be as -little connection as possible between the measures of government and -the maxims of the Exchange, and that the interests of a great empire -ought not to be managed by a company of factors.</p> - -<p class='c010'>I have thus expressed the sentiments which occurred to me on the -present situation of our affairs, and some of the steps which led to it. -I have done this as freely and unreservedly as I could, because if they -are wrong, it is not likely that they will be much attended to; but if -they are right, they may be of some use. And I conceive that even -they who may think the view I have taken of the measures of the -last administration, and the application of particular observations to -our own conduct altogether unfounded, will not deny the truth of the -general principles on which they are built. Or that the sentiments of -justice, of honour, of reason and liberty, by which I think our views -and conduct <em>ought</em> to have been regulated, can be too deeply impressed -on our minds.</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div>End of <span class='sc'>Free Thoughts on Public Affairs</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span> - <h2 class='c005'>POLITICAL ESSAYS,<br /> <span class='small'>WITH</span><br /> SKETCHES OF PUBLIC CHARACTERS</h2> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span> - <h3 class='c003'>BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>This work was published in 1819 with the following title-page:—‘Political -Essays, with Sketches of Public Characters. By William Hazlitt. “Come, draw -the curtain, shew the picture.” London: Printed for William Hone, 45, Ludgate -Hill. 1819.’ A ‘Second edition,’ with the same title and motto, ‘published by -John Templeman, 39, Tottenham-Court-Road; and Simpkin and Marshall, -Stationers’-court,’ appeared in 1822, but was probably a mere re-issue. The text -of the 1819 edition is here reprinted.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span> - <h3 class='c003'>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h3> -</div> - -<table class='table0' summary='TABLE OF CONTENTS'> - <tr> - <th class='c006'></th> - <th class='c007'><span class='small'>PAGE</span></th> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>Dedication</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_29'>29</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>Preface</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_31'>31</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>The Marquis Wellesley</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_47'>47</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>Mr. Southey, Poet Laureat</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_48'>48</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>Mr. Southey’s New Year’s Ode</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_49'>49</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>Dottrel-catching</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_51'>51</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>The Bourbons and Buonaparte</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_52'>52</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>Vetus</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_57'>57</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>On the Courier and Times Newspapers</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_58'>58</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>Illustrations of Vetus</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_63'>63</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>On the late War</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_96'>96</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>Prince Maurice’s Parrot</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_101'>101</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>Whether the Friends of Freedom can entertain any sanguine hopes of the Favorable Results of the ensuing Congress</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_103'>103</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>The Lay of the Laureate</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_109'>109</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>Mr. Owen’s ‘New View of Society,’ &c.</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_121'>121</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>Speeches of Charles C. Western, Esq. M.P. and Henry Brougham, Esq. M.P.</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_127'>127</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>Mr. Coleridge’s Lay Sermon</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_138'>138</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>—— —— Statesman’s Manual</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_143'>143</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>—— —— Lay Sermon</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_152'>152</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>Buonaparte and Muller</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_154'>154</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>Illustrations of the Times Newspaper</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_155'>155</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>Mr. Macirone’s ‘Interesting Facts relating to the Fall and Death of Joachim Murat, King of Naples’</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_177'>177</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>Wat Tyler and the Quarterly Review</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_192'>192</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>The Courier and Wat Tyler</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#COURIER'>200</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>Mr. Southey’s Letter to William Smith, Esq.</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_210'>210</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'><span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>On the Spy-System</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_232'>232</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>On the same subject</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_234'>234</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>On the Treatment of the State Prisoners</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_238'>238</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>The Opposition and the Courier</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_240'>240</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>England in 1798, by S. T. Coleridge</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_241'>241</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>On the Effects of War and Taxes</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_243'>243</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>Character of Mr. Burke</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_250'>250</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>On Court Influence</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_254'>254</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>On the Clerical Character</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_266'>266</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>What is the People?</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_283'>283</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>On the Regal Character</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_305'>305</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>‘The Fudge Family in Paris’</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_311'>311</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>Character of Lord Chatham</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_321'>321</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>—— of Mr. Burke</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_325'>325</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>—— of Mr. Fox</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_337'>337</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>—— of Mr. Pitt</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_346'>346</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>‘Pitt and Buonaparte’</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_350'>350</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>An Examination of Mr. Malthus’s Doctrines</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_356'>356</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>On the Originality of Mr. Malthus’s Essay</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_361'>361</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>On the Principles of Population as affecting the Schemes of Utopian Improvement</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_367'>367</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>On the Application of Mr. Malthus’s Principle to the Poor Laws</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_374'>374</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c006'>Queries relating to the Essay on Population</td> - <td class='c007'><a href='#Page_381'>381</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span> - <h3 class='c003'>To JOHN HUNT, Esq.</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c008'><em>The tried, steady, zealous, and conscientious advocate of the liberty -of his country, and the rights of mankind;</em>—</p> - -<p class='c010'><em>One of those few persons who are what they would be thought to be; -sincere without offence, firm but temperate; uniting private worth to -public principle; a friend in need, a patriot without an eye to himself; -who never betrayed an individual or a cause he pretended to serve—in -short, that rare character, a man of common sense and common honesty,</em></p> - -<div class='lg-container-r'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>This volume is respectfully and gratefully inscribed by</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in24'><span class='sc'>The Author</span>.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span> - <h3 class='c003'>PREFACE</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>I am no politician, and still less can I be said to be a party-man: but -I have a hatred of tyranny, and a contempt for its tools; and this -feeling I have expressed as often and as strongly as I could. I -cannot sit quietly down under the claims of barefaced power, and I -have tried to expose the little arts of sophistry by which they are -defended. I have no mind to have my person made a property of, -nor my understanding made a dupe of. I deny that liberty and -slavery are convertible terms, that right and wrong, truth and falsehood, -plenty and famine, the comforts or wretchedness of a people, -are matters of perfect indifference. That is all I know of the -matter; but on these points I am likely to remain incorrigible, in -spite of any arguments that I have seen used to the contrary. It -needs no sagacity to discover that two and two make four; but to -persist in maintaining this obvious position, if all the fashion, authority, -hypocrisy, and venality of mankind were arrayed against it, would -require a considerable effort of personal courage, and would soon -leave a man in a very formidable minority. Again, I am no believer -in the doctrine of <em>divine right</em>, either as it regards the Stuarts or the -Bourbons; nor can I bring myself to approve of the enormous waste -of blood and treasure wilfully incurred by a family that supplanted -the one in this country to restore the others in France. It is to my -mind a piece of sheer impudence. The question between natural -liberty and hereditary slavery, whether men are born free or slaves, -whether kings are the servants of the people, or the people the -property of kings (whatever we may think of it in the abstract, or -debate about it in the schools)—in this country, in Old England, -and under the succession of the House of Hanover, is not a -question of theory, but has been long since decided by certain facts -and feelings, to call which in question would be equally inconsistent -with proper respect to the people, or common decency towards the -throne. An English subject cannot call this principle in question -without renouncing his country; an English prince cannot call it in -question without disclaiming his title to the crown, which was placed -by our ancestors on the head of his ancestors, on no other ground -and for no other possible purpose than to vindicate this sacred -<span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>principle in their own persons, and to hold it out as an example to -posterity and to the world. An Elector of Hanover, called over -here to be made king of England, in contempt and to the exclusion -of the claims of the old, hereditary possessors and pretenders to the -throne, on any other plea except that of his being the chosen representative -and appointed guardian of the rights and liberties of the -people (the consequent pledge and guarantee of the rights and -liberties of other nations) would indeed be a solecism more absurd -and contemptible than any to be found in history. What! Send for -a petty Elector of a petty foreign state to reign over us from respect -to <em>his</em> right to the throne of these realms, in defiance of the legitimate -heir to the crown, and ‘in contempt of the choice of the people!’ -Oh monstrous fiction! Miss Flora Mac Ivor would not have heard -of such a thing: the author of Waverley has well answered -Mr. Burke’s ‘Appeal from the New to the Old Whigs.’<a id='r4' /><a href='#f4' class='c011'><sup>[4]</sup></a> Let not -our respect for our ancestors, who fought and bled for their own -freedom, and to aid (not to stifle) the cause of freedom in other -nations, suffer us to believe this poor ideot calumny of them. Let -not our shame at having been inveigled into crusades and Holy -Alliances against the freedom of mankind, suffer us to be made the -dupes of it ourselves, in thought, in word, or deed. The question of -genuine liberty or of naked slavery, if put in words, should be -answered by Englishmen with scorn: if put in any other shape than -<span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>words, it must be answered in a different way, unless they would lose -the name of Englishmen! An Englishman has no distinguishing -virtue but honesty: he has and can have no privilege or advantage -over other nations but liberty. If he is not free, he is the worst of -slaves, for he is nothing else. If he feels that he has wrongs and -dare not say so, he is the meanest of hypocrites; for it is certain that -he cannot be contented under them.—This was once a free, a proud, -and happy country, when under a constitutional monarchy and a -Whig king, it had just broken the chains of tyranny that were -prepared for it, and successfully set at defiance the menaces of an -hereditary pretender; when the monarch still felt what he owed to -himself and the people, and in the opposite claims which were set up -to it, saw the real tenure on which he held his crown; when civil -and religious liberty were the watch-words by which good men and -true subjects were known to one another, not by the cant of legitimacy; -when the reigning sovereign stood between you and the polluted touch -of a bigot and a despot who stood ready to seize upon you and yours -as his lawful prey; when liberty and loyalty went hand in hand, and -the Tory principles of passive obedience and non-resistance were more -unfashionable at court than in the country; when to uphold the -authority of the throne, it was not thought necessary to undermine -the privileges or break the spirit of the nation; when an Englishman -felt that his name was another name for independence, ‘the envy of -less happier lands,’ when it was his pride to be born, and his wish -that other nations might become free; before a sophist and an -apostate had dared to tell him that he had no share, no merit, no free -agency, in the glorious Revolution of 1688, and that he was bound to -lend a helping hand to crush all others, that implied a right in the -people to chuse their own form of government; before he was -become sworn brother to the Pope, familiar to the Holy Inquisition, -an encourager of the massacres of his Protestant brethren, a patron of -the Bourbons, and jailor to the liberties of mankind! Ah, John -Bull! John Bull! thou art not what thou wert in the days of thy -friend, Arbuthnot! Thou wert an honest fellow then: now thou art -turned bully and coward.</p> - -<p class='c010'>This is the only politics I know; the only patriotism I feel. The -question with me is, whether I and all mankind are born slaves or -free. That is the one thing necessary to know and to make good: -the rest is <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">flocci, nauci, nihili, pili</span></i>. Secure this point, and all is safe: -lose this, and all is lost. There are people who cannot understand a -principle; nor perceive how a cause can be connected with an -individual, even in spite of himself, nor how the salvation of mankind -can be bound up with the success of one man. It is in vain that I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>address to them what follows.—‘One fate attends the altar and the -throne.’ So sings Mr. Southey. I say, that one fate attends the -people and the assertor of the people’s rights against those who say -they have no rights, that they are their property, their goods, their -chattels, the live-stock on the estate of Legitimacy. This is what -kings at present tell us with their swords, and poets with their pens. -He who tells me this deprives me not only of the right, but of the -very heart and will to be free, takes the breath out of the body of -liberty, and leaves it a dead and helpless corse, destroys ‘at one fell -swoop’ the dearest hopes, and blasts the fairest prospects of mankind -through all ages and nations, sanctifies slavery, binds it as a spell on -the understanding, and makes freedom a mockery, and the name a -bye-word. The poor wretch immured in the dungeons of the -Inquisition may breathe a sigh to liberty, may repeat its name, may -think of it as a blessing, if not to himself, to others; but the wretch -imprisoned in the dungeon of Legitimacy, the very tomb of freedom, -that ‘painted sepulchre, white without, but full of ravening and all -uncleanness within,’ must not even think of it, must not so much as -dream of it, but as a thing forbid: it is a profanation to his lips, an -impiety to his thoughts; his very imagination is enthralled, and he -can only look forward to the never-ending flight of future years, and -see the same gloomy prospect of abject wretchedness and hopeless -desolation spread out for himself and his species. They who bow to -thrones and hate mankind may here feast their eyes with blight, -mildew, the blue pestilence and glittering poison of slavery, ‘bogs, -dens, and shades of death—a universe of death.’ This is that true -moral atheism, the equal blasphemy against God and man, the -sin against the Holy Ghost, that lowest deep of debasement and -despair to which there is no lower deep. He who saves me from -this conclusion, who makes a mock of this doctrine, and sets at -nought its power, is to me not less than the God of my idolatry, for -he has left one drop of comfort in my soul. The plague-spot has -not tainted me quite; I am not leprous all over, the lie of Legitimacy -does not fix its mortal sting in my inmost soul, nor, like an ugly -spider, entangle me in its slimy folds; but is kept off from me, and -broods on its own poison. He who did this for me, and for the rest -of the world, and who alone could do it, was Buonaparte. He -withstood the inroads of this new Jaggernaut, this foul Blatant Beast, -as it strode forward to its prey over the bodies and minds of a whole -people, and put a ring in its nostrils, breathing flame and blood, and -led it in triumph, and played with its crowns and sceptres, and wore -them in its stead, and tamed its crested pride, and made it a laughing-stock -and a mockery to the nations. He, one man, did this, and as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>long as he did this, (how, or for what end, is nothing to the -magnitude of this mighty question) he saved the human race from the -last ignominy, and that foul stain that had so long been intended, and -was at last, in an evil hour and by evil hands, inflicted on it. He -put his foot upon the neck of kings, who would have put their yoke -upon the necks of the people: he scattered before him with fiery -execution, millions of hired slaves, who came at the bidding of their -masters to deny the right of others to be free. The monument of -greatness and of glory he erected, was raised on ground forfeited -again and again to humanity—it reared its majestic front on the ruins -of the shattered hopes and broken faith of the common enemies of -mankind. If he could not secure the freedom, peace, and happiness -of his country, he made her a terror to those who by sowing civil -dissension and exciting foreign wars, would not let her enjoy those -blessings. They who had trampled upon Liberty could not at least -triumph in her shame and her despair, but themselves became objects -of pity and derision. Their determination to persist in extremity of -wrong only brought on themselves repeated defeat, disaster, and -dismay: the accumulated aggressions their infuriated pride and -disappointed malice meditated against others, returned in just and -aggravated punishment upon themselves: they heaped coals of fire -upon their own heads; they drank deep and long, in gall and bitterness, -of the poisoned chalice they had prepared for others: the -destruction with which they had threatened a people daring to call -itself free, hung suspended over their heads, like a precipice, ready to -fall upon and crush them. ‘Awhile they stood abashed,’ abstracted -from their evil purposes, and felt how awful freedom is, its power -how dreadful. Shrunk from the boasted pomp of royal state into -their littleness as men, defeated of their revenge, baulked of their -prey, their schemes stripped of their bloated pride, and with nothing -left but the deformity of their malice, not daring to utter a syllable or -move a finger, the lords of the earth, who had looked upon men as -of an inferior species, born for their use, and devoted to be their -slaves, turned an imploring eye to the people, and with coward -hearts and hollow tongues invoked the name of Liberty, thus to get -the people once more within their unhallowed gripe, and to stifle the -name of Liberty for ever. I never joined the vile and treacherous -cry of spurious humanity in favour of those who have from the -beginning of time, and will to the end of it, make a butt of humanity, -and its distresses their sport. I knew that shameful was this new -alliance between kings and people; fatal this pretended league: that -‘never can true reconcilement grow where wounds of deadly hate -have pierced so deep.’ I was right in this respect. I knew my -<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>friends from my foes. So did Lord Castlereagh: so did not -Benjamin Constant. Did any of the Princes of Europe ever regard -Buonaparte as any thing more than the child and champion of -Jacobinism? Why then should I: for on that point I bow to their -judgments as infallible. Passion speaks truer than reason. If -Buonaparte was a conqueror, he conquered the grand conspiracy of -kings against the abstract right of the human race to be free; and I, -as a man, could not be indifferent which side to take. If he was -ambitious, his greatness was not founded on the unconditional, avowed -surrender of the rights of human nature. But with him, the state of -man rose exalted too. If he was arbitrary and a tyrant, first, France -as a country was in a state of military blockade, on garrison-duty, and -not to be defended by mere paper bullets of the brain; secondly, but -chief, he was not, nor he could not become, a tyrant by right divine. -Tyranny in him was not sacred: it was not eternal: it was not -instinctively bound in league of amity with other tyrannies; it was -not sanctioned by all the laws of religion and morality. There was -an end of it with the individual: there was an end of it with the -temporary causes, which gave it birth, and of which it was only the -too necessary re-action. But there are persons of that low and inordinate -appetite for servility, that they cannot be satisfied with any thing -short of that sort of tyranny that has lasted for ever, and is likely to -last for ever; that is strengthened and made desperate by the -superstitions and prejudices of ages; that is enshrined in traditions, -in laws, in usages, in the outward symbols of power, in the very -idioms of language; that has struck its roots into the human heart, -and clung round the human understanding like a nightshade; that -overawes the imagination, and disarms the will to resist it, by the very -enormity of the evil; that is cemented with gold and blood; guarded -by reverence, guarded by power; linked in endless succession to the -principle by which life is transmitted to the generations of tyrants and -slaves, and destroying liberty with the first breath of life; that is -absolute, unceasing, unerring, fatal, unutterable, abominable, monstrous. -These true devotees of superstition and despotism cried out Liberty -and Humanity in their desperate phrenzy at Buonaparte’s sudden -elevation and incredible successes against their favourite idol, ‘that -Harlot old, the same that is, that was, and is to be,’ but we have -heard no more of their triumph of Liberty and their <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">douce humanité</span></i>, -since they clapped down the hatches upon us again, like wretches in -a slave-ship who have had their chains struck off and pardon promised -them to fight the common enemy; and the poor Reformers who were -taken in to join the cry, because they are as fastidious in their love of -liberty as their opponents are inveterate in their devotion to despotism, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>continue in vain to reproach them with their temporary professions, -woeful grimaces, and vows made in pain, which ease has recanted; -but to these reproaches the legitimate professors of Liberty and -Humanity do not even deign to return the answer of a smile at their -credulity and folly. Those who did not see this result at the time -were, I think, weak; those who do not acknowledge it now are, I -am sure, hypocrites.—To this pass have we been brought by the joint -endeavours of Tories, Whigs, and Reformers; and as they have all -had a hand in it, I shall here endeavour to ascribe to each their share -of merit in this goodly piece of work. It is, perhaps, a delicate -point, but it is of no inconsiderable importance, that the friends of -Freedom should know the strength of their enemies, and their own -weakness as well; for</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in14'>——‘At this day,</div> - <div class='line'>When a Tartarean darkness overspreads</div> - <div class='line'>The groaning nations; when the impious rule,</div> - <div class='line'>By will or by established ordinance,</div> - <div class='line'>Their own dire agents, and constrain the good</div> - <div class='line'>To acts which they abhor; though I bewail</div> - <div class='line'>This triumph, yet the pity of my heart</div> - <div class='line'>Prevents me not from owning that the law</div> - <div class='line'>By which mankind now suffers, is most just.</div> - <div class='line'>For by superior energies; more strict</div> - <div class='line'>Affiance to each other; faith more firm</div> - <div class='line'>In their unhallowed principles; the bad</div> - <div class='line'>Have fairly earned a victory o’er the weak,</div> - <div class='line'>The vacillating, inconsistent good.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>A Reformer is not a gregarious animal. Speculative opinion leads -men different ways, each according to his particular fancy:—it is -prejudice or interest that drives before it the herd of mankind. That -<em>which is</em>, with all its confirmed abuses and ‘tickling commodities,’ is -alone solid and certain: that <em>which may be</em> or <em>ought to be</em>, has a -thousand shapes and colours, according to the eye that sees it, is -infinitely variable and evanescent in its effects. Talk of mobs as we -will, the only true mob is that incorrigible mass of knaves and fools -in every country, who never think at all, and who never feel for any -one but themselves. I call any assembly of people a mob (be it the -House of Lords or House of Commons) where each person’s opinion -on any question is governed by what others say of it, and by what he -can get by it. The only instance of successful resistance in the -House of Commons to Ministers for many years was in the case of -the Income-Tax; which touched their own pockets nearly. This -was ‘a feeling disputation,’ in which selfishness got the better of -servility, while reason and humanity might have pleaded in vain. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>The exception proved the rule; and this evidence was alone wanting -to establish their character for independence and disinterestedness. -When some years ago Mr. Robson brought forward in the House -the case of an Exchequer Bill for 3<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">l.</span></i> 16<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">s.</span></i> which had been refused -payment at the Bank, the Chancellor of the Exchequer (then Mr. -Addington, now Lord Sidmouth) rose, and in a tone of indignation, -severely reprimanded Mr. Robson for having prematurely brought -forward a fact which he knew to be impossible; and the House -cheered the Minister, and scouted Mr. Robson and his motion for -inquiry. The next day, Mr. Robson repeated his charge, and Mr. -Addington rose, and in the same tone of official authority, brow-beat -Mr. Robson for having brought forward, as something reprehensible -and extraordinary, what he said happened every day, though the day -before he had undertaken of his own accord to pronounce it impossible; -and the House cheered the Minister, and scouted Mr. Robson -and his motion for inquiry. What was it to them whether Mr. -Robson was right or wrong? It was their cue (I speak this of the -House of Commons of 1803) to support the Minister, whether right -or wrong! Every corporate body, or casual concourse of people, is -nothing more than a collection of prejudices, and the only arguments -current with them, a collection of watch-words. You may -ring the changes for ever on the terms Bribery and Corruption -with the people in Palace-yard, as they do in the Room over the -way on Religion, Loyalty, Public Credit, and Social Order. -There is no difference whatever in this respect between the Great -Vulgar and the Small, who are managed just in the same way by -their different leaders. To procure unanimity, to get men to act -in <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">corps</span></i>, we must appeal for the most part to gross and obvious -motives, to authority and passion, to their vices, not their virtues: -we must discard plain truth and abstract justice as doubtful and -inefficient pleas, retaining only the names and the pretext as a -convenient salvo for hypocrisy! He is the best leader of a party -who can find out the greatest number of common-places faced with -the public good; and he will be the stoutest partisan who can best -turn the lining to account.—Tory sticks to Tory: Whig sticks to -Whig: the Reformer sticks neither to himself nor to any body else. -It is no wonder he comes to the ground with all his schemes and -castle-building. A house divided against itself cannot stand. It is -a pity, but it cannot be helped. A Reformer is necessarily and -naturally a Marplot, for the foregoing and the following reasons. -First, he does not very well know what he would be at. Secondly, -if he did, he does not care very much about it. Thirdly, he is -governed habitually by a spirit of contradiction, and is always wise -<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>beyond what is practicable. He is a bad tool to work with; a part -of a machine that never fits its place; he cannot be trained to -discipline, for he follows his own idle humours, or drilled into an -obedience to orders, for the first principle of his mind is the -supremacy of conscience, and the independent right of private -judgment. A man to be a Reformer must be more influenced by -imagination and reason than by received opinions or sensible impressions. -With him ideas bear sway over things; the possible is -of more value than the real; that which is not, is better than that -which is. He is by the supposition a speculative (and somewhat -fantastical) character; but there is no end of possible speculations, -of imaginary questions, and nice distinctions; or if there were, he -would not willingly come to it; he would still prefer living in the -world of his own ideas, be for raising some new objection, and -starting some new chimera, and never be satisfied with any plan that -he found he could realise. Bring him to a fixed point, and his -occupation would be gone. A Reformer never is—but always to be -blest, in the accomplishment of his airy hopes and shifting schemes -of progressive perfectibility. Let him have the plaything of his -fancy, and he will spoil it, like the child that makes a hole in its -drum: set some brilliant illusion before his streaming eyes, and he -will lay violent hands upon it, like little wanton boys that play with -air-bubbles. Give him one thing, and he asks for another; like the -dog in the fable, he loses the substance for the shadow: offer him a -great good, and he will not stretch out his hand to take it, unless it -were the greatest possible good. And then who is to determine -what is the greatest possible good? Among a thousand pragmatical -speculators, there will be a thousand opinions on this subject; and -the more they differ, the less will they be inclined to give way or -compromise the matter. With each of these, his self-opinion is the -first thing to be attended to; his understanding must be satisfied in -the first place, or he will not budge an inch; he cannot for the -world give up a principle to a party. He would rather have slavery -than liberty, unless it is a liberty precisely after his own fashion: he -would sooner have the Bourbons than Buonaparte; for he truly is -for a Republic, and if he cannot have that, is indifferent about the -rest. So (to compare great things with small) Mr. Place, of -Charing-Cross, chose rather that Mr. Hobhouse should lose his -Election than that it should not be accompanied with his Resolutions; -so he published his Resolutions, and lost Mr. Hobhouse his Election. -That is, a patriot of this stamp is really indifferent about every thing -but what he cannot have; instead of making his option between two -things, a good or an evil, within his reach, our exquisite Sir sets up -<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>a third thing as the object of his choice, with some impossible -condition annexed to it,—to dream, to talk, to write, to be meddlesome -and troublesome about, to serve him for a topic of captious -discontent or vague declamation, and which if he saw any hopes of -cordial agreement or practical co-operation to carry it into effect, he -would instantly contrive to mar, and split it into a thousand fractions, -doubts, and scruples, to make it an impossibility for any thing ever to -be done for the good of mankind, which is merely the plaything of -his theoretical imbecility and active impertinence! The Goddess -of his idolatry is and will always remain a cloud, instead of a Juno. -One of these virtuosos, these Nicolas Gimcracks of Reform, full of -intolerable and vain conceit, sits smiling in the baby-house of his -imagination, ‘pleased with a feather, tickled with a straw,’ trimming -the balance of power in the looking-glass of his own self-complacency, -having every thing his own way at a word’s speaking, making the -‘giant-mass’ of things only a reflection of his personal pretensions, -approving every thing that is right, condemning every thing that is -wrong, in compliment to his own character, considering how what -he says will affect not the cause, but himself; keeping himself aloof -from party-spirit, and from every thing that can cast a shade on the -fancied delicacy of his own breast, and thus letting the cause of -Liberty slip through his fingers, and be spilt like water on the -ground:—while another, more bold than he, in a spirit of envy and -ignorance, quarrels with all those who are labouring at the same oar, -lays about him like mad, runs a-muck at every one who has done, or -is likely to do, any thing to promote the common object, and with -his desperate club dashes out his neighbour’s brains, and thinks he -has done a good piece of service to the cause, because he has glutted -his own ill-humour and self-will, which he mistakes for the love of -liberty and a zeal for truth! Others, not able to do mischief enough -singly, club their senseless contradictions and unmanageable humours -together, turn their attention to cabal and chicane, get into committees, -make speeches, move or second resolutions, dictate to their followers, -set up for the heads of a party, in opposition to another party; abuse, -vilify, expose, betray, counteract and undermine each other in every -way, and throw the game into the hands of the common enemy, who -laughs in his sleeve, and watches them and their little perverse, -pettifogging passions at work for him, from the high tower of his -pride and strength! If an honest and able man arises among them, -they grow jealous of him, and would rather, in the petty ostracism of -their minds, that their cause should fail, than that another should have -the credit of bringing it to a triumphant conclusion. They criticise -his conduct, carp at his talents, denounce his friends, suspect his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>motives, and do not rest, till by completely disgusting him with the -name of Reform and Reformers, they have made him what they wish, -a traitor and deserter from a cause that no man can serve! This -is just what they like—they satisfy their malice, they have to find -out a new leader, and the cause is to begin again! So it was, and -so it will be, while man remains the little, busy, mischievous animal -described in Gulliver’s Travels!—A pretty hopeful set to make head -against their opponents—a rope of sand against a rock of marble—with -no centre of gravity, but a collection of atoms whirled about in -empty space by their own levity, or jostling together by numberless -points of repulsion, and tossed with all their officious projects and -airy predictions, by the first breath of caprice or shock of power, into -that Limbo of Vanity, where embryo statesmen and drivelling -legislators dance the hays of Reform, ‘perpetual circle, multiform and -mix, and hinder all things,’ proud of the exclusive purity of their -own motives, and the unattainable perfection of their own plans!—How -different from the self-centred, well-knit, inseparable phalanx -of power and authority opposed to their impotent and abortive -designs! A Tory is one who is governed by sense and habit alone. -He considers not what is possible, but what is real; he gives might -the preference over right. He cries Long Life to the conqueror, -and is ever strong upon the stronger side—the side of corruption and -prerogative. He says what others say; he does as he is prompted -by his own advantage. He knows on which side his bread is -buttered, and that St. Peter is well at Rome. He is for going with -Sancho to Camacho’s wedding, and not for wandering with Don -Quixote in the desert, after the mad lover. Strait is the gate and -narrow is the way that leadeth to Reform, but broad is the way -that leadeth to Corruption, and multitudes there are that walk -therein. The Tory is sure to be in the thickest of them. His -principle is to follow the leader; and this is the infallible rule to -have numbers and success on your side, to be on the side of success -and numbers. Power is the rock of his salvation; priestcraft is the -second article of his implicit creed. He does not trouble himself to -inquire which is the best form of government—but he knows that the -reigning monarch is ‘the best of kings.’ He does not, like a fool, -contest for modes of faith; but like a wise man, swears by that -which is by law established. He has no principles himself, nor does -he profess to have any, but will cut your throat for differing with -any of his bigotted dogmas, or for objecting to any act of power -that he supposes necessary to his interest. He will take his Bible-oath -that black is white, and that whatever is, is right, if it is for -his convenience. He is for having a slice in the loan, a share in a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>borough, a situation in the church or state, or for standing well with -those who have. He is not for empty speculations, but for full -pockets. He is for having plenty of beef and pudding, a good -coat to his back, a good house over his head, and for cutting a -respectable figure in the world. He is <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Epicuri de grege porcus</span></i>—not -a man but a beast. He is styed in his prejudices—he wallows in the -mire of his senses—he cannot get beyond the trough of his sordid -appetites, whether it is of gold or wood. Truth and falsehood are, -to him, something to buy and sell; principle and conscience, something -to eat and drink. He tramples on the plea of Humanity, and -lives, like a caterpillar, on the decay of public good. Beast as he is, -he knows that the King is the fountain of honour, that there are good -things to be had in the Church, treats the cloth with respect, bows -to a magistrate, lies to the tax-gatherer, nicknames the Reformers, -and ‘blesses the Regent and the Duke of York.’ He treads the -primrose path of preferment; ‘when a great wheel goes up a hill, -holds fast by it, and when it rolls down, lets it go.’ He is not an -enthusiast, a Utopian philosopher or a Theophilanthropist, but a man -of business and the world, who minds the main chance, does as other -people do, and takes his wife’s advice to get on in the world, and -set up a coach for her to ride in, as fast as possible. This fellow is -in the right, and ‘wiser in his generation than the children of the -light.’ The ‘servile slaves’ of wealth and power have a considerable -advantage over the independent and the free. How much -easier is it to smell out a job than to hit upon a scheme for the good -of mankind! How much safer is it to be the tool of the oppressor -than the advocate of the oppressed! How much more fashionable to -fall in with the opinion of the world, to bow the knee to Baal, than -to seek for obscure and obnoxious truth! How strong are the ties -that bind men together for their own advantage, compared with those -that bind them to the good of their country or of their kind! For -as the Reformer has no guide to his conclusions but speculative -reason, which is a source not of unanimity or certainty, but of endless -doubt and disagreement, so he has no ground of attachment to them -but a speculative interest, which is too often liable to be warped by -sinister motives, and is a flimsy barrier against the whole weight of -worldly and practical interests opposed to it. He either tires and -grows lukewarm after the first gloss of novelty is over, and is thrown -into the hands of the adverse party, or to keep alive an interest in it, -he makes it the stalking-horse of his ambition, of his personal enmity, -of his conceit or love of gossipping; as we have seen. An opinion -backed by power and prejudice, rivetted and mortised to the throne, -is of more force and validity than all the abstract reason in the world, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>without power and prejudice. A cause centred in an individual, -which is strengthened by all the ties of passion and self-interest, as -in the case of a king against a whole people, is more likely to prevail -than that of a scattered multitude, who have only a common and -divided interest to hold them together, and ‘screw their courage to -the sticking-place,’ against an influence, that is never distracted or -dissipated; that neither slumbers nor sleeps; that is never lulled into -security, nor tamed by adversity; that is intoxicated with the insolence -of success, and infuriated with the rage of disappointment; -that eyes its one sole object of personal aggrandisement, moves unremittingly -to it, and carries after it millions of its slaves and train-bearers. -Can you persuade a king to hear reason, to submit his -pretensions to the tribunal of the people, to give up the most absurd -and mischievous of his prerogatives? No: he is always true to himself, -he grasps at power and hugs it close, as it is exorbitant or invidious, -or likely to be torn from him; and his followers stick to him, and -never boggle at any lengths they are forced to go, because they know -what they have to trust to in the good faith of kings to themselves -and one another. Power then is fixed and immoveable, for this -reason, because it is lodged in an individual who is driven to madness -by the undisputed possession, or apprehended loss of it; his self-will -is the key-stone that supports the tottering arch of corruption, steadfast -as it leans on him:—liberty is vacillating, transient, and hunted -through the world, because it is entrusted to the breasts of many, who -care little about it, and quarrel in the execution of their trust. Too -many cooks spoil the broth. The principle of tyranny is in fact -identified with a man’s pride and the servility of others in the highest -degree; the principle of liberty abstracts him from himself, and has -to contend in its feeble course with all his own passions, prejudices, -interests, and those of the world and of his own party; the cavils of -Reformers, the threats of Tories, and the sneers of Whigs.<a id='r5' /><a href='#f5' class='c011'><sup>[5]</sup></a></p> - -<p class='c010'>A modern Whig is but the fag-end of a Tory. The old Whigs -were in principle what the modern Jacobins are, Anti-Jacobites, that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>is, opposers of the doctrine of divine right, the one in the soil of -England, the other by parity of reasoning in the soil of France. -But the Opposition have pressed so long against the Ministry without -effect, that being the softer substance, and made of more yielding -materials, they have been moulded into their image and superscription, -spelt backwards, or they differ as concave and convex, or they go -together like substantive and adjective, or like man and wife, they two -have become one flesh. A Tory is the indispensable prop to the -doubtful sense of self-importance, and peevish irritability of negative -success, which mark the life of a Whig leader or underling. They -‘are subdued even to the very quality’ of the Lords of the Treasury -Bench, and have quarrelled so long that they would be quite at a loss -without the ordinary food of political contention. To interfere -between them is as dangerous as to interfere in a matrimonial squabble. -To overturn the one is to trip up the heels of the other. Their -hostility is not directed against things at all, nor to effectual and -decisive opposition to men, but to that sort of petty warfare and -parliamentary <em>tracasserie</em>, of which there is neither end nor use, -except making the parties concerned of consequence in their own -eyes, and contemptible in those of the nation. They will not allow -Ministers to be severely handled by any one but themselves, nor even -that: but they say civil things of them in the House of Commons, -and whisper scandal against them at Holland House. This shews -gentlemanly refinement and good breeding; while my Lord Erskine -‘calls us untaught knaves, unmannerly to come betwixt the wind and -his nobility.’ But the leaden bullets and steel bayonets, the <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ultima -ratio regum</span></i>, by which these questions are practically decided, do their -business in another-guess manner; they do not stand on the same -ceremony. Soft words and hard blows are a losing game to play at: -and this, one would think, the Opposition, if they were sincere, must -have found out long ago. But they rather wish to screen the Ministry, -as their <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">locum tenens</span></i> in the receipt of the perquisites of office and the -abuse of power, of which they themselves expect the reversion.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Strange that such difference should be</div> - <div class='line'>Twixt Tweedledum and Tweedledee.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>The distinction between a great Whig and Tory Lord is laughable. -For Whigs to Tories ‘nearly are allied, and thin partitions do their -bounds divide.’ So I cannot find out the different drift (as far as -politics are concerned) of the ********* and ********* Reviews, -which remind one of Opposition coaches, that raise a great dust or -spatter one another with mud, but both travel the same road and arrive -at the same destination. When the Editor of a respectable Morning -<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>Paper reproached me with having called Mr. Gifford a cat’s-paw, I -did not tell him that he was a glove upon that cat’s-paw. I might -have done so. There is a difference between a sword and a foil. -The Whigs do not at all relish that ugly thing, a knock-down blow; -which is so different from their endless see-saw way of going about a -question. They are alarmed, ‘lest the courtiers offended should be:’ -for they are so afraid of their adversaries, that they dread the re-action -even of successful opposition to them, and will neither attempt it -themselves, nor stand by any one that does. Any writer who is not -agreeable to the Tories, becomes obnoxious to the Whigs; he is -disclaimed by them as a dangerous colleague, merely for having ‘done -the cause some service;’ is considered as having the malicious design -to make a breach of the peace, and to interrupt with most admired -disorder the harmony and mutual good understanding which subsists -between Ministers and the Opposition, and on the adherence to -which they are alone suffered to exist, or to have a shadow of -importance in the state. They are, in fact, a convenient medium to -break the force of popular feeling, and to transmit the rays of popular -indignation against the influence and power of the crown, blunted and -neutralized by as many qualifications and refractions as possible. A -Whig is properly what is called a Trimmer—that is, a coward to -both sides of a question, who dare not be a knave nor an honest -man, but is a sort of whiffling, shuffling, cunning, silly, contemptible, -unmeaning negation of the two. He is a poor purblind creature, who -halts between two opinions, and complains that he cannot get any two -people to think alike. He is a cloak for corruption, and a mar-plot -to freedom. He will neither do any thing himself, nor let any one -else do it. He is on bad terms with the Government, and not on -good ones with the people. He is an impertinence and a contradiction -in the state. If he has a casting weight, for fear of overdoing the -mark, he throws it into the wrong scale. He is a person of equally -feeble understanding and passions. He has some notion of what is -right, just enough to hinder him from pursuing his own interest: he -has selfish and worldly prudence enough, not to let him embark in any -bold or decided measure for the advancement of truth and justice. -He is afraid of his own conscience, which will not let him lend his -unqualified support to arbitrary measures; he stands in awe of the -opinion of the world, which will not let him express his opposition to -those measures with warmth and effect. His politics are a strange -mixture of cross-purposes. He is wedded to forms and appearances, -impeded by every petty obstacle and pretext of difficulty, more -tenacious of the means than the end—anxious to secure all suffrages, -by which he secures none—hampered not only by the ties of friendship -<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>to his actual associates, but to all those that he thinks may -become so; and unwilling to offer arguments to convince the reason -of his opponents lest he should offend their prejudices, by shewing -them how much they are in the wrong; ‘letting I dare not wait upon -I would, like the poor cat in the adage;’ stickling for the letter of -the Constitution, with the affectation of a prude, and abandoning its -principles with the effrontery of a prostitute to any shabby Coalition -he can patch up with its deadly enemies. This is very pitiful work; -and, I believe, the public with me are tolerably sick of the character. -At the same time, he hurls up his cap with a foolish face of wonder -and incredulity at the restoration of the Bourbons, and affects to -chuckle with secret satisfaction over the last act of the Revolution, -which reduced him to perfect insignificance. We need not wonder at -the results, when it comes to the push between parties so differently -constituted and unequally matched. We have seen what those results -are. I cannot do justice to the picture, but I find it done to my -hands in those prophetic lines of Pope, where he describes the last -Triumph of Corruption:—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘But ’tis the fall degrades her to a whore:</div> - <div class='line'>Let greatness own her, and she’s mean no more.</div> - <div class='line'>Her birth, her beauty, crowds and courts confess;</div> - <div class='line'>Chaste matrons praise her, and grave bishops bless:</div> - <div class='line'>In golden chains the willing world she draws,</div> - <div class='line'>And her’s the Gospel is, and her’s the Laws;</div> - <div class='line'>Mounts the tribunal, lifts her scarlet head,</div> - <div class='line'>And sees pale virtue carted in her stead.</div> - <div class='line'>Lo! at the wheels of her triumphal car,</div> - <div class='line'>Old England’s genius, rough with many a scar,</div> - <div class='line'>Dragg’d in the dust! his arms hang idly round,</div> - <div class='line'>His flag inverted trails along the ground:</div> - <div class='line'>Our youth, all liveried o’er with foreign gold,</div> - <div class='line'>Before her dance, behind her crawl the old!</div> - <div class='line'>See thronging millions to the Pagod run,</div> - <div class='line'>And offer country, parent, wife, or son!</div> - <div class='line'>Hear her black trumpet thro’ the land proclaim,</div> - <div class='line'>That <em>not to be corrupted, is the shame</em>.</div> - <div class='line'>In soldier, churchman, patriot, man in power,</div> - <div class='line'>’Tis avarice all, ambition is no more!</div> - <div class='line'>See all our nobles begging to be slaves!</div> - <div class='line'>See all our fools aspiring to be knaves!</div> - <div class='line'>All, all look up with reverential awe</div> - <div class='line'>At crimes that ‘scape or triumph o’er the law;</div> - <div class='line'>While truth, worth, wisdom daily they decry:</div> - <div class='line'>“Nothing is sacred now but villainy.”</div> - <div class='line'>Yet may this verse (if such a verse remain)</div> - <div class='line'>Shew there was one who held it in disdain.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span></div> -<div class='section ph2'> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>POLITICAL ESSAYS, &c.</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<h3 class='c003'>THE MARQUIS WELLESLEY</h3> - -<p class='c014'>‘And such other gambol faculties he hath, as shew a weak mind, and an able -body.’</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>April 13, 1813.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>The Marquis Wellesley’s opening speech on India affairs was chiefly -remarkable for its length, and the manner in which it was delivered. -This nobleman seems to have formed himself on those lines in -Pope:—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘All hail him victor in both gifts of song,</div> - <div class='line'>Who sings so loudly, and who sings so long.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>He aspires with infinite alacrity to the character of a great orator; -and, if we were disposed to take the will for the deed, we should -give him full credit for it. We confess, those of his speeches which -we have heard, appear to us prodigies of physical prowess and intellectual -imbecility. The ardour of his natural temperament, stimulating -and irritating the ordinary faculties of his mind, the exuberance -of his animal spirits, contending with the barrenness of his genius, -produce a degree of dull vivacity, of pointed insignificance, and -impotent energy, which is without any parallel but itself. It is -curious, though somewhat painful, to see this lively little lord always -in the full career of his subject, and never advancing a jot the nearer; -seeming to utter volumes in every word, and yet saying nothing; -retaining the same unabated vehemence of voice and action without -any thing to excite it; still keeping alive the promise and the expectation -of genius without once satisfying it—soaring into mediocrity with -adventurous enthusiasm, harrowed up by some plain matter-of-fact, -writhing with agony under a truism, and launching a common-place -with all the fury of a thunderbolt!<a id='r6' /><a href='#f6' class='c011'><sup>[6]</sup></a></p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span> - <h3 class='c003'>MR. SOUTHEY, POET LAUREAT</h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Sept. 18, 1813.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>The laurel is at length destined, unexpectedly, to circle the brows -of this gentleman, where it will look almost like a civic crown. The -patriot and the poet (two venerable names, which we should wish -never to see disunited) is said to owe his intended elevation to the -intercession of Mr. Croker, to whom, it will be recollected, he has -dedicated his Life of Lord Nelson, with an appropriate motto in the -title-page, from the poem of Ulm and Trafalgar. Mr. Croker having -applied to the Regent in favour of his friend, the Prince is understood -to have given his ready assent, observing, that Mr. Southey’s -efforts in the Spanish cause alone, rendered him highly worthy of the -situation. As Mr. Croker, however, was taking his leave, he was -met by Lord Liverpool and the Marquis of Hertford, the latter of -whom, as chamberlain, had, it seems, made an offer of the place to -Mr. Walter Scott, who had signified his acceptance of it. Some -little difficulty naturally arose on the occasion, but it was agreed that -the two poets should settle the point of precedence between themselves. -A friendly altercation, unlike that of the shepherds in Virgil, -now took place between Mr. Scott and Mr. Southey, each waving -his own pretensions, and giving the palm of victory to the other. -But it was finally determined, that as Mr. Scott, though he would -not allow himself to be the greatest, was at least the richest poet of -the two, Mr. Southey, who had most need of this post of honour and -of profit, should have it. So ends this important affair; and, without -any ill-will to Mr. Southey, we should not have been disappointed if -it had ended differently. Whatever may be the balance of poetical -merit, Mr. Scott, we are quite sure, has always been a much better -courtier than Mr. Southey; and we are of opinion that the honours -of a Court can nowhere be so gracefully or deservedly bestowed as -on its followers. His acceptance of this mark of court favour would -not have broken in upon that uniformity of character, which we think -no less beautiful and becoming in life than in a poem. But, perhaps, -a passion for new faces extends to the intrigues of politics as well as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>of love; and a triumph over the scruples of delicacy enhances the -value of the conquest in both cases. To <em>have been</em> the poet of the -people, may not render Mr. Southey less a court favourite; and one -of his old Sonnets to Liberty must give a peculiar zest to his new -Birth-day Odes. His flaming patriotism will easily subside into the -gentle glow of grateful loyalty; and the most extravagant of his plans -of reform end in building castles in Spain!</p> - -<h3 class='c003'>MR. SOUTHEY’S NEW-YEAR’S ODE</h3> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Jan. 8, 1814.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>Mr. Southey’s Ode has at length appeared—not as was announced, -under the title of ‘Carmen Annuum,’ but under that of ‘<span class='sc'>Carmen -Triumphale</span>, <em>for the Commencement of the Year 1814</em>.’ We see no -reason why the author might not have adopted the title of Horace’s -Ode entire, and have called it <em>Carmen Seculare</em>, which would have -been the best account he could give of it. We fear Mr. Southey -will not form a splendid exception to the numberless instances which -prove that there is something in the air of a court, not favourable to -the genius of poetry. He has not deprived himself of the excuse -made by one of his predecessors, of versatile memory, in extenuation -of the degeneracy of his courtly lays,—‘That poets succeed best in -fiction.’ The Ode is in the ballad style, peculiar to Mr. Southey -and his poetical friends. It has something of the rustic simplicity of -a country virgin on her first introduction at Duke’s Place, or of -Pamela on the day of her marriage with Mr. B. Or rather it -resembles a <em>fancy</em> birth-day suit, a fashionable livery worn inside out, -a prince’s feather with a sprig of the tree of liberty added to it,—the -academy of compliments turned into quaint Pindarics,—is a sort of -methodistical rhapsody, chaunted by a gentleman-usher, and exhibits -the irregular vigour of Jacobin enthusiasm suffering strange emasculation -under the hands of a finical lord-chamberlain. It is romantic -without interest, and tame without elegance. It is exactly such an -ode as we expected Mr. Southey to compose on this occasion. We -say this from our respect for the talents and character of this eminent -writer. He is the last man whom we should expect to see graceful -in fetters, or from whom we should look for the soul of freedom -within the <em>liberties of a court</em>!—The commencement of the Ode is as -follows, and it continues throughout much as it begins:—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘In happy hour <em>doth</em> he receive</div> - <div class='line'>The Laurel, meed of famous bards of <em>yore</em>,</div> - <div class='line'>Which Dryden and diviner Spenser wore,</div> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span><em>In happy hour</em>, and well may he rejoice,</div> - <div class='line'>Whose earliest task <em>must be</em></div> - <div class='line'>To raise the <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">exultant</span></i> hymn for <em>victory</em>,</div> - <div class='line'>And <em>join</em> a nation’s <em>joy</em> with harp and voice,</div> - <div class='line'>Pouring the strain of triumph on the wind,</div> - <div class='line'>Glory to God, his song—deliverance to mankind!</div> - <div class='line in2'>Wake, lute and harp! &c. &c.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Mr. Southey has not exactly followed the suggestion of an ingenious -friend, to begin his poem with the appropriate allusion,</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Awake, my sack-but!’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>The following rhymes are the lamest we observed. He says, -speaking of the conflict between the Moors and Spaniards,</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in2'>‘Age after age, from sire to <em>son</em>,</div> - <div class='line'>The hallowed sword was handed <em>down</em>;</div> - <div class='line'>Nor did they from that warfare cease,</div> - <div class='line'>And sheath that hallowed sword in peace,</div> - <div class='line in2'>Until the work was <em>done</em>.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Indeed, if Mr. S. can do no better than this, in his drawing-room -verses, he should get some contributor to the Lady’s Magazine to -polish them for him.</p> - -<p class='c010'>We have turned over the Ode again, which extends to twenty -pages, in the hope of finding some one vigorous or striking passage -for selection, but in vain. The following is the most likely to please -in a certain quarter:—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in2'>‘Open thy gates, O Hanover! display</div> - <div class='line in2'>Thy loyal banners to the day!</div> - <div class='line'>Receive thy old illustrious line once more!</div> - <div class='line in2'>Beneath an upstart’s yoke oppress’d,</div> - <div class='line'>Long has it been thy fortune to deplore</div> - <div class='line in2'>That line, whose fostering and paternal sway</div> - <div class='line'>So many an age thy grateful children blest.</div> - <div class='line in2'>The yoke is broken now!—a mightier hand</div> - <div class='line'>Hath dash’d—in pieces dash’d—the iron rod.</div> - <div class='line in2'>To meet her princes, the delivered land</div> - <div class='line'>Pours her rejoicing multitudes abroad;</div> - <div class='line in2'>The happy bells, from every town and tower,</div> - <div class='line'>Roll their glad peals upon the joyful wind;</div> - <div class='line in2'>And from all hearts and tongues, with one consent,</div> - <div class='line in2'>The high thanksgiving strain is sent—</div> - <div class='line'>Glory to God! Deliverance to mankind!’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>In various stanzas, Bonaparte is called an upstart, a ruffian, &c. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>We confess, we wish to see Mr. Southey, like Virgil, in his -Georgics, ‘scatter his dung with a grace.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>We do not intend to quarrel with our Laureat’s poetical politics, -but the conclusion is one which we did not anticipate from the -author. We have always understood that the Muses were the -daughters of Memory!</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘And France, <em>restored</em> and shaking off her chain,</div> - <div class='line'>Shall join the Avengers in the joyful strain—</div> - <div class='line'>Glory to God! Deliverance for mankind!’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>The poem has a few notes added to it, the object of which seems -to be to criticise the political opinions of the Edinburgh Reviewers -with respect to Spain, and to prove that the author is wiser after -the event than they were before it, in which he has very nearly -succeeded.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Mr. Southey announces a new volume of Inscriptions, which must -furnish some curious <em>parallelisms</em>.</p> - -<h3 class='c003'>DOTTREL-CATCHING</h3> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div><span class='small'>TO THE EDITOR OF THE MORNING CHRONICLE</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Jan. 27, 1814.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>Sir, The method of taking this bird is somewhat singular, and is -described in an old book in the following terms:</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘The Dottrel is a foolish bird of the crane species, very tall, -awkward, and conceited. The Dottrel-catcher, when he has got -near enough, turns his head round sideways, and <em>makes a leg</em> towards -him: the bird, seeing this, returns the civility, and makes the same -sidelong movement. These advances are repeated with mutual -satisfaction, till the man approaches near enough, and then the bird -is taken.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>A poet-laureat or a treasury sophist is often taken much in the -same way. Your Opposionist, Sir, was ever a true <em>gull</em>. From -the general want of sympathy, he sets more store by it than it is -worth; and for the smallest concession, is prevailed upon to give -up every principle, and to surrender himself, bound hand and foot, -the slave of a party, who get all they want of him, and then—‘Spunge, -you are dry again!’</p> - -<p class='c010'>A striking illustration of the common treatment of political -drudges has lately occurred in the instance of a celebrated writer, -whose lucubrations are withheld from the public, because he has -<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>declared against the project of restoring the Bourbons. As the -court and city politicians have spoken out on this subject, permit -me, Sir, to say a word in behalf of the country. I have no dislike -whatever, private or public, to the Bourbons, except as they may -be made the pretext for mischievous and impracticable schemes. -At the same time I have not the slightest enthusiasm in their favour. -I would not sacrifice the life or limb of a single individual to restore -them. I have very nearly the same feelings towards them which -Swift has expressed in his account of the ancient and venerable race -of the Struldbruggs. It is true, they might in some respects present -a direct contrast to Bonaparte. A tortoise placed on the throne of -France would do the same thing. The literary sycophants of the -day, Sir, are greatly enamoured (from some cause or other) with -hereditary imbecility and native want of talent. They are angry, -not without reason, that a Corsican upstart has made the princes of -Europe look like wax-work figures, and given a shock to the still -life of kings. They wish to punish this unpardonable presumption, -by establishing an artificial balance of <em>weakness</em> throughout Europe, -and by reducing humanity to the level of thrones. We may perhaps -in time improve this principle of ricketty admiration to Eastern -perfection, where every changeling is held sacred, and that which -is the disgrace of human intellect is hailed as the image of the -Divinity!</p> - -<p class='c010'>It is said that in France the old royalists and the revolutionary -republicans are agreed in the same point. Bonaparte is the point of -union between these opposite extremes, the common object of their -hate and fear. I can conceive this very possible from what I have -observed among ourselves. He has certainly done a great deal to -mortify the pride of birth in the one, and the vanity of personal -talents in the others. This is a very sufficient ground of private -pique and resentment, but not of national calamity or eternal war. -I am, Sir, your humble servant,</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>EICONOCLASTES SATYRANE.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<h3 class='c003'>THE BOURBONS AND BONAPARTE</h3> - -<div class='lg-container-r c015'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Dec. 6, 1813.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>The following paragraph in a daily paper is equally worthy of notice -for magnificence of expression and magnanimity of sentiment:—</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘When or under what circumstances the great Commander may -think fit to carry his forces against the large military or commercial -depôts of the south of France, we do not pretend to form conjectures. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>We are confident, that as nothing will disturb the calm and -meditative prudence of his plans, so nothing will arrest the rapidity -of their execution. We trust alike in his caution and in his resolution: -but, perhaps, there may be in store for him a higher destination -than the capture of a town or the reduction of a province. What -if the army opposed to him should resolve to avenge the cause of -humanity, and to exchange the bloody and brutal tyranny of a -Bonaparte for the mild paternal sway of a Bourbon? Could a -popular French general open to himself a more glorious career at -the present moment, than that which Providence seemed to have -destined to the virtuous Moreau? Or is it possible that any power -now existing in France could stop such a general and such an army, -supported by the unconquered Wellington and his formidable legions, -if they were to resolve boldly to march to Paris, and bring the -usurper to the block! Every disposable soldier in France is on the -Adour, or on the Rhine. In the case we are supposing, there -would be no enemy to encounter, unless the northern frontier were -at once denuded of troops, and the road to Paris on that side laid -open to the allies. This is no question of the attachment of the -French nation to one dynasty or to another: it is a question of military -enterprise, in the minds of military adventurers. The simple possibility, -not to say the high moral probability, that in a moment of -general defection, an army which has so much in its hands may run -with the stream of popular feeling throughout Europe, is enough to -make the tyrant tremble on his throne. Lord Wellington is doubtless -prepared to take advantage of so desirable an occurrence, in case -it should happen without his previous interference: but we wish him -to interfere; we wish that he were authorised plainly and openly to -offer his mighty co-operation to any body of men who would shake -off the Tyrant’s yoke in France, as has been done in Italy, in -Germany, and in Holland!’</p> - -<p class='c010'>This is a fair specimen of that kind of declamation which has for -a long time swayed the affairs of Europe, and which, if the powers -of Europe are wise by experience, will not influence them much -longer. It is this spirit of treating the French people as of a -different species from ourselves—as a monster or a non-entity—of -disposing of their government at the will of every paragraph-monger—of -arming our hatred against them by ridiculous menaces and -incessant reproaches—of supposing that their power was either so -tremendous as to threaten the existence of all nations, or so contemptible -that we could crush it by a word,—it is this uniform -system, practised by the incendiaries of the press, of inflaming our -prejudices and irritating our passions, that has so often made us rush -<span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>upon disaster, and submit to every extremity rather than forego the -rancorous and headstrong desire of revenge.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The writer of the paragraph talks familiarly of marching to Paris, -and bringing Bonaparte to the block. He seems to wonder at the -delay which has already taken place. This is the very style of -ancient Pistol, ‘Bid him prepare, for I will cut his throat.’ This -high tone of impotent menace and premature triumph always ‘reverbs -its own hollowness.’ It is the echo of fear. Instead of a proud -repose on our own strength and courage, these writers only feel -secure in the destruction of an adversary. The natural intoxication -of success is heightened into a sort of delirium by the recollection of -the panic into which they had been thrown. <cite>The Times’</cite> editor thinks -that nothing can be so easy as for an army ‘to run with the stream -of popular feeling’ from one end of Europe to the other. Strange -that these persons, like desperate adventurers, are incorrigible to -experience. They are always setting out on the same forlorn hope. -The tide of fortune, while it sets in strong against us, they prove to -be the most variable of all things; but it no sooner changes in our -favour, than it straight</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Flows on to the Propontic,</div> - <div class='line'>And knows no ebb.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>To encourage themselves in the extravagance of their voluntary -delusions, they are as prodigal of titles of honour as the college of -heralds, and erect a standard of military fame, with all the authority, -but not with the impartiality of history. Lord Wellington is ‘the -great commander,’ and ‘the unconquered general,’ while ‘the little -captain,’ and ‘the hero’ or ‘the deserter of Smorgonne,’ are the -only qualifications of Bonaparte. If such are the true denominations -and relative proportions of these two generals, then it is quite right -to give to each of them the honour due;—if they are not, then it is -quite wrong to stake the welfare of nations on a turn of expression—to -put little equivocal scraps of paper into false scales, and decide the -fate of Europe by nicknames. The scales in which Sir Humphrey -Davy weighs the 500th part of a drachm, are not so slight nor -insignificant as those in which his vilifiers, <cite>The Times</cite>, balance the -destinies of the world.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘What,’ it is asked with a certain air of profundity and mystery, -‘What if the army opposed to him [Lord Wellington] should -resolve to exchange the bloody tyranny of Bonaparte for the paternal -sway of a Bourbon!’</p> - -<p class='c010'>Why, if the French wish to shake off the galling yoke of a -military Usurper, we say, let them do it in God’s name. Let them, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>whenever they please, imitate us in our recal of the Stuarts; and, -whenever they please, in our banishment of them thirty years afterwards. -But let them not, in the name of honour or of manhood, -receive the royal boon of liberty at the point of the bayonet. It -would be setting a bad precedent—it would be breaking in upon a -great principle—it would be making a gap in the general feeling of -national independence. For we are to observe, that this rational, -popular, patriotic preference of the mild paternal sway of the Bourbons -is to be enforced upon them by the powerful co-operation of the unconquered -Wellington and his formidable legions. This is, in fact, -returning to the original ground of the whole quarrel, and the question -for them to consider, is whether all the evils and miseries which they -may have endured in resisting these forcible appeals from foreign -powers, are the strongest reasons why they should at length gratefully -resign themselves to that tender concern for their sufferings, which -so much persevering kindness, and disinterested preference of their -interests to our own unequivocally proves. The impression produced -by these formidable emissaries of mild paternity must, indeed, be -only that of filial love and reverence. The constant <em>role</em> of these -same Bourbons, now recognized, now disowned by the surrounding -states, now held up as bugbears to frighten, and now brought forward -as decoys to allure them, for awhile kept entirely in the back-ground, -and then again set over them like puppets, in every reverse of fortune, -must excite, one would suppose, some very pleasant associations, and -give them some little insight into the nature of the machinery which -is played off against them. In other nations, at least, these sort of -<em>tentatives</em> would lead not to submission, but to indignation. It -cannot be denied, however, that the French character has peculiar -susceptibilities. France, like a modern coquet, may be fascinated -once more by the courtly graces of discarded royalty; or, on the -other hand, recollecting the malice and the impotence of which she -was so long the victim, like Hellenore, entertained by the jolly -satyrs, may wisely refuse to return to the cold and irksome embraces -of the drivelling Malbecco. But our politician wishes all this not -to be left to their own free will, but that we should interfere. We -can easily believe it; ‘it was ever the fault of our English nation’ -to wish to interfere with what did not concern them, for the very -reason that they could interfere with comparative impunity. What -is sport to them is death to others. The writer also draws a parallel, -as if it were a feasible case, between Holland, Spain, and Germany -throwing off a foreign yoke, and the French throwing off their own; -in other words, submitting to a foreign one. We beg pardon of these -acute discriminators. We know they have an answer. We leave -<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>them in possession of the nice distinction—between a foreign yoke, -and a yoke imposed by foreigners!</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘This,’ says the writer in <cite>The Times</cite>, ‘is not a question of attachment -to one dynasty or another, but a question of military enterprize -between military adventurers.’ Does our speculator mean by this -to confer the privileges of military adventurers, <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en plein droit</span></i>, on the -Emperor Alexander and the Crown Prince of Sweden? But whatever -he means, it is clear that he is not consistent in what he says; -for he has said just before, that the object of this so often repeated -march to Paris is ‘to bring the Usurper to the block!’ Here, then, -it is a question, not between contending generals, but between a -usurper and a lawful monarch. So true it is that those who have -most need of their assistance have the worst memories! ‘What,’ -exclaims our enthusiast, ‘would there be to oppose such a general -and such an army, aided by the unconquered Wellington,’ &c. -First, ‘this is the very coinage of his brain.’ There’s no such -general and no such army.</p> - -<p class='c010'>But granting the supposition to be true, the patriotic general, who -should open to himself a glorious passage through the heart of his -country, and attempt to make it the vassal of England, under the -monstrous pretence of allegiance to his Sovereign, might perhaps -meet the fate which Providence destined for the virtuous Moreau. -Perhaps the French may think that as their affected loyalty could be -only a cover for the most dastardly submission, so their hypocrisy -and treachery to themselves might be justly retaliated upon them, by -making the restoration of thrones a mask for the dismemberment of -kingdoms. They may have acquired by experience some knowledge -of that enlargement of view and boldness of nerve, which is inspired -by the elevation of success. They may consider, that ‘when the -wild and savage passions are set afloat, they are not so easily regulated’ -according to the dictates of justice or generosity. Some of them may -even go so far as to think that all the respect of the Emperor of -Russia for the talents and virtues of Moreau might be insufficient to -deter him from memorizing another Warsaw at Paris! Of this we -are tolerably certain, that there are not wanting staunch friends of -order and civilization in this country who would advise and applaud -such a catastrophe ‘to the very echo,’ as a masterpiece of political -justice, chaunt <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Te Deum</span></i> over the ruins, and very seriously invite the -good people of France to join in the chorus! But we are not ‘the -echo that shall applaud again.’ We shall not hail such a catastrophe, -nor such a triumph. For out of the desolation would arise a poisoned -stench that would choak almost the breath of life, and one low, -creeping fog of universal despotism, that would confound the Eastern -<span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>and the Western world together <em>in darkness that might be felt</em>. We -do not wish for this final consummation, because we do not wish the -pulse of liberty to be quite destroyed, or that the mass of our common -nature should become a lifeless corpse, unable to rouse itself against -never-ending wrongs, or that the last spark of generous enthusiasm -should be extinguished in that moral atheism, which defaces and -mangles the image of God in man. We do not wish that liberty -should ever have a deer’s heart given her, to live in constant fear of -the fatal, inevitable venal pack behind her; but that she may still have -the heart of a lioness, whose mighty roar keeps the hunters at bay, -and whose whelps revenge their parent’s death!</p> - -<p class='c010'>Rather than such an event should take place, if such an extremity -were possible, we should even wish that a general and an army of our -own, devoted by <cite>The Times</cite> to a far different service, might be -empowered to make a firm stand against it: to stop the tide of -barbarous despotism as they had already rolled back that of ungovernable -ambition, and to say, Hitherto shalt thou come, and no further. -Such an interference in such a cause would indeed give to Great -Britain the character which she claims of being the Vindicator of the -World. It would be to assume an attitude and a port indeed, loftier -than she ever yet presented to the admiration of mankind; and would -create a bulwark of strength round her, that would encircle her as -with ‘impaling fire’!</p> - -<h3 class='c003'>VETUS</h3> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Nov. 19, 1813.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>This patriot and logician in a letter in <cite>The Times</cite> of Friday, labours -to stifle the most distant hope of peace in its birth. He lays down -certain general principles which must for ever render all attempts to -restore it vain and abortive. With the watchword of <cite>Eternal war -with Bonaparte</cite> blazoned on his forehead, in the piety of his pacific -zeal, he challenges Bonaparte as the wanton, unprovoked, implacable -enemy of the peace of mankind. We will also venture to lay down -a maxim, which is—That from the moment that one party declares -and acts upon the avowed principle that peace can never be made with -an enemy, it renders war on the part of that enemy a matter of -necessary self-defence, and holds out a plea for every excess of -ambition or revenge. If we are to limit our hostility to others only -with their destruction, we impose the adoption of the same principle -on them as their only means of safety. There is no alternative. But -this is probably the issue to which Vetus wishes to bring the question. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>This writer not only outlaws Bonaparte, but in a summary way, disfranchises -the French nation at large of the right of making peace or -war. ‘Who,’ he exclaims in wanton defiance of common sense, -‘are the French nation? To us a rank non-entity. We have only -to do with Napoleon Bonaparte—with his rights, his interests, his -honour. Who are to be the sole judges of his rights? We and our -allies!’ Admirable politician!</p> - -<p class='c010'>The events which have lately taken place on the Continent, and -the moderate and manly tone in which those events have been received -by Ministers, have excited the utmost degree of uneasiness and alarm -in the minds of certain persons, who redouble the eagerness of their -cries for war. The cold blooded fury and mercenary malice of these -panders to mischief, can only be appeased by the prospect of lasting -desolation. They rave, foam at the mouth, and make frantic gestures -at the name of peace. These high-priests of Moloch daily offer up -to their grim idol the same nauseous banquet of abuse and lies. -Round them ‘a cry of hell-hounds never ceasing bark,’ that with -greedy appetite devour the offal. Every day they act over the same -foul imposture, and repeat their monstrous masque. These mighty -soothsayers look forward to another restoration of Europe after -another twenty years of havoc and destruction. After urging her to -the very edge of the precipice from which she has only just recovered, -breathless and affrighted, they wish to goad her on once more to the -same mad career. The storm is for the moment over-past, but they -will not suffer the vessel of the state to enter the harbour, in the hope -that they may still plunder the wreck, and prey upon the carcases. -The serpent’s hiss, the assassin’s yell, the mowing and chattering of -apes, drown the voice of peace; and Vetus, like the solemn owl, -joins in the distance, and prolongs the dreary note of death!</p> - -<h3 class='c003'>ON THE COURIER AND TIMES NEWSPAPERS</h3> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Jan. 21, 1814.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>The following passage, among others of the same <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">calibre</span></i>, has lately -appeared in <cite>The Courier</cite>:—</p> - -<p class='c016'>‘The party call upon us to speak out. We thought it not very easy for -any charge of not speaking out to be urged against us. However, we obey -their call most willingly. “Does <cite>The Courier</cite>, they ask, mean to insinuate, -that because the South of France is more inclined to favour their pretensions, -the Bourbons ought to have frigates allotted them to traverse the -Bay of Biscay, and join the standard of Lord Wellington?” To this we -<span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>reply, yes; decisively yes!—We say we would have a Bourbon proceed to -the South of France. We hope we have spoken out on this point. One -more remains;—Would we “set up some new obstacle to the progress of -the negociation that is on foot?” <em>Yes, if we thought there was any -negociation on foot with Bonaparte. But we trust there is not—we trust -there never will be.</em>’</p> - -<p class='c010'>And this at a time when it has been formally signified from the -throne that there was no objection on the part of England to treat with -the French Ruler; when Lord Liverpool has said publicly that no -conditions of peace would be insisted on, which we, placed in the -situation of France, should not think it reasonable to grant; when -we, in concert with the Allies, have announced to France, that it is -neither our intention nor our wish to interfere with their internal -government, but to secure the independence and safety of the continent; -and when Lord Castlereagh has gone from this country for -the purpose, avowed and understood, of giving effect to that declaration, -and of fixing the basis of a peace to be recognized by the -common powers of Europe. To produce such a passage, at such a -moment, required that union of impudence and folly which has no -parallel elsewhere. From the quarter from which it comes, it could -not surprize us; it is consistent; it is in keeping; it is of a piece -with the rest. It is worthy of those harpies of the press, whose -business is to scare away the approach of peace by their obscene and -dissonant noises, and to tear asunder the olive-branch, whenever it is -held out to us, with their well-practised beaks; who fill their hearts -with malice, and their mouths with falsehood; who strive to soothe -the dastard passion of their employers by inflaming those of the -multitude; creatures that would sell the lives of millions for a nod -of greatness, and make their country a by-word in history, to please -some punk of quality.</p> - -<p class='c010'>We are to understand from no less an authority than that of <cite>The -Courier</cite>, that Lord Castlereagh is sent out professedly to make peace, -but in reality to hinder it: and we learn from an authority equally -respectable (<cite>The Times</cite>) that nothing can prevent the destruction of -Bonaparte but this country’s untimely consenting to make peace with -him. And yet we are told in the same breath, that the charge of -eternal war which we bring against these writers, is the echo of the -French war-faction, who, at the commencement of every series of -hostilities, and at the conclusion of every treaty, have accused this -country of a want of good faith and sincere disposition to peace. -We are told, that if the French do not force Bonaparte to make peace -now, which yet these writers are determined to prevent him from -doing, ‘they are sunk beneath the worshippers of cats and onions.’ -<span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>These ‘knavish but keen’ politicians tell the French people in so -many words—‘We will not make peace with your government, and -yet, if it does not make peace with us, we will force what Government -we please upon you.’ What effect this monstrous and palpable insult -must have upon the French nation, will depend upon the degree of -sense and spirit they have left among them. But with respect to ourselves, -if the line of policy pointed out by these juggling fiends is -really meant to be pursued, if a pretended proposal to treat for peace -on certain grounds is only to be converted into an insidious ground of -renewed war for other purposes, if this offensive and unmanly imposture -is to be avowed and practised upon us in the face of day, then -we know what will be the duty of Parliament and of the country. -The wars, in which the Governments of Europe have been engaged, -have not succeeded the worse when the people took an effective share -in them. We should hope that the interference of the people will -not be necessary to effect the restoration of peace.</p> - -<p class='c010'>It is curious to hear these systematic opponents of peace, (with -infuriate and insensate looks scattering firebrands and death,) at the -same time affecting the most tender concern for the miseries of war; -or like that good-natured reconciler of differences, <em>Iago</em>, hypocritically -shifting the blame from themselves—‘What, stab men in the dark!’ -They ask with grave faces, with <em>very</em> grave faces, ‘Who are the -authors, the propagators, and practisers of this dreadful war system? -who the aggressors? who the unrelenting persecutors of peace?’ -War is their everlasting cry, ‘one note day and night;’ during war, -during peace, during negociation, in success, in adversity; and yet -they dare to tax others as the <em>sole</em> authors of the calamities which they -would render eternal, sooner than abate one jot of their rancorous prejudices. -One of these writers (the Editor of <cite>The Times</cite>) asserts with -an air of great confidence, while he himself is hallooing as loud as he -can among the indefatigable war-pack, that Bonaparte is the cause, -the <em>sole author</em> of all the calamities of Europe for the last fourteen -years; and what is remarkable, he brings as a proof of this sweeping -assertion, a state paper, written under the Pitt Administration of -<em>pacific memory</em>, deprecating <em>all</em> conciliation with the French at the -very period from which the writer dates the wanton, unprovoked -aggressions of Bonaparte, and which paper he quotes at length, as an -admirable description of the mode by which we are to avert the -calamities of Europe for the next fourteen years, as we have done for -the last. Better late than never. So industrious an inquirer need -not despair of effectually averting our future miseries, and pacifying -the world, if it is to be done by referring back to state papers of this -description, or by resuming the principles of those good old anti-jacobin -<span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>times, or by finishing the war as it was begun. There would -be no end of precedents and documents for prosecuting the war with -vigour under every variety of circumstances, in order never to bring -it to a conclusion. As a proof of the aggressions and implacable -hatred of France, he might cite that monument of romantic and -disinterested generosity ‘of heroic sentiment and manly enterprise,’ -on the part of the Allies, the treaty of Pilnitz.<a id='r7' /><a href='#f7' class='c011'><sup>[7]</sup></a> He might proceed -to those pacific manifestations—Lord Hawkesbury’s march to Paris—the -<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Bellum internecinum</span></i> of Mr. Windham, and his consistent phrenzy -at the treaty of Amiens—Mr. Pitt’s abstract impossibility of maintaining -the relations of peace and amity with the French Republic, -or with the child and champion of Jacobinism—Mr. Burke’s -Regicide Peace—the project of starving France in 1796—of hurling -her down the gulph of bankruptcy in 1797—the coalitions of different -periods in which England saved herself and Europe <em>from peace</em> by her -energy, or her example—the contemptuous rejection of every offer of -negociation in every situation, the unwearied prosecution of the war -on the avowed principle that we were never to leave it off as long as -we could carry it on, or get any one to carry it on for us, or till we -had buried ourselves under the ruins of the civilized world (a prediction -which we narrowly escaped verifying)—all these undeniable -proofs and substantial demonstrations of our fond desires, our longings -after peace, and of the determination of France to aggrandize herself -by war and conquest, would, indeed, with the ingenious glosses of -our well-meaning commentator form a very entertaining volume, and -would at least teach us, if not what to follow, what we ought to shun, -in our future advances to this first of earthly blessings, so long and -studiously and systematically withheld from us—only to render its -attainment more certain and more precious!</p> - -<p class='c010'>To the other solid grounds of an indefinite prolongation of this -war, religious, moral, political, commercial, constitutional, continental, -Jacobinical, Revolutionary, Corsican, foreign or domestic—our -apologist, in the true spirit of the French <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">petit maitre</span></i> in <cite>Roderic -Random</cite>, has now added a ground of his own, of equal efficacy and -validity with the former, viz. that we are to carry it on in the -character of gentlemen and men of honour. We are to fight for the -restoration of the Bourbons, say <cite>The Times</cite>, ‘that we may have gentlemen -and men of honour to fight with.’ There is some prudence in -this resolution; it goes on the old principle, that we are not to fight -except with our <em>match</em>. Don Quixote, after he had been soundly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>drubbed by the Yanguesian carriers, recollected that he ought not to -have engaged with plebeians. The writer whom we have here quoted, -told us, some time ago, from a greater authority certainly than that of -<cite>The Times</cite>, the true grounds of war, or ‘that we might spill our blood -for our country, for our liberty, for our friends, for our kind;’ but we -do not remember, among these legitimate sources of the waste of -human blood, that we were to shed it for a punctilio. If war were -to be decided by the breaking of white and black sticks among -gentlemen-ushers, or even by the effusion of courtly phrases in -<cite>The Courier</cite> and <cite>The Times</cite>, we should have no objection to this -fastidious refinement; but we cannot consent to shed the best blood -of Europe, nor that of ‘the meanest peasant in this our native land,’ -in order that the delicate honour of the Carlton House Minority may -not be stained, nor the purity of their moral taste perverted, by an -intercourse with any but gentlemen and men of honour. And thou, -Carl John, what hast thou to say to this new plea of the old school?—Or -why, not being clad with the inherent right to ‘monarchize, be -feared, and kill with looks,’—dost thou insult over the King of -Denmark, menace Holstein, and seize upon Norway, and yet tellest -thy little son, that the time is coming, when conquerors shall be no -more?—<cite>The Times’</cite> editor scornfully rejects our practical opinion -on the probability of restoring the Bourbons, because it seems -we always reject every proposition that makes the continuance of -war necessary. Be it so. But do not these persons also attach -the highest degree of probability, or, when they are so inclined, -moral certainty, to every thing that tends to make peace unattainable? -It is true we did not, as they say, anticipate the -reverses of the French Emperor before they happened. If we did -not anticipate them before, it was because we had nothing in past -experience to guide us to such a conclusion, except, indeed, the -constant unverified predictions of <cite>The Times</cite> and <cite>The Courier</cite>. -If these inspired writers had the slightest intimation of them one -moment before they happened, we are willing to bow down to -them, and they shall be our Gods. But of this we are sure, from -all experience, that the way to render the fruits of those reverses -uncertain, or to defeat them altogether, is the very mode of proceeding -recommended by the ceaseless partizans of interminable -hostilities. If the French are a nation of men—if they have the -common faculties of memory, of understanding, and foresight; if -they are, as they have been pronounced by one no ways favourable -to them, ‘the most civilized, and with one exception, the most -enlightened people in Europe,’ surely, if any thing can kindle in -their minds ‘the flame of sacred vehemence, and move the very -<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>stones to mutiny,’ it is the letting loose upon them the mohawks -of Europe, the Cossacks, with General Blucher’s manifesto in -their hands. It is restoring to Bonaparte the very weapon -which we had wrested from him, the mighty plea of the independence -of nations; it is reclothing his power with those adamantine -scales ‘which fear no discipline of human hands,’ the -hearts and wills of a whole people, threatened with emasculation -of their moral and physical powers, by half a dozen libellers of -the human species, and a horde of barbarians scarcely human. -Even the writer in <cite>The Times</cite> acknowledges that the Cossacks -entering France as a sort of masters of the ceremonies to the -Bourbons, is only better, and less likely to excite horror and dismay, -than their entering it in their own rights and persons. It -may be so. The bear bringing in the monkey on his back may -be more inviting than the bear alone. But we should think that -either portent must be fatal, that neither hieroglyphic will be -favourably interpreted.</p> - -<h3 class='c003'>ILLUSTRATIONS OF VETUS</h3> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Those nauseous harlequins in farce may pass,</div> - <div class='line'>But there goes more to a substantial ass;</div> - <div class='line'>Our modern wits such monstrous fools have shewn,</div> - <div class='line'>They seem not of Heaven’s making but their own.’—<span class='sc'>Dryden.</span></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Dec. 2, 1813.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>There is a degree of shameless effrontery which disarms and -baffles contempt by the shock which it gives to every feeling of -moral rectitude or common decency; as there is a daring extravagance -in absurdity which almost challenges our assent by confounding -and setting at defiance every principle of human reasoning. -The ribald paragraphs, which fill the columns of our daily papers, -and disgrace the English language, afford too many examples of -the former assertion; the Letters of Vetus are a striking instance of -the latter.</p> - -<p class='c010'>It would have been some satisfaction to us, in the ungrateful -task which we had imposed upon ourselves, if, in combating the -conclusions of Vetus, we could have done justice to the ingenuity -of his arguments, or the force of his illustrations. But his extreme -dogmatism is as destitute of proofs, as it is violent in itself. -His profound axioms are in general flat contradictions; and he -scarcely makes a single statement in support of any proposition -<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>which does not subvert it. In the Parliamentary phrase, he constantly -<em>stultifies</em> himself. The glaring and almost deliberate incongruity -of his conclusion is such as to imply a morbid defect of -comprehension, a warped or overstrained understanding. Absorbed -in an inveterate purpose, bent on expanding some vapid sophism -into a cumbrous system, he is insensible to the most obvious consequences -of things; and his reason is made the blind pander to his -prejudices.</p> - -<p class='c010'>We are not converts to this author’s style, any more than to his -reasoning. Indeed the defects of the one very much assist those -of the other, and both have the same character. There is a perpetual -effort to make something out of nothing, and to elevate a -common-place into sublimity. The style of Vetus is not very -different from that of Don Adriano de Armado; every word is as -who should say, ‘I am Sir Oracle.’ Like the hero of Cervantes, -haranguing the shepherds, he assaults the very vault of Heaven -with the arrogance of his tone, and the loudness of his pretensions. -Nothing can exceed the pompous quaintness, and laborious foolery -of many of his letters. He unfolds the book of fate, assumes -the prophet or historian, by virtue of alliteration and antithesis;—sustains -the balance of power by well-poised periods, or crushes -a people under a ponderous epithet. The set style of Vetus does -not conform easily to the march of human affairs; and he is -often forced to torture the sense to ‘hitch it’ in a metaphor. While -he is marshalling his words, he neglects his arguments, which -require all his attention to connect them together; and in his eagerness -to give additional significance to his sentences, he loses his own -meaning.</p> - -<p class='c010'>We shall proceed to the task we at first proposed, viz. that of -supplying marginal notes to the voluminous effusions of Vetus, -and shall continue our comments as often as he furnishes us with -the text.</p> - -<p class='c010'>We agree with the sentiment with which he commences his -last Letter, that it is ‘particularly desirable to follow up the -question of peace’ at the present crisis, but not with the reason -which he assigns for his extreme anxiety to enter upon the question, -‘because this is just the moment to dread the entertainment of -a pacific overture.’ We can readily believe that at no other -moment than when he dreads its approach, would Vetus ever -breathe a syllable on the subject of peace, and then only to avert -it. Whenever ‘a spurious and mawkish beneficence’ gives an -alarm of peace, the dogs of war stand ready on the slip to hunt it -down.</p> - -<p class='c010'><span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>‘I have stated to you’ (<em>To the Editor of the Times</em>) ‘as the -only legitimate basis of a treaty, if not on the part of the continental -Allies, at least for England herself, that <em>she should conquer -all she can, and keep all she conquers</em>. This is not by way of -retaliation, <em>however just</em>, upon so obdurate and rapacious an enemy—but -as an indispensable condition of her own safety and existence.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>That which is here said to be the <em>only</em> legitimate basis of a -treaty is one, which if admitted and acted upon, would make it -impossible that any treaty should ever be formed. It is a basis, -not of lasting peace, but of endless war. To call that the basis -of a treaty which precludes the possibility of any concession or -compensation, of every consideration either of the right or power -of each party to retain its actual acquisitions, is one of those misnomers -which the gravity of Vetus’s manner makes his readers -overlook. After the imposing and guarded exordium which -ushers in the definition of our only legitimate basis of a treaty, -we are not prepared to expect Vetus’s burlesque solution of the -difficulty—‘that we are not to treat at all.’ The human mind -is naturally credulous of sounding professions, and reluctantly -admits the existence of what is very common, and common for that -reason—<em>pompous nonsense</em>. It seems, however, that this basis -of a treaty is to apply only to one of the contracting powers, -namely, England, it is equivocal as to the Allies, and with respect -to France, it is, we suppose, meant to be altogether null. For -in a former letter, after asking, ‘Who are to be the judges of -his (Bonaparte’s) rights?’ he answers emphatically, ‘We and -our Allies!’ Bobadil did not come up to this exquisite pacificator -of the world! To make common sense of Vetus’s axiom -with reference to any state whatever, ‘that it should keep all it -conquers,’ it seems necessary to add this trifling condition, ‘if it -can.’ And with respect to Great Britain in particular, if from -her peculiar situation she has the power to keep all she conquers -without being amenable to any other tribunal than her own will, -this very circumstance proves that the exercise of that power is -not <em>necessary to her safety and existence</em>. Again, if England has -an interest of her own, quite independent on and separate from -that of the continent, what has she to do with continental Allies? -If her interests may be and are interwoven with those of the rest -of Europe, is it too much to expect from her a common sacrifice -to the common cause? We quarrel with France on continental -grounds; we strip her of her colonies to support the quarrel; and yet -we refuse to restore any part of them, in order to secure peace. If -so, we are only ostensible parties in the contest, and in reality robbers.</p> - -<p class='c010'><span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>‘The first policy of a wise people is to make rival nations -afraid to disturb them, to impress their enemies with a <em>terrific -sense</em>,’ (how magnificent is this epic mode of expression) ‘that -to attack them is to suffer not only transient defeats, but deep, -grievous, and <em>irrecoverable losses</em>; and to hold in abhorrence any -peace which shall not be a living record of <em>their own superiority</em>, and -a monument worthy of those warriors, through whose noble blood -it was obtained.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>If the losses sustained in war were to be irrecoverable, it is -easy to foresee that the seat of empires would be very soon -changed in almost all cases whatever. But Vetus here, as is -customary with him when it tends to enforce the hyperbolical -effect of his style, assumes as a broad ground of national wisdom, -a physical impossibility. It is not in the nature of things that the -losses of rival States should be irrecoverable. Vetus would do -better to decree at once that the possessions of nations are <em>unassailable</em> -as well as <em>irrecoverable</em>, which would prevent war -altogether. But still more preposterous is the madness or malice of -the assertion, that no peace can be made by a wise nation, which -is not a living record of <em>their own superiority</em>. ‘This is the key-stone -which makes up the arch’ of Vetus’s indestructible war-system. -Can it have escaped even the short-sighted logic of this -writer, that to make superiority an indispensable condition of a -wise peace is to proscribe peace altogether, because certainly this -superiority cannot belong at the same time to both parties, and -yet we conceive that the consent of both parties is necessary to a -peace? Any other peace, we are told, than that which is at all -times impracticable between rival states, ought not only never to -be made, but it ought to be held in abhorrence, we ought to -shudder at its approach as the last of evils, and throw it to an -immeasurable distance from us. This is indeed closing up the -avenues to peace, and shutting the gates of mercy on mankind, -in a most consummate and scientific manner. Our philosophic -rhetorician appears also to forget, in that high tone in which he -speaks of the <em>monuments raised by the noble blood of warriors</em>, -that these sort of monuments are cemented by the blood of others -as well as by our own, and tell the survivors a double story. -His heated imagination seems to have been worked up into a -literal belief of his own assertion, that the French nation are a -rank non-entity; or he supposes that there is some celestial ichor -in our veins, which we alone shed for our country, while other -nations neither bleed nor suffer from war, nor have a right to -profit by peace. This may be very well in poetry, or on the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>stage, but it will not pass current in diplomacy. Vetus, indeed, -strains hard to reconcile inconsistencies, and to found the laws of -nations on the sentiments of exclusive patriotism. But we should -think that the common rules of peace and war, which necessarily -involve the rights, interests, and feelings of different nations, cannot -be dictated by the heroic caprices of a few hair-brained egotists, on -either side of the question.</p> - -<h4 class='c017'>ILLUSTRATIONS OF VETUS</h4> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div><span class='small'>(CONTINUED)</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘He is indeed a person of great acquired follies.’</div> - <div class='line in40'><span class='sc'>Sir Fopling Flutter</span></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Dec. 10, 1813.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>‘Nothing,’ continues Vetus, ‘can be more opposite to this -great policy, than to fight and to render back the fruits of our -successes. We may be assured, that those with whom we contend -are ready enough to improve <em>their</em> victories. If we are not equally -so, <em>we shall never be at rest</em>. If the enemy beats us, he wins our -provinces.—[<em>What provinces of ours?</em>]—If we beat him, we restore -all. What more profitable game could he desire! Truly, at this -rate, our neighbours must be arrant fools if they leave us one week’s -repose!’</p> - -<p class='c010'>There is a spirit of Machiavelian policy in this paragraph -which is very commendable. It reminds us of the satirist’s -description of ‘fools aspiring to be knaves.’ It is, in fact, this -fear of being outwitted by the French, that constantly makes us -the dupes of our suspicions of them, as it is a want of confidence -in our own strength or firmness, that leads us to shew our courage -by defiance. True courage, as well as true wisdom, is not distrustful -of itself. Vetus recommends it to us to act upon the -maxims of the common disturbers of mankind, of ‘this obdurate -and rapacious foe,’ as the only means to secure general tranquillity. -He wishes to embody the pretended spirit and principles -of French diplomacy in a code,—the acknowledged basis of -which should be either universal conquest, or endless hostility. -We have, it seems, no chance of repelling the aggressions of the -French, but by retaliating them not only on themselves, but on -other states. At least, the author gives a pretty broad hint of -what he means by the improvement of <em>our</em> victories, when he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>talks of annexing Holland and Danish Zealand to Hanover, as -‘her natural prey,’ <em>instead</em> of their being the dependencies of -France. This is certainly one way of trimming the balance of -power in Europe, and placing the independence of nations in a -most happy dilemma. The inventor of this new and short way -with foreign states only laments that Hanover, ‘under British -auspices,’ has not been before-hand with France in imitating -Prussia in her seizure of the Austrian province on one side, and -her partition of Poland on the other. He can scarcely express -his astonishment and regret, that Holland and Denmark should -so long have escaped falling into our grasp, after the brilliant -example of ‘rapacity and obduracy’ set to our phlegmatic, plodding, -insipid, <em>commercial</em> spirit by Prussia and Russia. But now -that we have rescued ‘our natural prey’ from the French, it is to -be hoped, that we shall make sure of it. Vetus’s great principles of -morality seem to be borrowed from those of Peachum, and his -acknowledgements of merit to flow much in the same channel:—‘A -good clever lad, this Nimming Ned—there’s not a handier in the -whole gang, nor one more industrious to save goods from the fire!’—His -chief objection to that ‘revolutionist,’ Bonaparte, (Vetus too is -a projector of revolutions) is not, evidently, to his being a robber, -but because he is at the head of a different gang; and we are only -required to bestir ourselves as effectually as he does, <em>for the good of -mankind</em>! But Vetus, whose real defect is a contraction of intellectual -vision, sees no alternative between this rapacious and obdurate -policy, and unconditional submission, between ‘restoring all’ or none. -This is not sound logic. He wishes by a <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">coup sur</span></i> to prevent an -unfair and dishonourable peace, by laying down such rules as must -make peace impossible, under any circumstances, or on any grounds -that can enter into human calculation. According to him, our -only security against the most wild and extravagant concessions, -is the obstinate determination to make none; our only defence -against the fascinations of our own folly, is to take refuge from -the exercise of our discretion in his impregnable paradoxes.—‘The -same argument which goes to justify a war, prescribes war -measures of the most determined and active character.’ Good; -because the nature and essence of war is <em>a trial of strength</em>; and, -therefore, to make it as advantageous to ourselves as possible, we -ought to exert all the strength that we possess. ‘The very object,’ -continues Vetus, ‘that of weakening the enemy, for which we pursue -those vigorous measures, and strip him of his possessions, renders it -<em>necessary</em> to keep him in that state of weakness by which he will be -deterred from repeating his attack; and, <em>therefore, to hold inflexibly</em> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>what we have acquired.’ Here again Vetus confounds himself, and, -involving a plain principle in the mazes of a period, represents war -not as a trial of strength between contending states, each exerting -himself to the utmost, but as a voluntary assumption of superiority -on the part of one of them. He talks of stripping the enemy of his -possessions, and holding them inflexibly—as matters of course, as -questions of will, and not of power.</p> - -<p class='c010'>It is neither the actual possession, nor <em>the will</em> to keep certain -acquisitions, but the <em>power</em> to keep them, and, <em>at the same time</em>, -to extort other concessions from an enemy, that must determine -the basis of all negociations, that are not founded on verbal chimeras.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘We are taught, indeed, to take for granted, that a peace, whose -conditions bear hard on either party, will be the sooner broken by -that party; and, therefore, that we have an indirect interest in -sacrificing a portion of our conquests.’ The general principle here -stated is self-evident, and one would think indisputable. For the -very ground of war is a peace whose conditions are thought to <em>bear -hard</em> on one of the parties, and yet, according to Vetus, the only way -to make peace durable, to prevent the recurrence of an appeal to force, -is to impose such hard conditions on an enemy, as it is his interest, -and must be his inclination, to break <em>by force</em>. An opinion of the -disproportion between our general strength, and our actual advantages, -seems to be the necessary ground of war, but it is here converted into -the permanent source of peace. The origin of the common prejudice -is, however, very satisfactorily illustrated in the remainder of the -paragraph. ‘This language is in favour with the two extremes of -English faction. The blind opponents of every minister <em>who happens -to be engaged in conducting a war</em>’ [<em>Is war then a mere affair of -accident?</em>] ‘can see no danger in national dishonour; and cry out for -peace with double vehemence, whenever it is least likely to be concluded -well. The dependents, on the other hand, of any feeble -government, will strive to lower the expectations of the country—to -exclaim against <em>immoderate</em> exertion—to depreciate her powers in war, -and her pretensions at a peace:—thus preparing an oblique defence -for their employers, and undermining the honest disappointment’ -[<em>Quere expectations</em>] ‘of the people when they reflect how little has -been done by war, and how much’ [of that little] ‘undone by -negociation. But besides being a factious expedient, it is a principle -of action equally false and absurd. I deny that we affect any thing -more by granting an enemy what are <em>called favourable terms</em>, than -convince him that he may go to war with England, gratis. The -conditions he obtains will encourage him to try the chance of another -war, in the hope of a still more advantageous treaty.’ Here Vetus -<span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>entirely shifts the state of the question. The terms of a peace, if <em>not -hard</em>, must be immediately <em>favourable</em>! Because we grant an enemy -such terms as he has a right to expect, it is made a conclusion that -we are also to grant him such as he has no right to expect, and which -will be so decidedly advantageous as to induce him to try his fortune -still farther against so generous an adversary. That is, Vetus has no -idea of the possibility of a just, fair, or honourable peace; his mind -refuses to dwell for a moment on any arrangement of terms, which, -by bearing hard on one party or another, will not be sure to end -speedily, from the desire on one side to retrieve its affairs, and on the -other to improve its advantages, in a renewal of war. ‘The only -valid security for peace is the accession to our own strength, and the -diminution of our rival’s, by the resources and dominions we have -wrested from him.’ First, this security can be good only on one -side: secondly, it is not good at all: the only security for peace is -not in the actual losses or distresses incurred by states, but in the -settled conviction that they cannot <em>better</em> themselves by war. But -all these contradictions are nothing to Vetus, who alone does not -fluctuate between the extremes of faction, but is still true to war—and -himself.</p> - -<p class='c010'>But there is, in our opinion, a third extreme of English faction (if -Vetus will spare us the anomaly) not less absurd, and more mischievous -than either of the others: we mean those who are the blind -adherents of every minister who happens to be engaged in a war, -however unnecessarily or wantonly it may have been begun, or however -weakly and wickedly carried on: who see no danger in repeated -disgraces, and impending ruin, provided we are obstinately bent on -pursuing the same dreadful career which has led to them; who, when -our losses come thronging in upon us, urge us to persist till we recover -the advantages we have lost, and, when we recover them, force us on -till we lose all again: with whom peace, in a time of adverse fortune, -is dishonour, and in the pride of success, madness: who only exaggerate -‘our pretensions at a peace,’ that they may never be complied -with: who assume a settled unrelenting purpose in our adversary to -destroy us, in order to inspire us with the same principle of never-ending -hostility against him: who leave us no alternative but eternal -war, or inevitable ruin: who irritate the hatred and the fears of both -parties, by spreading abroad incessantly a spirit of defiance, suspicion, -and the most galling contempt: who, adapting every aspect of affairs -to their own purposes, constantly return in the same circle to the -point from which they set out: with whom peace is always unattainable, -war always necessary!</p> - -<p class='c010'>We shall pass over Vetus’s historic researches, the wars of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>Romans and Carthaginians (the formal latitude of Vetus’s pen delights -in these great divisions of human affairs), and come to what is more -to our purpose.</p> - -<p class='c010'>In modern times he first comes to the treaty of 1763, only (as far -as we can find) to affix the epithet ‘American rebels’ as a sort of -Pragmatic Sanction to our colonists, with whom, he says, France -joined a few years afterwards, and, ‘in spite of her ruined finances -and her peaceful king, aimed a mortal blow at the British monarchy.’ -Yet, notwithstanding this long-standing and inveterate animosity of the -French court to this country, we find the same France, in the next -paragraph but one, stigmatized as <em>republican</em> and <em>Corsican</em>, ‘with centric -and eccentric scribbled o’er,’ as if these were important distinctions, -though Vetus himself ‘would prefer for France the scourge of -Bonaparte, to the <em>healthier</em>, and to England <em>not less hostile</em>, sovereignty -of the banished house of Bourbon.’ Why then pertinaciously affix -these obnoxious epithets? They are bad ornaments of style—they -are worse interpreters of truth.</p> - -<p class='c010'>To prove his general axiom, that in order to be stable, ‘the -conditions of peace must bear hard on one of the parties,’ Vetus asks, -‘Were the powers that partitioned unhappy Poland so conciliated by -her acquiescence in their first encroachments, as to abstain from offering -her any second wrong?’ Now this is an instance precisely in -point to prove the direct reverse of Vetus’s doctrine: for here was a -treaty in which the terms bore exceedingly hard on one of the parties, -and yet this only led to accumulated wrongs by a renewal of war. -We say that hard conditions of peace, in all cases, will lead to a -rupture. If the parties are nearly equal, they will lead to resistance -to unfounded claims; if quite unequal—to an aggravation of oppression. -But would Russia and Prussia have been more lenient or deterred -from their encroachments, if Poland had pretended to impose hard -conditions of peace on them? These governments partitioned -Poland, not in consequence of any treaty good or bad, but because -they had the will and the power to do so. Vetus would terrify -the French into moderation by hard conditions of peace, and yet he -supposes us to be in the same relation to France as Poland to its -implacable enemies.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘Did the wretched complaisance of the leading continental courts -in their several treaties with France, ensure their tranquillity even -for a moment?’ This is still altering the record. The question is -not about submitting to hard conditions, but about imposing them. -Besides, ‘the aggravated and multiplied molestations, injuries, and -insults, which these courts were doomed to suffer,’ might be accounted -for from those which they had in vain attempted to inflict on France, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>and from their still more wretched complaisance in being made the -tools of a court which was not continental.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘Then comes the peace of Amiens, our peace of Amiens—a peace -born, educated, nourished, and matured in this very philanthropic -spirit of gentleness and forgiveness. In the war which preceded <em>the -truce</em> of which I am speaking, <em>the French government</em> involved <em>us</em> in -considerably more than two hundred millions of debt.’ Vetus then -proceeds to state that we made peace without any liquidation of this -claim, without satisfaction, without a bond, (<em>what else?</em>) without a -promise, without a single guinea! ‘I will have ransom, most egregious -ransom.’ Why was it ever heard of that one government paid the -debts in which another had involved itself in making war upon it?</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘The language of England,’ says our author, ‘was correctly what -follows:—You, Monsieur, have loaded <em>me</em> with unspeakable distresses -and embarrassments,’ (<em>all this while, be it recollected, our affairs were -going on most prosperously and gloriously in the cant of The Times</em>) ‘you -have robbed me of half my fortune, and reduced me to the brink of -beggary,’ (<em>the French by all accounts were in the gulph of bankruptcy</em>) -‘you have torn away and made slaves of my friends and kindred,’ -(<em>indeed</em>) ‘you have dangerously wounded me, and murdered my -beloved children, who armed to defend their parent.’—This is too -much, even for the dupes of England. Stick, Vetus, to your statistics, -and do not make the pathetic ridiculous! Sophistry and affectation -may confound common sense to a certain degree, but there is a point -at which our feelings revolt against them.</p> - -<p class='c010'>We have already remarked on what Vetus says of Hanover; he -probably will not wish us to go farther into it. Of Bonaparte he -says, of course, that nothing short of unconditional submission will -ever satisfy that revolutionist, and that he will convert the smallest -concession made to him into a weapon for our destruction. That is, -we have it in our power to set him at defiance, to insult him, to -‘bring him to the block,’ etc., whenever we please; and yet we are -so completely in his power, so dependent on him, that the smallest -concession must be fatal to us, will be made the instrument of our -inevitable destruction. Thus is the public mind agitated and distracted -by incredible contradictions, and made to feel at once ‘the -fierce extremes’ of terror and triumph, of rashness and despair. -‘Our safety lies in his weakness, not in his will.’ If so, or if it -depends on either of the conditions here stated, we are in no very -pleasant situation. But our real safety depends on our own strength, -and steady reliance on it, and not on the arguments of Vetus.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span> - <h4 class='c017'>ILLUSTRATIONS OF VETUS</h4> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div><span class='small'>(CONTINUED)</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Madmen’s epistles are no gospels.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Dec. 16, 1813.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>The last Letter of Vetus begins with an allusion to the events which -have lately taken place in Holland. He then proceeds—‘What final -effect this popular movement by the Dutch may have upon the future -interests and prosperity of England is a question to be discussed with -deliberate caution—with extreme solicitude—and with the chance, I -trust, the distant chance, of its conducting us to no very gratifying -conclusion!’ There is something in this passage truly characteristic, -and well worthy of our notice. Vetus is, it seems, already jealous of -the Dutch. The subtle venom of his officious zeal is instantly put in -motion by the prospect of their national independence and commercial -prosperity; and his pen is, no doubt, prepared, on the slightest provocation -of circumstances, to convert them from an ally to be saved, -into a rival and an enemy to be crushed. He, however, waives for -the present the solemn discussion, till he can find some farther -grounds to confirm him in his extreme solicitude and mysterious -apprehensions. The perverse readiness of Vetus to pick a quarrel -out of everything, or out of nothing, is exactly described in Spenser’s -Allegory of <cite>Furor</cite> and <cite>Occasion</cite>, which if we thought him ‘made of -penetrable stuff,’ we would recommend to his perusal.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The introductory comment on the Revolution in Holland is a clue -to the whole of our author’s political system, which we shall here -endeavour to explain. He looks askance with ‘leer malign’ on the -remotest prospect of good to other nations. Every addition to the -general stock of liberty or happiness, is to him so much taken from -our own. He sees nothing gratifying in that prosperity or independence, -which is shared (or any part of it) with foreign nations. He -trembles with needless apprehension at the advantages in store for -them, which he anticipates only to prevent, and is indifferent to our -own welfare, interests, honour—except as they result from the -privations, distress, and degradation of the rest of the world. Hatred, -suspicion, and contempt for other nations are the first and last -principles of the love which ‘an upright Englishman’ bears to his -country. To prevent their enjoying a moment’s repose, or indulging -even in a dream of future comfort, he would involve his own country -in incessant distraction and wretchedness, and risk its final ruin on -the cast of a die!—Vetus professes, with some reason, not to be -<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>enamoured of quotation: but he may, perhaps, allow us to refer to -an author, who, though not so deep read in Vattel and the writings of -the jurists, had just and penetrating views of human nature. ‘Think, -there’s livers out of England. What’s England in the world’s -map? In a great pool a swan’s nest.’ Now this ‘swan’s nest’ is -indeed to us more than all the world besides—to cherish, to protect, -to love, and honour it. But if we expect it to be so to the rest of -the world—if we do not allow them to cultivate their own affections, -to improve their own advantages, to respect their own rights, to maintain -their own independence—if in the blindness of our ignorance, -our pride, and our presumption, we think of setting up our partial and -local attachments as the law of nature and nations—if we practise, or -so much as tolerate in theory that ‘exclusive patriotism’ which is -inconsistent with the common privileges of humanity, and attempt to -dictate our individual caprices, as paramount and binding obligations -on those, to whose exaction of the same claims from us we should -return only loud scorn, indignation, and defiance—if we are ever so -lost to reason, as Vetus would have us, who supposes that we cannot -serve our country truly and faithfully but by making others the vassals -of her avarice or insolence; we shall then indeed richly deserve, if -we do not meet with, the natural punishment of such disgraceful and -drivelling hypocrisy.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Vetus, who is extremely dissatisfied with our application of the -term ‘exclusive patriotism’ to him, is nevertheless ‘at a loss to -understand the patriotism which is not exclusive. The word <em>implies</em> -a preference of the rights and welfare of our own country to those of -other (and above all other) of rival countries. This is not indeed -the philanthropy of Anacharsis Cloots—it is not the dreary jargon of -metaphysics, nor the shop-boy philosophy of a printer’s devil—nor the -<em>sans-culotterie</em> of scholastic virtue.’ We will tell Vetus what we mean -by exclusive patriotism, such as (we say) his is. We mean by it -then, not that patriotism which implies a preference of the rights and -welfare of our own country, but that which professes to annihilate -and proscribe the rights of others—not that patriotism which supposes -us to be the creatures of circumstance, habit, and affection, but that -which divests us of the character of reasonable beings—which fantastically -makes our interests or prejudices the sole measure of right and -wrong to other nations, and constitutes us sole arbiters of the empire -of the world—in short, which, under the affectation of an overweening -anxiety for the welfare of our own country, <em>excludes</em> even the shadow -of a pretension to common sense, justice, and humanity. It is this -wretched solecism which Vetus would fain bolster up into a system, -with all the logic and rhetoric he is master of. It is true, this kind -<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>of patriotism is not the philanthropy of Anacharsis Cloots; it has -nothing to do with philanthropy in any shape, but it is a vile compound -of ‘the jargon of metaphysics, with the vulgar notions of a -printer’s devil.’ It is an intense union of the grossness and narrowness -of ignorance with the dangerous refinement of the most abstracted -speculation. It is passion and prejudice, inflamed by philosophy, -and philosophy distorted by passion and prejudice.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Alter his cold exordium on the Revolution in Holland, our consistent -politician enters with warmth on Lord Castlereagh’s speech on -the subsidiary treaties, in which he finds a <em>But</em> before the word <em>Peace</em>, -which has a most happy efficacy in healing the wounds inflicted on -his tortured apprehensions, by the explicit, unqualified declaration of -Lord Liverpool in the other House. ‘After describing the laudable -solicitude of Ministers for the attainment of that <em>first</em> of earthly goods, -peace,’ (we thought it had ranked last in the mind of Vetus) ‘his -Lordship added <em>what was worth all the rest</em>—BUT we must have a -<em>secure</em> peace. We must not only recollect with whom we contend, -but with whom we negociate, and never grant to <em>such</em> an enemy -conditions, which under the name of peace, would disarm this nation, -and expose her to <em>contingent</em> dangers.’ (To place any nation out of -the reach of contingent dangers in peace or war is, we imagine, an -undertaking beyond even the <em>calibre</em> of Lord Castlereagh’s talents as -a statesman.) ‘These,’ proceeds Vetus, ‘were nearly the words; -they certainly do not compromise his meaning.’ (Our author cannot -be much mistaken in attributing to his Lordship any words which -seeming to have some meaning, in reality have none.) ’ Here then -the noble Secretary has <em>chased away every doubtful expression</em> of his -colleague.’ (‘Why so,—this horrible shadow’ of peace ‘being -gone,’ Vetus ‘is himself again.’)</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘The sentiment delivered by the sovereign on the throne is now -given to us with a construction, at which we need no longer be -alarmed. <em>I</em> ask only that <em>secure</em> peace,—a peace consistent with -English safety—<em>void of the shadow of regard or indulgence to the -pretensions and honour, otherwise the ambition and arrogance of Bonaparte</em>, -which, as compared with <em>the relief of one day’s hunger to the meanest -peasant in this our native land</em>, are baubles not worth a name!’—This -is undoubtedly one of the most remarkable specimens we ever met -with of that figure in rhetoric, designated by an excellent writer as -‘the figure of <em>encroachment</em>.’<a id='r8' /><a href='#f8' class='c011'><sup>[8]</sup></a> Vetus, by a series of equations -(certainly not mathematical ones) at length arrives at a construction -of peace at which he is no longer alarmed; at the identical peace -<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>which he wants, and the only one he will admit,—a peace preposterous -in its very terms, and in its nature impracticable,—a peace ‘void of -the shadow of regard or indulgence to the pretensions and honour’ of -the enemy, which are to pass with them as well as with us, for so -much ‘arrogance and ambition.’ This is the only peace consistent -with English safety—this is the secure peace of Lord Castlereagh—the -fair and honourable peace announced from the throne—the very -peace which Lord Liverpool meant to describe when he startled -Vetus by the doubtful expression of a peace ‘consistent with the -honour, rights, and interests of France’—‘of such a peace as we in -her situation should be disposed to grant.’ To the mind of Vetus, -which is indeed the very receptacle for contradictions ‘to knot and -gender in,’ these two sorts of peace appear to be perfectly compatible, -and the one a most happy explanation of the other, viz. a peace void -of every shadow of regard to the rights and honour of a rival nation, -and a peace consistent with those rights and that honour. If this is not -‘mere midsummer madness,’ we do not know what is. Or if any thing -can surpass it (‘for in this lowest deep of absurdity a lower deep still -opens to receive us, gaping wide’) it is the forlorn piece of sentimental -mummery by which it is attempted to protract this endless war of -proscription against the pretensions of France, under the mask of -relieving the wants and distresses of the meanest peasant of this our -native land! Compared with the tears and blood of our countrymen, -all the sophistries of Vetus by which he would make them victims of -his own vanity and egotism, not less than of the arrogance and -ambition of Bonaparte, are indeed contemptible and mischievous -baubles.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘What means the impious cry raised by degenerate Englishmen -against the mere chance—nay, the remotest possibility of a peace, -whose terms should be honourable to their country? Whence arises -this profligate and abandoned yell with which these traitors insult us? -<em>Are they still in pay? Is their patron still rich enough to bribe them?</em> -When we demand compensation for our <em>dreadful sufferings</em>, it is but -what justice grants. When we call for security, it is what our -existence requires. Yet, when these undoubted rights and essential -safeguards of an injured people are asserted, it is nothing less than -blaspheming the holy supremacy of Bonaparte!’</p> - -<p class='c010'>First, when Vetus demands compensation for our sufferings, it -would perhaps hardly be sufficient to refer him to the satisfaction -which the patriotic contributors to <cite>The Times</cite>, <cite>The Courier</cite>, <cite>The -Morning Post</cite>, <cite>The Sun</cite>, and <cite>The Star</cite>, must have had in writing, and -their admirers in reading the daily paragraphs, of which those sufferings -were the dreadful price, and the inevitable result. When we demand -<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>compensation for what we have suffered, it is but <em>justice</em>, if we can at -the same time make compensation for what we have made others -suffer; but at all events, it is no compensation for past sufferings, to -make them perpetual. When we call for security, we are right; but -when we tell the enemy that our only security is in his destruction, -and call upon him for this pledge and safeguard of our undoubted -rights, we shew, by asking for what we know we cannot have, that -not security, but defiance is our object. As to the terms of abuse -which are introduced in this paragraph (we suppose, to vary the -general gravity and decorum of Vetus’s style) we shall answer them -by a very short statement of what we conceive to be the truth. -Europe has been for the last twenty years engaged in a desperate and -(for some reason or other) an unequal struggle against France;—by -playing at double or quits, she has just recovered from the very brink -of destruction; and the keepers of our political E.O. tables treat us -as traitors and miscreants, who would dissuade her from sitting down -once more to finish the game, and ruin her adversary.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘—It is asked,—“Do we propose to humble France? Do we -propose to destroy her? If so, we breathe <em>eternal</em> war; if so, we -convert the aggressor into the sufferer, and transfer all the dignity -and authority of justice to the enemy against whom we arm!”’ Yes, -against whom we arm for the avowed purpose of his destruction. -From the moment that we make the destruction of an enemy (be he -who he may) the indispensable condition of our safety, our destruction -from that moment <em>becomes</em> necessary to his, and an act of self-defence. -Not much liking this dilemma from which our author has more than -once ‘struggled to get free,’ he in the next passage makes a wide -career indeed, in order, no doubt, to return to the charge with better -effect hereafter. ‘The question of peace or eternal war is not a <em>naked -question</em> of right and wrong. It is a question, whose morality is -determined by its reference to our preservation as a people. To -such interrogatories I answer without reserve, that we ought to exact -<em>precisely</em> that measure of humiliation from France, and that we do -recommend <em>that critical advance towards her destruction</em>, that may -combine the utmost <em>attainable</em> satisfaction for our past grievances with -a solid protection to our future interest and welfare. From France, -since the <em>fatal</em> battle of Hastings, what has <em>this nation of Saxon -warriors</em>’—(We hardly know ourselves in the learned livery of -Vetus’s style. He himself is doubtless descended from some very -old family settled here before the Conquest)—‘What has this nation -of Saxon warriors ever yet endured from France but injury and -affliction?’ Yet we have made a shift to exist as a nation under all -this load of calamity. We still breathe and live notwithstanding some -<span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>intervals of repose, some short resting places afforded us, before this -morbid inspector of health, like another Doctor Pedro Positive, -injoined his preposterous regimen of incessant war as necessary to -lasting peace, and to our preservation as a people!</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘Modern France’ continues Vetus, rising in his argument, has no -principle so deeply rooted as that of everlasting enmity to England. -‘I confess for this reason that in my uncorrupted judgment <em>the best -security</em> for Great Britain, and therefore, <em>if practicable, her most imperious -duty</em>, would be <em>the absolute conquest of France</em>. But since that, -<em>unfortunately</em>, is an event which <em>at present</em> we are not likely to -accomplish, <em>the second best security</em> is’ (one would think not to attempt -it at all; no, but) ‘to reduce her, <em>if we can</em>, to a degree of weakness -consistent <em>with our immediate repose</em>.’ After thus modestly postponing -the absolute conquest of France to a more convenient opportunity, he -adds the following incredible sentence. ‘If the enemy should be so -far borne away by <em>his hatred</em>, as to command <em>his emissaries</em> in London -to announce that he prefers waging eternal war to the acceptance of -conditions, which <em>his own persevering and atrocious outrages</em> have -rendered in the mind of every Englishman indispensable to the safety -of these islands, the woeful alternative of perpetual war very plainly -originates not with Great Britain but with Bonaparte!’ That is to -say, <cite>The Times</cite> not long ago laid it down as a fixed, unalterable -maxim, without reference to terms of one sort or another, that we -were never to make peace with Bonaparte; Vetus in this very letter -enters into an elaborate apology, for that multitude of wise, honest, -and virtuous persons who think his existence as a sovereign <em>at all times</em> -threatens our existence as a nation, and it is because we entered our -protest against this ‘frantic outcry raised by degenerate Englishmen,’ -that Bonaparte is here made to charge his emissaries in London to -announce that he prefers eternal war to the acceptance of conditions, -the moderation of which conditions or of <em>our second best security</em> -may be judged of when we are told that the best, and indeed only -real security for Great Britain, and therefore her most imperious duty, -would be the absolute conquest of France. Vetus is, however, -contented with such terms of peace as will imply only a <em>critical -advance to her destruction</em>, and if Bonaparte is not contented with the -same terms, the alternative of eternal war, it seems, originates with him -and not with Vetus.<a id='r9' /><a href='#f9' class='c011'><sup>[9]</sup></a></p> - -<p class='c010'>But we deny that though this best security for Great Britain, the -absolute conquest of France, were in her power, that it would be her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>most imperious duty to effect it. And we deny it, because on the -same ground a better security still for Great Britain would be the -conquest or destruction of Europe and the world; and yet we do not -think it her imperious duty, even if she could, to accomplish the one, -or to make a <em>critical</em> advance to the other. For if it is once laid -down and acted upon as a maxim in national morality, that the best -and most desirable security of a state is in the destruction of its -neighbours, or that there is to be an unrelenting ever watchful critical -approximation to this object as far as possible, there is an end of civil -society. The same principle of not stopping short of this <em>maximum</em> of -selfish security will impose the same imperious duty of rankling -jealousy, and inexorable hostility on others. Our speculator’s ‘best -possible security’ for the independence of states, is nothing but a -watchword for mutual havoc, and wide-spreading desolation. Terrified -with the phantom of imaginary danger, he would have us rush headlong -on the reality. We are obstinately to refuse the enjoyment of a -moment’s repose, and proceed to commit wilful dilapidation on the -estate of our happiness, because it is not secured to us by an everlasting -tenure. Placed at the mercy of the malice or hypocrisy of every -venal alarmist, our only resource must be to seek a refuge from our -fears in our own destruction, or to find the gratification of our revenge -in that of others. But a whole nation is no more justified in obtaining -this best of all possible securities for itself, by the immediate subversion -of other states, than the assassin is justified in taking the life of another, -to prevent the possibility of any future attempt upon his own. For -in proportion as a state is weak and incapable of subjugating us, is the -manifest injustice of any such precaution;—and in proportion as a -state is formidable, and likely to excite serious apprehension for our -own safety, is the danger and folly of setting an example which may -be retaliated with so much greater effect, and ‘like a devilish engine, -recoil upon ourselves.’ That exclusive patriotism which claims for -our country an exemption from ‘contingent danger,’ which would -place its wealth, its power, or even its safety beyond the reach of -chance and the fluctuation of human affairs, claims for it an exemption -from the common lot of human nature. That exclusive patriotism -which seeks to enforce this claim (equally impious and unwise) by the -absolute conquest of rival states, tempts the very ruin it professes to -avert.</p> - -<p class='c010'>But Vetus mistakes the nature of patriotism altogether. He -would transform that principle which was intended for the tutelary -genius of nations, into the destroying demon of the world. He -ransacks past history to revive old grudges; he anticipates the future -to invent new ones. In his whole system, there is not room for ‘so -<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>small a drop of pity as a wren’s eye.’ His patriotism is the worm -that dies not; a viper gnawing at the heart. He would strip this -feeling of everything but the low cunning, and brutal ferocity of the -savage state, and then arm it with all the refinements of scholastic -virtue, and the most rigid logic. The diverging rays of human reason -which should be diffused to cheer and enlighten the moral world, are -in him collected into a focus of raging zeal to burn and destroy. It is -well for mankind that in the order of the universe, our passions -naturally circumscribe themselves, and contain their own antidote -within them. The only justification of our narrow, selfish passions, -is their short-sightedness:—were it not for this, the jealousies of -individuals and of nations would not leave them the smallest interval -of rest. It is well that the ungovernable impulses of fear and hatred -are excited only by gross, palpable objects; and are therefore transient, -and limited in their operation. It is well that those motives which -do not owe their birth to reason, should not afterwards receive their -nourishment and support from it. If in their present desultory state, -they produce so many mischiefs, what would be the case, if they were -to be organized into systems, and elevated into abstract principles of -right and wrong?</p> - -<p class='c010'>The whole of Vetus’s reasoning is founded on the false notions of -patriotism which we have here pointed out, and which we conceive to -be totally inconsistent with ‘the just principles of negociation.’ The -remainder of his letter, which unfolds his motives for a pacific -arrangement with Bonaparte, is founded entirely on the same jaundiced -and distempered views. Many wise, many honest, many virtuous -persons, he says, have maintained, not without reason, ‘the incompetency -of <em>this Corsican</em> under any circumstances to discharge the -obligations of a state of peace.’ But he, more wise, more honest, -more virtuous, sees a hope, a shadow of peace, rising like a cloudy -speck out of a quarter where it was least expected. ‘The stone -which the builders rejected, is become the corner-stone of his Temple -of Peace.’—‘It does not appear to Vetus, that a peace with Bonaparte -is now unattainable on terms sufficient for our safety.’ He thinks -there is no man so proper to make peace with as this Corsican, this -Revolutionist,—no one so proper to govern France—to the complete -exclusion of the Bourbons, whose pretensions he scouts analytically, -logically, and chronologically, and who, it seems, had always the -same implacable animosity against this country as Bonaparte, <em>without -a tythe of his ability</em>. [Surely this circumstance might plead a little -in their favour with Vetus.] And why so? Whence arises this -unexpected partiality shewn to Bonaparte? Why it is ‘from the -strong conviction that by no other means so decisive as the existence -<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>of this man, with his consuming, depressing and degrading system of -government, can we hope to see France <em>crushed and ground down -below the capacity of contending for ages to come</em> with the force of the -British Empire, <em>moved by the spirit of freedom</em>! Regarding France -under every known form of government as the irreconcileable foe -of England, <em>I have beheld with almost unmingled joy the growth and -accumulation of this savage despotism</em>!’ To be sure ‘while there -appeared to some persons,’ [Vetus was not one of them] ‘a <em>chance</em> -of his enslaving the Continent, and hurling the mass of subjugated -nations against our shores—then, indeed, those who entertained such -fears were justified in seeking his <em>personal</em> and political destruction. -But once released from the terror of his arm, <em>what genuine Englishman</em> -can fail to rejoice in the privilege of consigning Bonaparte and the -French people, for better for worse, to the paradise of each other’s -embraces?’ Vetus then proceeds to inveigh at great length against -the persons and pretensions of the Bourbons. Leaving them to the -mercy of this good-natured remembrancer, we shall only observe, that -he decides the impolicy of restoring the Bourbons, by asking, whether -their restoration would not be advantageous to France, and consequently -(he infers very consistently with himself) <em>injurious to this -country</em>. Looking forward but half a century, he sees France gradually -regain under the old regime ‘her natural ascendancy over Great -Britain, from which she falls, and must fall every hour more rapidly -from the necessary operation of those principles on which the Corsican -dynasty is founded.’ Nay, looking on farther than the expiration of -the same half century, he sees ‘sloth, weakness, and poverty, worse -than ever sprung from Turkish policy, proceeding from this odious, -self-dissolving power, and a gulph of irretrievable destruction, already -yawning for our eternal foe.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>It is not long ago since Vetus drew an historical parallel between -this country and Carthage, encouraging us to expect the same fate -from France which Carthage received from Rome, and to act upon -this fanciful comparison as a solid ground of wisdom. Now all at -once ‘this mendicant in argument, this perfect juggler in politics,’ -inverts the perspective, takes a prophetic view of the events of the -next fifty years, and France is seen dwindling into another Turkey, -which the genius of British freedom grinds to powder, and crushes -beneath her feet! These great statesmen-like views of things, ‘this -large discourse of reason, looking before and after,’ are, we confess, -beyond us. We recollect indeed a similar prophecy to that of Vetus, -couched in nearly the same terms, when in the year 1797, the French -were said to be ‘on the verge, nay, in the very gulph of bankruptcy,’ -and that their finances could not hold out six months longer. Vetus -<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>however, taught by the failure of past prognostics, constructs his -political calculations for the ensuing century, instead of the ensuing -year, and puts off the day of reckoning to a period when he and his -predictions will be forgotten.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Such are the charitable grounds on which our author wishes to -secure Bonaparte on the throne of France, and thinks that peace may -at present be made with him, on terms consistent with our safety. -He is not, like others, ‘ready to shake hands with the Usurper over -the tomb of the murdered D’Enghien, provided he will <em>return to the -paths of religion and virtue</em>;’ but he will shake hands with him over -the ruins of the liberty and happiness of France, on the express condition -that ‘he never returns to the paths of religion and morality.’ -Vetus is willing to forget the injuries which Bonaparte may have done -to England, for the sake of the greater mischiefs he may do to -France. These are the ‘obligations’ which Vetus owes to him—this -the source of his gratitude, the sacred pledge that reconciles him -to ‘that monster whom England detests.’ He is for making peace -with the ‘tyrant,’ to give him an opportunity to rivet on the chains of -France, and fix her final doom. But is Vetus sincere in all this? -His reasoning comes in a very questionable shape; and we the more -doubt it, because he has no sooner (under the auspices of Bonaparte) -hurled France down the gulf of irretrievable destruction, than he -immediately resumes the old topic of eternal war or perpetual -bondage, as the only alternative which this country can look to. -Why, if he is in earnest, insist with Lord Castlereagh on the caution -with which we must grant terms to ‘such an enemy,’ to this disabled -and paralyzed foe? Why assert, as Vetus did in his very last letter, -that ‘nothing short of unconditional submission will ever satisfy that -revolutionist, and that any concession made to him will be instantly -converted into a weapon for our destruction?’ Why not grant to -him such terms as might be granted to the Bourbons, since they -would be granted to a much less dangerous and powerful rival? -Why not subsist, as we have hitherto done, without the fear of -perpetual war or perpetual bondage before our eyes, now that the -crown of France has lost its original brightness, and is shorn of those -beams which would again sparkle round it, if fixed on the head of a -Bourbon? We suspect that our author is not quite in earnest in his -professions, because he is not consistent with himself. Is it possible -that his anxiety to keep out the Bourbons arises from his fear that -peace might creep in with them, at least as a sort of compliment of -the season? Is our veteran politician aware, in his own mind, that -the single epithets, Corsican, republican, revolutionary, will have -more effect in stirring up the embers of war, than all the arguments -<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>which he might use to demonstrate the accumulating dangers to be -apprehended from the mild paternal sway of the ancient dynasty?</p> - -<p class='c010'>We cannot help saying, however, that we think the elaborate -attempt of Vetus to prove the necessary extinction of the power of -France under the government of Bonaparte, a total failure. What is -the amount of his argument? That in a period when the French -were to owe their existence and their power to war, Bonaparte has -made them a warlike people, and that they did not sit down quietly -to ‘the cultivation of arts, luxuries, and letters,’ when the world was -beleaguered against them. Is it for Vetus, who reprobates the peace -of Amiens, <em>that hollow truce</em> (as he justly calls it), that intermission -of war but for a moment, to say of Bonaparte, ‘His application of -public industry is only to the arts of death—all other perishes for -want of wholesome nourishment’? What then becomes of the long-resounded -charge against him on his exclamation ‘for ships, colonies, -and commerce’? We suspect, that energy in war is not an absolute -proof of weakness in peace. He lays down, indeed, a general -principle (true enough in itself) that a government, in its nature and -character at variance with the people, must be comparatively weak -and insecure; yet, in applying this maxim, he proves not that the -French people and government are at irreconcileable variance, but -that the one has become entirely subdued and assimilated to the other. -But hear him speak for himself. ‘The causes of the overthrow of -the old government are foreign to our present purpose. The consequence -has been the birth of <em>this bloody and scorching despotism</em>,—this -giant, armed from his mother’s womb with sweeping scimitar and -consuming fire. Can such a government be fit for such a people? -Can a tyranny, operating by direct violence and characteristic of the -earliest periods in the most barbarous condition of mankind, have any -quality adapted to the wants or feelings of a nation, grown <em>old in arts</em>, -luxuries, and letters? Is it not plain to the least acute observer, that -where the principles of such a government, and such a stage of society, -are so vehemently contrasted, there can be no immediate alliance; -but that an incessant counteraction must ensue—that the government -or the people must change their character before a just harmony and -co-operation can exist between them; <em>in other words, that one of them -must yield</em>!’</p> - -<p class='c010'>[Well, this is the very thing which, in the next sentence, he shews -has actually taken place.] ‘And <em>from whom</em> are we to infer this -ultimate submission to its rival? Has the tyrant loosed his chains?—has -he relaxed his hold, or flung aside the whip of scorpions? No! -it is <em>France herself which has given way</em>. It is the French nation -who gradually recede from the rest of the civilized world.’ That is, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>it is France who, contrary to Vetus’s argument, in receding gradually -from the rest of the civilized world, has been identified with the -government, and become that whip of scorpions in the hands of -Bonaparte, which has been the scourge and dread of all Europe. It -is thus that our author always defeats himself. He is fond of abstruse -reasoning and deep investigation in exact proportion to his incapacity -for them—as eunuchs are amorous through impotence!</p> - -<p class='c010'>But though he fails in his argument, the moral is not less instructive. -He teaches us on what grounds a genuine English patriot goes to -war, and on what terms he will make peace. A patriot of this -exclusive stamp, who is troubled with none of the symptoms of a -‘spurious and mawkish beneficence,’ threatens France with the -restoration of the Bourbons, only to throw her into the convulsions of -anarchy, and withdraws that kindly interference, only that she may -sink into the more fatal lethargy of despotism. It is the same consistent -patriot who kindles the fires of La Vendée, and whenever it -suits his purpose, is no longer borne away by the ‘torrent of royal, -flaming, unreflecting sympathies!’ It is the same tried friend of his -country, who carries on a twenty years’ war for the preservation of -our trade and manufactures, and when they are mentioned as -inducements for peace, disdains ‘all gross, commercial calculations.’ -It is the same conscientious politician, who at one time makes war -for the support of social order, and the defence of our holy religion;—who, -at another, hails the disappearance of ‘the last glimmering of -education among a people grown old in arts and letters,’ and who -rejoices ‘to see the Christian religion made studiously contemptible -by the poverty and debasement of its professors!’ It is the same -true patriot, the same Vetus, who ‘beholds with unmingled joy, the -growth and accumulation of a savage despotism, which is to crush and -bow down France under our feet;’—who holds ‘the whip of -scorpions over her head;’—who ‘arms a scorching tyranny with -sweeping scimitar and consuming fire’ against her;—who pushes her -headlong down ‘the yawning gulf of irretrievable destruction;’ it is -the same Vetus, who, suddenly recovering all the severity of justice, -and all the tenderness of humanity, makes a piteous outcry about ‘the -dreadful sufferings we have endured,’ in attempting to heap coals of -fire on our adversary, demands the payment of ‘two hundred millions -of debt, in which her government have wantonly involved us,’ -complains of our being ‘driven to beggary and want’ in this unnatural -conflict, calls for the release of our countrymen, ‘sent into hopeless -captivity,’ and invokes the murdered names of those children of the -state, who ‘armed to defend a beloved parent, and an injured -country!’ Even Vetus shrinks from the enormity of such inconsistencies, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>and excuses himself by saying, ‘Do I feel the spontaneous -and unprovoked desire that such a mass of evil should be perpetuated -for any portion of mankind? <em>God forbid.</em> But it is, <em>I conscientiously</em> -believe, a question, <em>which of these countries shall destroy the other</em>. -In that case, my part is taken—France must be ruined, to save our -native country from being ruined. If this be perpetual war, I cannot -help it. <em>Perpetual war has little terror, when perpetual bondage -threatens us.</em>’ Here then our bane and antidote are both before us: -perpetual war or perpetual bondage;—a pleasant alternative!—but it -is an alternative of Vetus’s making, and we shall not, <em>if we can help -it</em>, submit to either of his indispensable conditions. We shall not -learn of him, for ‘his yoke is not easy, nor his burden light.’ If -this be our inevitable lot, ‘he cannot help it.’ No; but he can help -laying the blame of his own irritable and mischievous conclusions on -Nature and Providence; or at least we think it our duty to guard -ourselves and others against the fatal delusion.</p> - -<h3 class='c003'>ILLUSTRATIONS OF VETUS</h3> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Take him, and cut him out in little stars.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Jan. 3, 1814.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>We undertook, some time ago, the task of ascertaining the true -value of this writer’s reasoning, by removing the cumbrous load of -words which oppress his understanding, as well as that of his readers; -and we find that ‘our occupation is not yet gone.’ His last letter, -indeed, furnishes us with comparatively slender materials. His -style is considerably abated. With Bottom in the play, he may be -said to ‘aggravate his voice so, that he roars you an ’twere any -sucking dove.’ His swaggering paradoxes dwindle into unmeaning -common-places; his violent dogmas into tame equivocations. There -is scarcely an attempt made to defend his own extreme opinions, or to -repel the charge of gross and glaring inconsistency which we brought -against them. He makes indeed a faint effort to screen certain -general positions from the odium and contempt they deserve, by -explaining them away, and to shift off the responsibility of others, by -directly denying them. Vetus has, in fact, marched boldly on in a -fog of splendid words, till he unexpectedly finds himself on the edge -of a precipice, and he seems willing to retreat from it as well as his -accustomed solemnity, and the incumbrances of his style will permit. -It may, perhaps, be some consolation, if we remind him that he is not -the first enthusiast on record, who mistook a cloud for a goddess. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>His present situation is certainly no very pleasant one: it a good -deal resembles that of Parolles, when he undertook the recovery of -his drum.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The most striking part of Vetus’s last letter is his gratuitous <em>tirade</em> -against what has been called the modern philosophy, as if this were -the only alternative (whereas it is in truth the antithesis or converse) -of his system of exclusive patriotism. Our contradiction of his first -principle, that the basis of a peace with France is to be one which -does not leave a shadow of regard to her honour, rights, or interest, -and that the terms of peace to which she is in duty bound to accede, -must be such as to imply a <em>critical advance</em> to her destruction—our -utter rejection of this new-fangled theory of negociation he considers -as ‘a sucker from the root of that poisonous vegetable, the doctrine of -universal benevolence,’ and deprecates our reasoning on the subject as -‘a blossom which threatens the desolation of the moral world!’ -We really cannot attribute to our opinions any such power or any -such tendency as the morbid imagination of our political hypochondriac -lends to them. The arguments of Vetus on this question seem a -sort of transcript of Dr. Parr’s Spital Sermon, or of one of Sir -James Mackintosh’s lectures at Lincoln’s Inn; and are very tolerable, -dull, common-place declamation—a little bordering on fustian. But, -as is the invariable fate of Vetus’s arguments, they contain a flat -contradiction to the principle he is aiming to establish. Though the -passage has little to do with the immediate question, we shall give it -as a literary curiosity. It is an instance of one of those lapses of -thought, of that epilepsy of the mind, which we have already pointed -out as the distinguishing characteristic of this author’s understanding. -His object is to exclude all general reasoning, or the seeds of what -he absurdly calls ‘theo-philanthropy’ from the feelings of patriotism; -and in his eagerness to do this, he effectually explodes and laughs to -scorn all patriotism, as a branch of the same theo-philanthropy, as -impracticable and romantic folly. His words are these:—</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘One of these patriots enacts the part of a drawling hypocritical -projector, whom no natural affection can move, nor individual -happiness enliven. He is a regular brother of a well known sect, -which we of this generation have had the misfortune to behold in -high activity—and which, having seen, it is but wisdom to remember. -The men I speak of were those who in some degree precipitated the -French revolution, and who entirely perverted its possible uses, the -mongrel race of metaphysical enthusiasts, who undertook to change -the objects of human feeling, that they might disappoint more -effectually the ends for which it was bestowed. Such were the -worshippers of the strumpet goddess Reason; a deity, in herself, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>in the prostitute who represented her, convertible to purposes equally -abandoned. The next step, after acknowledging this divinity, was -to make a display of her power. Mankind were to be <em>reasoned</em> out -of <em>all</em> human sensibilities; but the loss was to be supplied by reasoning -them into a new assortment of human sensibilities, on a larger and -nobler scale. Brotherly regard was a puny sentiment; what was a -single brother to him who felt that millions of freemen were his -brothers! Marriage, too, that holy and heavenly<a id='r10' /><a href='#f10' class='c011'><sup>[10]</sup></a> and heart-sustaining -institution, what with its graceful and beautiful assemblage -of bland obligations and virtuous sympathies—how stood the fixed -relation of husband and wife? Why, treason to natural liberty!—“exclusive -tenderness”—a bar to the performance of those unconfined -embraces, which spoke the reign of universal love. Parental affection, -and filial piety, also, were still less worthy to escape the blight of -this ruthless philosophical reform. How narrow was the father’s -mansion! How diminutive the mind that could look with reverence -to the beings that gave it birth, when the republic, sole heiress of -philanthropy and freedom—the great republic, offered herself as the -fond and universal parent. Nor could the sire, who argued logically, -bewail the sacrifice of his devoted offspring. His children—not his, -but their country’s children—were to be educated by and for that -country. His paternal feelings were not to be extinguished—no, -nothing more than transferred to the state, and ennobled by the -magnitude of the object. This same republic was a perfect “Scrub.” -She was to play the sister, husband, wife, son, and mother—confiscating -and appropriating the individual duties, rights, and charities -of mankind—ransacking the deepest recesses of the heart, and seizing -as prizes to her sovereign will the royalties and wrecks of human -nature.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘<em>But the phrenzy did not terminate here.</em> It was not enough that -all the relations of life should merge in that of citizen: even -“exclusive patriotism” was a vulgar thought. In the paroxysms of -disorder, it was sometimes proposed, that the citizen himself should -evaporate into a citizen of the world. The universal republic—the -vast family of mankind—the deputations from the human race—became -instruments with the knaves who led, and visions for the -dupes who admired. There can really be no objection to this superfine -theory, but that it is inconsistent with the order of Providence, -and destructive of the nature of man—that it unfixes our moral -land-marks—melts into air every practical virtue and definite duty—substitutes -<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>words for salutary deeds—and by directing our most -natural and useful passions to objects indistinct or unattainable, leaves -these powerful agents afloat, and ends by abusing them to the -production of crime and misery. Such were the results of that -system of speculation, which assumed for its basis the existence of -a species of beings far above the pitch of humanity, and which, in its -application to human affairs, reduces them to the level of brutes.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘A sucker from the root of this poisonous vegetable is again in -blossom, and threatens the desolation of the moral world. We are -called upon to abdicate the right and obligation of preferring and -protecting our native country, that is, of enjoying our proper advantages, -and of discharging our specific trusts—and for what? -Why, that we may undertake the preposterous office, and execute -the factitious duty of handing over to a mortal enemy the greatness to -which we have waded through blood and fire, and raising his empire -on the ruins of our own. Beware, we are warned, of neglecting the -rights of the adversary. It is our peculiar business to guard the -rights of France.’<a id='r11' /><a href='#f11' class='c011'><sup>[11]</sup></a></p> - -<p class='c010'>The whole of this pompous episode is a mere diversion to the -question. Vetus, some time ago, asked, in a tone which could not -be mistaken, ‘Who are the French nation? A rank non-entity. -Who are to be the sole judges of the rights and pretensions of what -once was France? We, and our allies!’—and when we protest -against this unheard-of basis of a negociation between rival states, he -answers with a tedious prize-dissertation on the doctrine of universal -benevolence, and the perfectibility of man. Vetus insists on a peace -(the only peace fit for a wise nation) that shall remain a proud -monument of its own superiority,—that is, a peace which can never -be made between any two states, a peace that does not admit of the -shadow of regard to the rights, interests, or honour of the enemy, a -peace that implies a critical advance to the destruction of France. -But it seems, that all this proud display of pedantic phraseology, by -which he attempted to ‘confound the ignorant, and amaze indeed the -very faculties of eyes and ears,’ now means nothing more than that -we are to guard and protect our native country, and not surrender our -own rights to the enemy. There needed no oracle to tell us that. -But Vetus, having set out on the forlorn hope of political paradox, is -himself ashamed to turn back to a trite truism, and contends that -there is no safety for this country but in the destruction of the enemy, -and no patriotism which is not inconsistent with the rights, liberties, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>and even existence of other countries. We deny it. We say there is -a patriotism consistent with the claims of reason, justice, and humanity; -and another <em>exclusive</em> of them. The latter is Vetus’s patriotism; the -former is ours. This we have stated before. We do not wonder that -Vetus has not answered it; for it does not admit of an answer.</p> - -<p class='c010'>It seems, however, that the view we have taken (in common with -all civilized nations) of this subject, is ‘a sucker from the poisonous -root of universal benevolence’; and Vetus’s prejudices, coupling with -that <em>strumpet</em> Reason, beget in his mind a sort of ‘mongrel metaphysical -enthusiasm,’ in which he sees visions, and has revelations of -the general nature of man. He tells us, we are regular adepts in -that school which, under the direction of the goddess, or the strumpet, -Reason, (for with him they are both the same) trampled on all -human sensibilities, and the charities of private life, to offer them up -as a sacrifice to that <em>monstrous fiction</em>, their country, and then to that -<em>more monstrous fiction</em>, their kind. This is the most curious defence -of patriotism we ever met with, and a striking instance of the pains -which this laborious reasoner takes to confute himself. Our country, -according to this patriotic writer, is ‘a perfect Scrub,’ a kind of Sin -and Death business, a contradiction, and a dire chimera, ‘confiscating -and appropriating the individual duties, rights, and charities of -mankind—ransacking the deepest recesses of the heart, and seizing -as prizes to her sovereign will the royalties and wrecks of human -nature.’ It is ‘a superfine theory, inconsistent with the order of -Providence, and destructive of the nature of man, and which, by -pretending to raise us far above the pitch of humanity, degrades us -below the level of brutes.’ But then ‘there is a phrenzy still greater’ -than this, which is the love of mankind. This is the consummation -of enormity, and the triumph of the strumpet-goddess. Vetus has -here fallen into a more desperate dilemma than any he has yet -encountered in his perilous way. We present him with the choice -of a pair of alternatives: either he must mean that the love of the -republic, or our country, which he treats with such profound contempt -and abhorrence, is only bad when it destroys the private and natural -affections, or he must exclude at once every shadow of regard to the -rights, liberties, and happiness of mankind, and then the same thing -will follow of patriotism itself, which, as he says truly, is an emanation -from the same impure source, human reason, and so to establish his -favourite principle of <em>exclusive</em> patriotism, he gets rid of it altogether. -‘The latter end of this writer’s reasoning always forgets the beginning.’ -We will tell Vetus the hinge on which this whole controversy turns, -and what is the radical error of the system of general philanthropy, -which he has attempted to expose. It is, that it is an <em>exclusive</em> -<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>system, and is therefore unfitted for the nature of man, who is a mixed -being, made up of various principles, faculties, and feelings. All -these are good in their place and degree, as well as the affections that -spring from them—natural affection, patriotism, benevolence: it is -only <em>exclusive</em> selfishness, <em>exclusive</em> patriotism, <em>exclusive</em> philanthropy, -that are inconsistent with the order of Providence, and destructive of -the nature of man: Vetus in avoiding one extreme has fallen into -another, for the extremes not only ‘of faction’ but of folly meet; -though we should be loth to compare the splendid dreams of the -philosophical enthusiast, who wished to raise man above the pitch of -his common nature, to the groveling, sordid, shuffling paradoxes of -Vetus, who would degrade him below the level of the brutes, and -whose maxims are as repugnant to common sense, and the practical -rules of life, as they are devoid of every thing elegant in imagination, -or consistent in reasoning.</p> - -<h4 class='c017'>ILLUSTRATIONS OF VETUS</h4> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div><span class='small'>(CONCLUDED)</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘What do you read, my lord?—Words, words, words.</div> - <div class='line'>What is the matter?——<em>Nothing</em>.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Jan. 5, 1814.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>We gave in our last article Vetus’s quaint denunciation of the -principles of patriotism and philanthropy. It appears by this, that -the same ‘jargon of metaphysics,’ and the same vapid rhetoric may -be employed against both these sacred and inviolable feelings, by any -one who is weak and vain enough to suppose that language was given -us, not to communicate truth to others, but to impose falsehood on -ourselves. Does Vetus mean to assert, that his <em>topics</em> are fatal to all -patriotism, as well as all philanthropy? Or (which is the alternative) -that they are fatal to neither, properly understood,—that there is a -true and a false patriotism, a true and a false philanthropy? What -will ‘the acknowledged saviours of Europe, the magnanimous defenders -of the commonwealth of nations, the liberators of Spain, the recreators -of Portugal, the regenerators of Germany,’ say to Vetus’s exclusive -patriotism? Or, we would ask, whether the abuse of reason, of -which he complains in certain moderns, is a sufficient cause that we -should explode it altogether? In the dialect of Don Quixote’s books -of chivalry, must ‘the unreasonableness of their reason so unreason -our reason,’ that we are to reject the faculty, both root and branch? -Shall we impiously renounce the goddess, because she has been -personated by a strumpet? Reason is the queen of the moral world, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>the soul of the universe, the lamp of human life, the pillar of society, -the foundation of law, the beacon of nations, the golden chain, let -down from heaven, which links all animated and all intelligent -natures in one common system—and in the vain strife between fanatic -innovation, and fanatic prejudice we are exhorted to dethrone this -queen of the world, to blot out this light of the mind, to deface this -fair column, to break in pieces this golden chain! We are to discard -and throw from us, with loud taunts and bitter imprecations, that -reason, which has been the lofty theme of the philosopher, the poet, -the moralist, and the divine, whose name was not first named to be -abused by the enthusiasts of the French revolution, or to be blasphemed -by the madder enthusiasts, their opponents, but is coeval with, and -inseparable from the nature and faculties of man,—is the image of his -Maker stamped upon him at his birth, the understanding breathed -into him with the breath of life, and in the participation of which -alone he is raised above the brute creation, and his own physical -nature!—Vetus labours hard to persuade us, that the goddess and the -strumpet are really one person, equally ‘convertible to the same -abandoned purposes;’ that reason and sophistry are the same thing. -He may find his account in endeavouring to confound them; but his -indifference betrays the hollowness of his claims to true reason, as the -false mother was detected by her willingness to compromise her own -pretensions, only to be revenged on her rival.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Vetus has, however, without knowing it, stumbled on an important -truth, which is, that patriotism, in modern times, and in great states, -is and must be the creature of reason and reflection, rather than the -offspring of physical or local attachment. Our country is a complex -abstract existence, known only to the understanding. It is an immense -riddle, containing numberless modifications of reason and prejudice, -of thought and passion. Patriotism is not, in a strict or exclusive -sense, a natural or personal affection, but a law of our rational and -moral nature, strengthened and determined by particular circumstances -and associations, but not born of them, nor wholly nourished by -them. It is not possible that we should have an individual attachment -to sixteen millions of men, any more than to sixty millions. We -cannot be attached, except rationally and ‘logically,’ to places we -never saw, and people we never heard of. Is not the name of -Englishman a general term, as well as that of man? How many -varieties does it not combine within it? Are the opposite extremities -of the globe our native place, because they are a part of that -geographical and political denomination, our country? Does natural -affection expand in circles of latitude and longitude? What personal -or instinctive sympathy has the English peasant with the African -<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>slave-driver, or East India nabob? None but the most ‘drawling -hypocritical’ sophist will say that there is any. These wretched -bunglers in metaphysics would fain persuade us to discard all public -principle, and all sense of abstract justice, as a violation of natural -affection, and yet do not see that the love of our country is itself in -the order of our general affections, except, indeed, that exclusive sort -which consists in a mere negation of humanity and justice. The -common notions of patriotism are, in fact, transmitted to us from the -savage tribes, or from the states of Greece and Rome, where the -fate and condition of all was the same, or where the country of the -citizen was the town in which he was born. Where this is no longer -the case, where our country is no longer contained within the narrow -circle of the same walls, where we can no longer behold its glimmering -horizon from the top of our native mountains—beyond these limits it -is not a natural but an artificial idea, and our love of it either an -habitual dictate of reason, or a cant term. It was said by an acute -observer, and eloquent writer, that the love of mankind was nothing -but the love of justice: the same might be said, with considerable -truth, of the love of our country. It is little more than another name -for the love of liberty, of independence, of peace and social happiness. -We do not say, that other indirect and collateral circumstances do -not go to the superstructure of this sentiment, (as language,<a id='r12' /><a href='#f12' class='c011'><sup>[12]</sup></a> literature, -manners, national customs,) but this is the broad and firm basis. All -other patriotism, not founded on, or not consistent with truth, justice, -and humanity, is a painted sepulchre, fair without, but full of ravening -and all uncleanness within. ‘It leaves our passions afloat, and ends -with abusing them to crime and misery.’ It is the watchword of -faction, the base pander of avarice and pride, the ready tool in the -hands of those who, having no sense of public duty, and disclaiming -all pretensions to common humanity, sacrifice the lives of millions to -the madness of one, and are eager to offer up their country a devoted -victim at the shrine of power, as the miserable slave is yoked to the -foul Eastern idol,<a id='r13' /><a href='#f13' class='c011'><sup>[13]</sup></a> and crushed beneath its chariot wheels! Thus -<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>the hired scribbler of a profligate newspaper sits secure and self-satisfied -at his desk—with a venomed word, or a lie that looks like -truth, sends thousands of his countrymen to death,—receives his pay, -and scribbles on, regardless of the dying and the dead!—And this is -patriotism.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">tempora mollia fandi</span></i> do not belong to Vetus any more than to -ourselves. He is, like us, but an uncouth courtier, a rough, sturdy, -independent politician, who thinks and speaks for himself. He -complains of ‘the soft nonsense whispered in the higher circles,’ and -gossipped in <cite>The Morning Post</cite>, in favour of peace. Be it so, for -once, that these soft whispers are fraught with ruin, dishonour, and -slavery to this country. Yet, if the effeminate and dastard sound -once floats through the air, borne on the downy wing of fashion—if -it is whispered from the prince to the peer, and from lords to ladies, -from ministers to their clerks, from their clerks to the treasury-prints, -and from the knaves who write to the dupes who read—even the -warning voice of Vetus will not be able to prevent the Syren sound -from spreading in gentle murmurs, and ‘smoothing the raven down of -discord, till it smiles.’ And will Vetus pretend such ignorance both -of the court and of the country, as not to know, that whether the -word is war or peace, the same effect will follow—that whether the -breath of kings breathe ‘airs from heaven or blasts from hell,’ the -same well-attuned system of undulating sounds will disperse them -wide in eddying circles, and the same round of smiles and whispers -and significant shrugs will be repeated, whether the country bleeds or -starves, is enslaved within, or conquered without? All those who -do not catch the soft whisper, and mimic the gracious smile, and -join the magic circle, are no better than hypocrites, madmen, and -traitors to <em>their country</em>! We know it well.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Vetus in vain attempts to repel the charge which we brought -against <cite>The Times</cite>, whose profession of eternal war with Bonaparte -we said was incompatible with the possibility of his making peace -with us, by asserting that this doctrine is ‘an audacious plagiarism, -from the portfolio of the French Minister.’ We have not such near -access to the portfolio of the French Government as this writer; but -we have access to <cite>The Times</cite>, and there we find this audacious -plagiarism written in large letters in almost every page. We say that -wherever the doctrine is found (whoever invented or whoever adopted -it), there is an insuperable bar to peace. If it is found on one side, -that is the responsible side; if it is found on both, neither can -reproach the other with the continuance of hostilities. This -statement is plain and unanswerable. Does Vetus think to ‘thrust -us from a level consideration by a confident brow, and the throng of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>words which come with such affected gravity from him’? He -disclaims the doctrine for himself. Why then is he so eager to -justify it in <cite>The Times</cite>? They are caught in the fact; they are -taken with the <em>manner</em>; and Vetus would divert us from executing -summary justice on them, by offering himself as security that they are -only the receivers of the stolen goods; ‘the audacious plagiarists,’ -instead of the atrocious inventors of this mischievous doctrine. -Besides, the answer is a wretched evasion, and makes the assertion -itself senseless and nugatory. The principle of <cite>The Times</cite> was and is -(if they have not retracted it) that we are never to make peace with -Bonaparte at all, that is, though he would make peace with us, -(otherwise the words have no meaning) and then comes the gloss of -Vetus, which is, that we will not make peace with him, only because -he will not make peace with us. Ridiculous!—Vetus asks, ‘Who -has been the founder of this shocking creed—who the aggressor—who -the unrelenting enemies of peace?’ May we not answer—‘The -incessant war-faction of England’? Why would Vetus strip ‘these -acknowledged saviours of Europe’ of the praise which is so justly -due to them, or degrade them from that proud eminence which they -have maintained with so much persevering fortitude? We cannot -withhold from these persons our sincere conscientious thanks for all -the benefits which this war has conferred on our country, on Europe, -and the world. While France strove insidiously to ruin us by peace, -these firm patriots have always been determined to save us by war—from -‘England’s greatest and most magnanimous politician,’ down to -the last desperate incendiary of <cite>The Times</cite>, who is only willing to -conclude ‘a Regicide Peace’ by celebrating ‘the condign and solemn -punishment of Bonaparte!’<a id='r14' /><a href='#f14' class='c011'><sup>[14]</sup></a></p> - -<p class='c010'>Vetus says, that ‘eternal war is no expression of his, and that it is -a deliberate falsehood in us who assert that he has used it, or that -this country has no alternative between eternal war and eternal -bondage.’ ‘It is not England,’ he says, ‘but France—not Vetus, -but the French government—who has broached the creed, and one of -the two countries must in the end destroy the other.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>If it is a falsehood, it is a deliberate one, for we do deliberately -assert that he uses these words, and inculcates this doctrine incessantly. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>But instead of contradicting Vetus, it is better to let him -contradict himself; no one else can do it so effectually. In his last -letter but one he has these words:—‘It is, I conscientiously believe, -a question, <em>which of these two countries shall destroy the other</em>. In -that case my part is taken.—France must be ruined to save our -native country from being ruined.—If this be perpetual war, I cannot -help it.—Perpetual war has little terror, when perpetual bondage -threatens us.’ Either the interpretation of this passage is that which -we have given to it, or, as Vetus says, ‘the English language must be -constructed anew.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>He now, indeed, mitigates the dread sentence he had passed upon -us, by saying, not that we have no alternative but either war, or -slavery, or <em>peace</em>. We are glad that Vetus has introduced this new -clause in our favour into the codicil; it was not in the original will, -or expressed in such faint characters, that we, with the rest of the -public, missed the intended benefaction. Just in the same manner, -that profound politician and humane writer, the author of the Essay -on Population, found out that the only possible checks to excessive -population, were vice and misery, which were, therefore, to be -considered as the greatest blessings of mankind, and having gained a -vast reputation by this singular discovery, he then recollected what -every one knew before, that there was another check to this principle, -viz. <em>moral restraint</em>, and that consequently vice and misery were not -the greatest blessings of society.</p> - -<p class='c010'>We did not state it as an inconsistency in Vetus, that he held out -<em>France</em> as an object of terror, and yet recommended a negociation -with Bonaparte, because his government tended to weaken France, -but we did state it as a rank inconsistency in Vetus to hold up -<em>Bonaparte</em> as an object of peculiar terror to this country, and yet to -represent his government as tottering on the brink of deplorable -weakness and unavoidable ruin. Vetus could not meet the objection, -and he has altered the terms.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Vetus concludes his letter with the following note:—</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘<em>The stupid impertinence</em>’ (charged on the attacks made upon him) -‘has no relation to <cite>The Morning Chronicle</cite>, with which I am disposed -to part in peace. One feels a tolerance towards that paper, for the -talents which once adorned it; and of the continuance of which I -should rejoice to see more proof in its late attacks on Vetus. We -have little common faith in politics, but we have, I trust, a common -stake in the spirit and dignity of the press.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>We are obliged to Vetus for this amicable offer, of the sincerity of -which we entertain no doubt. As to the talent shown in our attacks -on him, we are ready to admit that it is little enough; but we at the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>same time think that if it had been greater, it would have been more -than the occasion required. We have no enmity to Vetus, but to his -extravagance, and if he will correct that, he will save us the trouble -of correcting it for him. We are ready to believe that this writer -has talents and acquirements which might be made useful to the -public, if he would forego his mistaken pretensions to extraordinary -wisdom and eloquence. The qualities of profound thought and -splendid imagery are seldom found singly in the same person, and the -union of both together is an undertaking much beyond the capacity of -Vetus. And now we leave him to return to his indigestions with -‘what appetite he may.’<a id='r15' /><a href='#f15' class='c011'><sup>[15]</sup></a></p> - -<h3 class='c003'>ON THE LATE WAR</h3> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>April 3, 1814.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>The systematic patrons of eternal war are always returning, when -they dare, to the point from which they set out twenty years ago; -the war with them has not yet lost its original character: they have -long memories: they never lose sight of their objects and principles. -We cannot but admire their candour as well as their consistency, and -would wish to imitate it. It is deemed necessary by the everlasting -war-faction to prove in their own justification, ‘that the march to Paris -was not chimerical in 1793,’ by carrying it into effect now, and to -blot France out of the map of Europe, three-and-twenty years after -the event had been announced by that great prophet and politician, -Mr. Burke. This splendid reverie is not yet accomplished. The -triumph of the Pitt-school over the peace-faction is not yet complete; -but we are put in complete possession of what is required to make it -so. As the war with them was a war of extermination, so the peace, -not to fix a lasting stigma on their school and principles, must be a -peace of extermination. This is what we always said and thought of -those principles and that school. This is their triumph, their <em>only</em> -triumph—the true crown of their hopes, the consummation of their -utmost wishes, nothing short of which can satisfy their proud pretensions, -or finish this just and necessary war, as it was begun. -Otherwise, no peace for them; otherwise, they will have failed in -both branches of that happy dilemma, hit upon by the beneficent -<span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>genius of ‘the great statesman, now no more,’ the necessity of destroying -France, or being ourselves destroyed in the attempt. If they -succeed in neither experiment, all that they have done is surely lost -labour. They have then a right to their revenge, ‘their pound of -carrion-flesh’—‘’tis theirs, ’tis dearly bought, and they will have it.’ -Be it so. But we shall let them feast alone: we are not <em>man-eaters</em>. -We shall not join the barbarous yell of this worse than Thracian rout, -nor figure in at the close of their dance of death, nor applaud the -catastrophe of their twenty years’ tragedy. We did not approve it in -its commencement or progress; nor will we hail its threatened conclusion. -We have had, and we will have, no hand in the plot, the -execution, the scene-shifting, or the decoration. We leave the full -credit of it to the original authors; and, in spite of all the puffing of -the Bayes’s of the Pitt-school, the only answer they will get from us -is, ‘’Tis an indifferent piece of work: would ’twere done!’ Though -the torch of <cite>The Times</cite> blazes over Paris, ‘fierce as a comet’; though -<cite>The Sun</cite> sees the lilied banner of the Bourbons floating before Lord -Wellington in the plains of Normandy; though <cite>The Courier</cite> is setting -out post-haste to break up the negociations at Chatillon; and <cite>The -Morning Herald</cite> sheds tears of joy over the fashionable virtues of the -rising generation, and finds that we shall make better man-milliners, -better lacqueys, and better courtiers than ever—we remain sceptical -as to the success, and more than sceptical as to the necessity of this -last cast of our political dicers, and desperate venture of our licenced -dealers and chapmen in morality and massacre. In our opinion, lives -enough have been thrown away to prove, that the survivors are only -born to <em>bear fardels</em>. This is the moral of the piece, if it succeeds on -the principles of the Pitt-school, and all short of that is mere -gratuitous mischief. The war, conducted on those principles and for -those purposes, ‘was not, and it cannot come to good.’ Its failure, -or its success, must be fatal.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The war, as it was carried on from the first by the Pitt-school, and -as they would now revive it, was not a national quarrel, but a question -about a political principle. It had no more to do with France or -England as geographical denominations, than the wars between the -Guelphs and Gibelines. It was not a war of mercantile advantage, -or a trial of strength between two countries, which must be decided -by the turn of events, by the probable calculation of loss and profit, -but a war against an opinion, which could, therefore, never cease, but -with the extirpation of that opinion. Hence there could be neither -safety, nor honour, nor justice, in any terms of peace with the French -government, because, by the supposition, it was not with its power or -its conduct, but with its existence, that we were at war. Hence the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>impossibility of maintaining the relations of peace and amity with -France. Hence Mr. Burke’s regicide war. Hence the ridiculousness -asserted by <cite>The Courier</cite>, of even attempting negociation with this -hated power. Hence the various and contradictory aspects which the -war assumed after its first outset, and all of which answered the purpose -equally well, because there was another pivot on which the -whole turned, the sheet-anchor which never loosed its hold, and -which enabled ‘the pilot to weather the storm.’ It was not a -temporary or local question of the boundaries, the possessions, or -particular rights of rival states, but a question, in which all states are -at all times equally interested, of the internal right of any people to -choose its own form of government. Whether this was a just ground -of war or not, is another question; but it was the true one—that -which gave its character to the war, and accounts for all its consequences. -It was a war of proscription against a great and powerful -state, for having set the example of a people ridding itself of an odious -and despicable tyranny. It was the question of the balance of power -between kings and people; a question, compared with which the -balance of power in Europe is petty and insignificant. That what we -have here stated, are the real and paramount grounds of this bloody -and inveterate contest in the minds of the war-faction is, what we -apprehend they will not, in their present state of frenzy, deny. They -are the only ones that always survive the shock of accident and the -fluctuation of circumstances, and which are always recurred to when -all others fail, and are constantly avowed in the face of day, whenever -the least probability of success attends them. It has been -declared again and again, month after month, and year after year, -that no peace should be made with France till the last remaining -effort had been tried to attain this object. We were to bury ourselves -with our great war-minister, under the ruins of the civilized -world, sooner than relax in our exertions, or recede from our object. -No sacrifices were to be held too dear—no sufferings too great in the -prosecution of this sacred cause. No other than the last extremity -was to force peace from us. Nothing short of the complete subjugation -of France was to satisfy us—nothing short of our own ruin was -to drive us to despair. We were like wrestlers, struggling on the -edge of a precipice, one (or both) of whom must be certain of -destruction. Such were the mad, mischievous, and unprincipled -terms, on which a pampered crew of sycophants have played away -the welfare, the repose, the liberties, and happiness of mankind, and -on which they would now urge us to stake our all again, to realize -their favourite scheme of the march to Paris, and the annihilation of -the French people.</p> - -<p class='c010'><span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>The consequences of the Pitt project were inevitable. From the -moment that the existence of France as a nation was declared to be -incompatible with that of the surrounding states—that she was -denounced as a nuisance which must be abated, and set up as a mark -for the vengeance of the rest of the world, the struggle necessarily -became convulsive, and the re-action terrible. Is it then a matter of -wonder, that in this unnatural strife, France, proscribed, hunted down, -put out of the pale of nations, endeavoured rather to reduce others to -the last extremity than to be reduced to it herself? Or are we -entitled to wreak that vengeance upon her which we could not at -first execute, because the engine which we had prepared to crush her -has recoiled with the greatest violence upon ourselves? It has been -said that we less easily forgive the injuries we do or meditate against -others, than those we receive from them. There are, we know, -persons to whom the celebrated line of the historian is, at all times, -applicable: <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Odia in longum jaciens, quæ conderet, auctaque promeret</span></i>. -We are not surprised to find that the good intentions of these persons -towards France, though she did not submit to the original tender -made to her of their kind interference and paternal care, have not -spoiled by keeping. If Titus complained with so much bitterness, -that he had lost a day to virtue, what must not some modern friends -to mankind feel, when they reflect that they have lost so many years -in the execution of their just and beneficent plans!—In spite of -Mr. Southey’s reasoning in his <em>Carmen Triumphale</em>, about joining -‘the avengers of mankind,’ we conceive that the wheel has gone -once round already, ‘full circle home,’ and that now it had better -stand still.</p> - -<p class='c010'>But it may be said, do we mean to apply these remarks to Bonaparte? -As far as relates to any merits of the war-faction. It was -they who implicated him with the cause of the French people, as -‘the child and champion of Jacobinism.’ We cannot express our -opinion better than in the words of Mr. Whitebread, ‘that England -had made Bonaparte, and he had undone himself.’ He was the -creature of the Pitt-school. Was the iron scourge which he has held -over Europe put into his hands by the peace-party? Were the -battles of Austerlitz and Jena—were the march to Vienna, the possession -of Berlin, the invasion of Spain, the expedition to Russia, and -the burning of Moscow, the consequences of the signing or of the -breaking of the treaty of Amiens?</p> - -<p class='c010'>The author of the letters of Vetus, (who we suppose is silenced -by <cite>The Times</cite>, for asserting that the Bourbons have no more a lawful -right to the throne of France, at this moment, than the Stuarts had -to the throne of England twenty years after the Revolution of 1688,) -<span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>is of opinion, that this war is merely national, merely the old grudge -between the two countries; and that the Bourbons, the Republic, -and Bonaparte, are equally hostile to England, and we to them. In -this, as in most things else, our opinion is the opposite of his. There -is only one period of the history of the two countries, which, reversed, -furnishes an exact counterpart to the present contest, both in its -avowed principles and secret motives—we mean the war waged by -Louis <span class='fss'>XIV.</span> against this country and its allies, for nearly as long a -period after the English Revolution. The difference in the results -of these two revolutions has been this: that from the insular situation -of this country, which enables us to do either right or wrong, nearly -with impunity, and which makes our means of defence greater, and -our means of offence proportionably less—that from this collateral -cause, the internal struggle, in proportion to the danger, was less -bloody in our own case, and the re-action of our efforts to defend -ourselves from the imposition of a foreign yoke and of hereditary -slavery, less violent and fatal to other states. All the differences -have arisen from the character of the two nations, and from local and -accidental circumstances: there was none in the abstract political -principle. We gave them the example of their Revolution; we also -gave them an example of ‘national fortitude’ in maintaining it. We—the -people of England, (not an upstart jacobite faction in the -Hanoverian line,) are proud of having imitators; and we think it -not unlikely that the French, if forced upon it, may behave on this -occasion as the English behaved, when an hereditary pretender came -over to us, backed by the aid of foreign arms, to assert his lawful -claim to the throne—that is, in other words, to be the natural proprietor -of a whole people. We twice sent him back again with all -his myrmidons; we would not be made a property of. We felt that -in not doing so we should be traitors, not only to our country, but to -our kind—the worst species of treason to our country. It is curious -that the ‘deepest enmity which the French people have drawn down -upon them by their early struggles in the same cause, should be shewn -by that government who had long insulted the slavery of Europe by -the loudness of its boasts of freedom.’ We do not know how it is, -but so it has happened, that in the thirty years of war which have -graced the annals of the present reign, there has been a considerable -want of sympathy between the crown and the people, as if the quarrel -were merely the cause of kings, in which the people had no -concern. Has this circumstance arisen from any unpleasant sense -of obligation, or consciousness of a little irregularity and deviation -from the right line in the descent of the crown, no more accounted -for in Mr. Burke’s Reflections, than the declination of atoms in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>Epicurus’s philosophy? The restoration of the Bourbons in France -will be the re-establishment of the principles of the Stuarts in this -country.<a id='r16' /><a href='#f16' class='c011'><sup>[16]</sup></a></p> - -<h3 class='c003'>PRINCE MAURICE’S PARROT</h3> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div><span class='sc'>Or, French Instructions to a British Plenipotentiary</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Sept. 18, 1814.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>1. That the French people were so deeply implicated in the -Slave trade, as not even to know that it had been abolished by this -country.</p> - -<p class='c010'>2. That the French press had been so long under the complete -despotic control of Bonaparte, that the present government must -despair of making any immediate impression on the independence of -the political opinions, or the energetic firmness of the individual feelings -of the people, lately consigned to their protection.</p> - -<p class='c010'>3. That such were their blind and rooted prejudices against the -English, that we could only hope to convince them of our entire -sincerity and disinterestedness in abolishing the Slave Trade ourselves, -by lending a helping hand to its revival by others.</p> - -<p class='c010'>4. That if we consented to give up our colonial conquests to the -French, on conditions dictated only by the general principles of -humanity, this would be a proof that we intended to keep them in -our hands from the most base and mercenary motives.</p> - -<p class='c010'>5. That the French government simply wished to begin the Slave -Trade again as the easiest way of leaving it off, that so they might -combine the experiment of its gradual restoration with that of its -gradual abolition, and, by giving the people an interest in it, more -effectually wean their affections from it.</p> - -<p class='c010'>6. That it is highly honourable in us to have proposed, and in the -French to have agreed to, the abolition of the Slave Trade, at the -end of five years, though it would have been insulting in us to have -proposed, and degrading in them to have submitted to, any stipulation -on the subject.</p> - -<p class='c010'>7. That to rob and murder on the coast of Africa is among the -internal rights of legislation and domestic privileges of every European -and Christian state.</p> - -<p class='c010'>8. That we are not to teach the French people religion and -morality at the point of the sword, though this is what we have been -professing to teach them for the last two and twenty years.</p> - -<p class='c010'>9. That his most Christian Majesty Louis <span class='fss'>XVIII.</span> is so fully -<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>impressed with the humane and benevolent sentiments of Great -Britain and the allies in favour of the abolition of the Slave Trade, -that he was ready to have plunged all Europe into a war for its -continuance.</p> - -<p class='c010'>10. That we could not possibly make the abolition, (though the -French government would certainly have made the revival) of the -Slave Trade a <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">sine qua non</span></i> in the treaty of peace, and that they -would otherwise have gone to war to recover by force of arms -what they can only owe to the credulity or complaisance of our -negociators.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Lastly. That by consenting to the re-establishment of the Slave -Trade in France, we were most effectually preparing the way for its -abolition all over the world.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘With so little a web as this will I ensnare so great a fly as -<em>Cassio</em>!’—Such were the formidable barriers, the intricate lines of -circumvallation, drawn by the French round the abolition of the -Slave Trade, as strong as those which they threw up to defend their -capital: yet we think, that after our political missionary had overleaped -the one, he might have broken through the other. Where -there is a will, there is a way. But there are some minds to which -every flimsy pretext presents an insurmountable obstacle, where only -the interests of justice and humanity are at stake. These persons are -always impotent to save—powerful only to oppress and to betray. -Their torpid faculties and amiable apathy are never roused but by -the calculations of self-interest, or the thirst of revenge. The glossy -sleekness of the panther’s skin does not blunt the sharpness of his -fangs, and his fawning eye dooms his victim while it glitters. But -to come to Lord Castlereagh. In the present instance, he appears to -have been cajoled into acquiescence from his well-known indifference -to the object. His speech contained nothing but a story of a cock -and a bull, told by M. Talleyrand with great grace and gravity, -assented to by his Lordship with equal affability and address, and -repeated to the House of Commons with hesitating volubility and -plausible negligence of manner. It is well to sacrifice to the graces; -but it is too much to have sacrificed a whole continent to the graces -of M. Talleyrand’s person, or the purity of his French accent. We -can imagine how the scene took place. This question of Africa, -being considered as an idle question, in which neither courts nor -ministers were concerned, would be naturally left as a sort of <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">carte-blanche</span></i> -for all the flourishes of national <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">politesse</span></i>, as a kind of <em>no man’s -ground</em> for a trial of diplomatic skill and complaisance. So Lord -Castlereagh, drawing on his gloves, hemmed once or twice, while -the French minister carelessly took snuff: he then introduced the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>question with a smile, which was answered by a more gracious smile -from M. Talleyrand: his Lordship then bowed, as if to bespeak -attention; but the Prince of Benevento bowing still lower, prevented -what he had to say; and the cries of Africa were lost amidst the -nods and smile and shrugs of these demi-puppets. The Ex-bishop of -Autun may in future hope to find a successful representative in the -English Ambassador from Paris; for the noble secretary <em>mistified</em> the -house, as he had himself been <em>mistified</em> by his highness of Benevento.—Count -Fathom, after his defeat by the French abbé, practised in -this his adopted country with great applause! We may take this -opportunity of remarking, that we do not think his Lordship at all -improved during his stay in France. He performs the arc of his -oscillation from the treasury bench to the table, and from the table -back again, in a second less time than he used to do. He commits -dulness with greater vivacity, and flounders more briskly in an argument. -He has enhanced the loose dangling slip-shod manner which -so well accords with his person and understanding, into something -positive and dogmatical; and is even grown tenacious of the immaculateness -of his maiden treaty, which he will not have so much as -suspected: In this alteration of tone we think him wrong. We have -always looked upon Lord Castlereagh as an excellent taffeta lining to -a court dress; but he should leave the buckram of office to his friend -the secretary of the Admiralty.</p> - -<h3 class='c003'>WHETHER THE FRIENDS OF FREEDOM CAN ENTERTAIN ANY SANGUINE HOPES OF THE FAVOURABLE RESULTS OF THE ENSUING CONGRESS?</h3> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Oct. 23, 1814.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>An excellent article appeared in the <span class='sc'>Examiner</span> of last week, giving -a general outline of the views and principles which ought to actuate -the allied powers at the approaching Congress, and of the leading -arrangements with respect to the different subjects to be brought -under consideration, which ought to follow from those principles. -Cordially as we agree with this respectable writer in the several -points which he has stated, we are, we confess, far from feeling any -strong assurances that even any one of these points will be amicably -adjusted. They are briefly these:—1. That Poland should be -restored to her independence. 2. That the other powers of Europe -should no longer co-operate with Sweden in the subjugation of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>Norway. 3. That the Slave Trade should be immediately and generally -abolished. 4. That Saxony should not share a fate similar to that -of Poland. 5. That Austria should relinquish her views of unjust -aggrandisement in Italy. 6. and last, That some concessions should -probably be made by England as to her exclusive claims to maritime -supremacy, as far as those claims are found to be rather galling to the -feelings of other nations, than essential to her own security. All of -the objects here recommended are, we should imagine, every way -practicable as well as desirable, if there were any thing like a hearty -good-will to avail themselves of the present favourable situation of the -world in those who have the power to decide its fate. Armed with -sovereign authority, seconded by public opinion, with every obstacle -removed from their dread of the overwhelming power of France, they -have all the means at their disposal to rear a splendid, lofty, and lasting -monument to justice, liberty, and humanity. Are the views then -of the allied sovereigns solely directed to these objects? That is the -simple question; and we are afraid it would be great presumption -to answer it in the affirmative. It would be supposing that the late -events have purified the hearts of princes and nations; that they have -been taught wisdom by experience, and the love of justice from the -sense of injury; that mutual confidence and good-will have succeeded -to narrow prejudices and rankling jealousy; that the race of ambitious -and unprincipled monarchs, of crafty politicians, and self-interested -speculators is at an end; that the destructive rivalry between states -has given way to liberal and enlightened views of general safety and -advantage; and that the powers of Europe will in future unite with -the same zeal and magnanimity for the common good, as when they -were bound in a common cause against the common enemy. All this -appears to us quite as Utopian as any other scheme which supposes -that the human mind can change. Happy should we be, if instead of -those magnificent and beneficial projects in which some persons seem -still to indulge their imaginations as the results of this meeting, the -whole should not turn out to be no better than a compromise of petty -interests, of shallow policy, and flagrant injustice.</p> - -<p class='c010'>We forbore for a long time from saying any thing on this ungrateful -subject: but our forbearance has not hitherto, at least, been rewarded. -We shall therefore speak out plainly on the subject; as we should be -sorry to be thought accomplices in a delusion, which can only end in -disappointment. The professions of justice, moderation, and the love -of liberty, made by the powers of Europe at the end of the last, and -at the beginning of the present year, were certainly admirable: -they were called for at the time, and were possibly sincere. But we -are all of us apt to forego those good resolutions which are extorted -<span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>from us by circumstances rather than from reason or habit, and to -recant ‘vows made in pain as violent and void.’ Without meaning -any indirect allusion to the person into whose mouth these words are -put, we believe this, that princes are princes, and that men are men; -and that to expect any great sacrifices of interest or passion from -either in consequence of certain well-timed and well-sounding professions, -drawn from them by necessity, when that necessity no longer -exists, is to belie all our experience of human nature. We remember -what modern courts and ministers were before the dreaded power of -Bonaparte arose; and we conceive this to be the best and only -ground to argue what they will be, now that that power has ceased. -‘Why so, being gone, they are themselves again.’ It appears to us, -that some very romantic and extravagant expectations were entertained -from the destruction of the tyranny of Bonaparte. It is true, -his violence and ambition for a while suspended all other projects of -the same kind. ‘The right divine of kings to govern wrong’ was -wrested from the puny hands of its legitimate possessors, and strangely -monopolized by one man. The regular professors of the regal art -were set aside by the superior skill and prowess of an adventurer. -They became in turn the tools, or the victims of the machinations -of the maker and puller-down of kings. Instead of their customary -employment of annoying their neighbours, or harassing their subjects, -they had enough to do to defend their territories and their titles. -The aggressions which they had securely meditated against the independence -of nations, and their haughty contempt for the liberties of -mankind, were retorted on their own heads. The poisoned chalice -was returned to their own lips. They then first felt the sting of -injustice, and the bitterness of scorn. They saw how weak and little -they were in themselves. They were roused from the still life of -courts, and forced to assume the rank of men. They appealed to -their people to defend their thrones; they called on them to rally -round the altar of their country; they invoked the name of liberty, -and in that name they conquered. Plans of national aggrandisement -or private revenge were forgotten in the intoxication of triumph, as -they had been in the agony of despair. This sudden usurpation had -so overpowered the imaginations of men, that they began to consider -it as the only evil that had ever existed in the world, and that with -it, all tyranny and ambition would cease. War was talked of as if it -had been an invention of the modern Charlemagne, and the Golden -age was to be restored with the Bourbons. But it is hard for the -great and mighty to learn in the school of adversity: emperors and -kings bow reluctantly to the yoke of necessity. When the panic is -over, they will be glad to drink of the cup of oblivion. The false -<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>idols which had been set up to Liberty and Nature, to Genius and -Fortune, are thrown down, and they have once more ‘all power -given them upon earth.’ How they are likely to use it, whether -for the benefit and happiness of mankind, or to gratify their own -prejudices and passions, we have, in one or two instances, seen -already. No one will in future look for ‘the milk of human kindness’ -in the Crown Prince of Sweden, who is a monarch of the new -school; nor for examples of romantic generosity and gratitude in -Ferdinand of Spain, who is one of the old. A jackal or baboon, -dandled in the paws of a royal Bengal tiger, may not be very formidable; -but it would be idle to suppose, if they should providentially -escape, that they would become tame, useful, domestic animals.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The King of Prussia has recovered the sword of the Great -Frederick, his humane, religious, moral, and unambitious predecessor, -only, as it appears, to unsheath it against the King of Saxony, his -old companion in arms. The Emperor of Austria seems eager to -catch at the iron crown of Italy, which has just fallen from the brows -of his son-in-law. The King of France, <em>our</em> King of France, Louis -the Desired, and who by the ‘all hail hereafter,’ is to receive the -addition of Louis the Wise, has improved his reflections during a -twenty years’ exile, into a humane and amiable sanction of the renewal -of the Slave Trade for five years only. His Holiness the Pope, -happy to have escaped from the clutches of the arch-tyrant and -impostor, employs his leisure hours in restoring the order of the -Jesuits, and persecuting the Freemasons. Ferdinand, the grateful -and the enlightened, who has passed through the same discipline of -humanity with the same effect, shuts up the doors of the Cortes, (as -it is scandalously asserted, at the instigation of Lord Wellington), -and throws open those of the Inquisition. At all this, the romantic -admirers of patriot kings, who fondly imagined that the hatred of the -oppressor was the same thing as the hatred of oppression, (among -these we presume we may reckon the poet-laureat,) hang their heads, -and live in hope of better times. To us it is all natural, and in order. -From this grand gaol-delivery of princes and potentates, we could -expect nothing else than a recurrence to their old habits and favourite -principles. These observations have not been hastily or gratuitously -obtruded: they have been provoked by a succession of disgusting and -profligate acts of inconsistency and treachery, unredeemed by a single -effort of heroic virtue or generous enthusiasm. Almost every principle, -almost every profession, almost every obligation, has been -broken. If any proof is wanting, look at Norway, look at Italy, -look at Spain, look at the Inquisition, look at the Slave Trade. -The mask of liberty has been taken off by most of the principal -<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>performers; the whining cant of humanity is no longer heard in <cite>The -Courier</cite> and <cite>The Times</cite>. What then remains for us to build a hope -upon, but the Whig principles of the Prince Regent, inherited from -his ancestors, and the good nature of the Emperor of Russia, the -merit of which is entirely his own? Of the former of these personages, -our opinion is so well known, that we need not repeat it -here. Again, of the good intentions of the last-mentioned sovereign, -we declare that we have as full a persuasion. We believe him to be -docile to instruction, inquisitive after knowledge, and inclined to good. -But it has been said by those who have better means of information -than ourselves, that he is too open to the suggestions of those about -him; that, like other learners, he thinks the newest opinion the best, -and that his real good-nature and want of duplicity render him not -sufficiently proof against the selfish or sinister designs of others. He -has certainly a character for disinterestedness and magnanimity to -support in history: but history is a glass in which few minds fashion -themselves. If in his late conduct there was any additional impulse -given to the natural simplicity of his character, it probably arose from -an obvious desire to furnish a contrast to the character of Bonaparte, -and also to redeem the Russian character, hitherto almost another -name for barbarity and ferociousness, in the eyes of civilized Europe. -In this point of view, we should not despair that something may be -attempted, at least with respect to Poland, by the present autocrat of -all the Russias, to blot out certain stains on the reputation of his -grand-mother, the Empress Catherine.</p> - -<p class='c010'>With regard to Norway, the only hope of the suspension of its -fate seems to arise out of a very natural, if not laudable jealousy and -distaste, which have been conceived by some of the old-standing -sovereigns of Europe against the latest occupier and most forward -pretender to thrones. An adventurer who has made a fortune by -gaining a prize in the lottery, or by laying <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">qui tam</span></i> informations against -his accomplices, cannot expect to be admitted, on an equality, into -the company of persons of regular character and family estates. The -Emperor of Austria, in particular, may have additional motives of -dislike to Bernadotte, connected with late events; and we agree with -the <em>Examiner</em>, that he may, in the end, ‘have to regret the length to -which he was hurried against a man, who was the key-stone of all -the new power which had been built on the ruin of thrones.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>As to any immediate adjustment of the maritime rights of this -country, on general principles, satisfactory to all parties, we see no -reason to expect it. We think the following paragraph justifies us in -this opinion. ‘We are told,’ says the <cite>Morning Chronicle</cite>, ‘that on -the day when the capture of the city of Washington, and the demolition -<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>of its public buildings reached Paris, the Duke of Wellington -had a ball: not one public ambassador of the potentates of Europe, -our good allies, presented himself to congratulate his grace on the -event.’ We here see, on one side, the most absurd expectations of -disinterested sympathy with our national feelings, and as little disposition -to enter into them on the other. It is strange that the above -paragraph should have found its way into a paper which makes an -almost exclusive profession of liberal and comprehensive views.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Nor can we indulge in any serious expectations of ‘the immediate -and general abolition of the Slave Trade.’ Africa has little to hope -from ‘the prevailing gentle arts’ of Lord Castlereagh. However -sturdy he may be in asserting our maritime rights, he will, we -imagine, go to sleep over those of humanity, and waking from his -<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">doux sommeil</span></i>, find that the dexterous prince of political jugglers has -picked his pocket of his African petitions, if, indeed, he chuses to -carry the credentials of his own disgrace about with him. There -are two obstacles to the success of this measure. In the first place, -France has received such forcible lessons from this country on the -old virtues of patriotism and loyalty, that she must feel particularly -unwilling to be dictated to on the new doctrines of liberality and -humanity. Secondly, the abolition of the Slave Trade, on our part, -was itself the act of Mr. Fox’s administration—an administration -which we should suppose there is no very strong inclination to relieve -from any part of the contempt or obloquy which it has been the -fashion to pour upon it, by extending the benefit of its measures, or -recommending the adoption of its principles.</p> - -<p class='c010'>There is another point, on which, though our doubts are by no -means strong or lasting, we do not at all times feel the same -absolute confidence—the continuance of the present order of things -in France. The principles adhered to in the determination of -some of the preceding arrangements, and the permanent views -which shall appear to actuate the other powers of Europe, may -have no inconsiderable influence on this great question. Whatever -tends to allay the ferment in men’s minds, and to take away just -causes of recrimination and complaint, must, of course, lessen the -pretexts for change. We should not, however, be more disposed to -augur such a change from the remaining attachment of individuals, -or of the army, to Bonaparte, than from the general versatility -and restlessness of the French character, and their total want of -settled opinion, which might oppose a check to military enthusiasm. -Even their present unqualified zeal, in the cause of the Bourbons, is -ominous. How long this sudden fit of gratitude, for deliverance -from evils certainly brought upon them by their slowness to admit the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>remedy, may continue, it is impossible to say. A want of <em>keeping</em> is -the distinguishing quality of the French character. A people of this -sort cannot be depended on for a moment. They are blown about -like a weathercock, with every breath of caprice or accident, and -would cry <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">vive l’empereur</span></i> to-morrow, with as much vivacity and as -little feeling, as they do <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">vive le roi</span></i> to-day. They have no fixed -principle of action. They are alike indifferent to every thing: their -self-complacency supplies the place of all other advantages—of -virtue, liberty, honour, and even of outward appearances. They -are the only people who are vain of being cuckolded and being -conquered.—A people who, after trampling over the face of Europe -so long, fell down before their assailants without striking a blow, -and who boast of their submission as a fine thing, are not a nation of -men, but of women. The spirit of liberty, at the Revolution, gave -them an impulse common to humanity; the genius of Bonaparte -gave them the spirit of military ambition. Both of these gave an -energy and consistency to their character, by concentrating their -natural volatility on one great object. But when both of these causes -failed, the Allies found that France consisted of nothing but ladies’ -toilettes. The army are the muscular part of the state; mere -patriotism is a pasteboard visor, which opposes no resistance to the -sword. Whatever they determine will be done; an effeminate -public is a non-entity. They will not relish the Bourbons long, if -they remain at peace; and if they go to war, they will want a -monarch who is also a general.</p> - -<h3 class='c003'><span class='sc'>The Lay of the Laureate, Carmen Nuptiale</span>, <em>by Robert Southey, Esq., Poet-Laureate, Member of the Royal Spanish Academy, and of the Royal Spanish Academy of History</em>.—London, Longmans, 1816.</h3> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><cite>Examiner</cite>, <em>July 7, 1816</em>.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>The dog which his friend Launce brought as a present to Madam -Silvia in lieu of a lap-dog, was something like ‘The Lay of the -Laureate,’ which Mr. Southey has here offered to the Princess -Charlotte for a Nuptial Song. It is ‘a very currish performance, -and deserves none but currish thanks.’ Launce thought his own -dog, Crab, better than any other; and Mr. Southey thinks his own -praises the fittest compliment for a lady’s ear. His Lay is ten times -as long, and he thinks it is therefore ten times better than an Ode of -Mr. Pye’s.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Mr. Southey in this poem takes a tone which was never heard -<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>before in a drawing-room. It is the first time that ever a -Reformist was made a Poet-laureate. Mr. Croker was wrong in -introducing his old friend, the author of ‘Joan of Arc,’ at Carlton-House. -He might have known how it would be. If we had -doubted the good old adage before, ‘Once a Jacobin and always -a Jacobin,’ since reading ‘The Lay of the Laureate,’ we are sure -of it. A Jacobin is one who would have his single opinion govern -the world, and overturn every thing in it. Such a one is Mr. -Southey. Whether he is a Republican or a Royalist,—whether -he hurls up the red cap of liberty, or wears the lily, stained with the -blood of all his old acquaintance, at his breast,—whether he glories -in Robespierre or the Duke of Wellington—whether he pays a visit -to Old Sarum, or makes a pilgrimage to Waterloo,—whether he is -praised by <cite>The Courier</cite>, or parodied by Mr. Canning,—whether he -thinks a King the best or the worst man in his dominions,—whether he -is a Theophilanthropist or a Methodist of the church of England,—whether -he is a friend of Universal Suffrage and Catholic Emancipation, -or a Quarterly Reviewer,—whether he insists on an equal -division of lands, or of knowledge,—whether he is for converting -infidels to Christianity, or Christians to infidelity,—whether he is for -pulling down the kings of the East or those of the West,—whether -he sharply sets his face against all establishments, or maintains that -whatever is, is right,—whether he prefers what is old to what is -new, or what is new to what is old,—whether he believes that all -human evil is remediable by human means, or makes it out to himself -that a Reformer is worse than a housebreaker,—whether he is in -the right or the wrong, poet or prose-writer, courtier or patriot,—he -is still the same pragmatical person—every sentiment or feeling -that he has is nothing but the effervescence of incorrigible overweening -self-opinion. He not only thinks whatever opinion he -may hold for the time infallible, but that no other is even to be -tolerated, and that none but knaves and fools can differ with him. -‘The friendship of the good and wise is his.’ If any one is so -unfortunate as to hold the same opinions that he himself formerly -did, this but aggravates the offence by irritating the jealousy of -his self-love, and he vents upon them a double portion of his -spleen. Such is the constitutional slenderness of his understanding, -its ‘glassy essence,’ that the slightest collision of sentiment gives -an irrecoverable shock to him. He regards a Catholic or a Presbyterian, -a Deist or an Atheist, with equal repugnance, and makes -no difference between the Pope, the Turk, and the Devil. He -thinks a rival poet a bad man, and would suspect the principles, -moral, political, and religious, of any one who did not spell the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>word <em>laureate</em> with an <em>e</em> at the end of it.—If Mr. Southey were -a bigot, it would be well; but he has only the intolerance of -bigotry. His violence is not the effect of attachment to any principles, -prejudices, or paradoxes of his own, but of antipathy to -those of others. It is an impatience of contradiction, an unwillingness -to share his opinions with others, a captious monopoly -of wisdom, candour, and common sense. He is not an enthusiast -in religion, but he is an enemy to philosophers; he does not respect -old establishments, but he hates new ones; he has no objection to -regicides, but he is inexorable against usurpers; he will tell you that -‘the re-risen cause of evil’ in France yielded to ‘the Red Cross and -Britain’s arm of might,’ and shortly after he denounces this Red -Cross as the scarlet whore of Babylon, and warns Britain against her -eternal malice and poisoned cup; he calls on the Princess Charlotte -in the name of the souls of ten thousand little children, who are -without knowledge in <em>this age of light</em>, ‘<span class='sc'>Save or we perish</span>,’ and yet -sooner than they should be saved by Joseph Fox or Joseph Lancaster, -he would see them damned; he would go himself into Egypt and -pull down ‘the barbarous kings’ of the East, and yet his having gone -there on this very errand is not among the least of Bonaparte’s -crimes; he would ‘abate the malice’ of the Pope and the Inquisition, -and yet he cannot contain the fulness of his satisfaction at the -fall of the only person who had both the will and the power to do -this. Mr. Southey began with a decent hatred of kings and priests, -but it yielded to his greater hatred of the man who trampled them in -the dust. He does not feel much affection to those who are born to -thrones, but that any one should gain a throne as he has gained the -laureate-wreath, by superior merit alone, was the unpardonable sin -against Mr. Southey’s levelling Muse!</p> - -<p class='c010'>The poetry of the Lay is beneath criticism; it has all sorts of -obvious common-place defects, without any beauties either obvious or -recondite. It is the Namby-Pamby of the Tabernacle; a Methodist -sermon turned into doggrel verse. It is a gossipping confession of -Mr. Southey’s political faith—the ‘Practice of Piety’ or the ‘Whole -Duty of Man’ mixed up with the discordant slang of the metaphysical -poets of the nineteenth century. Not only do his sentiments every -where betray the old Jacobinical leaven, the same unimpaired desperate -unprincipled spirit of partisanship, regardless of time, place, and -circumstance, and of every thing but its own headstrong will; there -is a gipsey jargon in the expression of his sentiments which is equally -indecorous. Does our Laureate think it according to court-etiquette -that he should be as old-fashioned in his language as in the cut of his -clothes?—On the present occasion, when one might expect a truce -<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>with impertinence, he addresses the Princess neither with the fancy -of the poet, the courtier’s grace, nor the manners of a gentleman, but -with the air of an inquisitor or father-confessor. Geo. Fox, the -Quaker, did not wag his tongue more saucily against the Lord’s -Anointed in the person of Charles <span class='fss'>II.</span>, than our Laureate here assures -the daughter of his Prince, that so shall she prosper in this world and -the next, as she minds what he says to her. Would it be believed -(yet so it is) that, in the excess of his unauthorized zeal, Mr. Southey -in one place advises the Princess conditionally to rebel against her -father? Here is the passage. The Angel of the English church -thus addresses the Royal Bride:-</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Bear thou that great Eliza in thy mind,</div> - <div class='line'>Who from a wreck this fabric edified;</div> - <div class='line'>And <span class='sc'>Her</span> who to a nation’s voice resigned,</div> - <div class='line'>When Rome in hope its wiliest engines plied,</div> - <div class='line'><em>By her own heart and righteous Heaven approved,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Stood up against the Father whom she loved</em>.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>This is going a good way. Is it meant, that if the Prince Regent, -‘to a nation’s voice resigned,’ should grant Catholic Emancipation in -defiance of the ‘Quarterly Review,’ Mr. Southey would encourage the -Princess in standing up against her father, in imitation of the pious and -patriotic daughter of James <span class='fss'>II.</span>?</p> - -<p class='c010'>This quaint effusion of poetical fanaticism is divided into four parts, -the Proem, the Dream, the Epilogue, and L’Envoy. The Proem -opens thus:—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘There was a time when all my youthful thought</div> - <div class='line'>Was of the Muse; and of the Poet’s fame,</div> - <div class='line'>How fair it flourisheth and fadeth not, ...</div> - <div class='line'>Alone enduring, when the Monarch’s name</div> - <div class='line'>Is but an empty sound, the Conqueror’s bust</div> - <div class='line'>Moulders and is forgotten in the dust.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>This may be very true, but not so proper to be spoken in this -place. Mr. Southey may think himself a greater man than the -Prince Regent, but he need not go to Carlton-House to tell him so. -He endeavours to prove that the Prince Regent and the Duke of -Wellington (put together) are greater than Bonaparte, but then he -is by his own rule greater than all three of them. We have here -perhaps the true secret of Mr. Southey’s excessive anger at the late -Usurper. If all his youthful thought was of his own inborn superiority -to conquerors or kings, we can conceive that Bonaparte’s fame must -have appeared a very great injustice done to his pretensions; it is not -impossible that the uneasiness with which he formerly heard the names -of Marengo, of Austerlitz, of Jena, of Wagram, of Friedland, and of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>Borodino, may account for the industrious self-complacency with -which he harps upon those of Busaco, Vimiera, Salamanca, Vittoria, -Thoulouse, and Waterloo; and that the Iron Crown of Italy must -have pressed upon his (Mr. Southey’s) brows, with a weight most -happily relieved by the light laureate-wreath! We are justified in -supposing Mr. Southey capable of envying others, for he supposes -others capable of envying him. Thus he sings of himself and his -office:—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Yea in this now, while malice frets her hour,</div> - <div class='line'>Is foretaste given me of that meed divine;</div> - <div class='line'>Here undisturbed in this sequestered bower,</div> - <div class='line'>The friendship of the good and wise is mine;</div> - <div class='line'>And that green wreath which decks the Bard when dead,</div> - <div class='line'>That laureate garland crowns my living head.</div> - <div class='line'>That wreath which in Eliza’s golden days</div> - <div class='line'>My master dear, divinest Spenser, wore,</div> - <div class='line'>That which rewarded Drayton’s learned lays,</div> - <div class='line'>Which thoughtful Ben and gentle Daniel<a id='r17' /><a href='#f17' class='c011'><sup>[17]</sup></a> bore ...</div> - <div class='line'>Grin, Envy, through thy ragged mask of scorn!</div> - <div class='line'>In honour it was given, with honour it is worn!’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Now we do assure Mr. Southey, that we do not envy him this -honour. Many people laugh at him, some may blush for him, but -nobody envies him. As to Spenser, whom he puts in the list of great -men who have preceded him in his office, his laureateship has been -bestowed on him by Mr. Southey; it did not ‘crown his living head.’ -We all remember his being refused the hundred pounds for his ‘Fairy -Queen.’ Poets were not wanted in those days to celebrate the -triumphs of princes over the people. But why does he not bring his -list down nearer to his own time—to Pye and Whitehead and Colley -Cibber? Does Mr. Southey disdain to be considered as the successor -even of Dryden? That green wreath which decks our author’s living -head, is so far from being, as he would insinuate, an anticipation of -immortality, that it is no credit to any body, and least of all to Mr. -Southey. He might well have declined the reward of exertions in a -cause which throws a stigma of folly or something worse on the best -part of his life. Mr. Southey ought not to have received what would -not have been offered to the author of ‘Joan of Arc.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>Mr. Southey himself maintains that his song has still been -‘to Truth and Freedom true’; that he has never changed his -opinions; that it is the cause of French liberty that has left him, -not he the cause. That may be so. But there is one person in the -kingdom who has, we take it, been at least as consistent in his conduct -<span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>and sentiments as Mr. Southey, and that person is the King. Thus -the Laureate emphatically advises the Princess:—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Look to thy Sire, and <em>in his steady way,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>As in his Father’s he</em>, learn thou to tread.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>Now the question is, whether Mr. Southey agreed with his Majesty -on the subject of the French Revolution when he published ‘Joan of -Arc.’ Though Mr. Southey ‘as beseems him well’ congratulates -the successes of the son, we do not recollect that he condoled with -the disappointments of the father in the same cause. The King has -not changed, therefore Mr. Southey has. The sun does not turn to -the sun-flower; but the sun-flower follows the sun. Our poet has -thoughtlessly committed himself in the above lines. He may be right -in applauding that one sole purpose of his Majesty’s reign which he -formerly condemned: that he can be consistent in applauding what -he formerly condemned, is impossible. That his majesty King -George <span class='fss'>III.</span> should make a convert of Mr. Southey rather than Mr. -Southey of George <span class='fss'>III.</span> is probable for many reasons. The King by -siding with the cause of the people could not, like King William, -have gained a crown: Mr. Southey, by deserting it, has got a -hundred pounds a-year. A certain English ambassador, who had -a long time resided at the court of Rome, was on his return introduced -at the levee of Queen Caroline. This lady, who was almost as great -a prig as Mr. Southey, asked him why in his absence he did not try -to make a convert of the Pope to the Protestant religion. He -answered, ‘Madam, the reason was that I had nothing better to offer -his Holiness than what he already has in his possession.’ The Pope -would no doubt have been of the same way of thinking. This is the -reason why kings, from sire to son, pursue ‘their steady way,’ and -are less changeable than canting cosmopolites.</p> - -<h4 class='c017'><span class='sc'>The Lay of the Laureate, Carmen Nuptiale</span>, <em>by Robert Southey, Esq. Poet-Laureate, Member of the Royal Spanish Academy, and of the Royal Spanish Academy of History</em>.—London: Longmans, 1816.</h4> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div><span class='small'>(CONCLUDED.)</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘<em>Queen.</em> Hamlet, thou hast thy Father much offended.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘<em>Hamlet.</em> Madam, you have my Father much offended.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>July 14, 1816.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Though we do not think Mr. Southey has been quite consistent, -we do not think him a hypocrite. This poem proves it. How -<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>should he maintain the same opinion all his life, when he cannot -maintain it for two stanzas together? The weakness of his reasoning -shews that he is the dupe of it. He has not the faculty of perceiving -contradictions. He is not accountable for his mistakes. There is -not a single sentiment advanced in any part of the <em>Lay</em>, which is not -flatly denied in some other part of it. Let us see:—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Proudly I raised the high thanksgiving strain</div> - <div class='line'>Of victory in a rightful cause achieved:</div> - <div class='line'>For which <em>I long had looked and not in vain,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>As one who with firm faith and undeceived,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>In history and the heart of man could find</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Sure presage of deliverance for mankind</em>.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Mr. Southey does not inform us in what year he began to look for -this deliverance, but if he had looked for it long, he must have looked -for it long in vain. Does our poet then find no presage of deliverance -for ‘conquered France’ in the same principles that he found it for -‘injured Germany’? But he has no principles; or he does not -himself know what they are. He praises Providence in this particular -instance for having conformed to his hopes; and afterwards -thus gives us the general results of his reading in history and the -human heart. In the Dream he says, speaking of Charissa and -Speranza—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘This lovely pair unrolled before the throne</div> - <div class='line'>“Earth’s melancholy map,” whereon to sight</div> - <div class='line'>Two broad divisions at a glance were shown,</div> - <div class='line'>The empires these of darkness and of light.</div> - <div class='line'>Well might the thoughtful bosom sigh to mark</div> - <div class='line'>How wide a portion of the map was dark.</div> - <div class='line'>Behold, Charissa cried, how large a space</div> - <div class='line'>Of earth lies unredeemed! Oh grief to think</div> - <div class='line'>That countless myriads of immortal race</div> - <div class='line'>In error born, in ignorance must sink,</div> - <div class='line'>Trained up in customs which corrupt the heart</div> - <div class='line'>And following miserably the evil part!</div> - <div class='line'>Regard the expanded Orient from the shores</div> - <div class='line'>Of scorched Arabia and the Persian sea,</div> - <div class='line'>To where the inhospitable Ocean roars</div> - <div class='line'>Against the rocks of frozen Tartary;</div> - <div class='line'>Look next at those Australian isles which lie</div> - <div class='line'>Thick as the stars which stud the wintry sky.</div> - <div class='line'>Then let thy mind contemplative survey</div> - <div class='line'>That spacious region where in elder time</div> - <div class='line'>Earth’s unremembered conquerors held the sway</div> - <div class='line'>And Science trusting in her skill sublime,</div> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>With lore abstruse the sculptured walls o’erspread,</div> - <div class='line'>Its import now forgotten with the dead.</div> - <div class='line'>From Nile and Congo’s undiscovered springs</div> - <div class='line'>To the four seas which gird the unhappy land,</div> - <div class='line'>Behold it left a prey to barbarous Kings,</div> - <div class='line'>The Robber and the Trader’s ruthless hand;</div> - <div class='line'>Sinning and suffering, everywhere unblest,</div> - <div class='line'>Behold her wretched sons, oppressing and opprest!’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>This is ‘a pretty picture’ to be drawn by one who finds in the -past history of the world the sure presage of deliverance for mankind. -We grant indeed that Mr. Southey was right in one thing, viz. in -expecting from it that sort of ‘deliverance of mankind,’ bound hand -and foot, into the power of Kings and Priests, which has actually -come to pass, and which he has celebrated with so much becoming -pomp, both here and elsewhere. The doctrine of ‘millions made -for one’ has to be sure got a tolerable footing in the East. It has -attained a very venerable old age there—it is mature even to rottenness, -but without decay. ‘Old, old, Master Shallow,’ but eternal. -It is transmitted down in unimpaired succession from sire to son. -Snug’s the word. Legitimacy is not there militant, but triumphant, -as the Editor of <cite>The Times</cite> would wish. It is long since the people -had any thing to do with the laws but to obey them, or any laws to -obey but the will of their taskmasters. This is the necessary end of -legitimacy. The Princes and Potentates cut one another’s throats as -they please, but the people have no hand in it. They have no French -Revolutions there, no rights of man to terrify barbarous kings, no -republicans or levellers, no weathercock deliverers and re-deliverers -of mankind, no Mr. Southeys nor Mr. Wordsworths. In this they -are happy. Things there are perfectly settled, in the state in which -they should be,—still as death, and likely to remain so. Mr. -Southey’s exquisite reason for supposing that a crusade to pull down -divine right would succeed in the East, is that a crusade to prop it -up has just succeeded in the West. That will never do. Besides, -what security can he give, if he goes on improving in wisdom for the -next five and twenty years as he has done for the last, that he would -not in the end be as glad to see these ‘barbarous kings’ restored to -their rightful thrones, as he is now anxious to see them tumbled from -them? The doctrine of ‘divine right’ is of longer standing and -more firmly established in the East than in the West, because the -Eastern world is older than ours. We might say of it,</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘The wars it well remembers of King Nine,</div> - <div class='line'>Of old Assaracus and Inachus divine.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>It is fixed on the altar and the throne, safe, quite safe against Mr. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>Southey’s enthusiasm in its second spring, his Missionary Societies, -and his Schools for All. It overlays that vast continent, like an -ugly incubus, sucking the blood and stopping up the breath of man’s -life. That detestable doctrine, which in England first tottered and -fell headless to the ground with the martyred Charles; which we -kicked out with his son James, and kicked twice back with two -Pretenders, to make room for ‘Brunswick’s fated line,’ a line of our -own chusing, and for that reason worth all Mr. Southey’s lines put -together; that detestable doctrine, which the French, in 1793, ousted -from their soil, thenceforward sacred in the eyes of humanity, which -they ousted from it again in 1815, making it doubly sacred; and -which (oh grief, oh shame) was borne into it once more on English -shoulders, and thrust down their throats with English bayonets; this -detestable doctrine, which would, of right and with all the sanctions -of religion and morality, sacrifice the blood of millions to the least of -its prejudices; which would make the rights, the happiness, and -liberty of nations, from the beginning to the end of time, dependent -on the caprice of some of the lowest and vilest of the species; which -rears its bloated hideous form to brave the will of a whole people; -that claims mankind as its property, and allows human nature to exist -only upon sufferance; that haunts the understanding like a frightful -spectre, and oppresses the very air with a weight that is not to be -borne; this doctrine meets with no rubs, no reverses, no ups and -downs, in the East. It is there fixed, immutable. The Jaggernaut -there passes on with its ‘satiate’ scythe over the bleeding bodies of -its victims, who are all as loyal, as pious, and as thankful as Mr. -Southey. It meets with no opposition from any ‘re-risen cause of -evil’ or of good. Mankind have there been delivered once for all!</p> - -<p class='c010'>In the passage above quoted, Mr. Southey founds his hope of the -emancipation of the Eastern world from ‘the Robber and the Trader’s -ruthless hand’ on our growing empire in India. This is a conclusion -which nobody would venture upon but himself. His last appeal is -to scripture, and still he is unfortunate:—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Speed thou the work, Redeemer of the World!</div> - <div class='line'><em>That the long miseries of mankind may cease!</em></div> - <div class='line'>Where’er the Red Cross banner is unfurled,</div> - <div class='line'>There let it carry truth, and light, and peace!</div> - <div class='line'><em>Did not the Angels who announced thy birth,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Proclaim it with the sound of Peace on Earth?</em>’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>From the length of time that this prediction has remained unfulfilled, -Mr. Southey thinks its accomplishment must be near. His -Odes will not hasten the event.</p> - -<p class='c010'><span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>Again, we do not understand the use which Mr. Southey makes of -Red Cross in this poem. For speaking of himself he says,</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘And when that last and most momentous hour</div> - <div class='line'>Beheld the re-risen cause of evil yield</div> - <div class='line'>To the Red Cross and England’s arm of power,</div> - <div class='line'>I sung of Waterloo’s unrivalled field,</div> - <div class='line'>Paying the tribute of a soul embued</div> - <div class='line'>With deepest joy, devout and awful gratitude.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>This passage occurs in the Proem. In the Dream the Angel of -the English Church is made to warn the Princess—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Think not that lapse of ages shall abate</div> - <div class='line'>The inveterate malice of that Harlot old;</div> - <div class='line'>Fallen tho’ thou deemest her from her high estate,</div> - <div class='line'>She proffers still the envenomed cup of gold,</div> - <div class='line'>And her fierce Beast, whose names are blasphemy,</div> - <div class='line'>The same that was, is still, and still must be.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>It is extraordinary that both these passages relate to one and the -same thing, namely, Popery, which our author in the first identifies -with the Christian religion, thus invoking to his aid every pure -feeling or pious prejudice in the minds of his readers, and in the -last denounces as that Harlot old, ‘whose names are blasphemy,’ -with all the fury of plenary inspiration. This is a great effort of -want of logic. Mr. Southey will hardly sing or say that it was -to establish Protestantism in France that England’s arm of power -was extended on this occasion. Nor was it simply to establish -Popery. That existed there already. It was to establish ‘the -inveterate malice of that Harlot old,’ her ‘envenomed cup,’ to -give her back her daggers and her fires, her mummeries, her -holy oil, her power over the bodies and the minds of men, to restore -her ‘the same that she was, is still, and still must be,’ that that -celebrated fight was fought. The massacres of Nismes followed -hard upon the triumph of Mr. Southey’s Red Cross. The blood -of French Protestants began to flow almost before the wounds of -the dying and the dead in that memorable carnage had done festering. -This was the most crying injustice, the most outrageous -violation of principle, that ever was submitted to. What! has -John Bull nothing better to do now-a-days than to turn bottle-holder -to the Pope of Rome, to whet his daggers for him, to light his fires, -and fill his poisoned bowl; and yet, out of pure complaisance (a -quality John has learnt from his new friends the Bourbons) not -venture a syllable to say that we did not mean him to use them? It -<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>seems Mr. Southey did not think this a fit occasion for the interference -of his Red Cross Muse. Could he not trump up a speech -either for ‘divine Speranza,’ or ‘Charissa dear,’ to lay at the foot of -the throne? Was the Angel of the English Church dumb too—‘quite -chopfallen?’ Yet though our Laureate cannot muster resolution -enough to advise the Prince to protect Protestants in France, he -plucks up spirit enough to urge him to persecute Catholics in this -country, and pretty broadly threatens him with the consequences, if -he does not. “’Tis much,” as Christopher Sly says.</p> - -<p class='c010'>There is another subject on which Mr. Southey’s silence is -still more inexcusable. It was understood to be for his exertions -in the cause of Spanish liberty that he was made Poet-Laureate. -It is then high time for him to resign. Why has he not written -a single ode to a single Spanish patriot who has been hanged, -banished, imprisoned, sent to the galleys, assassinated, tortured? -It must be pleasant to those who are suffering under the thumb-screw -to read Mr. Southey’s thoughts upon that ingenious little -instrument of royal gratitude. Has he discovered that the air -of a Court does not very well agree with remonstrances against -acts of oppression and tyranny, when exercised by those who are -born for no other purpose? Is his patriotism only a false cover, -a Carlton-House convenience? His silence on this subject is not -equivocal. Whenever Mr. Southey shews the sincerity of his -former professions of zeal in behalf of Spanish liberty, by writing -an elegy on the death of Porlier, or a review of the conduct of -Ferdinand <span class='fss'>VII</span>. (he is a subject worthy of Mr. Southey’s prose style), -or by making the lame tailor of Madrid (we forget his name) the -subject of an epic poem, we will retract all that we have said in -disparagement of his consistency—<em>But not till then</em>.</p> - -<p class='c010'>We meant to have quoted several other passages, such as that -in which old Praxis, that is, Experience, recommends it to the -Princess to maintain the laws by keeping all that is old, and adding -all that is new to them—that in which he regrets the piety -and learning of former times, and then promises us a release from -barbarism and brutishness by the modern invention of Sunday Schools—that -in which he speaks of his own virtues and the wisdom -of his friends—that in which he undertakes to write a martyrology.—But -we are very tired of the subject, and the verses are not worth -quoting. There is a passage in Racine which is; and with that, we -take our leave of the Laureate, to whom it may convey some useful -hints in explanation of his ardent desire for the gibbeting of Bonaparte -and the burning of Paris:—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span><em>Nabal.</em>—<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Que peut vous inspirer une haine si forte?</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Est-ce que de Baal le zèle vous transporte?</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Pour moi, vous le savez, descendu d’Ismaël,</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Je ne sers ni Baal ni le Dieu d’Israel.</span></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Mathan.</em>—<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Ami, peux-tu penser que d’un zèle frivole</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Je me laisse aveugler pour une vaine idole!</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Né ministre du Dieu qu’en ce temple on adore,</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Peut-être que Mathan le serviroit encore,</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Si l’amour des grandeurs, la soif de commander,</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Avec son joug étroit pouvoient s’accommoder.</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Qu’est-il besoin, Nabal, qu’à tes yeux je rappelle</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">De Joad et de moi la fameuse querelle?</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Vaincu par lui j’entrai dans une autre carrière,</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Et mon âme à la cour s’attacha tout entière.</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">J’approchai par degrés l’oreille des rois;</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Et bientôt en oracle on érigea ma voix.</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">J’étudiai leur cœur, je flattai leurs caprices,</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Je leur semai de fleurs le bord des précipices:</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Près de leurs passions rien ne me fut sacré;</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">De mesure et de poids je changeois à leur gré,</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Autant que de Joad l’inflexible rudesse</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">De leur superbe oreille offensoit la mollesse;</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Autant je les charmois par ma dextérité,</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Dérobant à leurs yeux la triste vérité,</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Prêtant à leur fureur des couleurs favorables,</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Et prodigue surtout du sang des misérables.</span><a id='r18' /><a href='#f18' class='c011'><sup>[18]</sup></a></div> - <div class='line'><hr class='poem' /></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Déserteur de leur loi, j’approuvai l’entreprise,</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Et par là de Baal méritai la prêtrise;</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Par là je me rendis terrible à mon rival,</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Je ceignis la tiare, et marchai son égal.</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Toutefois, je l’avoue, en ce comble de gloire,</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">De Dieu que j’ai quitté l’importune mémoire</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Jette encore en mon âme un reste de terreur;</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Et c’est ce qui redouble et nourrit ma fureur.</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Heureux, si sur son temple achevant ma vengeance,</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Je puis convaincre enfin sa haine d’impuissance,</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Et parmi les débris, les ravages, et les morts,</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">A force d’attentats perdre tous mes remords.</span><a id='r19' /><a href='#f19' class='c011'><sup>[19]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span> - <h4 class='c017'>TO THE EDITOR OF THE EXAMINER</h4> -</div> - -<p class='c018'>Sir,—I hope you will not omit to notice two passages in Mr. -Southey’s poem, in which, to try his talent at natural description, -he gives an account of two of ‘the fearfullest wild-fowl living’—a -British Lion and a Saxon one. Both are striking likenesses, and -would do to hang on the outside of Exeter-‘Change to invite the -curious. The former (presumed not to be indigenous) is described -to be in excellent case, well-fed, getting in years and corpulent, with -a high collar buried in the fat of the neck, false mane, large haunches -(for which this breed is remarkable), paws like a shin of beef, large -rolling eyes, a lazy, lounging animal, sleeping all day and roaring all -night, a great devourer of carcases and breaker of bones, pleased after -a full meal, and his keepers not then afraid of him. Inclined to be -uxorious. Visited by all persons of distinction, from the highest -characters abroad down to the lowest at home.—The other portrait -of the Saxon Lion is a contrast to this. It is a poor lean starved -beast, lord neither of men nor lands, galled with its chain, which it -has broken, but has not got off from its neck. This portrait is, we -understand, to be dedicated to Lord Castlereagh.—Your constant -reader,</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Ne Quid Nimis</span></span>.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<h3 class='c003'>‘<span class='sc'>A new View of Society</span>; or, <cite>Essays on the Principle of the Formation of the Human Character, and the Application of the Principle to Practice</cite>.’ Murray, 1816.—‘<span class='sc'>An Address to the Inhabitants of New Lanark</span>, <em>on opening an Institution for the Formation of Character.’ By</em> Robert Owen, <em>one of his Majesty’s Justices of the Peace for the County of Lanark</em>.’—Hatchard, 1816.</h3> - -<p class='c019'>[‘Dedicated to those who have no Private Ends to accomplish, who are honestly -in search of Truth, for the purpose of ameliorating the Condition of Society, -and who have the firmness to follow the Truth wherever it may lead, without -being turned aside from the Pursuit by the Prepossessions or Prejudices -of any part of Mankind;—to Mr. Wilberforce, the Prince Regent,’ &c.]</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>August 4, 1816.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>‘A <em>New</em> View of Society’—No, Mr. Owen, that we deny. It -may be true, but it is not new. It is not coeval, whatever the author -<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>and proprietor may think, with the New Lanark mills, but it is as -old as the royal borough of Lanark, or as the county of Lanark -itself. It is as old as the ‘Political Justice’ of Mr. Godwin, as the -‘Oceana’ of Harrington, as the ‘Utopia’ of Sir Thomas More, as -the ‘Republic’ of Plato; it is as old as society itself, and as the -attempts to reform it by shewing what it ought to be, or by teaching -that the good of the whole is the good of the individual—an opinion -by which fools and honest men have been sometimes deceived, but -which has never yet taken in the knaves and knowing ones. The -doctrine of Universal Benevolence, the belief in the Omnipotence of -Truth, and in the Perfectibility of Human Nature, are not new, but -‘Old, old,’ Master Robert Owen;—why then do you say that they -are new? They are not only old, they are superannuated, they are -dead and buried, they are reduced to mummy, they are put into the -catacombs at Paris, they are sealed up in patent coffins, they have -been dug up again and anatomised, they have been drawn, quartered -and gibbetted, they have become black, dry, parched in the sun, -loose, and rotten, and are dispersed to all the winds of Heaven! -The chain in which they hung up the murdered corse of human -Liberty is all that remains of it, and my Lord Shallow keeps the -key of it! If Mr. Owen will get it out of his hands, with the aid -of Mr. Wilberforce and the recommendation of <cite>The Courier</cite>, we will -‘applaud him to the very echo, which shall applaud again.’ Till -then, we must content ourselves with ‘chaunting remnants of old -lauds’ in the manner of Ophelia:—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘No, no, he is gone, and we cast away moan,</div> - <div class='line'>And will he not come again,</div> - <div class='line'>And will he not come again?’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>Perhaps, one of these days, he may ... ‘like a cloud over the -Caspian’: then if ever, and never till then, human nature will hold -up its head again, and the holy and Triple Alliance will be dissolved. -But as to this bald spectre of Liberty and Necessity conjured up by -Mr. Owen from the falls of the Clyde, with a primer in one hand, and -a spinning-jenny in the other, coming down from the Highlands in a -Scotch mist, and discoverable only by second-sight, we may fairly -say to it—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold;</div> - <div class='line'>Thou hast no speculation in those eyes,</div> - <div class='line'>Which thou dost glare with.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Why does Mr. Owen put the word ‘New,’ in black-letter at the -head of the advertisements of his plan of reform? In what does -the New Lanark differ from the old Utopia? Is Scotland, after all, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>the true Lubber-land? Or must the whole world be converted into -a cotton-factory? Does not Mr. Owen know that the same scheme, -the same principles, the same philosophy of motives and actions, of -causes and consequences, of knowledge and virtue, of virtue and -happiness, were rife in the year 1793, were noised abroad then, were -spoken on the house-tops, were whispered in secret, were published -in quarto and duodecimo, in political treatises, in plays, poems, songs, -and romances—made their way to the bar, crept into the church, -ascended the rostrum, thinned the classes of the universities, and -robbed ‘Durham’s golden stalls’ of their hoped-for ornaments, by -sending our aspiring youth up to town to learn philosophy of the new -teachers of philosophy; that these ‘New Views of Society’ got into -the hearts of poets and the brains of metaphysicians, took possession -of the fancies of boys and women, and turned the heads of almost -the whole kingdom: but that there was one head which they never -got possession of, that turned the heads of the whole kingdom round -again, stopped the progress of philosophy and necessity by wondrous -fortitude, and that ‘thus repelled, <em>philosophy</em> fell into a sadness, then -into a fast, thence to a watching, then into a weakness, thence to a -lightness, and by this declension, to the lamentable state wherein it -now lies,’ hooted by the boys, laughed at by the women, spit at by -fools, trod upon by knaves, damned by poet-laureates, whined over -by maudlin metaphysicians, rhymed upon by mincing ballad-makers, -ridiculed in romances, belied in histories and travels, pelted by the -mob, sneered at by the court, driven from the country, kicked out -of society, and forced to take refuge and to lie snug for twenty years -in the New Lanark mills, with the connivance of the worthy -proprietor, among the tow and spindles; from whence he lets us -understand that it is coming up again to Whitehall-stairs, like a -spring-tide with the full of the moon, and floating on the blood that -has flowed for the restoration of the Bourbons, under the patronage -of the nobility, the gentry, Mr. Wilberforce, and the Prince Regent, -and all those who are governed, like these great personages, by no -other principle than truth, and no other wish than the good of mankind! -This puff will not take with us: we are old birds, not to be -caught with chaff: we shall not purchase in this new lottery, where -there are all prizes and no blanks! We are inclined to throw Mr. -Owen’s ‘New View,’ behind the fire-place, as we believe most people -do the letter they receive from the proprietors of the lucky lottery-office, -informing them that their ticket was drawn a blank the first -day, and in the postscript soliciting their future favours!</p> - -<p class='c010'>Mr. Owen may think that we have all this while been jesting, -when we have been in sad and serious earnest. Well, then, we will -<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>give him the reason why we differ with him, out of ‘an old saw,’ -as good as most ‘modern instances.’ It is contained in this -sentence:—‘If to do were as easy as to teach others what were -good to be done, chapels had been churches, and poor men’s cottages -princes’ palaces.’ Our author has discovered no new theory; he -has advanced no new reasons. The former reasons were never -answered, but the plan did not succeed. Why then does he think -<em>his</em> must? All that he has done has been to leave out the reasons -for his paradoxes, and to give his conclusions in capitals. This may -take for a time with Mr. Wilberforce and the Methodists, who like -hieroglyphics, but it cannot last. Here is a plan, strange as it may -seem, ‘a new View of Society,’ published by two of our most loyal -booksellers, and what is still more extraordinary, puffed in <cite>The -Courier</cite> as an extremely practical, practicable, solid, useful, and good -sort of work, which proposes no less than to govern the world -without religion and without law, by the force of reason alone! -This project is in one of its branches dedicated to the Prince Regent, -by which (if carried into effect) he would be stuck up in his life-time -as ‘a useless piece of antiquity’; and in another part is dedicated to -Mr. Wilberforce, though it would by the same rule convert that little -vital member of the community into ‘a monkey preacher,’ crying in -the wilderness with no one to hear him, and sneaking about between -his character and his conscience, in a state of ludicrous perplexity, as -indeed he always appears to be at present! What is most remarkable -is, that Mr. Owen is the first philosopher we ever heard of, who -recommended himself to the great by telling them disagreeable truths. -A man that comes all the way from the banks of the Clyde acquires -a projectile force that renders him irresistible. He has access, we -understand, to the men in office, to the members of parliament, to -lords and gentlemen. He comes to ‘pull an old house about their -ears,’ to batter down all their establishments, new or old, in church -or in state, civil, political, and military, and he quietly walks into -their houses with his credentials in his pocket, and reconciles them -to the prospect of the innumerable Houses of Industry he is about to -erect on the site of their present sinecures, by assuring them of the -certainty of his principles and the infallibility of his practice, in -building up and pulling down. His predecessors were clumsy -fellows; but he is an engineer, who will be sure to do their -business for them. He is not the man to set the Thames on fire, -but he will move the world, and New Lanark is the place he has -fixed his lever upon for this purpose. To shew that he goes roundly -to work with great people in developing his formidable system of the -formation of character, he asks, p. 7 of the second Essay,—</p> - -<p class='c010'><span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>‘How much longer shall we continue to allow generation after -generation to be taught crime from their infancy, and when so taught, -hunt them like beasts of the forest, until they are entangled beyond -escape in the toils and nets of the law? When, if the circumstances -from youth of these poor unpitied sufferers had been reversed with -those who are even surrounded with the pomp and dignity of justice, -these latter would have been at the bar of the culprit, and the former -would have been in the judgment-seat.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘Had the present Judges of these realms, whose conduct compels -the admiration of surrounding states, been born and educated in -St. Giles’s, or some similar situation, is it not reasonable to conclude, -as they possess native energies and abilities, that ere this they would -have been at the head of their <em>then</em> profession, and in consequence of -that superiority and proficiency, have already suffered imprisonment, -transportation, or death? Or can we for a moment hesitate to -decide, that if some of those men whom our laws, dispensed by -the present Judges, have doomed to suffer capital punishment, had -been born, trained, and surrounded as these Judges were born, -trained, and surrounded; that some of those so imprisoned, transported, -or hanged, would have been the identical individuals who -would have passed the same awful sentences <em>on our present highly -esteemed dignitaries of the law</em>?’</p> - -<p class='c010'>This is a delicate passage. So then according to the author of -the ‘New View of Society,’ the Prince Regent of these realms, -instead of being at the head of the allied sovereigns of Europe, -might, in other circumstances, have been at the head of a gang of -bravoes and assassins; Lord Castlereagh, on the same principle, and -by parity of reasoning, without any alteration in his nature or understanding, -but by the mere difference of situation, might have been a -second <em>Count Fathom</em>; Mr. Vansittart, the chancellor of the exchequer, -might, if he had turned his hand that way in time, have succeeded -on <em>the snaffling lay</em>, or as a pickpocket; Lord Wellington might -have entered houses, instead of entering kingdoms, by force; the -Lord-chancellor might have been a Jew-broker; the Marquis of -—— or Lord —— a bawd, and their sons, tapsters and bullies -at bagnios; the Queen (God bless her) might have been an old -washer-woman, taking her snuff and gin among her gossips, and her -daughters, if they had not been princesses, might have turned out no -better than they should be! Here’s a levelling rogue for you! -The world turned inside out, with a witness!—Such are Mr. Owen’s -general principles, to which we have nothing to say, and such his -mode of illustrating them in his prefaces and dedications, which we -do not think the most flattering to persons in power. We do not, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>however, wish him to alter his tone: he goes swimmingly on at -present, ‘with cheerful and confident thoughts.’ His schemes thus -far are tolerated, because they are remote, visionary, inapplicable. -Neither the great world nor the world in general care any thing -about New Lanark, nor trouble themselves whether the workmen -there go to bed drunk or sober, or whether the wenches are got with -child before or after the marriage ceremony. Lanark is distant, -Lanark is insignificant. Our statesmen are not afraid of the perfect -system of reform he talks of, and, in the meantime, his cant against -reform in parliament, and about Bonaparte, serves as a practical -diversion in their favour. But let the good which Mr. Owen says -he has done in one poor village be in danger of becoming general,—let -his plan for governing men by reason, without the assistance of -the dignitaries of the church and the dignitaries of the law, but once -get wind and be likely to be put in practice, and his dreams of -elevated patronage will vanish. Long before he has done as much -to overturn bigotry and superstition in this country, as he says -Bonaparte did on the continent, (though he thinks the restoration of -what was thus overturned also a great blessing) Mr. Wilberforce will -have cut his connection. When we see Mr. Owen brought up for -judgment before Lord Ellenborough, or standing in the pillory, we -shall begin to think there is something in this <cite>New Lanark Scheme</cite> of -his. On the other hand, if he confines himself to general principles, -steering clear of practice, the result will be the same, if ever his -principles become sufficiently known and admired. Let his ‘New -View of Society’ but make as many disciples as the ‘Enquiry -concerning Political Justice,’ and we shall soon see how the tide will -turn about. There will be a fine hue and cry raised by all <em>the good -and wise</em>, by all ‘those acute minds’ who, Mr. Owen tells us, have -not been able to find a flaw in his reasonings, but who will soon -discover a flaw in his reputation. Dr. Parr will preach a Spital -sermon against him; lectures will be delivered in Lincoln’s Inn -Hall, to prove that a perfect man is such another chimera as a golden -mountain; Mr. Malthus will set up his two checks of vice and -misery as insuperable bars against him; Mr. Southey will put him -into the ‘Quarterly Review’; his name will be up in the newspapers, -<cite>The Times</cite>, <cite>The Courier</cite>, and <cite>The Morning Post</cite>; the three estates -will set their faces against him; he will be marked as a Jacobin, a -leveller, an incendiary, in all parts of the three kingdoms; he will be -avoided by his friends, and become a bye-word to his enemies; his -brother magistrates of the county of Lanark will refuse to sit on the -bench with him; the spindles of his spinning-jennies will no longer -turn on their soft axles; he will have gone out for wool, and will go -<span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>home shorn; and he will find that it is not so easy or safe a task as -he imagined to make fools wise, and knaves honest; in short, to -make mankind understand their own interests, or those who govern -them care for any interest but their own. Otherwise, all this matter -would have been settled long ago. As it is, things will most -probably go on as they have done, till some comet comes with its -tail; and on the eve of some grand and radical reform, puts an end -to the question.</p> - -<h3 class='c003'><span class='sc'>The Speech of Charles C. Western</span>, Esq. M.P. <em>on the Distressed State of the Agriculture of the Country, delivered in the House of Commons, March 7, 1816</em>.<br /> <br /> <span class='sc'>The Speech of Henry Brougham</span>, Esq. M.P. <em>on the same subject, delivered in the same place, April 9, 1816</em>.</h3> - -<p class='c008'>This is a sore subject; and it is here handled with much tenderness -and delicacy. It puts one in mind of the traveller’s nose, and the -nuns of Strasburgh, in the tale of Slaukenbergius. ‘I will touch it, -said one; I dare not touch it, said another; I wish I had touched -it, said a third; let me touch it, said a fourth.’ While the gentlewomen -were debating the point, the traveller with the great nose -rode on. It would be no ungracious task to treat of the distresses of -the country, if all were distressed alike; but that is not the case; -nor is it possible to trace the necessities of one part of the community -to their source, or to hint at a remedy, without glancing invidiously -at the superfluities of others. ‘Aye, there’s the rub, that makes -calamity of so long life.’ The speeches before us are to the subject -what a veil is to a lady’s face, or a blind to a window. Almost all -that has been said or written upon it is a palpable delusion—an -attempt to speak out and say nothing; to oppose something that -might be done, and propose something that cannot be done; to direct -attention to the subject, and divert it from it; to do something and -nothing; and to come to this potent conclusion, that while nothing -<em>is done</em>, nothing <em>can be done</em>. ‘But have you then any remedy to -propose instead?’ What sort of a remedy do you mean? ‘Oh, -one equally safe and efficacious, that shall set every thing to rights, -and leave every thing just as it is, that does not touch either the -tythes or the national debt, nor places and pensions, nor property of -any kind, except the poor’s fund; <em>that</em> you may take from them to -make them independent of the rich, as you leave Lord Camden in -possession of thirty thousand a year to make him independent of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>poor.’—Why, then, what if the Lord Chancellor and the Chancellor -of the Exchequer were to play a game at push-pin on the top of -St. Paul’s; or if Mr. Brougham and Mr. Horner were to play at -cat’s-cradle on the top of the Monument; or if the little garden -between the Speaker’s house and the river-side were to be sown with -pearls and cockle-shells? Or if——Pshaw! Patience, and shuffle -the cards.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The great problem of our great problem-finders appears to be, <em>to -take nothing from the rich, and give it to the poor</em>. That will never do. -We find them and their schemes of diversion well described in -Rabelais, book v. chap. xxii.</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c020'> - <div>‘<em>How Queen Whim’s Officers were employed, and how the said Lady retained us among her Abstractors.</em></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c016'>‘I then saw a great number of the Queen’s officers, who made -blackamoors white, as fast as hops, just rubbing their bellies with the -bottom of a pannier.</p> - -<p class='c016'>‘Others, with three couples of foxes in one yoke, ploughed a -sandy shore, and did not lose their seed.</p> - -<p class='c016'>‘Others washed burnt tiles, and made them lose their colour.</p> - -<p class='c016'>‘Others extracted water out of pumice-stones, braying them a -good while in a mortar, and changed their substance.</p> - -<p class='c016'>‘Others sheered asses, and thus got long fleece wool.</p> - -<p class='c016'>‘Others gathered off of thorns grapes, and figs off of thistles.</p> - -<p class='c016'>‘Others stroked he-goats by the dugs, and saved their milk, and -much they got by it.</p> - -<p class='c016'>‘Others washed asses’ heads, without losing their soap.</p> - -<p class='c016'>‘Others taught cows to dance, and did not lose their fiddling.</p> - -<p class='c016'>‘Others pitched nets to catch the wind, and took cock lobsters -in them.</p> - -<p class='c016'>‘Others out of nothing made great things, and made great things -return to nothing.</p> - -<p class='c016'>‘Others made a virtue of necessity, and the best of a bad market; -which seemed to me a very good piece of work.</p> - -<p class='c016'>‘I saw two Gibroins by themselves, keeping watch on the top of a -tower; and we were told they guarded the moon from the wolves.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>The war has cost the country five or six hundred millions of -money. This has not been a nominal expense, a playing at ducks -and drakes with the King’s picture on the water, or a manufacturing -of bank-notes, and then lighting our pipes with them, but a real -<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">bonâ fide</span></i> waste of the means, wealth, labour, produce, or resources -<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>of the country, in the carrying on of the war. About one hundred -of these five or six hundred millions have been sent directly out of -the country in loans to our Allies, from the year 1793 to the year -1815, inclusive, during which period there is not a single year in -which we did not (from our desire of peace with the legitimate -government of that country) subsidise one or all of the powers of -Europe, to carry on war against the rebels, regicides, republicans, -and usurpers of France. Now the interest of this money alone -would be five millions yearly, which would be nearly enough to pay -the amount of the poor-rates of the whole country, which is seven -millions of our yearly taxes, or might at least be applied to mitigate -the mild severity of Mr. Malthus’s sweeping clauses on that defenceless -part of the subject. Here is a hundred millions then gone clean -out of the country: there are four or five hundred millions more -which have been sunk in the expenses of the war, and which might -as well have been sunk in the sea; or what has been saved out of the -wreck by those who have been most active in running the vessel -aground, is in the hands of persons who are in no hurry that the -public should go snacks with them in their excessive good fortune. -In all three cases, and under each several head of loans, waste, or -monopoly, John Bull pays the piper, or the interest of the whole -money in taxes. He is just so many hundred millions the worse for -the war, (whoever may be the better for it) not merely in paper, -which would be nothing, nor in golden guineas, which would be -something; but in what is better and more substantial than either, in -goods and chattels, in the produce of the soil, and the work of his -hands—in the difference between what the industry of man, left to -itself, produces in time of peace for the benefit of man, and what the -same industry, under the direction of government, produces in time -of war for the destruction of others, without any benefit to himself, -real, imaginary, or pretended; we mean in a physical and economical -point of view, which is here the question—a question, which seems -to last when the religion, politics, and morality of the affair are over. -We have said that the expenses of the war might as well have been -sunk in the sea; and so they might, for they have been sunk in -unproductive labour, that is, in maintaining large establishments, and -employing great numbers of men in doing nothing or mischief; for -example, in making ships to destroy other ships, guns and gunpowder -to blow out men’s brains, pikes and swords to run them through the -body, drums and fifes to drown the noise of cannon and the whizzing -of bullets; in making caps and coats to deck the bodies of those who -live by killing others; in buying up pork and beef, butter and cheese, -to enable them to do this with more effect: in barracks, in transport-ships, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>in baggage and baggage-waggons, in horses, bridles and saddles, -in suttlers and followers of the camp, in chaplains of the regiment, in -common trulls, and the mistresses of generals and commanders in -chief; in contractors, in army and navy agents, their partners, clerks, -relations, dependants, wives, families, servants in and out of livery, -their town and country houses, coaches, curricles, parks, gardens, -grottos, hot-houses, green-houses, pictures, statues, libraries; in treasury -scribes, in secretaries and under-secretaries of state, of the foreign, -colonial, and war departments, with their swarms of underlings, all of -whom are maintained out of the labour and sweat of the country, and -for all of whom, and for all that they do (put together) the country -is not one pin the better, or at least, one penny more in pocket, than -if they were at the bottom of the Channel. The present may have -been the most just and necessary war, in a political, moral, and -religious point of view, that ever was engaged in; but it has also -been the most expensive; and what is worse, the expense remains -just the same, though it may have been the most unjust and unnecessary -in the world. We have paid for it, and we must pay for -it equally in either case, and wholly out of our own pockets. The -price of restoring the Pope, the Inquisition, the Bourbons, and the -doctrine of Divine Right, is half of our nine hundred millions of -debt. That is the amount of the government bill of costs, presented -to John Bull for payment, not of the principal but the interest; that is -what he has got by the war; the load of taxes at his back, with which -he comes out of his glorious five and twenty years’ struggle, like -Christian’s load of sins, which whether it will not fall off from his -back like Christian’s, into the Slough of Despond, will be seen before -long. The difference between the expense of a war or a peace -establishment is just the difference between a state of productive and -unproductive labour. Now this whole question, which from its -complexity puzzles many people, and has given rise to a great deal -of partly wilful and partly shallow sophistry,<a id='r20' /><a href='#f20' class='c011'><sup>[20]</sup></a> may be explained in -two words.—Suppose I give a man five shillings a day for going out -in a boat and catching fish for me. This is paying for productive -labour: that is, I give him so much for what he does, or a claim -upon so much of the public stock: but in taking so much from the -stock by laying out his five shillings, he adds so much to it by his -labour, or the disposal of his time in catching fish. But if I, having -the money to do what I please with, give him five shillings a day -for shooting at crows, he is paid equally for his trouble, and -accordingly takes so much from the public stock, while he adds -<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>nothing to it but so much carrion. So if the government pay him so -much a-day for shooting at Frenchmen and Republicans, this is a tax, -a loss, a burthen to the country, without any thing got by it; for we -cannot, after all, eat Frenchmen and Republicans when we have -killed them. War in itself is a thriving, sensible traffic only to -cannibals! Again—if I give a man five shillings for making a pair -of shoes, this is paying for productive labour, viz. for labour that is -useful, and that must be performed by some one; but if I give the -same man five shillings for standing on his head or behind my chair -while I am picking my teeth, or for running up a hill and down again -for a wager—this is unproductive labour, nothing comes of it, and -though the man who is thus idly employed lives by it, others starve, -upon whose pittance and whose labour he lives through me. Such -is the nature and effect of war; all the energies of which tend to -waste, and to throw an additional and heavy burthen upon the -country, in proportion to the extent and length of time that it is -carried on. It creates so many useless members of the community: -every man paid by the war out of the taxes paid by the people, is, -in fact, a dead body fastened to a living one, that by its weight drags -it to the earth. A five and twenty years’ war, and nine hundred -millions of debt, are really a couple of millstones round the neck of -a country, that must naturally press her down a little in the scale of -prosperity. That seems to be no riddle. We defy any sophist to -answer this statement of the necessary tendency of war in its general -principle to ruin and impoverish a country. We are not to wonder, -when it does so; but when other causes operate to counteract or -retard this tendency. What is extraordinary in our own case is, -that the pernicious effects of war have been delayed so long, not that -they have come upon us at last.<a id='r21' /><a href='#f21' class='c011'><sup>[21]</sup></a>—That money laid out in war is -thrown away is self-evident from this single circumstance, that -government never refund. The reason is, because they never do -any thing with their money that produces money again. They are -the worst bankers in the world. The Exchequer is a true Sinking -Fund. If you lend money to a farmer, a manufacturer, a merchant, -he employs it in getting something done, for which others will pay, -because it is useful; as in raising corn, in weaving cotton, in bringing -home sugar or tobacco. But money sunk in a war brings in no -returns—except of killed and wounded. What will any one give -<span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>the government for the rotten bones that lie buried at Walcheren, or -the dry ones at Waterloo? Not a six-pence. They cannot make a -collection of wooden legs or dangling sleeves from the hospitals at -Greenwich or Chelsea to set up a raffle or a lottery. They cannot -bring the fruits of the war to auction, or put up the tottering throne of -the Bourbons to the best bidder. They can neither bring back a drop -of the blood that has been shed, nor recover a shilling of the treasure -that has been wasted. If the expenses of the war are not a burden -to the people, which must sink it according to their weight, why do -not government take the whole of this thriving concern into their own -hands, and pay the national debt out of the Droits of Admiralty? -In short, the way to ascertain this point is, by the old method of -<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">reductio ad absurdum</span></i>: Suppose we had to pay the expenses of such -another peace-establishment and such another war. Who does not -see that they would eat up the whole resources of the country, as the -present peace-establishment and actual debt do just one half?</p> - -<h4 class='c017'><span class='sc'>Speeches in Parliament on the Distresses of the Country</span>, <em>by</em> <span class='sc'>Mr. Western</span> <em>and</em> <span class='sc'>Mr. Brougham</span>.</h4> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div><span class='small'>(CONCLUDED)</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Come, let us leave off children’s play, and go to push-pin.’</div> - <div class='line in48'><cite>Polite Conversation.</cite></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Aug. 18, 1816.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>The war has wasted the resources of the country in foolery, which -the country has now to pay for in a load of taxes on its remaining -resources, its actual produce and labour. The tax-gatherer is a -government-machine that takes sixty-five millions a-year from the -bankrupt pockets of the nation, to give to those who have brought -it into that situation; who takes so much from the necessaries of -life belonging to the poor, to add to the superfluities of the rich; -who adds so much to the hard labour of the working part of the -community, to ‘relieve the killing languor and over-laboured lassitude -of those who have nothing to do’; who, in short, out of the grinding -poverty and ceaseless toil of those who pay the taxes, enables those -who receive them to live in luxury and idleness.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Mr. Burke, whom we have just quoted, has said, that ‘if the poor -were to cut the throats of the rich, they would not have a meal the -more for it.’ First, (for truth is the first thing in our thoughts, and -not to give offence the second) this is a falsehood; a greater one -than the answer of a Bond-street lounger, who coming out of a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>confectioner’s shop, where he has had a couple of basons of turtle-soup, -an ice, some jellies, and a quantity of pastry, as he saunters out -picking his teeth and putting the change into his pocket, says to a -beggar at the door, ‘I have nothing for you.’ We confess, we have -always felt it an aukward circumstance to be accosted in this manner, -when we have been caught in the act of indulging a sweet tooth, and -it costs us an additional penny. The rich and poor may at present -be compared to the two classes of frequenters of pastry-cooks’ shops, -those on the outside and those on the in. We would seriously -advise the latter, who see the gaunt faces staring at them through -the glass-door, to recollect, that though custard is nicer than bread, -bread is the greatest necessary of the two.—We had forgot Mr. -Burke’s sophism, to which we reply in the second place, that the -cutting of throats is a figure of speech, like the dagger which he -produced in the House of Commons, not necessary to the speculative -decision of the question. The most civil, peaceable, and complaisant -way of putting it is this—whether if the rich were to give all that -they are worth to the poor, the latter would be none the richer for -it? If so, the rich would be none the poorer, and so far could be -no losers on Mr. Burke’s own hypothesis, which supposes, with that -magnanimity of contempt for plain matter of fact which distinguished -the author’s theories, that the rich have nothing, and the poor have -every thing? Had not Mr. Burke a pension of 4000<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">l.</span></i> a-year? -Was this nothing? But even this is not the question neither. It is -not, whether if the rich were to part with all they have to the poor -(which is a mere absurdity) but whether if the rich do not take all -they have left from the poor (which we humbly hope is a proposition -that has common sense in it) the latter may not be the better off with -something to live upon than with nothing? Whether, if the whole -load of taxes could be taken off from them, it would not be a relief -to them? Whether, if half the load of taxes were taken off from -them, it would not be a relief to them? Whether, if any part of the -load of taxes that can be taken off from them were taken off, it would -not in the same proportion be a relief to them? We will venture to -say, that no one will deny these propositions who does not receive -so much a year for falsehood and impudence. The resistance which -is made to the general or abstract principle is not intended to prevent -the extreme sweeping application of that principle to the plundering -or (as Mr. Burke will have it) to the cutting the throats of the -rich, but it is a manœuvre, by getting rid of the general principle -altogether, viz. that the extravagance and luxury of the rich, -war, taxes, &c., have a tendency to increase the distresses of the -poor, or measures of retrenchment and reform to lighten those -<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>distresses—to give <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">carte-blanche</span></i> to the government to squander the -wealth, the blood, the happiness of the nation at pleasure; to grant -jobs, places, pensions, sinecures, reversions without end, to grind -down, to starve and impoverish the country with systematic impunity. -It is a legerdemain trick played off by hireling politicians, to enable -their patrons and employers to pick our pockets and laugh in our -faces at the same time.</p> - -<p class='c010'>It has been said by such persons that taxes are not a burthen to -the country; that the wealth collected in taxes returns through those -who receive to those who pay them, only divided more equally and -beneficially among all parties, just (they say) as the vapours and -moisture of the earth collected in the clouds return to enrich the soil -in soft and fertilizing showers. We shall set ourselves to shew that -this is not true.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Suppose a society of ten persons, without taxes to pay, and who -live on their own labour, on the produce of the ground, and the -exchange of one commodity among themselves for another. Some -of these persons will be naturally employed in tilling the ground, -others in tending cattle, others, in making instruments of husbandry, -others in weaving cloth, others in making shoes, others in building -houses, others in making roads, others in buying and selling, others -in fetching and carrying what the others want. All will be employed -in something that they want themselves, or that others want. In -such a state of society, nothing will be given for nothing. If a man -has a bushel of wheat, and only wants half of it, he will give the -other half to some one, for making him a coat or a pair of shoes. As -every one will be paid for what he does out of the earnings of the labour -of others, no one will waste his time or his strength in doing any thing -that is not wanted by some one else, that is not as useful and necessary, -to his subsistence and comfort, and more so, than the commodity -which he gives in exchange for it. There will be no unproductive -labour. What each person gets will be either in proportion to what -he has done for himself, or what he has added to the comforts of -others. Exchange there will be no robbery. The wealth of all -will be the result of the exertions of each individual, and will -circulate equally and beneficially, because those who produce that -wealth will share it among themselves. This is an untaxed state of -society, where wealth changes hands indeed, but finds its level, -notwithstanding.—Now suppose two other individuals to be fastened -upon this society of ten persons—a government-man and a fund-holder. -They change the face of it in an instant. The equilibrium, -the balance is upset. The amount of the wealth of the society before -was a thousand pounds a-year, suppose. The two new-comers take -<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>a writ out of their pockets, by which they quietly lay hands on five -hundred of it as their fair portion. Where are the ten persons now? -Mr. Burke, Mr. Coleridge, Mr. Vansittart, <cite>The Courier</cite>, say—Just -where they were before! We say, No such thing. For three -reasons: 1. It cannot be denied that the interlopers, the government-man -and his friend, the fund-holder, who has lent him money to -sport with on all occasions, are substantial <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">bonâ fide</span></i> persons, like other -men, who live by eating, drinking, &c., and who, if they only -shared equally with the other ten what they had got amongst them, -(for they add nothing to the common stock) must be a sufficient -burthen upon the rest, that is, must diminish the comforts or increase -the labour of each person one-fifth. To hear the other side talk, one -would suppose that those who raise and are paid out of the taxes -never touch a farthing of them, that they have no occasion for them, -that they neither eat nor drink, nor buy clothing, or build houses -with them; that they live upon air, or that harmless food, bank -notes (a thing not to speak of), and that all the money they are so -anxious to collect is distributed by them again for the sole benefit of -others, or passes back through the Exchequer, as if it were a conduit-pipe -or empty tunnel, into the hands of the original proprietors, -without diminution or diversion. Now this is not so. 2. Not only -do our government-man and his friend live like other people upon -their means, but they live better than other people, for they have -better means, that is, these two take half of what the other ten get. -They would be fools if they gave it back to them; no, depend upon -it, they lay out their five hundred a-year upon themselves, for their own -sole use, benefit, pleasure, mirth, and pastime. For each of these -gentlemen has just five times as much to spend as any of those that -he lives upon at free cost, and he has nothing to do but to think how -he shall spend it. He eats and drinks as much as he can, and -always of the best and most costly. It is pretended that the -difference in the consumption of the produce of the soil is little or -nothing, for a poor man’s belly will hold as much as a rich man’s. -But not if the one is full and the other empty. The man who lives -upon the taxes, feasts upon venison and turtle, and crams himself to -the throat with fish, flesh, and fowl; the man who pays the taxes, -upon a crust of mouldy bread, and fat rusty bacon: the man who -receives the taxes drinks rich and sparkling wines, hock and canary; -the man who pays them, sour small beer. If the poor man gets -drunk and leads an idle life, his family starve: the rich man drinks -his three bottles a day and does nothing, while his family live on -the fat of the land. If the poor man dies of hard labour and poor -living, his family comes to the parish; if the rich man dies of hard -<span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>living and want of exercise, he leaves his family to be provided for -by the state. But, 3. All that the government-man and the fund-holder -do not spend upon their bellies, in revelling and gormandising, -they lay out upon their backs, their houses, their carriages, &c., in -inordinate demands upon the labour of the former ten persons, who -are now employed, not in working for one another, but in pampering -the pride, ostentation, vanity, folly, or vices, of our two gentlemen -comers. After glutting their physical appetites, they take care to -apply all the rest to the gratification of their factitious, arbitrary, and -fantastic wants, which are unlimited, and which the universe could -not supply. ‘They toil not, neither do they spin, and yet even -Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these:’—while -the poor are clothed in rags, and the dogs lick up their sores. The -money that is taken from you and me, or the more industrious -members of the community, and that we should have laid out in -having snug, comfortable houses built for us all, or two bed-rooms for -our families instead of one, is employed, now that it has got into the -tax-gatherer’s hands, in hiring the same persons to build two enormous -houses for the government-man and the fund-holder, who live in -palaces while we live in hovels. What are we, the people, the -original ten men, the better for that? The taxes enable those who -receive them to pay our masons, carpenters, &c., for working for -them. If we had not been forced to pay the money in taxes, the -same persons would have been employed by us for our common -benefit. Suppose the government-man takes it into his head to build -a colossus, a rotunda, a pyramid, or anything else equally absurd and -gigantic, it would, we say, be a nuisance in proportion to its size. It -would be ten times as great a nuisance if it was ten times bigger. If -it covered a whole county, it would ruin the landed interest. If it -was spread over the whole country, the country must starve. When the -government-man and the fund-holder have got their great houses built, -they must next have them furnished with proportionable magnificence, -and by the same means; with Persian and Turkey carpets, with -Egyptian sofas, down beds, silk curtains, china vases, services of plate, -tables, chairs, stoves, glasses, mirrors, chandeliers, paper hangings, -pictures, busts, ornaments, kickshaws without number, while you and -I live on a mud floor, with bare walls, stuck with a penny ballad, with -a joint-stool to sit upon, a tea-pot without a tea-spout to drink out of, -a truckle-bed or some straw and a blanket to lie upon! Yet Mr. -Burke says, that if we were suddenly converted into state-pensioners -with thirty-thousand a year, we could not furnish our houses a bit the -better for it. This is like Lord Peter, in the Tale of a Tub. Then -the government-man and his friend must have their train of coaches, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>horses, dogs, footmen dressed in blue, green, yellow, and red, lazy -rascals, making work for the taylor, the hatter, the shoemaker, the -button-maker, the hair-dresser, the gold and silver laceman, to powder, -dress, and trick them out, that they may lounge behind their mistresses’ -coaches, walk before their sedan chairs, help on their master’s stockings, -block up his doors, and perform a variety of little nameless -offices, much to the ease and satisfaction of the great, but not of the -smallest benefit to any one else. With respect to the article of dogs -and horses, a word in Mr. Malthus’s ear. They come under the -head of consumption, and a swinging item they are. They eat up -the food of the children of the poor. The pleasure and coach-horses -kept in this kingdom consume as much of the produce of the soil as -would maintain all the paupers in it. Let a tax be laid upon them -directly, to defray the expense of the poor-rates, and to suspend the -operation of Mr. Malthus’s geometrical and arithmetical ratios. We -see no physical necessity why that ingenious divine should put a stop -to the propagation of the species, that he may keep two sleek geldings -in his stable. We have lately read Swift’s account of the Houynhyms -and Yahoos. There is some truth in it; but still it has not reconciled -us to Mr. Malthus’s proposal of starving the children of the poor to -feed the horses of the rich. But no more of that! We have said -enough at present to shew how the taxes fly away with the money of -a nation; how they go into the hands of the government-man and the -fund-holder, and do not return into the pockets of the people, who -pay them. For the future, Mr. Burke’s assertion, that the taxes -are like the vapours that ascend into the clouds and return to the -earth in fertilizing showers, may pass for an agreeable metaphor, but -for nothing more. A pretty joke truly, this, of the people’s receiving -their taxes back again in payment for what the rich want of them. -It is as if I should buy a pound of beef in a butcher’s shop, and take -the money out of his own till to pay him! It is as if a bill is -presented to me for payment, and I ask the notary for the money to -take it up with! It is as if a Noble Earl was to win 50,000<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">l.</span></i> of a -Noble Duke over-night, and offer to return it to him the next morning, -for one of his estates! It is as if Mr. Burke had been robbed of a -bond for 4000<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">l.</span></i> and the fortunate possessor had offered to restore it, -on receiving in lieu his house and gardens at Beaconsfield! Having -thus pointed out the nature of the distress, we need not inquire far for -the remedy.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span> - <h3 class='c003'><span class='sc'>A Lay-Sermon on the Distresses of the Country</span>, <em>addressed to the Middle and Higher Orders</em>. <em>By</em> S. T. Coleridge, <em>Esq.</em> Printed for Gale and Fenner, price 1<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">s.</span></i><a id='r22' /><a href='#f22' class='c011'><sup>[22]</sup></a></h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in20'>——‘Function</div> - <div class='line'>Is smother’d in surmise, and nothing is</div> - <div class='line'>But what is not.’</div> - <div class='line'>‘Or in Franciscan think to pass disguis’d.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Sept. 8, 1816.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>This Lay-Sermon puts us in mind of Mahomet’s coffin, which was -suspended between heaven and earth, or of the flying island at -Laputa, which hovered over the head of Gulliver. The ingenious -author, in a preface, which is a masterpiece in its kind, having neither -beginning, middle, nor end, apologizes for having published a work, -not a line of which is written, or ever likely to be written. He has, -it seems, resorted to this expedient as the only way of appearing -before the public in a manner worthy of himself and his genius, and -descants on the several advantages to be derived from this original -mode of composition;—That as long as he does not put pen to paper, -the first sentence cannot contradict the second; that neither his -reasonings nor his conclusions can be liable to objection, <em>in the abstract</em>; -that <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">omne ignotum pro magnifico est</span></i>, is an axiom laid down by some of -the best and wisest men of antiquity; that hitherto his performance, -in the opinion of his readers, has fallen short of the vastness of his -designs, but that no one can find fault with what he does not write; -that while he merely haunts the public imagination with obscure noises, -or by announcing his spiritual appearance for the next week, and does -not venture out <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">in propria persona</span></i> with his shroud and surplice on, the -Cock-lane Ghost of mid-day, he may escape in a whole skin without -being handled by the mob, or uncased by the critics; and he considers -it the safest way to keep up the importance of his oracular communications, -by letting them remain a profound secret both to himself and -the world.</p> - -<p class='c010'>In this instance, we think the writer’s modesty has led him into a -degree of unnecessary precaution. We see no sort of difference -between his published and his unpublished compositions. It is just as -impossible to get at the meaning of the one as the other. No man ever -yet gave Mr. Coleridge ‘a penny for his thoughts.’ His are all -<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>maiden ideas; immaculate conceptions. He is the ‘Secret Tattle’ of -the press. Each several work exists only in the imagination of the -author, and is quite inaccessible to the understandings of his readers—‘Yet -virgin of Proserpina from Jove.’—We can give just as good -a guess at the design of this Lay-Sermon, which is not published, as -of <cite>the Friend</cite>, the Preliminary Articles in <cite>the Courier</cite>, <cite>the Watchman</cite>, -<cite>the <span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Conciones ad Populum</span></cite>, or any of the other courtly or popular -publications of the same author. Let the experiment be tried, and if, -on committing the manuscript to the press, the author is caught in the -fact of a single intelligible passage, we will be answerable for Mr. -Coleridge’s loss of character. But we know the force of his genius -too well. What is his <cite>Friend</cite> itself but an enormous title-page; the -longest and most tiresome prospectus that ever was written; an endless -preface to an imaginary work; a table of contents that fills the whole -volume; a huge bill of fare of all possible subjects, with not an idea -to be had for love or money? One number consists of a grave-faced -promise to perform something impossible in the next; and the next is -taken up with a long-faced apology for not having done it. Through -the whole of this work, Mr. Coleridge appears in the character of -the Unborn Doctor; the very Barmecide of knowledge; the Prince -of preparatory authors!</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘He never is—but always to be <em>wise</em>.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>He is the Dog in the Manger of literature, an intellectual Mar-Plot, -who will neither let any body else come to a conclusion, nor come to -one himself.<a id='r23' /><a href='#f23' class='c011'><sup>[23]</sup></a> This gentleman belongs to the class of eclectic philosophers; -but whereas they professed to examine different systems, in -order to select what was good in each, our perverse critic ransacks all -past or present theories, to pick out their absurdities, and to abuse -whatever is good in them. He takes his notions of religion from the -‘sublime piety’ of Jordano Bruno, and considers a belief in a God as -a very subordinate question to the worship of the Three Persons of -the Trinity. The thirty-nine articles and St. Athanasius’s creed are, -upon the same principle, much more fundamental parts of the Christian -religion than the miracles or gospel of Christ. He makes the -essence of devotion to consist in Atheism, the perfection of morality -in a total disregard of consequences. He refers the great excellence -of the British Constitution to the prerogative of the Crown, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>conceives that the old French Constitution must have been admirably -defended by the States-General, which never met, from the abuses of -arbitrary power. He highly approves of <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ex officio</span></i> informations and -special juries, as the great bulwarks of the liberty of the press; taxes -he holds to be a providential relief to the distresses of the people, and -war to be a state of greater security than peace. He defines -Jacobinism to be an abstract attachment to liberty, truth, and justice; -and finding that this principle has been abused or carried to excess, -he argues that Anti-jacobinism, or the abstract principles of despotism, -superstition, and oppression, are the safe, sure, and undeniable remedy -for the former, and the only means of restoring liberty, truth, and -justice in the world. Again, he places the seat of truth in <em>the heart</em>, -of virtue in <em>the head</em>; damns a tragedy as shocking that draws tears -from the audience, and pronounces a comedy to be inimitable, if -nobody laughs at it; labours to unsettle the plainest things by far-fetched -sophistry, and makes up for the want of proof in matters of -fact by the mechanical operations of the spirit. He judges of men as -he does of things. He would persuade you that Sir Isaac Newton -was a money-scrivener, Voltaire dull, Bonaparte a poor creature, and -the late Mr. Howard a misanthrope; while he pays a willing homage -to the Illustrious Obscure, of whom he always carries a list in his -pocket. His creed is formed not from a distrust and disavowal of -the exploded errors of other systems, but from a determined rejection -of their acknowledged excellences. It is a transposition of reason -and common sense. He adopts all the vulnerable points of belief as -the triumphs of his fastidious philosophy, and holds a general retainer -for the defence of all contradictions in terms and impossibilities in -practice. He is at cross-purposes with himself as well as others, and -discards his own caprices if ever he suspects there is the least ground -for them. Doubt succeeds to doubt, cloud rolls over cloud, one -paradox is driven out by another still greater, in endless succession. -He is equally averse to the prejudices of the vulgar, the paradoxes of -the learned, or the habitual convictions of his own mind. He moves -in an unaccountable diagonal between truth and falsehood, sense and -nonsense, sophistry and common-place, and only assents to any opinion -when he knows that all the reasons are against it. A matter of fact -is abhorrent to his nature: the very <em>air</em> of truth repels him. He is -only saved from the extremities of absurdity by combining them all -in his own person. Two things are indispensable to him—to set out -from no premises, and to arrive at no conclusion. The consciousness -of a single certainty would be an insupportable weight upon his mind. -He slides out of a logical deduction by the help of metaphysics: and -if the labyrinths of metaphysics did not afford him ‘ample scope and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>verge enough,’ he would resort to necromancy and the cabbala. He -only tolerates the science of astronomy for the sake of its connection -with the dreams of judicial astrology, and escapes from the <cite><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Principia</span></cite> -of Newton to the jargon of Lily and Ashmole. All his notions are -floating and unfixed, like what is feigned of the first forms of things -flying about in search of bodies to attach themselves to; but <em>his</em> ideas -seek to avoid all contact with solid substances. Innumerable evanescent -thoughts dance before him, and dazzle his sight, like insects in -the evening sun. Truth is to him a ceaseless round of contradictions: -he lives in the belief of a perpetual lie, and in affecting to think what -he pretends to say. His mind is in a constant estate of flux and -reflux: he is like the Sea-horse in the Ocean; he is the Man in the -Moon, the Wandering Jew.—The reason of all this is, that Mr. -Coleridge has great powers of thought and fancy, without will or -sense. He is without a strong feeling of the existence of any thing -out of himself; and he has neither purposes nor passions of his own -to make him wish it to be. All that he does or thinks is involuntary; -even his perversity and self-will are so. They are nothing but a -necessity of yielding to the slightest motive. Everlasting inconsequentiality -marks all that he attempts. All his impulses are loose, -airy, devious, casual. The strongest of his purposes is lighter than -the gossamer, ‘that wantons in the idle summer-air’: the brightest of -his schemes a bubble blown by an infant’s breath, that rises, glitters, -bursts in the same instant:—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Or like the Borealis race,</div> - <div class='line'>That flit ere you can mark their place:</div> - <div class='line'>Or like the snow falls in the river,</div> - <div class='line'>A moment white, then gone for ever.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>His mind has infinite activity, which only leads him into numberless -chimeras; and infinite resources, which not being under the guidance -of his will, only distract and perplex him. His genius has angel’s -wings; but neither hands nor feet. He soars up to heaven, circles -the empyrean, or dives to the centre of the earth, but he neither lays -his hands upon the treasures of the one, nor can find a resting place for -his feet in the other. He is no sooner borne to the utmost point of -his ambition, than he is hurried away from it again by the same -fantastic impulse, or his own specific levity. He has all the faculties -of the human mind but one, and yet without that one, the rest only -impede and interfere with each other—‘Like to a man on double -business bound who both neglects.’ He would have done better if -he had known less. His imagination thus becomes metaphysical, his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>metaphysics fantastical, his wit heavy, his arguments light, his poetry -prose, his prose poetry, his politics turned—but not to account. He -belongs to all parties and is of service to none. He gives up his -independence of mind, and yet does not acquire independence of -fortune. He offends others without satisfying himself, and equally by -his servility and singularity, shocks the prejudices of all about him. -If he had had but common moral principle, that is, sincerity, he -would have been a great man; nor hardly, as it is, appears to us—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Less than arch-angel ruined, and the excess</div> - <div class='line'>Of glory obscur’d.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>We lose our patience when we think of the powers that he has wasted, -and compare them and their success with those, for instance, of such -a fellow as the ——, all whose ideas, notions, apprehensions, comprehensions, -feelings, virtues, genius, skill, are comprised in the two -words which <em>Peachum</em> describes as necessary qualifications in his gang, -‘To stand himself and bid others stand!’</p> - -<p class='c010'>When his six Irish friends, the six Irish gentlemen, Mr. Makins, -Mr. Dunkley, Mr. Monaghan, Mr. Gollogher, Mr. Gallaspy, and -Mr. O’Keeffe, after an absence of several years, discovered their old -acquaintance John Buncle, sitting in a mixed company at Harrowgate -Wells, they exclaimed with one accord—‘There he is—making love -to the finest woman in the universe!’ So we may say at a venture -of Mr. Coleridge—‘There he is, at this instant (no matter where) -talking away among his gossips, as if he were at the Court of -Semiramis, with the Sophi or Prestor John.’ The place can never -reach the height of his argument. He should live in a world of -enchantment, that things might answer to his descriptions. His talk -would suit the miracle of the Conversion of Constantine, or Raphael’s -Assembly of the Just. It is not short of that. His face would cut -no figure there, but his tongue would wag to some purpose. He is -fit to take up the deep pauses of conversation between Cardinals and -Angels—his cue would not be wanting in presence of the beatific -vision. Let him talk on for ever in this world and the next; and -both worlds will be the better for it. But let him not write, or -pretend to write, nonsense. Nobody is the better for it. It was -a fine thought in Mr. Wordsworth to represent Cervantes at the day -of judgment and conflagration of the world carrying off the romance -of Don Quixote under his arm. We hope that Mr. Coleridge, on -the same occasion, will leave ‘the Friend’ to take its chance, and his -‘Lay Sermon’ to get up into the Limbo of Vanity, how it can.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span> - <h3 class='c003'><span class='sc'>The Statesman’s Manual</span>; <em>or the Bible the best Guide to Political Skill and Foresight</em>. <cite>A Lay Sermon, addressed to the Higher Classes of Society.</cite> <em>By</em> S. T. Coleridge, <em>Esq.</em> Gale and Fenner.</h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Dec. 29, 1816.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>Here is the true Simon Pure. We have by anticipation given some -account of this Sermon. We have only to proceed to specimens in -illustration of what we have said.</p> - -<p class='c010'>It sets out with the following sentence:—</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘If our own knowledge and information concerning the Bible -had been confined to the one fact of its immediate derivation from -God, we should still presume that it contained rules and assistances -for all conditions of men under all circumstances; and therefore for -communities no less than for individuals.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>Now this is well said; ‘and ’tis a kind of good deed to say well.’ -But why did not Mr. Coleridge keep on in the same strain to the -end of the chapter, instead of himself disturbing the harmony and -unanimity which he here very properly supposes to exist on this -subject, or questioning the motives of its existence by such passages -as the following, p. 23 of the Appendix:</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘Thank heaven! notwithstanding the attempts of Mr. Thomas -Paine and his compeers, it is not so bad with us. <em>Open infidelity</em> has -ceased to be a means even of gratifying vanity; for the leaders of -the gang themselves turned apostates to Satan, as soon as the number -of their proselytes became <em>so large</em>, that Atheism ceased to give -distinction. Nay, it became a mark of original thinking to defend -the Belief and the Ten Commandments; so the <em>strong minds</em> veered -round, and religion came again into fashion.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>Now we confess we do not find in this statement much to thank -heaven for; if religion has only come into fashion again with the -strong minds—(it will hardly be denied that Mr. Coleridge is one -of the number)—as a better mode of gratifying their vanity than -‘open infidelity.’ Be this as it may, Mr. Coleridge has here given -a true and masterly delineation of that large class of Proselytes or -their teachers, who believe any thing or nothing, just as their vanity -prompts them. All that we have ever said of modern apostates is -poor and feeble to it. There is however one error in his statement, -inasmuch as Mr. Thomas Paine never openly professed Atheism, -whatever some of his compeers might do.</p> - -<p class='c010'>It is a pity that with all that fund of ‘rules and assistances’ which -the Bible contains for our instruction and reproof, and which the -author in this work proposes to recommend as the Statesman’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>Manual, or the best Guide to Political Skill and Foresight, in times -like these, he has not brought forward a single illustration of his -doctrine, nor referred to a single example in the Jewish history that -bears at all, in the circumstances, or the inference, on our own, but -one, and that one he has purposely omitted. Is this to be credited? -Not without quoting the passage.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘But do you require some one or more particular passage from -the Bible that may at once illustrate and exemplify its application to -the changes and fortunes of empires? Of the numerous chapters -that relate to the Jewish tribes, their enemies and allies, before and -after their division into two kingdoms, it would be more difficult to -state a single one, from which some guiding light might <em>not</em> be struck.’ -[Oh, very well, we shall have a few of them. The passage goes on.] -‘And in nothing is Scriptural history more strongly contrasted with -the histories of highest note in the present age, than in its freedom -from the hollowness of abstractions.’ [Mr. Coleridge’s admiration -of the inspired writers seems to be very much mixed with a dislike -of Hume and Gibbon.]—‘While the latter present a shadow-fight of -Things and Quantities, the former gives us the history of Men, and -balances the important influence of individual minds with the previous -state of national morals and manners, in which, as constituting a -specific susceptibility, it presents to us the true cause, both of the -influence itself, and of the Weal or Woe that were its consequents. -<em>How should it be otherwise?</em> The histories and political economy of -the present and preceding century partake in the general contagion -of its mechanic philosophy.’ [“still harping on my daughter”] ‘and -are the <em>product</em> of an unenlivened generalizing understanding. In -the Scriptures they are the living <em>educts</em> of the Imagination; of that -reconciling and mediatory power, which incorporating the reason in -Images of the Sense, and organising (as it were) the flux of the -Senses by the permanence and self-circling energies of the Reason, -gives birth to a system of symbols, harmonious in themselves, and -consubstantial with the truths, of which they are the <em>conductors</em>. -These are the Wheels which Ezekiel beheld when the hand of the -Lord was upon him, and he saw visions of God as he sat among -the captives by the river of Chebar. <em>Whither soever the Spirit was -to go, the wheels went, and thither was their spirit to go; for the -spirit of the living creature was in the wheels also.</em> The truths and -the symbols that represent them move in conjunction, and form the -living chariot that bears up (for us) the throne of the Divine -Humanity. <em>Hence by a derivative, indeed, but not a divided influence, -and though in a secondary, yet in more than a metaphorical sense, the -Sacred Book</em> is worthily entitled the Word of God,’ p. 36.</p> - -<p class='c010'><span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>So that, after all, the Bible is not the immediate word of God, -except according to the German philosophy, and <em>in something between -a literal and metaphorical sense</em>. Of all the cants that ever were -canted in this canting world, this is the worst! The author goes on -to add, that ‘it is among the miseries of the present age that it -recognises no medium between <em>literal</em> and <em>metaphorical</em>,’ and laments -that ‘the mechanical understanding, in the blindness of its self-complacency, -confounds <span class='sc'>Symbols</span> with <span class='sc'>Allegories</span>.’—This is -certainly a sad mistake, which he labours very learnedly to set right, -‘in a diagonal sidelong movement between truth and falsehood.’—We -assure the reader that the passages which we have given above -are given in the order in which they are strung together in the -Sermon; and so he goes on for several pages, concluding his career -where the Allies have concluded theirs, with the doctrine of Divine -Right; which he does not however establish quite so successfully -with the pen, as they have done with the sword. ‘Herein’ (says -this profound writer) ‘the Bible differs from all the books of Greek -philosophy, and in a two-fold manner. It doth not affirm a Divine -Nature only, but a God; and not a God only, but the living God. -<em>Hence in the Scriptures alone is the</em> <span class='sc'>Jus Divinum</span> <em>or direct Relation of -the State and its Magistracy to the Supreme Being, taught as a vital -and indispensable part of</em> <span class='fss'>ALL MORAL AND ALL POLITICAL WISDOM</span>, <em>even as -the Jewish alone was a true theocracy!</em>’</p> - -<p class='c010'>Now it does appear to us, that as the reason why the <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Jus Divinum</span></i> -was taught in the Jewish state was, that that alone was a true -theocracy, this is so far from proving this doctrine to be a <em>part of all -moral and all political wisdom</em>, that it proves just the contrary. This -may perhaps be owing to our mechanical understanding. Wherever -Mr. C. will shew us the theocracy, we will grant him the <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Jus -Divinum</span></i>. Where God really pulls down and sets up kings, the -people need not do it. Under the true Jewish theocracy, the priests -and prophets cashiered kings; but our lay-preacher will hardly take -this office upon himself as a part of the <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Jus Divinum</span></i>, without having -any thing better to shew for it than his profound moral and political -wisdom. Mr. Southey hints at something of the kind in verse, and -we are not sure that Mr. Coleridge does not hint at it in prose. -For after his extraordinary career and interminable circumnavigation -through the heaven of heavens, after being wrapt in the wheels of -Ezekiel, and sitting with the captives by the river of Chebar, -he lights once more on English ground, and you think you have -him.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘But I refer to the demand. Were it my object to touch on -the present state of public affairs in this kingdom, or on the prospective -<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>measures in agitation respecting our Sister Island, I would -direct your most serious meditations to the latter period of the -reign of Solomon, and the revolutions in the reign of Rehoboam his -son. <em>But I tread on glowing embers.</em> I will turn to a subject on -which all men of reflection are at length in agreement—the causes of -the Revolution and fearful chastisement of France.’—Here Mr. -Coleridge is off again on the wings of fear as he was before on those -of fancy.—This trifling can only be compared to that of the -impertinent barber of Bagdad, who being sent for to shave the prince, -spent the whole morning in preparing his razors, took the height of -the sun with an astrolabe, sung the song of Zimri, and danced the -dance of Zamtout, and concluded by declining to perform the -operation at all, because the day was unfavourable to its success. As -we are not so squeamish as Mr. Coleridge, and do not agree with -him and all other men of reflection on the subject of the French -Revolution, we shall turn back to the latter end of the reign of -Solomon, and that of his successor Rehoboam, to find out the parallel -to the present reign and regency which so particularly strikes and -startles Mr. Coleridge.—Here it is for the edification of the curious, -from the First Book of Kings:—</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘And the time that Solomon reigned over all Israel was forty -years. And Solomon slept with his fathers, and was buried in the -city of David his father: and Rehoboam his son reigned in his stead. -And Rehoboam went to Shechem: <em>for all Israel were come to Shechem -to make him king</em>.<a id='r24' /><a href='#f24' class='c011'><sup>[24]</sup></a> And Jeroboam and all the congregation of Israel -came and spake unto Rehoboam, saying, Thy father (Solomon) made -our yoke grievous; now, therefore, make thou the grievous service of -thy father, and his heavy yoke which he put upon us, lighter, <em>and we -will serve thee</em>. And he said unto them, Depart yet for three days, -then come again to me. And the people departed. And King -Rehoboam consulted with the old men that stood before Solomon his -father while he yet lived, and said, How do ye advise, that I may -answer this people? And they spake unto him, saying, <em>If thou wilt -be a servant unto this people</em> this day, and wilt serve them, and answer -them, and speak good words unto them, <em>then</em> they will be thy servants -for ever. But he forsook the counsel of the old men, which they -had given him, <em>and consulted with the young men that were grown up -with him, and which stood before him</em>: And he said unto them, What -counsel give ye, that we may answer this people, who have spoken to -me, saying, Make the yoke which thy father did put upon us lighter? -And the young men that were grown up with him spake unto him, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>saying, Thus shalt thou speak unto this people that spake unto thee, -saying, Thy father made our yoke heavy, but make thou it lighter -unto us; thus shalt thou say unto them, <em>My little finger shall be thicker -than my father’s loins. And now, whereas my father did lade you with -a heavy yoke, I will add to your yoke: my father hath chastised you -with whips: but I will chastise you with scorpions.</em> So Jeroboam and -all the people came to Rehoboam the third day, as the king had -appointed, saying, come to me again the third day. And the king -<em>answered the people roughly</em>, and forsook the old men’s counsel that -they gave him: And spake to them after the counsel of the young -men, saying, <em>My father made your yoke heavy, and I will add to your -yoke; my father also chastised you with whips, but I will chastise you -with scorpions.</em> Wherefore the king hearkened not unto the people; -<em>for the cause was from the Lord</em>, that he might perform his saying -which the Lord spake by Ahijah, the Shilonite, unto Jeroboam the -son of Nebat.’ [We here see pretty plainly how the principle of ‘a -true theocracy’ qualified the doctrine of <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Jus Divinum</span></i> among the -Jews; but let us mark the sequel.] ‘<em>So when all Israel saw that the -King hearkened not unto them, the people answered the king, saying, What -portion have we in David: neither have we inheritance in the son of -Jesse: to your tents, O Israel: now see to thine own house, David. -So Israel departed unto their tents.</em> Then king Rehoboam sent -Adoram, who was over the tribute; and all Israel stoned him with -stones that he died; therefore king Rehoboam made speed to get -him up to his chariot to flee to Jerusalem. So Israel rebelled against -the house of David unto this day. And it came to pass when all -Israel heard that Jeroboam was come again, that they sent and called -him unto the congregation, and made him king over all Israel.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>Here is the doctrine and practice of divine right, with a vengeance. -We do not wonder Mr. Coleridge was shy of instances from his -Statesman’s Manual, as the rest are like this. He does not say -(neither shall we, for we are not salamanders any more than he, -<em>to tread on glowing embers</em>) whether he approves of the conduct of all -Israel in this case, or of the <em>grand</em>, <em>magnificent</em>, <em>and gracious</em> answer of -the son of Solomon; but this we will say, that his bringing or -alluding to a passage like this immediately after his <em>inuendo</em> (addressed -to the higher classes) that the doctrine of divine right is contained -<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">par excellence</span></i> in the Scriptures alone, is we should suppose, an instance -of a power of voluntary self-delusion, and of a delight in exercising it -on the most ticklish topics, greater than ever was or ever will be -possessed by any other individual that ever did or ever will live upon -the face of the earth. ‘Imposture, organised into a comprehensive -and self-consistent whole, forms a world of its own, in which -<span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>inversion becomes the order of nature.’ Compared with such powers -of inconceivable mental refinement, hypocrisy is a great baby, a -shallow dolt, a gross dunce, a clumsy devil!</p> - -<p class='c010'>Among other passages, unrivalled in style and matter by any other -author, take the following:—</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘When I named this Essay a Sermon, I sought to prepare the -inquirers after it for the absence of all the usual softenings <em>suggested -by worldly prudence</em>, of all compromise between truth and courtesy. -But not even as a Sermon would I have addressed the present -Discourse to a promiscuous audience: and for this reason I likewise -announced it in the title-page, as exclusively <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ad clerum</span></i>, i.e. (in the -old and wide sense of the word<a id='r25' /><a href='#f25' class='c011'><sup>[25]</sup></a>) to men of <em>clerkly</em> acquirements, of -whatever profession.’ [All that we know is, that there is no such -title-page to our copy.] ‘I would that the greater part of our -publications could be thus <em>directed</em>, each to its appropriate class of -readers. But this cannot be! For among other odd burs and kecksies, -the misgrowth of our luxuriant activity, we have a <span class='sc'>Reading Public</span>, -as strange <em>a phrase</em>, methinks, as ever forced a splenetic smile on the -staid countenance of meditation; and yet <em>no fiction</em>! For our readers -have, in good truth, multiplied exceedingly, and have waxed proud. -It would require the <em>intrepid accuracy</em> of a Colquhoun’—[Intrepid -and accurate applied to a Colquhoun! It seems that whenever an -objection in matter of fact occurs to our author’s mind, he instinctively -applies the flattering unction of words to smooth it over to his -conscience, as you apply a salve to a sore]—‘to venture at the -precise number of that vast company only, whose heads and hearts -are dieted at the two public <em>ordinaries</em> of literature, the circulating -libraries and the periodical press. But what is the result? Does -the <em>inward man</em> thrive on this regimen? Alas! if the average health -of the consumers may be judged of by the articles of largest consumption’—[Is -not this a side-blow at the <cite>Times</cite> and <cite>Courier</cite>?]—‘if -the secretions may be conjectured from the ingredients of the dishes -that are found best suited to their palates; from all that I have seen, -either of the banquet or the guests, I shall utter my <em>profaccia</em>’—[‘Oh -thou particular fellow!‘]—‘with a desponding sigh: From a -popular philosophy, and philosophic populace, good sense deliver us!’</p> - -<p class='c010'>Why so, any more than from a popular religion or a religious -populace, on Mr. Coleridge’s own principle, p. 12, ‘Reason and -religion are their own evidence’? We should suspect that our unread -author, the ‘Secret Tattle’ of the Press, is thus fastidious, because -he keeps an ordinary himself which is not frequented. He professes -<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>to be select: but we all know the secret of ‘seminaries for a limited -number of pupils.’ Mr. Coleridge addresses his Lay-Sermon ‘to -the higher classes,’ in his printed title-page: in that which is not -printed he has announced it to be <i>directed <span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ad clerum</span></i>, which might -imply the clergy, but no: he issues another <span class='fss'>EXTENT</span> for the benefit of -the Reading Public, and says he means by the annunciation <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ad clerum</span></i>, -all persons of clerkly acquirements, that is, who can read and write. -What wretched stuff is all this! We well remember a friend of his -and ours saying, many years ago, on seeing a little shabby volume of -<em>Thomson’s Seasons</em> lying in the window of a solitary ale-house, at the -top of a rock hanging over the British Channel,—‘<em>That is true fame!</em>’ -If he were to write fifty Lay-Sermons, he could not answer the -inference from this one sentence, which is, that there are books that -make their way wherever there are readers, and that there ought -every where to be readers for such books!</p> - -<p class='c010'>To the words <span class='sc'>Reading Public</span>, in the above passage, is the -following note, which in wit and humour does not fall short of Mr. -Southey’s ‘Tract on the Madras System’:—</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘Some participle passive in the diminutive form, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">eruditorum natio</span></i> -for instance, might seem at first sight a fuller and more exact -designation: but the superior force and humour of the former -become evident whenever the phrase occurs, as a step or stair in -the climax of irony.... Among the revolutions worthy of notice, -the change in the introductory sentences and prefatory matter in -serious books is not the least striking. The same gross flattery, -which disgusts us in the dedications to individuals, in the elder -writers, is now transferred to the nation at large, or the <span class='sc'>Reading -Public</span>; while the Jeremiads of our old moralists, and their angry -denunciations against the ignorance, immorality, and irreligion of the -<em>people</em> appear (<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">mutatis mutandis</span></i>, and with an appeal to the worst -passions, envy, discontent, scorn, vindictiveness,<a id='r26' /><a href='#f26' class='c011'><sup>[26]</sup></a> &c.) in the shape -of bitter libels on ministers, parliament, the clergy; in short, on the -state and church, and all persons employed in them. Likewise, -I would point out to the reader’s attention the marvellous predominance -at present of the words, <em>Idea</em> and Demonstration. Every -talker now-a-days has an Idea; aye, and he will demonstrate it too! -A few days ago, I heard one of the <span class='sc'>Reading Public</span>, a thinking -and independent smuggler, euphonise the latter word with much -significance, in a tirade against the planners of the late African -expedition: “<em>As to Algiers, any man that has half an</em> <span class='sc'>Idea</span> <em>in his skull -must know, that it has been long ago dey-monstered, I should say, dey-monstrified</em>,” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span><i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">&c.</span></i> But the phrase, which occasioned this note, brings -to my mind the mistake of a lethargic Dutch traveller, who, returning -highly gratified from a showman’s caravan, which he had been -tempted to enter by the words <span class='sc'>Learned Pig</span>, gilt on the pannels, met -another caravan of a similar shape, with the <span class='sc'>Reading Fly</span> on it, in -letters of the same size and splendour. “Why, dis is voonders above -voonders,” exclaims the Dutchman, takes his seat as first comer, and -soon fatigued by waiting, and by the very hush and intensity of his -expectation, gives way to his constitutional somnolence, from which -he is roused by the supposed showman at Hounslow, with a “<em>In -what name, Sir, was your place taken? are you booked all the -way for Reading?</em>” Now a Reading Public is (to my mind) -more marvellous still, and in the third tier of “Voonders above -voonders.“‘</p> - -<p class='c010'>A public that could read such stuff as this with any patience -would indeed be so. We do not understand how, with this -systematic antipathy to the Reading Public, it is consistent in -Mr. Coleridge to declare of ‘Dr. Bell’s original and unsophisticated -plan,’ that he ‘himself regards it as an especial gift of -Providence to the human race, as an incomparable machine, a vast -moral steam-engine.’ Learning is an old University mistress, that -he is not willing to part with, except for the use of the church -of England; and he is sadly afraid she should be debauched by -the ‘liberal ideas’ of Joseph Lancaster! As to his aversion to the -prostitution of the word <em>Idea</em> to common uses and in common minds, -it is no wonder, from the very exalted <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">idea</span></i> which he has given us of -this term.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘What other measures I had in contemplation it has been my -endeavour to explain elsewhere.... O what treasures of practical -wisdom would be once more brought into open day by the solution -of this problem,’ to wit, ‘a thorough recasting of the moulds in -which the minds of our gentry, the characters of our future land-owners, -magistrates, and senators, are to receive their shape and -fashion. Suffice it for the present to hint the master-thought. <em>The -first man, on whom the light of an <span class='sc'>Idea</span> dawned did in that same -moment receive the spirit and the credentials of a Lawgiver</em>; and as -long as man shall exist, so long will the possession of that antecedent -knowledge which exists only in the power of an <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">idea</span></i>, be the one -lawful qualification for all dominion in the world of the senses,’ -p. 52. Now we do think this a shorter cut towards the undermining -of the rotten boroughs, and ousting the present ministry, than -any we have yet heard of. One of the most extraordinary ideas in -this work is where the Author proves the doctrine of free will from -<span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>the existence of property; and again, when he recommends the study -of the Scriptures, from the example of Heraclitus and Horace. To -conclude this most inconclusive piece of work, we find the distant -hopes and doubtful expectations of the writer’s mind summed up -in the following rare rhapsody. ‘Oh what a mine of undiscovered -treasures, what a new world of power and truth would the -Bible promise to our future meditation, if <em>in some gracious moment -one solitary text of all its inspired contents</em> should but dawn upon -us in the pure untroubled brightness of an <span class='fss'>IDEA</span>, that most glorious -birth of the godlike within us, which even as the light, its material -symbol, reflects itself from a thousand surfaces, and flies homeward to -its parent mind, enriched with a thousand forms, itself above form, -and still remaining in its own simplicity and identity! O for a flash -of that same light, in which the first position of geometric science that -ever loosed itself from the generalizations of a groping and insecure -experience, did for the first time reveal itself to a human intellect in -all its evidence and in all its fruitfulness, Transparence without -Vacuum, and Plenitude without Opacity! O! that a single gleam -of our own inward experience would make comprehensible to us the -rapturous <span class='sc'>Eureka</span>, and the grateful hecatomb of the philosopher of -Samos: or that vision which, from the contemplation of an arithmetical -harmony, rose to the eye of Kepler, presenting the planetary -world, and all their orbits in the divine order of their ranks and -distances; or which, in the falling of an apple, revealed to the -ethereal intuition of our own Newton the constructive principle -of the material universe. The promises which I have ventured -to hold forth concerning the hidden treasures of the Law and -the Prophets will neither be condemned as paradox, or as exaggeration, -by the mind that has learnt to understand the possibility that -the reduction of the sands of the sea to number should be found -a less stupendous problem by Archimedes than the simple conception -of the Parmenidean <span class='sc'>One</span>. What, however, is achievable by -the human understanding without this light may be comprised in -the epithet <span lang="grc" xml:lang="grc">κενόσπουδοι</span> and <em>a melancholy comment on that phrase -would the history of the human Cabinets and Legislatures for the -last thirty years furnish</em>! The excellent Barrow, the last of the -disciples of Plato and Archimedes among our modern mathematicians, -shall give the description and state the value; and, in his words, I -shall conclude:—</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘<em>Aliud agere, to be impertinently busy, doing that which conduceth to -no good purpose, is, in some respect, worse than to do nothing. Of such -industry we may understand that of the Preacher, “The labour of the -foolish wearieth every one of them.”</em>’</p> - -<p class='c010'><span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>A better conclusion could not be found for this Lay-Sermon: -for greater nonsense the author could not write, even though he -were inspired expressly for the purpose.</p> - -<h3 class='c003'>MR. COLERIDGE’S LAY-SERMON<br /> <span class='small'>TO THE EDITOR OF THE EXAMINER</span></h3> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Jan. 12, 1817.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-l'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Sir,</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Your last Sunday’s ‘Literary Notice’ has given me some -uneasiness on two points.</p> - -<p class='c010'>It was in January, 1798, just 19 years ago, that I got up one -morning before day-light to walk 10 miles in the mud, and went -to hear a poet and a philosopher preach. It was the author of -the ‘Lay-Sermon.’ Never, Sir, the longest day I have to live, -shall I have such another walk as this cold, raw, comfortless one -in the winter of the year 1798. Mr. Examiner, <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Il y a des -impressions que ni le tems ni les circonstances peuvent effacer. Dusse-je -vivre des siècles entiers, le doux tems de ma jeunesse ne -peut renaître pour moi, ni s’effacer jamais dans ma mémoire.</span></i> -When I got there, Sir, the organ was playing the 100th psalm, -and when it was done, Mr. C. rose and gave out his text, ‘And -he went up into the mountain to pray, <span class='fss'>HIMSELF, ALONE</span>. As he gave -out this text, his voice ‘rose like a steam of rich distill’d perfumes,’ -and when he came to the last two words, which he pronounced loud, -deep, and distinct, it seemed to me, Sir, who was then young, as if -the sounds had echoed from the bottom of the human heart, and as -if that prayer might have floated in solemn silence through the -universe. The idea of St. John came into my mind, ‘of one crying -in the wilderness, who had his loins girt about, and whose food was -locusts and wild honey.’ The preacher then launched into his -subject, like an eagle dallying with the wind. <em>That</em> sermon, like -<em>this</em> Sermon, was upon peace and war; upon church and state—not -their alliance, but their separation—on the spirit of the world and -the spirit of Christianity, not as the same, but as opposed to one -another. He talked of those who had ‘inscribed the cross of Christ -on banners dripping with human gore.’ He made a poetical and -pastoral excursion,—and to shew the fatal effects of war, drew -a striking contrast between the simple shepherd boy, driving his team -afield, or sitting under the hawthorn, piping to his flock, as though -he should never be old, and the same poor country-lad, crimped, -kidnapped, brought into town, made drunk at an ale-house, turned -<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>into a wretched drummer-boy, with his hair sticking on end with -powder and pomatum, a long cue at his back, and tricked out in the -loathsome finery of the profession of blood.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Such were the notes our once-lov’d poet sung.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>And for myself, Sir, I could not have been more delighted if I had -heard the music of the spheres. Poetry and Philosophy had met -together, Truth and Genius had embraced, under the eye and with -the sanction of Religion. This was even beyond my hopes. I -returned home well satisfied. The sun that was still labouring pale -and wan through the sky, obscured by thick mists, seemed an -emblem of the <em>good cause</em>: and the cold dank drops of dew that -hung half melted on the beard of the thistle, had something genial -and refreshing in them; for there was a spirit of hope and youth in -all nature, that turned everything into good. The face of nature had -not then the brand of <span class='sc'>Jus Divinum</span> on it;</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Like to that sanguine flower inscrib’d with woe.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Now, Sir, what I have to complain of is this, that from reading -your account of the ‘Lay-Sermon,’ I begin to suspect that my -notions formerly must have been little better than a deception: that -my faith in Mr. Coleridge’s great powers must have been a vision of -my youth, that, like other such visions, must pass away from me; -and that all his genius and eloquence is <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">vox et preterea nihil</span></i>: for otherwise -how is it so lost to all common sense upon paper?</p> - -<p class='c010'>Again, Sir, I ask Mr. Coleridge, why, having preached such a -sermon as I have described, he has published such a sermon as you -have described? What right, Sir, has he or any man to make a fool -of me or any man? I am naturally, Sir, a man of a plain, dull, dry -understanding, without flights or fancies, and can just contrive to -plod on, if left to myself: what right, then has Mr. C., who is just -going to ascend in a balloon, to offer me a seat in the parachute, only to -throw me from the height of his career upon the ground, and dash me -to pieces? Or again, what right has he to invite me to a feast of -poets and philosophers, fruits and flowers intermixed,—immortal -fruits and amaranthine flowers,—and then to tell me it is all vapour, -and, like <em>Timon</em>, to throw his empty dishes in my face? No, Sir, I -must and will say it is hard. I hope, between ourselves, there is no -breach of confidence in all this; nor do I well understand how men’s -opinions on moral, political, or religious subjects can be kept a -secret, except by putting them in <cite>The Correspondent</cite>.<a id='r27' /><a href='#f27' class='c011'><sup>[27]</sup></a></p> - -<div class='lg-container-r'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Semper Ego Auditor.</span></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span> - <h3 class='c003'>BONAPARTE AND MULLER<br /> <span class='small'>THE CELEBRATED HISTORIAN OF SWITZERLAND</span></h3> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div>[<em>From Müller’s Posthumous Works.</em>]</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>‘On the 19th May I was informed by the Minister Secretary of -State, Maret, that at seven o’clock of the evening of the following -day I must wait on the Emperor Napoleon. I waited accordingly -on this Minister at the appointed hour, and was presented. The -Emperor sat on a sofa: a few persons whom I did not know stood -at some distance in the apartment. The Emperor began to speak of -the History of Switzerland; told me that I ought to complete it; -that even the more recent times had their interest. He came to the -work of mediation, discovered a very good will, if we do not meddle -with any thing foreign, and remain quietly in the interior. He -proceeded from the Swiss to the old Greek Constitution and History, -to the Theory of Constitutions, to the complete diversity of those of -Asia, (and the causes of this diversity in the climate, polygamy, -&c.) the opposite characters of the Arabian (which the Emperor -highly extolled), and the Tartarian Races (which led to the -irruptions that all civilization had always to dread from that quarter, -and the necessity of a bulwark): the peculiar value of European -culture (never greater freedom, security of property, humanity, and -better laws in general, than since the 15th century); then how -every thing was linked together, and in the inscrutable guidance of an -invisible hand; and how he himself had become great through his -enemies: the great confederation of nations, the idea of which -Henry the Fourth never had: the foundation of all religion and its -necessity; that man could not well bear completely clear truth, and -required to be kept in order; the possibility, however, of a more -happy condition, if the numerous feuds ceased, which were occasioned -by too complicated constitutions (such as the German), and the intolerable -burden suffered by States from excessive armies. A great -deal more besides was said, and indeed we spoke of almost every -country and nation. The Emperor spoke at first in his usual -manner; but the more interesting our conversation became, he -spoke in a lower and lower tone, so that I was obliged to bend -myself quite down to his face; and no man can have understood -what he said (and therefore many things I will not repeat).—I -opposed him occasionally, and he entered into discussion. Quite -impartially and truly, as before God, I must say, that the variety of -his knowledge, the acuteness of his observations, the solidity of his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>understanding (not dazzling wit), his grand and comprehensive views, -filled me with astonishment, and his manner of speaking to me, with -love for him. A couple of Marshals, and also the Duke of Benevento, -had entered in the mean time; he did not break off. After -five quarters, or an hour, and an half, he allowed the concert to begin; -and I know not, whether accidentally or from goodness, he desired -pieces, which, one of them especially, had reference to pastoral life -and the Swiss (<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Rans des Vaches</span></i>). After this, he bowed in a -friendly manner and left the room.—Since the audience with -Frederick (1782), I never had a conversation on such a variety of -subjects, at least with any Prince: if I can judge correctly from recollection, -I must give the Emperor the preference in point of solidity and -comprehension; Frederick was somewhat Voltairian. Besides, there -is in his tone much firmness and vigour, but in his mouth something -as attractive and fascinating as in Frederick. It was one of the -most remarkable days of my life. By his genius and his disinterested -goodness he has also conquered me.’</p> - -<h3 class='c003'>ILLUSTRATIONS OF THE TIMES NEWSPAPER<br /> <span class='small'>ON MODERN APOSTATES</span></h3> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>—— —— ——‘Out of these convertites</div> - <div class='line'>There is much matter to be heard and learnt.’—<em>As you like it.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Dec. 15, 1816.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>This is an age in which, to hear some people talk, you would -suppose there is no such thing as literary prostitution or political -apostacy, in the sense in which those vices used formerly to be -practised and condemned. We live in a liberal age; and a very -different and much more liberal turn has been given to the whole -matter. Men do indeed change sides, but then it is proper at present -that they should. They go from one extreme to another, they -proceed to the utmost lengths of violence and abuse, both against the -principles they formerly held and the persons they formerly agreed -with; but then this is entirely owing to the force of reason and -honest conviction. ‘All honourable men’—no hypocrites amongst -them—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘But all is conscience and tender heart.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>They have deserted the cause of liberty in as far as it deserted them; -but no farther. No sinister motives, no disappointed expectations -from a new order of things, no places to be got under the old, no -<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>laureatships, no editorships, no popular odium to contend with, no -court-smiles to inveigle, have had any weight with them, or can be -supposed to have had any. They could not tolerate wrong on any -side, on the side of kings, or of the people. That’s all. They have -changed sides to preserve the integrity of their principles and the -consistency of their characters. They have gone over to the strong -side of the question, merely to shew the conscious purity of their -motives; and they chose the moment of the total failure of all -hopes from the weaker side to desert to the stronger, to put the -matter out of all doubt. They are not only above corruption, but -above suspicion. They have never once been at fault, have neither -sneaked nor shuffled, botched or boggled, in their politics. They -who were loud against the abuses of a principle which they set out -with considering as sacred, the right of a people to chuse their own -form of government, have not turned round to flatter and to screen, -with the closeness of their fulsome embraces, the abuses of a power -which they set out with treating as monstrous, the right of a discarded -family to reign over a nation in perpetuity by the grace of God. -They ‘whose love of liberty was of that dignity that it went hand in -hand even with the vow they made this virgin bride,’ have not -stooped to ‘commit whoredom greedily’ with that old harlot, -Despotism. They ‘who struck the foremost man of all this world -but for supporting robbers,’ have not contaminated their fingers with -base bribes, nor turned receivers of stolen goods for paltry knaves and -licensed freebooters. Nice, scrupulous, firm, inflexible, uncorrupted, -incapable of injustice or disguise; patriots in 1793, and royalists in -1816; at all times extreme and at all times consistent in their -opinions; converts to the cause of kings, only because kings were -converts (unaccountable converts) to the cause of the people: they -have not become, nor are they in danger of becoming, thorough-paced -time-servers, regular-bred courtiers, trammelled tools of despotism, -hired pimps and panders of power. Nothing of the sort. They -have not been made (not they) the overweening dupes of their own -conceit and cunning. These political innocents have not, like the -two poor devils in the <cite>Recruiting Officer</cite>, been laid hold of, entrapped, -kidnapped, by that fell serjeant, Necessity, and then, in the height of -their admiration of ‘the wonderful works of nature’ and the King’s -picture, been enlisted for life in his Majesty’s service, by some -Court crimp, some Treasury scout in the shape of a well-bred -baronet or booby Lord. Our maiden poets, patriots, and philanthropists, -have not, it is to be hoped, like <em>Miss Lucy Lockitt</em>, been -bilked of their virtue, ‘bamboozled and bit.’ They have got into a -house of ill fame in the neighbourhood of Pall-Mall, like <em>Miss -<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>Clarissa Harlowe</em>, but they will defend their honour to the last gasp -with their pens against that old bawd, Legitimacy, as she did hers -with a pen-knife against the old Lady in Duke’s place; or if the -opiates and provocatives unfairly administered, and almost unavoidable -when people get into such company and such situations, should -for an instant rob them of what they hold most dear, their immaculate -purity, they will, like Richardson’s heroine, die a lingering death of -grief and shame for the trick that has been played upon their -unsuspecting credulity!—See, here comes one of them to answer for -himself. It is the same person who in the year 1800 was for making -an example of the whole House of Commons (in spite of the humble -petition and remonstrance of the writer of this article in favour of a -small minority), for being the echoes of the King’s speeches for -carrying on the war against the French Revolution. What is that -<em>thing</em> he has in his hand? It is not, nor it cannot be, a sonnet to the -King, celebrating his ‘royal fortitude,’ in having brought that war to -a successful close fourteen years after!</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Such recantation had no charms for him,</div> - <div class='line'>‘Nor could he brook it.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>Nor is it the same consistent person whose deep-toned voice rebellows -among the mountain echoes with peals of ideot rage and demon -laughter—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Proud Glaramara northward caught the sound,</div> - <div class='line'>‘And Kirkstone tossed it from his misty head,</div> - <div class='line'>‘That there was strange commotion in the hills,’—</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>at the infamy and madness of Sir Robert Wilson’s gallant conduct -in having rescued one of its victims from the fangs of that Bourbon -despotism which that royal fortitude had restored.—Is not <em>that</em> -Mr. Southey, with something of the glow on his cheek which he -had in writing <cite>Joan of Arc</cite>, and with the beaked curl of his nose -which provoked him to write the <cite>Inscription on Old Sarum</cite>, returning -in disgrace from the Prince’s Levee, for having indignantly noticed -in one of his Birth-day Odes, Ferdinand’s treatment of the Spanish -Patriots?—Just yonder, at the corner of Paternoster-row, you may -see Mr. Coleridge, the author of the eclogue called <span class='sc'>Fire, Famine, -and Slaughter</span>, who has been to his bookseller’s to withdraw his -‘Lay Sermon,’ or Statesman’s Manual in praise of Fire, Slaughter, -and Famine! But who is he ‘whose grief</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Bears such an emphasis, whose phrase of sorrow</div> - <div class='line'>‘Conjures the wandering stars, and makes them stand</div> - <div class='line'>‘Like wonder-wounded hearers?’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'><span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>’Tis the editor of <cite>The Times</cite>, (poor man, his virtuous indignation -must cost him a great deal of pains and trouble!) as hard at it as -ever, about liberty and independence without respect of persons; -in a most <em>woundy</em> passion, we warrant now, at finding legitimacy -at some of its old tricks, caught <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">flagranti delicto</span></i>, so that the poor -gentleman could not hush the matter up, if he would, and would not, -if he could, he is a man of such a nice morality, and such high -notions of honour;—thrown into daily and hourly cold sweats and -convulsions at the mention of daily and hourly acts of tyranny and -base submission to it; flying into the same heats and hysterics as -ever, for he has all the reason now, that he used to say he had; -laying it on, thick and threefold, upon the magnanimous deliverers of -Europe; still in the old King Cambyses’ vein, ‘horrors on horror’s -head accumulating’; heaping up epithets and compound epithets of -abuse against his new friends, as he used to do against his old ones, -till Mr. Koenig’s new press groans under the weight of both together; -ordering in a new set of types with a new set of unheard-of nicknames -to be applied everlastingly to the present candidates for newspaper -fame, as the worn-out, feeble, and now insignificant ones of Monster, -Tyrant, Fiend, Upstart, Usurper, Rebel, Regicide, Traitor, Wretch, -Villain, Knave, Fool, Madman, Coward, Impostor, Unnatural Monster, -Bloody Tyrant, Hellish Fiend, Corsican Upstart, Military Usurper, -Wicked Rebel, Impious Regicide, Perfidious Traitor, Vile Wretch, -Base Villain, Low-born Knave, Rank Fool, Egregious Madman, -Notorious Coward, Detestable Impostor, were applied to the old; -swearing as he picks his way to court along the streets, (so that the -people ask who the honest, angry gentleman is) that Ferdinand alone -has done more acts of baseness, treachery, cruelty, oppression, infamy, -and ingratitude, in one year, than Napoleon did in his whole reign; -teaching a parrot to call jade and rogue to all legitimate princes and -princesses that deserve it, as he used himself to rail at all the -illegitimate ones, whether they deserved it or not; repeating over -and over, till he is black in the face, Dr. Slop’s curse upon the -Allies and their proceedings; cursing them in Spain, cursing them -in Italy, cursing them in Genoa, cursing them in Saxony, cursing -them in Norway, cursing them in Finland, cursing them in Poland, -cursing them in France, cursing them every where as they deserve, -and as the people every where curse them; sending the Pope and -the Inquisition to the Devil; swooning at the extinction of Spanish -liberty under the beloved Ferdinand; going into a shivering fit at -the roasting of Protestants under Louis the Desired; biting his lips -at Lord Castlereagh’s Letter to <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mon Prince</span></i>; horror-struck at the -transfer of so many thousand souls, like so many head of horned -<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>cattle, from one legitimate proprietor of the species to another, after -all his vapouring about the liberties of the people and the independence -of states; learned and lofty, sad and solemn, on the Convention of -Paris; looking big at the imposing attitude of Russia, and going stark -staring mad at the application of the torture and the thumb-screw to -the brave Cortes; gnashing his teeth, rolling his eyes, and dashing -his head against the wall, at the total falsification, and overthrow of -every one of his hopes and his prognostics in every corner of Europe -where the Allies have got footing, and there is no corner which they -have not got under their feet, like a toad under a harrow; and -roaring out like Perillus’s bull against the partitions and repartitions -of the coalesced Sovereigns, their invasions, conquests, seizures, -transfers of men and lands; the murders, massacres, imprisonments, -pillagings, frauds, treacheries, breaches of written treaties and of -verbal promises; usurpations, pretensions, and overt acts of legitimacy, -since it was restored to itself, to one and the self-same tune that he -used to lift up his voice, ‘his most sweet voice,’ against Bonaparte’s -wars and conquests, till the Stock Exchange was stunned with the -clamour, and Mr. Walter well-nigh fainted! The only fault of this -account is, that not one word of it is true.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Thy stone, oh Sisyphus, stands still:</div> - <div class='line'>‘Ixion rests upon his wheel!’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'><em>Once a Jacobin and always a Jacobin</em>, is a maxim, which, notwithstanding -Mr. Coleridge’s see-saw reasoning to the contrary, we hold -to be true, even of him to this day. <em>Once an Apostate and always an -Apostate</em>, we hold to be equally true; and the reason why the last -is true, is that the first is so. A person who is what is called a -Jacobin (and we apply this term in its vulgarest sense to the persons -here meant) that is, who has shaken off certain well known prejudices -with respect to kings or priests, or nobles, cannot so easily resume -them again, whenever his pleasure or his convenience may prompt -him to attempt it. And it is because he cannot resume them again -in good earnest, that he endeavours to make up for his want of -sincerity by violence, either by canting till he makes your soul sicken, -like the author of <cite>The Friend</cite>, or by raving like a Bedlamite, as does -the Editor of <cite>The Times</cite>. Why does he abuse Bonaparte and call -him an upstart? Because he is himself, if he is any thing at all, an -upstart; and because Bonaparte having got the start of him one way, -he turned back to gain the race another, by trying for a court-livery, -and to recommend himself to the house of Brunswick, by proclaiming -the principles of the house of Stuart. Why does he make such a -route about Kings and Queens, and Dukes and Duchesses, and old -<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>women of all ages and both sexes? Because he cares no more for -them in his heart than we do. How should he? ‘What’s Hecuba -to him or he to Hecuba?’ What motive has he, or what ground of -passion, that he should</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Cleave the general ear with horrid speech,</div> - <div class='line'>‘And, like a whore, unpack his heart with words!’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>None in the world, any more than the poor player in <cite>Hamlet</cite>, who -tried to ‘work his soul to his conceit, tears in his eyes, distraction in -his looks,’ because it was his cue to do so. He blusters and hectors, -and makes a noise to hide his want of consistency, as cowards turn -bullies to hide their want of courage. He is virulent and vulgar in -proportion as he is insincere; and yet it is the only way in which -he can seem himself not to be a hypocrite. He has no blind -prejudices to repose on; no unshaken principles to refer to; no -hearty attachment to altars or to thrones. You see the Jacobinical -leaven working in every line that he writes, and making strange -havoc with his present professions. He would cashier Louis and -Ferdinand, Alexander and Frederick, to-morrow, and hurl them -headlong from their thrones with a stroke of his pen, for not complying -with any one of his favourite dogmas. He has no regard -for any thing but his own will; no feeling of any thing but of hatred -to the cause he has deserted, and of the necessity of keeping from -his mind, by every demonstration of outward scorn and horror, whatever -might recal his old, unprofitable, exploded errors. His hatred -and dread of the principles of others, proceeds from his greater -hatred and dread of his own. The spectre of his former opinions -glares perpetually near him, and provokes his frantic zeal. For close -behind him stalks the ghost of the French Revolution, <em>that unfortunate -Miss Bailey</em> of modern politicians, their mistress and their saint, what -time</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>——‘Society became their glittering bride</div> - <div class='line'>‘And airy hopes their children,’—</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>which, if he was once to turn round, would stare him in the face -with self-conviction, and make his pen drop from his hands. It is -this morbid conflict with his own feelings that many persons do not -know what to make of, and which gives such a tragic, and at the -same time, ludicrous air to his writings. He is obliged to wink and -shut his apprehension up, so that he is blind, stupidly blind to all -that makes against him, and all that makes for him. His understanding -seems to labour under a quinsy; and instead of the little -<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">bonnet rouge</span></i> of 1793, wears a huge pair of Bourbon blinkers for 1816. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>Hence the endless inconsistencies in which he involves himself; and -as it is his self-will that makes him insensible to all objections, it is -the same headstrong obstinacy which makes him regardless of contradictions, -and proof against conviction.</p> - -<p class='c010'>In a word, to conclude this part of the subject, the writer of <cite>The -Times</cite> is governed entirely by his will; and this faculty is strong, -and bears sway in him, as all other principles are weak. He asserts -a fact the louder, as he suspects it to be without proof: and defends -a measure the more lustily, as he feels it to be mischievous. He -listens only to his passions and his prejudices, not to truth or reason. -Prove to him that any thing is the most idle fiction that ever was -invented, and he will swear to it: prove to him that it is fraught -with destruction to the liberties of mankind in all places and in all -time to come, and he is your own for ever. <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Sed hæc hactenus.</span></i> -Goethe has given to one of his heroes this motto—‘Mad but wise.’ -We would give the following to the hero of <cite>The Times</cite>—Mad but -not wise.</p> - -<h4 class='c017'>ILLUSTRATIONS OF ‘THE TIMES’ NEWSPAPER<br /> <span class='small'>ON MODERN LAWYERS AND POETS</span></h4> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>—— —— ——‘<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Facilis descensus Averni;</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Noctes atque dies patet atri janua Ditis;</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Sed revocare gradum superasque evadere ad auras,</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Hoc opus, hic labor est.</span>’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>December 22, 1816.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>The meaning of which passage is, that it is easier to sail with the -stream, than to strive against it. Our classical reformers should have -known this passage in Virgil. They should have known themselves -too; but they did not. ‘Let no man go about to cozen honesty,’ or -to be a knave by halves. The man, as well as the woman, who -deliberates between his principle and the price of its sacrifice, is lost. -The same rule holds with respect to literary as to any other kind of -prostitution. It is the first false step that always costs the most; and -which is, for that reason, always fatal. It requires an effort of -resolution, or at least obstinate prejudice, for a man to maintain his -opinions at the expense of his interest. But it requires a much -greater effort of resolution for a man to give up his interest to recover -his independence; because, with the consistency of his character, he -has lost the habitual energy of his mind, and the indirect aid of prejudice -and obstinacy, which are sometimes as useful to virtue as they -are to vice. A man, in adhering to his principles in contradiction to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>the decisions of the world, has many disadvantages. He has nothing -to support him but the supposed sense of right; and any defect in the -justice of his cause, or the force of his conviction, must prey on his -mind, in proportion to the delicacy and sensitiveness of its texture: -he is left alone in his opinions; and, like <em>Sam Sharpset</em>, in Mr. -Morton’s new comedy (when he gets into solitary confinement in the -spunging-house,) grows nervous, melancholy, fantastical, and would -be glad of <em>somebody</em> or <em>anybody</em> to sympathize with him; but when he -has once gone over to the strong side of the question (perhaps from -these very scruples of conscience, suggested by weakness and melancholy, -as ‘the Devil is very potent with such spirits, and abuses them -to damn them’) our wavering sceptic no longer finds the same scruples -troublesome; the air of a court promotes their digestion wonderfully; -the load on his conscience falls off at the foot of the throne. The -poet-laureate, standing with his laurel-wreath amidst ‘Britain’s warriors, -her statesmen, and her fair,’ thinks no more or says no more about -the patriots of Spain pining in dungeons or consigned to the torture, -though it was his zeal, his virtuous, patriotic, romantic, disinterested -zeal for them, which brought <em>them</em> there, and him to court. His -Prince’s smile soothes the involuntary pang of sympathy rising in his -breast; and Mr. Croker’s whispers drown their agonizing shrieks. -When we are at Rome, we must do as the people at Rome do. A -man in a crowd must go along with the crowd, and cannot stop to -pick his way; nor need he be so particular about it. He has friends -to back him: appearances are for him; the world is on his side; his -interest becomes surety for his honour, his vanity makes him blind to -objections, or overrules them, and he is not so much ashamed of being -in the wrong in such good company. It requires some fortitude to -oppose one’s opinion, however right, to that of all the world besides; -none at all to agree with it, however wrong. Nothing but the -strongest and clearest conviction can support a man in a losing -minority: any excuse or quibble is sufficient to salve his conscience, -when he has made sure of the main chance, and his understanding -has become the stalking-horse of his ambition. It is this single -circumstance of not being answerable for one’s opinions one’s-self, -but being able to put them off to other men’s shoulders in all crowds -and collections of men, that is the reason of the violence of mobs, the -venality of courts, and the corruption of all corporate bodies. It is -also the reason of the degeneracy of modern apostates and reformed -Jacobins, who find the applause of their king and country doubly -cheering after being so long without it, and who go all lengths in -adulation and servility, to make up for their former awkward -singularity.</p> - -<p class='c010'><span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>Many of the persons we have known, who have deserted the cause -of the people to take a high tone against those who did not chuse to -desert it, have been lawyers or poets. The last took their leave of it -by a poetic license; the first slunk out of it by some loop-hole of the -law. We shall say a word of each.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘Our’s is an honest employment,’ says <em>Peachum</em>; ‘and so is a -lawyer’s.’ It is a lawyer’s business to confound truth and falsehood -in the minds of his hearers; and the natural consequence is, that he -confounds them in his own. He takes his opinion of right and -wrong from his brief: his soul is in his fee. His understanding is -<em>upon the town</em>, and at the service of any cause that is paid for before-hand. -He is not a hired suborner of <em>facts</em>, but of <em>reasons</em>; and -though he would not violate the sacred obligation of an oath, as Lord -Ellenborough calls it, by swearing that black is white, he holds himself -at all times in readiness and bound in duty, to prove it so. He -will not swear to an untruth to get himself hanged, but he will assert -it roundly by the hour together to hang other persons, however -innocent,—if he finds it in his retainer. We do not wish to say any -thing illiberal of any profession or set of men in the abstract. But -we think it possible, that they who are employed to argue away men’s -lives at a venture in a court of justice, may be tempted to write them -away deliberately in a newspaper. They who find it consistent with -their honour to do this under the sanction of the court, may find it to -their interest to do the same thing at the suggestion of a court. A -lawyer is a sophist by profession; that is, a person who barters his -opinion, and speaks what he knows to be false in defence of wrong, -and to the prejudice of right. Not only the confirmed habit of looking -at any side of a question with a view to make the worse appear -the better reason, from a motive always foreign to the question itself, -must make truth and falsehood sit loose upon him, and lead him to -‘look on both indifferently,’ as his convenience prompts; but the -quibbles and quillets of the law give a handle to all that is petty and -perverse in his understanding, and enable him to tamper with his -principles with impunity. Thus the intricacy and verbal distinctions -of the profession promote the practical duplicity of its professors; and -folly and knavery become joint securities for one another. The bent -of a lawyer’s mind is to pervert his talents, if he has any, and to keep -down his feelings, if they are at all in his way. He lives by forging -and uttering counterfeit pretexts; he says not what he believes to be -true, but any thing that by any trick or sleight he can make others -believe; and the more petty, artificial, and far-fetched the contrivance, -the more low, contemptible, and desperate the shift, the more is he -admired and cried up in his profession. A perfect lawyer is one -<span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>whose understanding always keeps pace with the inability of words to -keep pace with ideas: who by natural conformation of mind cannot -get beyond the letter to the spirit of any thing; who, by a happy -infirmity of soul, is sure never to lose the form in grasping at the -substance. Such a one is sure to arrive at the head of his profession! -Look at the lawyers in the House of Commons (of course at the -head of their profession)—look at Garrow. We have heard him -stringing contradictions there with the fluency of water, every third -sentence giving the lie to the two former; gabbling folly as if it were -the last opportunity he might ever have, and as regularly put down as -he rose up—not for false statements, not for false reasoning, not for -common-place absurdities or vulgar prejudices, (there is enough of -these to be found there without going to the bar), but for such things -as nobody but a lawyer could utter, and as nobody (not even a lawyer) -could believe. The only thing that ever gave us a good opinion of -the House of Commons was to see the contempt with which they -treat lawyers there. The reason is, that no one there but a lawyer -fancies himself holding a brief in his hand as a <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">carte-blanche</span></i> for vanity -and impertinence—no one else thinks he has got an <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ad libitum</span></i> right to -express any absurd or nonsensical opinions he pleases, because he is -not supposed to hold the opinions he expresses—no one else thinks -it necessary to confound the distinctions of common-sense to subject -them to those of the law (even Lord Castlereagh would never think -of maintaining it to be lawful to detain a person kidnapped from -France, on the special plea, that the law in that case <em>not provided</em> had -<em>not declared</em> it lawful to detain persons so kidnapped, if not reclaimed -by their own country)—no one else thinks of huddling contradictions -into self-evident truths by legal volubility, or of sharpening nonsense -into sense by legal acuteness, or of covering shallow assumptions -under the solemn disguises of the long robe. The opinions of the -gentlemen of the bar go for nothing in the House of Commons: but -their votes tell; and are always sure—in the end! The want of -principle makes up for the want of talent. What a tool in the hands -of a minister is a whole profession, habitually callous to the distinctions -of right and wrong, but perfectly alive to their own interest, with just -ingenuity enough to be able to trump up some fib or sophistry for or -against any measure, and with just understanding enough to see no -more of the real nature or consequences of any measure than suits -their own or their employer’s convenience! What an acquisition to -‘the tried wisdom of parliament’ in the approaching hard season!</p> - -<p class='c010'>But all this, though true, seems to fall short of the subject before us. -The weak side of the professional character is rather an indifference -to truth and justice, than an outrageous and inveterate hatred to them. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>They are chargeable, as a general class of men, with levity, servility, -and selfishness; but it seems to be quite out of their character to -commence furious and illiberal fanatics against those who have more -principle than themselves. But not when this character is ingrafted -on that of a true Jacobin renegado. Such a person (and no one else) -would be fit to write the leading article in <cite>The Times</cite>. It is this -union of rare accomplishments (there seems, after all, to be nothing -contradictory in the coalition of the vices) that enables that nondescript -person to blend the violence of the bravo with the subtlety of -a pettifogging attorney—to interlard his furious appeals to the lowest -passions of the middle and upper classes, with nice points of law, -reserved for the opinion of the adepts in the profession—to appeal to -the passions of his city readers when any thing wrong is to be done, -and to their cooler and dispassionate judgments when any thing right -is to be done—that makes him stick (spell-bound) to the letter of the -law when it is in his favour, and set every principle of justice and -humanity at defiance when it interferes with his pragmatical opinion—that -makes him disregard all decency as well as reason out of ‘the -lodged hatred’ he bears to the cause he has deserted, and to all who -have not, like himself, deserted it—that made him urge the foul -death of the brave Marshal Ney, by putting a legal interpretation on -a military convention—that tempted him to make out his sanguinary -list of proscribed rebels and regicides (he was not for making out any -such list in the year 1793, nor long after the event he now deplores -with such well-timed indignation)—that makes him desperately bent -on hanging wretches at home in cobweb chains spun from his own -brains—that makes him stake the liberty of nations or the independence -of states on a nickname or a law-quillet, as his irritable humour -or professional habits prevail—that sets him free from all restraints or -deference to others in forming his own opinions, and which would -induce him to subject all the rest of the world to his unprincipled and -frantic dogmas, by entangling them in the quirks and technicalities of -the law! No one else would heroically consign a whole continent to -the most odious and despicable slavery in the world, on the strength -of a flaw in a proclamation: or call that piece of diplomatic atrocity, -the declaration of the 25th of March, a <em>delicious</em> declaration. Such a -man might sell his country, or enslave his species, and justify it to -his conscience and the world by some law-term! Such men are very -dangerous, unless when they are tied up in the forms of a profession, -where form is opposed to form, where no-meaning baffles want of -sense, and where no great harm is done, because there is not much to -do: but when chicane and want of principle are let loose upon the -world, ‘with famine, sword, and fire at their heels, leashed in like -<span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>hounds,’ when they have their prey marked out for them by the -passions, when they are backed by force—when the pen of the Editor -of <cite>The Times</cite> is seconded by eleven hundred thousand bayonets—then -such men are very mischievous.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘My soul, turn from them: turn we to survey’ where poetry, -joined hand in hand with liberty, renews the golden age in 1793, -during the reign of Robespierre, which was hardly thought a blot in -their escutcheon, by those who said and said truly, for what we -know, that he destroyed the lives of hundreds, to save the lives of -thousands: (Mark; then, as now, ‘Carnage was the daughter of -Humanity.’ It is true, these men have changed sides, but not parted -with their principles, that is, with their presumption and egotism)—let -us turn where Pantisocracy’s equal hills and vales arise in visionary -pomp, where Peace and Truth have kissed each other ‘in Philarmonia’s -undivided dale’; and let us see whether the fictions and the -forms of poetry give any better assurance of political consistency than -the fictions and forms of law.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The spirit of poetry is in itself favourable to humanity and liberty: -but, we suspect, not in times like these—not in the present reign. -The spirit of poetry is not the spirit of mortification or of martyrdom. -Poetry dwells in a perpetual Utopia of its own, and is, for that reason, -very ill calculated to make a Paradise upon earth, by encountering the -shocks and disappointments of the world. Poetry, like the law, is a -fiction; only a more agreeable one. It does not create difficulties -where they do not exist; but contrives to get rid of them, whether -they exist or not. It is not entangled in cobwebs of its own making, -but soars above all obstacles. It cannot be ‘constrained by mastery.’ -It has the range of the universe; it traverses the empyreum, and -looks down on nature from a higher sphere. When it lights upon -the earth, it loses some of its dignity and its use. Its strength is in -its wings; its element the air. Standing on its feet, jostling with the -crowd, it is liable to be overthrown, trampled on, and defaced; for -its wings are of a dazzling brightness, ‘heaven’s own tinct,’ and the -least soil upon them shews to disadvantage. Sunk, degraded as we -have seen it, we shall not insult over it, but leave it to time to take -out the stains, seeing it is a thing immortal as itself. ‘Being so -majestical, we should do it wrong to offer it but the shew of violence.’ -But the best things, in their abuse, often become the worst; and so -it is with poetry when it is diverted from its proper end. Poets live -in an ideal world, where they make every thing out according to their -wishes and fancies. They either find things delightful, or make -them so. They feign the beautiful and grand out of their own minds, -and imagine all things to be, not what they are, but what they ought -<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>to be. They are naturally inventors, creators not of truth but beauty: -and while they speak to us from the sacred shrine of their own -hearts, while they pour out the pure treasures of thought to the -world, they cannot be too much admired and applauded: but when, -forgetting their high calling, and becoming tools and puppets in the -hands of others, they would pass off the gewgaws of corruption and -love-tokens of self-interest, as the gifts of the Muse, they cannot be -too much despised and shunned. We do not like novels founded on -facts, nor do we like poets turned courtiers. Poets, it has been said, -succeed best in fiction: and they should for the most part stick to it. -Invention, not upon an imaginary subject, is a lie: the varnishing -over the vices or deformity of actual objects, is hypocrisy. Players -leave their finery at the stage-door, or they would be hooted: poets -come out into the world with all their bravery on, and yet they would -pass for <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">bonâ fide</span></i> persons. They lend the colours of fancy to whatever -they see: whatever they touch becomes gold, though it were -lead. With them every Joan is a lady: and kings and queens are -human. Matters of fact they embellish at their will, and reason is -the plaything of their passions, their caprice, or interest. There -is no practice so base of which they will not become the panders: -no sophistry of which their understanding may not be made the -voluntary dupe. Their only object is to please their fancy. Their -souls are effeminate, half man and half woman: they want fortitude, -and are without principle. If things do not turn out according to -their wishes, they will make their wishes turn round to things. -They can easily overlook whatever they do not approve, and make -an idol of any thing they please. The object of poetry is to please: -this art naturally gives pleasure, and excites admiration. Poets, -therefore, cannot do well without sympathy and flattery. It is, -accordingly, very much against the grain that they remain long on -the unpopular side of the question. They do not like to be shut -out when laurels are to be given away at court—or places under -government to be disposed of, in romantic situations in the country. -They are happy to be reconciled on the first opportunity to prince -and people, and to exchange their principles for a pension. They -have not always strength of mind to think for themselves; nor honesty -enough to bear the unjust stigma of the opinions they have taken -upon trust from others. Truth alone does not satisfy their pampered -appetites, without the sauce of praise. To prefer truth to all other -things, it requires that the mind should have been at some pains in -finding it out, and that it should feel a severe delight in the contemplation -of truth, seen by its own clear light, and not as it is -reflected in the admiring eyes of the world. A philosopher may -<span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>perhaps make a shift to be contented with the sober draughts of -reason: a poet must have the applause of the world to intoxicate -him. Milton was however a poet, and an honest man; he was -Cromwell’s secretary.</p> - -<p class='c010'>We have here described the spirit of poetry when it comes in -contact with the spirit of the world. Let us see what results from -it when it comes in contact with the spirit of Jacobinism. The -spirit of Jacobinism is essentially at variance with the spirit of poetry: -it has ‘no figures nor no fantasies,’ which the prejudices of superstition -or the world draw in the brains of men: ‘no trivial fond -records’: it levels all distinctions of art and nature: it has no pride, -pomp, or circumstance, belonging to it; it converts the whole -principle of admiration in the poet (which is the essence of poetry) -into admiration of himself. The spirit of Jacobin poetry is rank -egotism. We know an instance. It is of a person who founded -a school of poetry on sheer humanity, on ideot boys and mad mothers, -and on Simon Lee, the old huntsman. The secret of the Jacobin -poetry and the anti-jacobin politics of this writer is the same. His -lyrical poetry was a cant of humanity about the commonest people to -level the great with the small; and his political poetry is a cant of -loyalty to level Bonaparte with kings and hereditary imbecility. As -he would put up the commonest of men against kings and nobles, to -satisfy his levelling notions, so for the same reason, he would set up -the meanest of kings against the greatest of men, reposing once more -on the mediocrity of royalty. This person admires nothing that is -admirable, feels no interest in any thing interesting, no grandeur in -any thing grand, no beauty in any thing beautiful. He tolerates -nothing but what he himself creates; he sympathizes only with what -can enter into no competition with him, with ‘the bare earth and -mountains bare, and grass in the green field.’ He sees nothing but -himself and the universe. He hates all greatness, and all pretensions -to it but his own. His egotism is in this respect a madness; for he -scorns even the admiration of himself, thinking it a presumption in -any one to suppose that he has taste or sense enough to understand -him. He hates all science and all art; he hates chemistry, he hates -conchology; he hates Sir Isaac Newton; he hates logic, he hates -metaphysics, which he says are unintelligible, and yet he would be -thought to understand them; he hates prose, he hates all poetry but -his own; he hates Shakespeare, or what he calls ‘those interlocutions -between Lucius and Caius,’ because he would have all the talk to -himself, and considers the movements of passion in <cite>Lear</cite>, <cite>Othello</cite>, -or <cite>Macbeth</cite>, as impertinent, compared with the Moods of his own -Mind; he thinks every thing good is contained in the ‘Lyrical -<span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>Ballads,’ or, if it is not contained there, it is good for nothing; he -hates music, dancing, and painting; he hates Rubens, he hates -Rembrandt, he hates Raphael, he hates Titian, he hates Vandyke; -he hates the antique; he hates the Apollo Belvidere; he hates the -Venus de Medicis. He hates all that others love and admire but -himself. He is glad that Bonaparte is sent to St. Helena, and that -the Louvre is dispersed for the same reason—to get rid of the idea -of any thing greater, or thought greater than himself. The Bourbons, -and their processions of the Holy Ghost, give no disturbance to his -vanity; and he therefore gives them none.</p> - -<h4 class='c017'>THE TIMES NEWSPAPER<br /> ON THE CONNEXION BETWEEN TOAD-EATERS AND TYRANTS</h4> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Doubtless, the pleasure is as great</div> - <div class='line'>‘In being cheated as to cheat.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Jan. 12, 1817.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>We some time ago promised our friend, Mr. Robert Owen, an -explanation of some of the causes which impede the natural progress -of liberty and human happiness. We have in part redeemed this -pledge in what we said about <cite>Coriolanus</cite>, and we shall try in this -article to redeem it still more. We grant to our ingenious and -romantic friend, that the progress of knowledge and civilization is -in itself favourable to liberty and equality, and that the general -stream of thought and opinion constantly sets in this way, till power -finds the tide of public feeling becoming too strong for it, ready to -sap its rotten foundations, and ‘bore through its castle-walls’; and -then it contrives to turn the tide of knowledge and sentiment clean -the contrary way, and either bribes human reason to take part against -human nature, or knocks it on the head by a more summary process. -Thus, in the year 1792, Mr. Burke became a pensioner for writing -his book against the French Revolution, and Mr. Thomas Paine -was outlawed for his <cite>Rights of Man</cite>. Since that period, the press -has been the great enemy of freedom, the whole weight of that -immense engine (for the purposes of good or ill) having a fatal -bias given to it by the two main springs of fear and favour.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The weak sides of human intellect, by which power effects its -conversion to the worst purposes, when it finds the exercise of free -opinion inconsistent with the existence and uncontrouled exercise of -arbitrary power, are these four, viz. the grossness of the imagination, -which is seduced by outward appearances from the pursuit of real -<span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>ultimate good; the subtlety of the understanding itself, which -palliates by flimsy sophistry the most flagrant abuses; interest and -advancement in the world; and lastly, the feuds and jealousies of -literary men among one another. There is no class of persons so -little calculated to act in <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">corps</span></i> as literary men. All their views are -recluse and separate (for the mind acts by individual energy, and not -by numbers): their motives, whether good or bad, are personal to -themselves, their vanity exclusive, their love of truth independent; -they exist not by the preservation, but the destruction of their own -species; they are governed not by the spirit of unanimity, but of -contradiction. They will hardly allow any thing to be right or any -thing to be wrong, unless they are the first to find out that it is so; -and are ready to prove the best things in the world the worst, and -the worst the best, from the pure impulse of splenetic overweening -self-opinion, much more if they are likely to be well paid for it—not -that interest is their ruling passion, but still it operates, silent and -unseen, with them as with other men, when it can make a compromise -with their vanity. This part of the character of men of -letters is so well known, that Shakespear makes <em>Brutus</em> protest against -the fitness of <em>Cicero</em> to be included in their enterprize on this very -principle:—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Oh, name him not: let us not break with him;</div> - <div class='line'>For he will never follow any thing,</div> - <div class='line'>That other men begin.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>The whole of Mr. Burke’s <cite>Reflections on the French Revolution</cite><a id='r28' /><a href='#f28' class='c011'><sup>[28]</sup></a> is -but an elaborate and damning comment on this short text. He -quarrelled with the French Revolution out of spite to Rousseau, the -spark of whose genius had kindled the flame of liberty in a nation. -He therefore endeavoured to extinguish the flame—to put out the -light; and he succeeded, because there were others like himself, -ready to sacrifice every manly and generous principle to the morbid, -sickly, effeminate, little, selfish, irritable, dirty spirit of authorship. -Not only did such persons, according to Mr. Coleridge’s valuable -and competent testimony (see his <cite>Lay Sermon</cite>) make the distinction -between Atheism and Religion a mere stalking-horse for the indulgence -of their idle vanity, but they made the other questions of Liberty and -Slavery, of the Rights of Man, or the Divine Right of Kings to -rule millions of men as their Slaves for ever, they made these vital -and paramount questions (which whoever wilfully and knowingly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>compromises, is a traitor to himself and his species), subordinate to -the low, whiffling, contemptible gratification of their literary jealousy. -We shall not go over the painful list of instances; neither can we -forget them. But they all or almost all contrived to sneak over one -by one to the side on which ‘empty praise or solid pudding’ was to -be got; they could not live without the smiles of the great (not -they), nor provide for an increasing establishment without a loss of -character; instead of going into some profitable business and exchanging -their lyres for ledgers, their pens for the plough (the honest -road to riches), they chose rather to prostitute their pens to the -mock-heroic defence of the most barefaced of all mummeries, the -pretended alliance of kings and people! We told them how it -would be, if they succeeded; it has turned out just as we said; -and a pretty figure do these companions of Ulysses (<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Compagnons du -Lys</span></i>), these gaping converts to despotism, these well-fed victims of -the charms of the Bourbons, now make, nestling under their laurels -in the stye of Corruption, and sunk in torpid repose (from which -they do not like to be disturbed by calling on their former names or -professions), in lazy sinecures and good warm berths! Such is the -history and mystery of literary patriotism and prostitution for the last -twenty years.—Power is subject to none of these disadvantages. It -is one and indivisible; it is self-centered, self-willed, incorrigible, -inaccessible to temptation or entreaty; interest is on its side, passion -is on its side, prejudice is on its side, the name of religion is on its -side; the qualms of conscience it is not subject to, for it is iron-nerved; -humanity it is proof against, for it sets itself up above -humanity; reason it does not hearken to, except that reason which -panders to its will and flatters its pride. It pursues its steady way, -its undeviating everlasting course, ‘unslacked of motion,’ like that -foul Indian idol, the Jaggernaut, and crushes poor upstart poets, -patriots, and philosophers (the beings of an hour) and the successive -never-ending generations of fools and knaves, beneath its feet; and -mankind bow their willing necks to the yoke, and eagerly consign -their children and their children’s children to be torn in pieces by its -scythe, or trampled to death by the gay, gaudy, painted, bloodstained -wheels of the grim idol of power!</p> - -<p class='c010'>Such is the state of the Eastern world, where the inherent baseness -of man’s nature, and his tendency to social order, to tyrannize and to -be tyrannized over, has had full time to develope itself. Our turn -seems next. We are but just setting out, it is true, in this bye-nook -and corner of the world—but just recovering from the effects of the -Revolution of 1688, and the defeated Rebellions of the years 1715 -and 1745, but we need hardly despair under the auspices of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>Editor of <cite>The Times</cite>, and with the example of the defeat ‘of the -last successful instance of a democratic rebellion,’ by the second -restoration of the Bourbons, before our eyes and close under our -noses. Mr. Owen may think the example of New Lanark more -inviting, but the persons to whom he has dedicated his work turn -their eyes another way!<a id='r29' /><a href='#f29' class='c011'><sup>[29]</sup></a></p> - -<p class='c010'>Man is a toad-eating animal. The admiration of power in others -is as common to man as the love of it in himself: the one makes him -a tyrant, the other a slave. It is not he alone, who wears the golden -crown, that is proud of it: the wretch who pines in a dungeon, and -in chains, is dazzled with it; and if he could but shake off his own -fetters, would care little about the wretches whom he left behind -him, so that he might have an opportunity, on being set free himself, -of gazing at this glittering gewgaw ‘on some high holiday of once a -year.’ The slave, who has no other hope or consolation, clings to -the apparition of royal magnificence, which insults his misery and his -despair; stares through the hollow eyes of famine at the insolence of -pride and luxury which has occasioned it, and hugs his chains the -closer, because he has nothing else left. The French, under the old -regime, made the glory of their <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Grand Monarque</span></i> a set-off against -rags and hunger, equally satisfied with <em>shows or bread</em>; and the poor -Spaniard, delivered from temporary to permanent oppression, looks -up once more with pious awe, to the time-hallowed towers of the -Holy Inquisition. As the herd of mankind are stripped of every -thing, in body and mind, so are they thankful for what is left; as is -the desolation of their hearts and the wreck of their little all, so is -the pomp and pride which is built upon their ruin, and their fawning -admiration of it.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘I’ve heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds</div> - <div class='line'>With coldness still returning:</div> - <div class='line'>Alas! the gratitude of men</div> - <div class='line'>Has oftener set me mourning.’<a id='r30' /><a href='#f30' class='c011'><sup>[30]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'><span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>There is something in the human mind, which requires an object -for it to repose on; and, driven from all other sources of pride or -pleasure, it falls in love with misery, and grows enamoured of -oppression. It gazes after the liberty, the happiness, the comfort, -the knowledge, which have been torn from it by the unfeeling gripe -of wealth and power, as the poor debtor gazes with envy and wonder -at the Lord Mayor’s show. Thus is the world by degrees reduced -to a spital or lazar-house, where the people waste away with want -and disease, and are thankful if they are only suffered to crawl -forgotten to their graves. Just in proportion to the systematic -tyranny exercised over a nation, to its loss of a sense of freedom -and the spirit of resistance, will be its loyalty; the most abject -submission will always be rendered to the most confirmed despotism. -The most wretched slaves are the veriest sycophants. The lacquey, -mounted behind his master’s coach, looks down with contempt upon -the mob, forgetting his own origin and his actual situation, and -comparing them only with that standard of gentility which he has -perpetually in his eye. The hireling of the press (a still meaner -slave) wears his livery, and is proud of it. He measures the greatness -of others by his own meanness; their lofty pretensions indemnify him -for his servility; he magnifies the sacredness of their persons to cover -the laxity of his own principles. He offers up his own humanity, -and that of all men, at the shrine of royalty. He sneaks to court; -and the bland accents of power close his ears to the voice of freedom -ever after; its velvet touch makes his heart marble to a people’s -sufferings. He is the intellectual pimp of power, as others are the -practical ones of the pleasures of the great, and often on the same -disinterested principle. For one tyrant, there are a thousand ready -slaves. Man is naturally a worshipper of idols and a lover of kings. -It is the excess of individual power, that strikes and gains over his -imagination: the general misery and degradation which are the -necessary consequences of it, are spread too wide, they lie too -deep, their weight and import are too great, to appeal to any but the -slow, inert, speculative, imperfect faculty of reason. The cause of -liberty is lost in its own truth and magnitude; while the cause of -despotism flourishes, triumphs, and is irresistible in the gross mixture, -the <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Belle Alliance</span></i>, of pride and ignorance.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Power is the grim idol that the world adore; that arms itself with -destruction, and reigns by terror in the coward heart of man; that -dazzles the senses, haunts the imagination, confounds the understanding, -and tames the will, by the vastness of its pretensions, and -the very hopelessness of resistance to them. Nay more, the more -mischievous and extensive the tyranny—the longer it has lasted, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>the longer it is likely to last—the stronger is the hold it takes of the -minds of its victims, the devotion to it increasing with the dread. It -does not satisfy the enormity of the appetite for servility, till it has -slain the mind of a nation, and becomes like the evil principle of the -universe, from which there is no escape. So in some countries, the -most destructive animals are held sacred, despair and terror completely -overpowering reason. The prejudices of superstition (religion -is another name for fear) are always the strongest in favour of those -forms of worship which require the most bloody sacrifices; the -foulest idols are those which are approached with the greatest awe; -for it should seem that those objects are the most sacred to passion -and imagination, which are the most revolting to reason and common -sense. No wonder that the Editor of <cite>The Times</cite> bows his head -before the idol of Divine Right, or of Legitimacy, (as he calls it) -which has had more lives sacrificed to its ridiculous and unintelligible -pretensions, in the last twenty-five years, than were ever sacrificed to -any other idol in all preceding ages. Never was there any thing so -well contrived as this fiction of Legitimacy, to suit the fastidious -delicacy of modern sycophants. It hits their grovelling servility and -petulant egotism exactly between wind and water. The contrivers -or re-modellers of this idol, beat all other idol-mongers, whether -Jews, Gentiles or Christians, hollow. The principle of an idolatry -is the same: it is the want of something to admire, without knowing -what or why: it is the love of an effect without a cause; it is a -voluntary tribute of admiration which does not compromise our vanity: -it is setting something up over all the rest of the world, to which we -feel ourselves to be superior, for it is our own handy-work; so that -the more perverse the homage we pay to it, the more it pampers our -self-will: the meaner the object, the more magnificent and pompous -the attributes we bestow upon it; the greater the lie, the more -enthusiastically it is believed and greedily swallowed:—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Of whatsoever race his godhead be,</div> - <div class='line'>Stock, stone, or other homely pedigree,</div> - <div class='line'>In his defence his servants are as bold</div> - <div class='line'>As if he had been made of beaten gold.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>In this inverted ratio, the bungling impostors of former times, and -less refined countries, got no further than stocks and stones: their -utmost stretch of refinement in absurdity went no further than to -select the most mischievous animals or the most worthless objects for -the adoration of their besotted votaries: but the framers of the new -law-fiction of legitimacy have started a non-entity. The ancients -sometimes worshipped the sun or stars, or deified heroes and great -men: the moderns have found out the image of the divinity in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>Louis <span class='fss'>XVIII.</span>! They have set up an object for their idolatry, which -they themselves must laugh at, if hypocrisy were not with them the -most serious thing in the world. They offer up thirty millions of -men to it as its victims, and yet they know that it is nothing but a -scare-crow to keep the world in subjection to their renegado whimsies -and preposterous hatred of the liberty and happiness of mankind. -They do not think kings gods, but they make believe that they do -so, to degrade their fellows to the rank of brutes. Legitimacy -answers every object of their meanness and malice—<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">omne tulit punctum</span></i>.—This -mock-doctrine, this little Hunchback, which our resurrection-men, -the Humane Society of Divine Right, have foisted on the altar -of Liberty, is not only a phantom of the imagination, but a contradiction -in terms; it is a prejudice, but an exploded prejudice; it is -an imposture, that imposes on nobody; it is powerful only in impotence, -safe in absurdity, courted from fear and hatred, a dead -prejudice linked to the living mind; the sink of honour, the grave of -liberty, a palsy in the heart of a nation; it claims the species as its -property, and derives its right neither from God nor man; not from -the authority of the Church, which it treats cavalierly, and yet in -contempt of the will of the people, which it scouts as opposed to its -own: its two chief supporters are, the sword of the Duke of -Wellington and the pen of the Editor of <cite>The Times</cite>! The last of -these props has, we understand, just failed it.</p> - -<p class='c010'>We formerly gave the Editor of <cite>The Times</cite> a definition of a true -Jacobin, as one ‘who had seen the evening star set over a poor man’s -cottage, and connected it with the hope of human happiness.’ -The city-politician laughed this pastoral definition to scorn, and -nicknamed the person who had very innocently laid it down, ‘the -true Jacobin who writes in the Chronicle,’—a nickname by which -we profited as little as he has by our Illustrations. Since that time -our imagination has grown a little less romantic: so we will give him -another, which he may chew the cud upon at his leisure. A true -Jacobin, then, is one who does not believe in the divine right of -kings, or in any other <em>alias</em> for it, which implies that they reign ‘in -contempt of the will of the people’; and he holds all such kings to -be tyrants, and their subjects slaves. To be a true Jacobin, a man -must be a good hater; but this is the most difficult and the least -amiable of all the virtues: the most trying and the most thankless of -all tasks. The love of liberty consists in the hatred of tyrants. -The true Jacobin hates the enemies of liberty as they hate liberty, -with all his strength and with all his might, and with all his heart -and with all his soul. His memory is as long, and his will as strong -as theirs, though his hands are shorter. He never forgets or forgives -<span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>an injury done to the people, for tyrants never forget or forgive one -done to themselves. There is no love lost between them. He does -not leave them the sole benefit of their old motto, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Odia in longum -jaciens quæ conderet auctaque promeret</span></i>. He makes neither peace nor -truce with them. His hatred of wrong only ceases with the wrong. -The sense of it, and of the barefaced assumption of the right to -inflict it, deprives him of his rest. It stagnates in his blood. It -loads his heart with aspics’ tongues, deadly to venal pens. It settles -in his brain—it puts him beside himself. Who will not feel all this -for a girl, a toy, a turn of the dice, a word, a blow, for any thing -relating to himself; and will not the friend of liberty feel as much -for mankind? The love of truth is a passion in his mind, as the -love of power is a passion in the minds of others. Abstract reason, -unassisted by passion, is no match for power and prejudice, armed -with force and cunning. The love of liberty is the love of others; -the love of power is the love of ourselves. The one is real; the -other often but an empty dream. Hence the defection of modern -apostates. While they are looking about, wavering and distracted, -in pursuit of universal good or universal fame, the eye of power is -upon them, like the eye of Providence, that neither slumbers nor -sleeps, and that watches but for one object, its own good. They -take no notice of it at first, but it is still upon them, and never off -them. It at length catches theirs, and they bow to its sacred light; -and like the poor fluttering bird, quail beneath it, are seized with a -vertigo, and drop senseless into its jaws, that close upon them for -ever, and so we see no more of them, which is well.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘And we saw three poets in a dream, walking up and down on the -face of the earth, and holding in their hands a human heart, which, -as they raised their eyes to heaven, they kissed and worshipped; and -a mighty shout arose and shook the air, for the towers of the Bastile -had fallen, and a nation had become, of slaves, freemen; and the -three poets, as they heard the sound, leaped and shouted, and made -merry, and their voice was choked with tears of joy, which they -shed over the human heart, which they kissed and worshipped. And -not long after, we saw the same three poets, the one with a receipt-stamp -in his hand, the other with a laurel on his head, and the third -with a symbol which we could make nothing of, for it was neither -literal nor allegorical, following in the train of the Pope and the -Inquisition and the Bourbons, and worshipping the mark of the -Beast, with the emblem of the human heart thrown beneath their -feet, which they trampled and spit upon!’—This apologue is not -worth finishing, nor are the people to whom it relates worth talking -of. We have done with them.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span> - <h3 class='c003'><span class='sc'>Interesting Facts</span> <em>relating to the Fall and Death of Joachim Murat, King of Naples; the Capitulation of Paris in 1815; and the Second Restoration of the Bourbons: Original Letters from King Joachim to the Author, with some Account of the Author, and of his Persecution by the French Government</em>. <em>By</em> Francis Macirone, <em>late Aid-de-camp to King Joachim; Knight of the Order of the Two Sicilies</em>, &c. &c. London: Ridgways, 1817.</h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Come, draw the curtain; shew the picture.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>February 2, 1817.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>We have here a pretty peep behind ‘the dark blanket’ of Legitimacy. -We thank Mr. Macirone for having introduced us once more to the -old lady of that name in her dressing-room. What a tissue of -patches and of paint! What a quantity of wrinkles and of proud -flesh! What a collection of sickly perfumes and slow poisons, with -her love-powders and the assassin’s knife placed side by side! What -treacheries and lies upon her tongue! What meanness and malice -in her heart! What an old hypocritical hag it is! What a vile -canting, mumbling, mischievous witch! ‘Pah! and smells so.’ -The very wind that kisses all it meets, stops the nose at her. We -wonder how any prince should take a fancy to such an old rotten -demirep! Yet this is the heroine of all heroines (Mr. Southey will -tell you in hobbling illegitimate verse), a greater heroine than even -<em>his</em> Joan of Arc—the heroine of Leipsic, of Saragossa, and of -Waterloo! It is indeed the same. Look at her again, look at her -well, look at her closely, and you will find that it is ‘that harlot old,’</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘The same that was, that is, and is to be;’—</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>the mother of abominations, the daughter of lies. Dig up the bones -of a few of her wretched favourites you may, in Carmelite dresses or -any other trumpery; but can you dig up the bones of the men that -she has murdered, from the earliest time? can you collect the blood -of the millions of men that she has sacrificed in the last twenty-five -years alone, and pour it into the Thames, while our merchant-men -ride freighted with gold upon the gory stream, and the Editor of -<cite>The Times</cite> (without being called to account for it) applauds with the -‘sweet thunder’ of his pen the proud balance of our exports and our -imports, blood and gold? or can you collect the sighs and dried-up -tears of wretches that she, Legitimacy, has doomed to pine without -a cause in dungeons, to prove that she is the dread sovereign of the -human heart? or the groans and shrieks of victims stretched on the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>rack, or consumed by slow fire, to prove that the minds of men -belong to her? or the cries of hunger and pinching cold, the sweat, -the rags, the diseases, the emaciated wan looks, by which she proves -that the bodies of men are her’s? or can you conjure up the wide -spreading desolation which she breathes from her nostrils, the famine -and pestilence which she scatters before her for her sport and wantonness, -the ruins of cities and of countries which she makes her throne, -and from which, amidst the groans of the dying and the dead, she -utters, laughing, the sacred doctrine of ‘millions made for one!’—One -thing contents us, and sits light upon our hearts, that we have -always seen through her disguises: we have known her from first to -last, though ‘she has changed shapes with Proteus,’ and now gone -by the name of Religion, now of Social Order, now of Morality, -now been personified at Guildhall as Trade and Commerce, or sat in -the Speaker’s chair as the English Constitution (the most impudent -trick of all)—under none of these respectable alias’s and swindling -characters, nor when she towered above the conflagration of Moscow, -<em>dressed in a robe of flame-coloured taffeta</em>, or sat perched as Victory on -the crests of British soldiers, nor when she hovered over the frightened -country as the harpy of Invasion; no, nor at any other time did we -ever take her for any thing but what we knew she was, the patron-saint -of tyrants and of slaves; an adulteress, an impostor, and a -murderess. The world, whom she has juggled, begin to find her -out too: it will hardly ‘stand now with her sorceries and her lies, -and the blood of men, with which she has made herself drunk’; -and we may yet live to see her carted for a bawd.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Having thus vented the overflowings of our gall against the old -lady above-mentioned, we shall proceed to a detail of some of her -fraudulent transactions, as they are stated with great clearness and -command of temper, in Mr. Macirone’s ‘Interesting Facts.’ Interesting -indeed! But no more comments for the present. We have -not time to grace our narrative or confirm our doctrine of ‘the uses -of <em>legitimacy</em>,’ by giving Mr. Macirone’s history of the treatment of -his family by the Holy See, which brought his father to this country, -and eventually led to his connexion with Murat. It appears that his -grandfather, the head of a noble and wealthy family at Rome, was -ruined in a large concern, and then robbed of his right by Monsignore -Banchieri, treasurer to the Pope, a ‘gentleman and man of honour’ -in those times; and that, though the tribunals awarded him reparation, -the decisions in his favour were constantly defeated by the -interposition of the papal power. The consequence was, that the -elder Macirone, after a fruitless struggle of several years with -legitimate power and injustice, died of grief and chagrin, and his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>family were dispersed in various directions: his eldest son came to -England and married an English lady, of which union our author -was the issue. This short episode shews what Legitimacy, that is, -<em>a power above the law, and accountable only to heaven for its exercise, its -use or its abuse</em>, always was, and always will be. These tricks were -played long before the French revolution, and with a million other -tricks of the same legitimate, that is, lawless kind, produced it.—We -have here an account of some of the tricks resorted to by the -wielders and abettors of mild paternal sway to restore the old right -to do wrong with impunity, and to put down the principles and -partizans of the revolution, as an example of successful rebellion -against power held in contempt of the people, and exercised in disregard -of law. Mr. Macirone, a native of England, went to Italy -at the age of fifteen, and remained there from 1803 till 1812. Part -of this time he was detained as an English prisoner. He was afterwards -employed as an <em>aid-de-camp</em> to Murat, and gives the following -narrative of his transactions with the Allies:—</p> - -<p class='c010'>1. A Treaty of Alliance, offensive and defensive, was signed -between Austria and Naples, on the 11th of Jan. 1814, and the -Austrian Plenipotentiary declared that England was ready to accede -to a similar Treaty with King Joachim.—2. A Convention was -signed by Lord William Bentinck with the Neapolitan Government, -which opened the ports of Italy to the British fleet, and -placed affairs on a footing of perfect peace.—3. Murat, on the -strength of these engagements, opened the campaign in concert with -the Allies, when instantly objections were made to the ratification of -the Treaty with Austria, not by Austria, but by England, on some -pretence of the territorial indemnifications to be granted to Murat at -the expense of the Pope.—4. Murat assented to the proposed -modifications, and Lord W. Bentinck declared, that the English -Government now agreed entirely to the Treaty between Austria and -Naples.—5. This declaration of Lord W. Bentinck was confirmed -by a declaration of Lord Castlereagh, that it was only from motives -of delicacy to the King of Sicily that the English Government -delayed the conclusion of a special and separate Treaty with Naples, -<em>that a Treaty of Indemnities to the King of Sicily and of Peace with -King Joachim might go hand in hand</em>.—6. Murat now joined the -campaign of 1814, and turned the scale against France and Napoleon.—In -this state of things, Mr. Macirone observes,—</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘A variety of circumstances had now combined to induce the -King to doubt the sincerity of the Allies. <em>The Emperor of Austria -had delayed for many days the transmission of the ratification of the -Treaty of the 11th January. Ferdinand of Sicily had published an -<span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>order of the day to some Sicilian troops about to land at Leghorn, in -which they were informed that they were going to recover his kingdom of -Naples, which he had never ceded, and never would cede. The English -general, Lord William Bentinck, had landed with these troops, under -instructions to excite a revolution in Italy, and had insisted on the -maintenance of a position (Tuscany) which intercepted the communication -between the Neapolitan army and Naples; propositions at the same time -were made in a foreign camp to Neapolitan generals and other officers, for -the expulsion of the then reigning dynasty from the throne of Naples.</em> -The doubts which these circumstances had excited were removed by -a declaration of General Sir Robert Wilson, at Bologna; <em>that he -considered the letter of Lord Castlereagh, containing the promise of a -formal treaty, as of equal value and force with a treaty already signed. -And that neither the executive authority, nor the parliament, would -hesitate to recognize the validity of such an engagement</em>. Indeed, it was -in his opinion more imperative, if possible, than a regular treaty, -<em>because it connected an appeal to honour with an obligation on good faith</em>. -From that moment the King again made the most zealous efforts in -the common cause.’—p. 20.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Alas! Sir Robert, ‘How little knew’st thou of Calista!’ as a -body may say. But you have in part redeemed your errors, and -revenged the trick that was thus put upon your <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">preux chevalier</span></i> notions -of honour!—One would think there was shuffling and paltering and -evasion and cant and cunning enough in the foregoing part of this -transaction. What follows is worse. After the campaigns which -so providentially delivered France and Europe from the hands of -illegitimate into those of legitimate power <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en plein droit</span></i>, and while the -immortal congress was yet assembled at Vienna, ‘Prince Talleyrand, -on the part of King Louis,’ says Mr. Macirone, ‘was indefatigable -in his exertions to induce the Austrian government to withdraw their -alliance from the King of Naples, from whom the allied powers had -so recently received the most efficient support. The Austrian -government being warmly urged to undertake the <em>holy war</em> of -legitimacy against its ally, the King of Naples, at length expressed -its willingness to comply, but alleged the exhausted state of the -finances of the country. <em>This difficulty was, it is said, immediately -removed by the British ministers, who offered to defray all the expense of -the expedition</em>, and moreover to furnish a British fleet, in preference to -a French fleet, as proposed by Talleyrand in his famous note, which -fleet should act in concert with and assist the movements of the -Austrian forces.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>One would think that after this open and profligate breach of -faith, the legitimates had made up their minds to keep no terms with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>illegitimacy. But, no: expediency turns round once more, and -British honour, simplicity, and good faith, with it! Murat, in -consequence of the preparations against him, attacked the Austrians -‘at the very moment, as it afterwards turned out, that the apprehensions -of his union with Napoleon, who had just returned to France -from Elba, had determined the British Cabinet to attend to the -invocations of justice in his favour. Lord Castlereagh had written -to the Duke of Wellington, who was at that time the plenipotentiary -of the British court at Vienna, and informed him, that <em>in consequence -of the reappearance of Napoleon at the head of the French nation</em>, the -British ministers thought it adviseable to unite all the force they -could collect, and had consequently come to a determination immediately -to conclude a treaty of alliance with the King of Naples.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>Bravo, my Lord Castlereagh! you may one day find, after all, -that honesty is the best policy; and we hope the Editor of <cite>The -Times</cite>, in the next number of <cite>The Correspondent</cite>, will relieve his -praises of the allies and his compliments to the Duke of Levis, by -a criticism to prove that Jonathan Wild and Count Fathom were -‘gentlemen and men of honour!’</p> - -<p class='c010'>But the tale of blushing British honour is not ended. At the -time when Murat was at the height of his success against the -Austrians, ‘Colonel Dalrymple arrived at Bologna, King Joachim’s -head-quarters, commissioned by Lord William Bentinck, <em>to request -that the territory of his Britannic majesty’s ally, the King of Sardinia, -might not be violated by the Neapolitan army</em>.’—In consequence of -Murat’s polite attention to this delicate request, he lost his campaign, -his crown, and his life; for no sooner was he defeated in his attempts -to force the passage of the Po, which he might easily have effected, -by infringing upon a small corner of the Piedmontese territory, than -‘he was surprized at receiving a notification from Lord William -Bentinck, <em>that his instructions were to join the Austrians against him</em>.’—We -know the consequences of this exquisite simplicity of proceeding -on both sides. Poor Murat! he well deserved his fate, but not at -the hands from which he received it. Foolish fellow! He did not -know that legitimacy keeps no faith with illegitimacy. At present, -we suppose that point is pretty well settled.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Murat was senseless enough to believe that he, who had been -made a king by Bonaparte, would be cordially received in the list -of kings by those who were so <em>by divine right</em>; and he was base -enough to turn against his benefactor, his country, and the human -race; but in himself he appears to have been a gallant, generous, and -heroic-minded man. The account of his escape from the Austrians, -and of his landing in France, is interesting:—</p> - -<p class='c010'><span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>‘On the king’s approach to Naples with a small remnant of his -army, six thousand of the national guard, with General Macdonald, -minister of war, at their head, marched forth to meet him. They -greeted his return in the most loyal and affectionate manner, exhorting -him still to hope for success in the love and devotedness of his -subjects, swearing that they were all ready to perish in defence of -their king and country; but in consequence of the part England had -taken against him, he declined making any further efforts, which -would only tend to involve the brave and loyal in his own catastrophe.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘He entered Naples unknown, in the evening of the 19th May, -accompanied by his nephew, who was colonel of the 9th regiment of -lancers, and four privates. He immediately proceeded to his palace, -where he appeared before the queen, pale and emaciated, in the habit -of a lancer; tenderly embracing her, he said, “All is lost, madam, -but my life; that I have not been able to lose.”<a id='r31' /><a href='#f31' class='c011'><sup>[31]</sup></a></p> - -<p class='c010'>‘Having taken farewell of his children, he caused his hair, which -he had hitherto worn in long ringlets, to be cut short, and habited in -a plain grey suit, accompanied by his nephew, the colonel, he proceeded -on foot to the sea-shore, opposite to the island of Nisida. -He there embarked in a little boat, and proceeded to the neighbouring -island of Ischia. There he remained three days without being -known, and on the fourth, as he was walking on the sea-shore on -the southern side of the island, in company with the colonel, consulting -about the means of effecting their escape to France, they -discovered a small vessel to the east, in full sail, approaching the -spot where they were standing.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘The king immediately hailed the vessel, and getting into a -fishing-boat which was on the shore, ordered the crew to row towards -it, and, as soon as they were perceived, a boat was sent from the -vessel to meet them. The feelings of all parties may easily be -imagined, when, in one of the persons on board, the king recognized -his attached and faithful servant the Duke of Roccaromana, to whom -the vessel belonged, and who, in company with the Marquis Giuliano, -the king’s aid-de-camp, had escaped from Naples, and was proceeding -in this vessel in search of the king, under the greatest anxiety and -apprehension, lest some accident might have befallen him, although, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>previously to quitting the palace, the king had divided with the duke -and marquis a considerable sum in gold, and acquainted them with -his plan of going to Ischia, accompanied only by his nephew, and of -embarking from thence to France.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘The duke could not succeed in effecting his escape from Naples -until three days after the departure of the king. The enemy’s flag -had been hoisted in Ischia; and it appeared highly improbable, under -all circumstances, that the king could have remained there concealed -for those three days. It was unsafe for the duke to attempt landing -on the island, and yet there appeared no other means of ascertaining -whether the king was there or had proceeded on his voyage. In -this embarrassment, it happened that the duke, who was most -anxiously examining the shore of the island with a glass, perceived -and recognized the king. The rest of their voyage proved most -prosperous and expeditious. They landed at Cannes the 27th or -28th of May.’—p. 30.</p> - -<p class='c010'>We shall in our next give the particulars of Mr. Macirone’s -interviews with the Duke of Wellington, relating to the convention -of Paris; and we shall be cautious what we say of his Grace’s -observations and conduct on that occasion; for if we were to say -what we think of that noble person, there might be some offence -in it. But we cannot help having an opinion of him, which all that -we hear of him confirms.</p> - -<h4 class='c017'><span class='sc'>Interesting Facts</span> <em>relating to the Fall of Murat, &c.</em></h4> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div><em>By</em> F. Macirone, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">&c.</span></i></div> - <div class='c004'><span class='small'>(CONCLUDED.)</span></div> - <div class='c004'><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Sta viator, heroem calcas.</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Feb. 9, 1817.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>We proceed to Mr. Macirone’s account of the surrender of Paris. -Let it speak for itself:—</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘Immediately after the battle of Waterloo, Napoleon returned to -Paris, and abdicated the throne in <em>favour of his son, who would -have been accepted and proclaimed by the French people</em>, but for the -opposition of two celebrated individuals.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘On this abdication, a commission of government, as it was called, -was formed, consisting of Fouché, the president, Caulincourt, Carnot, -Quinette, and Grenier.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘On the 26th of June, I believe, the Duke of Wellington, at the -head of his victorious army, reached Compeigne. In the course of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>the following night, a deputation of five persons was sent to him -from Paris by the two Chambers, to solicit an armistice for a few -days. The avowed purpose of this mission was to afford time for -the return of another deputation, which had been despatched to the -Allied Sovereigns, to assert the right of the French people to choose -their own government, in conformity to the Declaration of the Allies, -<em>that they warred against the person of Napoleon only, and not against the -French people, or to force upon them any particular government</em>.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘The Chamber of Deputies, the majority of the Commissioners of -Government, and the Army, now in great strength in Paris, were -<em>determined to resist any attempt to force the Bourbons upon them</em>; -while the avowed opinion of Fouché and Caulincourt was, that such -a determination could only lead to the destruction of Paris, and the -loss of thousands of lives. They therefore sought the means of -opening a communication with the Duke of Wellington, in which -they might impart to him their views, and avert the calamity which -they apprehended from the projects of the other parties. In the -expediency of procuring an armistice for a few days, <em>all</em> parties -concurred; and Fouché, who had become acquainted with me in -my interviews with him respecting King Joachim, solicited me to -undertake the task of carrying on a communication between him and -the Duke of Wellington. It was sufficient for me to know that the -service in which I was to be engaged had for its object the prevention -of a sanguinary conflict, which an attempt to take Paris by force -would have occasioned, and I therefore consented to be the bearer of -Fouché’s message to the Duke.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘My feelings as an Englishman entirely influenced my conduct in -this instance. I exulted in the success of our army, and in the -military glory which the English name had acquired; and it appeared -to me, that whatever might tend to prevent the further effusion of -blood, must be highly acceptable to my country; and to be selected -as an instrument, by which so humane and desirable an object might -be accomplished, was highly gratifying to my mind, and I should not -have thought myself at liberty to refuse to engage in it, from any -opinion I might entertain of the private views of the persons by whom -I should be employed. Impressed with these sentiments, I left -Paris at midnight. I proceeded to the Barriere de la Villette, where -I found some difficulty in getting my carriage over the different -entrenchments and <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">abattis</span></i>, but still more from the French officers, -who evinced the greatest reluctance in permitting me to pass, observing -that I was probably a person sent out to treat with the enemy, -and to betray them; but on my assuring them that the purport of -my mission was entirely analogous to their views and interests, I was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>suffered to proceed without a trumpet. Before I had got beyond -the French lines, I was again stopped by a picquet of cuirassiers, who -refused to let me pass without an order from the officer commanding -the inner posts; and while I was asserting my right to proceed, a -cuirassier fortunately happened to hold a light to my face, and very -respectfully accosted me with the salutation of “bon voyage Major”: -his comrades immediately asked him who I was? he answered, “it’s -the Major of the 9th Hussars,” for whom I suppose he had mistaken -me. This was instantly believed; and, greeted by the salutations -and good wishes of the whole troop, I was allowed to continue my -journey.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘The Prussian advanced posts were at less than two miles distant, -and I was consequently very soon stopped by a Prussian lancer, who, -upon my telling him that I was an English officer, proceeding with -dispatches to the Duke of Wellington, immediately accompanied me -to the next post. Here I learnt with great pleasure, that this -advanced guard of cavalry was commanded by Prince William of -Prussia, whose first Aid-de-camp, Baron Rochow, was my particular -friend.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘I soon arrived at the spot where Prince William and his Staff -were sleeping in a field, before a large fire, under some trees. I -inquired for my friend, Baron Rochow. His name was called, and -I immediately had the pleasure of seeing him. After a few urgent -questions, he proposed to introduce me to Prince William, who by -this time had raised himself upon his mattrass. The Prince received -me with the greatest politeness, and directed that I should be -presented with refreshments. On my taking leave, he ordered me -to be furnished with an escort to General Baron Bulow. I arrived -at this General’s quarters at break of day, and was soon after introduced -to him. While I was at breakfast with him, he told me that -he wished me to see Prince Blucher on my way to the Duke of -Wellington; and added, that he would send his Aid-de-camp with -me. He then ordered his servant to call his Aid-de-camp, Baron -Echardstein, to whom I was also particularly known.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘On our arrival at Prince Blucher’s, my companion, Baron -Echardstein informed him that I was going on a mission from the -French Government to the Duke of Wellington; this did not seem -to please the Prince, who immediately retired to rest, and left me to -converse with his Chef-d’etat-Major. This gentleman, whose name -I believe was Gneisenau, was very indignant on being informed of -the desire of the French to treat with the Duke of Wellington; and -he completely lost his temper when he observed the coolness with -which I listened to his indiscreet and authoritative language.</p> - -<p class='c010'><span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>‘On my quitting this choleric soldier, my friend Echardstein -thought it necessary to apologise to me for the indelicate behaviour of -his countryman. I proceeded on my journey, and soon met numerous -columns of English cavalry, and found the five French Deputies, -waiting for the Duke’s arrival, at a village called Fresnoy. I thought -it expedient to endeavour to see the Duke before the Deputies, and -therefore passed them on the road. I shortly after met the Duke, -and imparted to him the purport of my mission, and delivered to him -also a sealed dispatch from Fouché, upon which he desired me to -accompany him to the village where the Deputies were. He asked -me if I was acquainted with the nature of the mission. I told him -that I knew that one part of it, at least, was to request an armistice -of some days, until news could arrive from other Deputies, who had -been sent to treat with the united Sovereigns.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘On the Duke’s arrival at the village of Fresnoy, he conferred -with the Deputies for five hours. They adduced, in support of their -missions, the solemn declaration of the British Ministers, “that it -was not the intention of the Allies to force the Bourbons, or any other -government, on the French people; that they had made war against -Napoleon only, and not against the nation,” &c. Their mission -failed. They received for answer, that the only thing left for the -Chambers to do was to proclaim Louis 18th.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘The Duke then proceeded to Plessis, the head-quarters for that -day. The Deputies remained behind. I was desired by the Duke -to accompany him to Plessis, where I dined with him, and during -dinner conversed with him on the object I had to propose respecting -an armistice. Before I took my leave of the Duke, I requested that -he would give me some answer to the remonstrances of the Commission -of Government, which stated, “<em>that as the Allies had declared -their hostility to be directed against the person of Napoleon only, it would -be but just to await the result of the mission to the Sovereigns, before his -Grace undertook to replace Louis 18th on the throne</em>.” The Duke, in -the presence of Lord March, Colonels Hervey, Freemantle, Abercromby, -and several other officers, replied,—“I can give no other -answer than that which you know <em>I have just given</em> to the Deputies. -<em>Tell them (the Commission of Government) that they had better immediately -proclaim the King (Louis 18th). I cannot treat till then, nor upon any -other condition. Their King is here at hand: let them send their -submission to him.</em>”</p> - -<p class='c010'>We are glad the Duke is not an Englishman?<a id='r32' /><a href='#f32' class='c011'><sup>[32]</sup></a></p> - -<p class='c010'><span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span>‘The Duke was at this time in constant communication with King -Louis and Talleyrand, who were together in the rear of the army; -and I saw one of the messengers of Louis 18th at the Duke’s head-quarters.—I -returned to Paris the next morning. Davoust had -taken the chief command of the French army, and had fixed his -head-quarters at the Barriere de la Villette, by which I entered Paris. -On my being introduced to him, he demanded to know the object of -my mission to the enemy, and said, that as he then held the supreme -command, I must communicate to him any dispatches of which I -might be the bearer? I answered him, that I had no written message; -that my mission had been nearly similar to that of the Deputies; that -I had been sent out by the Commission, and therefore thought it my -duty to account with its members only for my proceedings. I could, -however, inform him of the declaration, which, in common with the -Deputies, I had received from the Duke of Wellington. Hereupon -I reported to him the Duke’s <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">sine qua non</span></i>. He immediately declared -that my intelligence was incredible, and expressed his disbelief of it -in the strongest terms. Then, with the greatest emotion, and with -uplifted hands and eyes, <em>he called heaven to witness the perfidy and -arrogant injustice of the English Ministry, and of the Allies</em>. “<em>The -Duke of Wellington</em>,” said he, “<em>surely could never dare to make a -declaration so directly contrary to the avowed and solemnly protested -intentions of the British Ministry, and of the other Allies</em>. <em>Have not -they sworn that they would not impose a sovereign on the French people? -However, they will find to their cost, that we are unanimous in our -resolution. Napoleon can no longer be the pretext for their hostilities. -We will all perish rather than submit to the hateful yoke that Lord -Castlereagh would impose upon us! —— is a traitor! he was about to -compromise with the enemy—I have taken his command from him—he -shall never again command a corporal’s guard—we are an independent -nation—England should be the last power to tyrannize over us in -our choice of a government.</em>”—He then desired me to proceed to -lay before the Commission at the Thuilleries the result of my -mission, adding, “they know very well that I have now with me -more than 100,000 men, with 500 pieces of cannon, and 25,000 -cavalry.”</p> - -<p class='c010'><span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>‘I proceeded to the palace of the Thuilleries, where I was -introduced to the Commission. Carnot immediately asked, what my -errand to the enemy had been? Fouché quickly answered, that he -had sent me. Quinette and Grenier looked as if they were not -satisfied with this answer. Carnot continued to address me, and -asked whether I had seen the Deputies at the Duke of Wellington’s -head-quarters? I answered in the affirmative, and that I could give -him an account of the result of their mission: upon this they became -attentive, and heard my account with dismay and indignation. Carnot -expressed the same sentiments that Davoust had recently done; and -added, rather roughly, that he could by no means give credit to my -account, either as to the Duke of Wellington’s <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">sine qua non</span></i>, or as to -the force of the enemy in the vicinity of Paris: he further said, with -a sneer, “we shall have, I hope, a very different account on the -return of the Deputies.” Fouché defended me, and reproved him -for so uncivilly questioning my veracity, and assured him that he -might put implicit confidence in me. Carnot and Grenier then took -me to a topographical map, and questioned me as to the movements of -the Duke of Wellington? I answered their interrogatories to the -extent to which I thought myself warranted: and it appeared that I -informed them of nothing with which they were not already acquainted. -Carnot then, in a polite manner, told me I might retire.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘It would appear, that in consequence of having learned from me -the nature of the communication which the Deputies would have to -make to the Chambers, and dreading its discouraging effects on the -members, and on the people at large, their return to Paris had been -prevented. Some private orders seem to have been given to that -effect; for on the same day that I entered Paris by the Barriere de la -Villette, the Deputies approached that part, preceded by Colonel -Latour Maubourg, who was attached to their mission, when the -French out-posts fired, killed the Prussian trumpeter’s horse, and a -ball grazed the epaulette of the Colonel. The Deputies turned back, -and attempted to enter by the Barriere de St. Dennis, but were -refused. They there received fresh instructions to treat, and it -was so managed, that they did not return to Paris till after the -capitulation.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘In the mean time Fouché and his coadjutors, who opposed the -views of the other parties, were in great personal danger. The three -other Members of the Commission more than suspected them of -duplicity and treachery; and in consequence impeached them before -the Chamber of Deputies. The Duke of Wellington being acquainted -with these proceedings, sent a message to the Members of the Commission, -as I was informed, assuring them that if any harm befel -<span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>Fouché or Caulincourt, he would infallibly <em>hang up the other three on -his arrival in Paris</em>.<a id='r33' /><a href='#f33' class='c011'><sup>[33]</sup></a></p> - -<p class='c010'>‘It was proposed in the Chamber of Deputies, that its Members -should quit Paris with the army, and rally round them all those who -would oppose the enemy and the Bourbons. But this measure -Fouché was particularly anxious to thwart, whilst Davoust feeling -himself confident in the strength of his army, insisted on attacking -Blucher and the Duke of Wellington before other reinforcements -should arrive; but as I understood at the time, Fouché succeeded in -somewhat softening and in giving a new direction to the policy of -Carnot: and it is certain that he managed to gain over Davoust by -urging the force of the enemy, and the dreadful consequences that -would ensue if Paris should be taken by assault. He pleaded the -reliance which might be placed <em>on the faith of the English</em> (for with -the Prussians the French would not have treated on any terms). -He therefore recommended Davoust to evacuate Paris, and not to -listen to the desperate suggestions of the Chambers, observing, that so -long as his army remained entire, he might obtain favourable terms -for all parties.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘The day before the capitulation of Paris (2d July), I repaired -to the British camp with the following memorandum, as my instructions, -from Fouché to the Duke of Wellington:—</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘“The army opposes, because uneasy—assure it, it will even -become devoted.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘“The Chambers are counter for the same reason. <em>Assure every -body you will have every body.</em></p> - -<p class='c010'>‘“The army sent away, the Chambers will agree, on according -them the guarantee, as added to the charter and promised by the -king. In order to be well understood, it is necessary to explain; -therefore not to enter Paris before three days, and in the meantime -every thing may be arranged.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘“The Chambers will be gained, will believe in their independence, -and will agree to every thing. Persuasion, not force, must be used -with the Chambers.”</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘On my arrival at the British advanced posts, which, owing to the -obstructions I met with from the French, I was not able to effect till -early in the morning of the 3d July, I was informed that the most -positive orders had been given by the duke, not to allow any messenger -to pass from Paris without his special permission. I was therefore -detained at the English advanced post of guards, commanded by Lord -Saltown. I dined with the officers of the advanced piquet, among -<span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>whom I well remember Captain Fairfield, of the foot guards. These -gentlemen informed me that the Duke of Wellington was at Gonnesse, -with Sir C. Stuart, Pozzo di Borgo, and Talleyrand. I wrote a -letter to the duke, which was forwarded by Lord Saltown. In my -letter, I entered into a detail of the line of conduct recommended by -Fouché, and contained in the foregoing memorandum. On the -receipt of my dispatch, the duke immediately proceeded to St. Cloud, -General Blucher’s head-quarters; there the capitulation of Paris was -signed. The duke returned to Gonnesse and dispatched Lord -March to bring me to him: I arrived very early on the morning of -the 4th, and found Sir C. Stuart, Talleyrand, and Pozzo di Borgo; -they assembled in council, and my presence was required by the duke. -Talleyrand observed to me, that <em>this was already settled</em>, and, turning -to the Duke of Wellington, requested him to read to me <em>the capitulation -that they had just concluded</em>. On my urging the adoption of the -line of conduct which Fouché recommended towards the Chambers, -the Duke of Wellington proceeded to give me his sentiments in -writing, which were as follow:—</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘“<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Je pense, que les Allies ayant déclaré le Gouvernment de Napoleon -une Usurpation et nonlégitime, toute autorité qui émane de lui, doit être -regardée comme nulle et d’aucun pouvoir.<a id='r34' /><a href='#f34' class='c011'><sup>[34]</sup></a> Ainsi, ce qui reste à faire aux -Chambres et à la commission, est, de donner de suite leur démission et de -déclarer qu’ils n’ont pris sur eux les responsibilités de gouvernement, que -pour assurer la tranquilité publique, et l’intégrité du royaume de S. M. -Louis XVIII.</span></i>”</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘Talleyrand, Sir Charles Stuart, and Pozzo di Borgo, each took a -copy of this document, and each, by way of memorandum, put their -names and mine to the paper, by way of recording, as I suppose, the -parties present at the discussion.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘I forthwith mounted my horse and returned to Paris; Lord -March was appointed by the duke to accompany me. On our arrival -at the Barriere de la Villette, we found the French soldiery perfectly -frantic, and vociferating “<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Vive l’Empereur!</span></i>” “<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">A bas les Anglais!</span></i>” -“<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">A bas les Bourbons!</span></i>” They were on the point of firing at the -Belgian trumpeter who preceded us: it was with the greatest difficulty -that some French hussars, under whose escort we had approached the -barriers, could prevent the soldiers from firing at Lord March as he -was riding off. They were also obliged to exert themselves strenuously -in my defence, as many of the infantry pointed their muskets at -<span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>me, vociferating “<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Vive l’Empereur!</span></i>” “<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Vive Napoleon!</span></i>” “We -are betrayed!” “We have been sold!” “We will fight to the -last drop of our blood!” “Down with the Bourbons!” “Let -us kill this traitor!” “He has assisted in selling us!” “We -have seen him pass before!” The hussars took me between them, -some of the infantry also assisted in parrying off the blows aimed at -me, and turning aside the muzzles of the muskets. Thus, after great -peril, I was fortunate enough to gain the quarters of a general officer, -with only a sabre cut on my left leg. The general dispersed the -men, and gave me a strong escort to conduct me to the Thuilleries.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘In consequence of my communicating the documents and assurances -I had received from Talleyrand and the Duke of Wellington, the -commission of government abdicated its powers that evening; but the -Chambers still refused to comply; they continued their sittings, -which they declared should be permanent, till the morning of the 6th, -when the doors of the Chamber were closed, and guarded by a party -of the national guards.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘On this, above one hundred and fifty of the deputies proceeded -to the house of M. Lanjuinais, their president, and there framed a -solemn protest against the arbitrary and illegal violence which had -been used towards them, <em>in violation of the most solemn declarations</em>.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘I have now no doubt that some extraordinary scheme had been contrived -to seduce Napoleon into the measure of abdicating the throne -in favour of his son. His resources were at that moment immense. -The regular army in Paris alone, amounted to more than 80,000 -men, every individual of which was animated with the most enthusiastic -ardour. The national guard, above 30,000 strong, displayed the -firmest resolution to obey the directions of the constituted authorities; -numerous volunteers of all classes had taken up arms in the defence -of their country. In the departments, the spirit of opposition to the -invaders was still greater, particularly in the north, west, and east: in -fine, Napoleon, who could not possibly be ignorant of the state of his -resources, would never, I am convinced, have sheathed his sword, -and abdicated the crown <em>even in favour of his son</em>, had he not been -most confidently assured of the validity of the measure, and its being -approved and supported by the French senate and people, and by at -least <em>some part</em> of the coalition.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘What were the precise representations by which Napoleon was -influenced to take this step, is perhaps known only to its contrivers, -and their victim. Some future historian may probably unfold this -mystery. As far as regards the share I had in the negociations -between the provisional government, the allied armies, and Talleyrand, -as minister of Louis <span class='fss'>XVIII.</span>, I feel it due to myself to declare, that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span><em>I had no suspicion of any deception or intended breach of engagements.</em> I -was requested to open a communication between Fouché and the -Duke of Wellington, for the avowed purpose of negociating an -armistice, as a preliminary measure to the capitulation of Paris; -and it was obvious that such a negociation might save the lives of -thousands of my countrymen.’</p> - -<p class='c010'><span class='sc'>The Play is over, now let us go to Supper.</span></p> - -<p class='c010'>John Bull, John Bull, John Bull, read the above account twice -over, think well of it, and then say why you should not wear the -yoke, which you have put round the neck of others, round your -own. Ah! John, thou art not a metaphysician: thou dost lack a -concatenation of ideas!—We are not proud of the share which as -Englishmen we had in the proceedings recorded by Mr. Macirone: -but we have one consolation for our national pride, Fouché and -Talleyrand are Frenchmen. These two pettifogging miscreants -seem to have made themselves perfect in the advice of the fool in -<cite>Lear</cite>: ‘Let go thy hold, when a great wheel runs down hill, lest it -should break thy neck with following it: but the great one that goes -upwards, let it draw thee after. When a wise man gives thee better -counsel, give me mine again: I would have none but knaves follow -it.’ The great wheel, however, in this instance, kicked off the two -knaves, that followed the fool’s advice. One of these famous persons -now writes letters of apology to the Duke of Wellington, and the -other to Lord Castlereagh. They are not so well off as Murat and -Berthier, one of whom was legitimately shot through the head, and -the other legitimately thrown out of a window, if we are to believe -Mr. Macirone, that he might die in <em>the good cause</em>—‘a master-leaver, -and a fugitive.’</p> - -<h3 class='c003'>WAT TYLER; <span class='sc'>A Dramatic Poem</span>.<br /> <br /> THE QUARTERLY REVIEW: <em>Article</em>, ‘<span class='sc'>On Parliamentary Reform</span>.’</h3> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘So was it when my life began,</div> - <div class='line'>So is it now I am a man:</div> - <div class='line'>So shall it be when I grow old and die.</div> - <div class='line'>The child’s the father of the man:</div> - <div class='line'>Our years flow on</div> - <div class='line'>Link’d each to each by natural piety.’—<span class='sc'>Wordsworth</span>.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>March 9, 1817.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>According to this theory of personal continuity, the author of the -Dramatic Poem, to be here noticed, is the father of Parliamentary -<span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>Reform in the Quarterly Review. It is said to be a wise child -that knows its own father: and we understand Mr. Southey (who is -in this case reputed father and son) utterly disclaims the hypostatical -union between the Quarterly Reviewer and the Dramatic Poet, and -means to enter an injunction against the latter, as a bastard and impostor. -Appearances are somewhat staggering against the legitimacy -of the descent, yet we perceive a strong family-likeness remaining, -in spite of the lapse of years and alteration of circumstances. We -should not, indeed, be able to predict that the author of <cite>Wat Tyler</cite> -would ever write the article on Parliamentary Reform; nor should -we, either at first or second sight, perceive that the Quarterly -Reviewer had ever written a poem like that which is before us: -but if we were told that both performances were literally and <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">bonâ fide</span></i> -by the same person, we should have little hesitation in saying to -Mr. Southey, ‘Thou art the man.’ We know no other person in -whom ‘fierce extremes’ meet with such mutual self-complacency: -whose opinions change so much without any change in the author’s -mind; who lives so entirely in the ‘present ignorant thought,’ -without the smallest ‘discourse of reason looking before or after.’ -Mr. Southey is a man incapable of reasoning connectedly on any -subject. He has not strength of mind to see the whole of any -question; he has not modesty to suspend his judgment till he has -examined the grounds of it. He can comprehend but one idea at -a time, and that is always an extreme one; because he will neither -listen to, nor tolerate any thing that can disturb or moderate the -petulance of his self-opinion. <em>The woman that deliberates is lost.</em> So -it is with the effeminate soul of Mr. Southey. Any concession is -fatal to his consistency; and he can only keep out of one absurdity -by the tenaciousness with which he stickles for another. He calls to -the aid of his disjointed opinions a proportionate quantity of spleen; -and regularly makes up for the weakness of his own <em>reasons</em>, by -charging others with <em>bad motives</em>. The terms <em>knave and fool</em>, <em>wise -and good</em>, have undergone a total change in the last twenty years: the -former he applies to all those who agreed with him formerly—the -latter to all those who agree with him now. His public spirit was -then a prude and a scold; and ‘his poor virtue,’ turned into a -literary prostitute, is grown more abusive than ever. Wat Tyler -and the Quarterly Review are an illustration of these remarks. The -author of Wat Tyler was an Ultra-jacobin; the author of Parliamentary -Reform is an Ultra-royalist; the one was a frantic demagogue; -the other is a servile court-tool: the one maintained second-hand -paradoxes; the other repeats second-hand common-places: the one -vented those opinions which gratified the vanity of youth; the other -<span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>adopts those prejudices which are most conducive to the convenience -of age: the one saw nothing but the abuses of power; the other sees -nothing but the horrors of resistance to those abuses: the one did -not stop short of general anarchy; the other goes the whole length -of despotism; the one vilified kings, priests, and nobles; the other -vilifies the people: the one was for universal suffrage and perfect -equality; the other is for seat-selling, and the increasing influence of -the Crown: the one admired the preaching of John Ball; the other -recommends the Suspension of the Habeas Corpus, and the putting -down of the <cite>Examiner</cite> by the sword, the dagger, or the thumb-screw; -for the pen, Mr. Southey tells us, is not sufficient. We wonder that -in all this contempt which our prose-poet has felt at different times -for different persons and things, he has never felt any dissatisfaction -with himself, or distrust of his own infallibility. Our differing from -others sometimes staggers our confidence in our own conclusions: if -we had been chargeable with as many contradictions as Mr. Southey, -we suppose we should have had the same senseless self-sufficiency. -A changeling is your only oracle. Those who have undergone a -total change of sentiment on important questions, ought certainly to -learn modesty in themselves, and moderation towards others; on the -contrary, they are generally the most violent in their own opinions, -and the most intolerant towards others; the reason of which we have -shewn elsewhere, to the satisfaction of the proprietor of the <cite>Old Times</cite>. -Before we have done, we shall, perhaps, do the same thing to the -satisfaction of the publisher of the Quarterly Review; for the Mr. -Murrays and the Mr. Walters, the patrons of the band of gentlemen-pensioners -and servile authors, have ‘a sort of squint’ in their -understanding, and look less to the dirty sacrifices of their drudges, -or the dirtier they are ready to make, than to their standing well -with that great keeper, the public, for purity and innocence. The -band of gentlemen-pensioners and servile authors do not know what -to make of this, and hardly believe it: we shall in time convince -them.</p> - -<p class='c010'>But to proceed to our extracts:—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in28'><span class='sc'>Morceau I.</span></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Wat Tyler.</em> Hob—I have only six groats in the world,</div> - <div class='line'>And they must soon by law be taken from me.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Hob.</em> Curse on these taxes—one succeeds another—</div> - <div class='line'>Our ministers—panders of a king’s will—</div> - <div class='line'>Drain all our wealth away—waste it in revels—</div> - <div class='line'>And lure or force away our boys, who should be</div> - <div class='line'>The props of our old age!—to fill their armies,</div> - <div class='line'>And feed the crows of France! Year follows year,</div> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span>And still we madly prosecute the war;—</div> - <div class='line'>Draining our wealth—distressing our poor peasants—</div> - <div class='line'>Slaughtering our youths—and all to crown our Chiefs</div> - <div class='line'>With glory!—I detest the hell-sprung name.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Tyler.</em> What matters me who wears the crown of France?</div> - <div class='line'>Whether a Richard or a Charles possess it?</div> - <div class='line'>They reap the glory—they enjoy the spoil—</div> - <div class='line'>We pay—we bleed! The sun would shine as cheerly,</div> - <div class='line'>The rains of heaven as seasonably fall,</div> - <div class='line'>Tho’ neither of these royal pests existed.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Hob.</em> Nay—as for that, we poor men should fare better!</div> - <div class='line'>No legal robbers then should force away</div> - <div class='line'>The hard-earn’d wages of our honest toil.</div> - <div class='line'>The Parliament for ever cries <em>more money,</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>The service of the State demands more money</em>.</div> - <div class='line'>Just heaven! of what service is the State?</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Tyler.</em> Oh! ’tis of vast importance! Who should pay for</div> - <div class='line'>The luxuries and riots of the court?</div> - <div class='line'>Who should support the flaunting courtier’s pride,</div> - <div class='line'>Pay for their midnight revels, their rich garments,</div> - <div class='line'>Did not the State enforce?—Think ye, my friend,</div> - <div class='line'>That I—a humble blacksmith, here at Deptford,</div> - <div class='line'>Would part with these six groats—earn’d by hard toil,</div> - <div class='line'>All that I have! to massacre the Frenchmen;</div> - <div class='line'>Murder as enemies men I never saw,</div> - <div class='line'>Did not the State compel me!</div> - <div class='line'>(<em>Tax-gatherers pass by.</em>) There they go,</div> - <div class='line'>Privileg’d r——s!</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in28 c002'><span class='sc'>Morceau II.</span></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Piers.</em> Fare not the birds well, as from spray to spray</div> - <div class='line'>Blithsome they bound—yet find their simple food</div> - <div class='line'>Scattered abundantly?</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Tyler.</em> <em>No fancied boundaries of mine and thine</em></div> - <div class='line'><em>Restrain their wanderings</em>: Nature gives enough</div> - <div class='line'>For all; but Man, with arrogant selfishness,</div> - <div class='line'>Proud of his heaps, hoards up superfluous stores</div> - <div class='line'>Robb’d from his weaker fellows, starves the poor,</div> - <div class='line'>Or gives to pity what he owes to justice!</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Piers.</em> So I have heard our good friend John Ball preach.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Alice.</em> My father, wherefore was John Ball imprisoned?</div> - <div class='line'>Was he not charitable, good, and pious?</div> - <div class='line'>I have heard him say that all mankind are brethren,</div> - <div class='line'>And that like brethren they should love each other;—</div> - <div class='line'>Was not that doctrine pious?</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Tyler.</em> Rank sedition—</div> - <div class='line'>High treason, every syllable, my child!</div> - <div class='line'>The priests cry out on him for heresy;</div> - <div class='line'>The nobles all detest him as a rebel;</div> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>And this good man, this minister of Christ,</div> - <div class='line'>This man, the friend and brother of mankind,</div> - <div class='line'>Lingers in the dark dungeon!</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in28 c002'><span class='sc'>Morceau III.</span></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Tyler.</em> Piers, I have not been idle,</div> - <div class='line'>I never ate the bread of indolence—</div> - <div class='line'>Could Alice be more thrifty than her mother?</div> - <div class='line'>Yet but with one child, and that one, how good</div> - <div class='line'>Thou knowest; I scarcely can provide the wants</div> - <div class='line'>Of nature: look at these wolves of the law,</div> - <div class='line'>They come to drain me of my hard-earn’d wages.</div> - <div class='line'>I have already paid the heavy tax</div> - <div class='line'>Laid on the wool that clothes me—on my leather—</div> - <div class='line'>On all the needful articles of life!</div> - <div class='line'>And now three groats (and I work’d hard to earn them)</div> - <div class='line'>The Parliament demands—and I must pay them,</div> - <div class='line'>Forsooth, for liberty to wear my head.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in28'><em>Enter Tax-gatherers.</em></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Collector.</em> Three groats a-head for all your family.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Piers.</em> Why is this money gathered?—’tis a hard tax</div> - <div class='line'>On the poor labourer!—it can never be</div> - <div class='line'>That government should thus distress the people.</div> - <div class='line'>Go to the rich for money—honest labour</div> - <div class='line'>Ought to enjoy its fruits.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Col.</em> The State wants money.</div> - <div class='line'>War is expensive—’tis a glorious war,</div> - <div class='line'>A war of honour, and must be supported.—</div> - <div class='line'>Three groats a-head.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Tyler.</em> There, three for my own head,</div> - <div class='line'>Three for my wife’s!—What will the State tax next?</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Col.</em> You have a daughter.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Tyler.</em> She is below the age—not yet fifteen.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Col.</em> You would evade the tax.—</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Tyler.</em> Sir Officer,</div> - <div class='line'>I have paid you fairly what the law demands.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in8'>[<em>Alice and her Mother enter the Shop. The Tax-gatherers go to her. One of them lays hold of her. She screams. Tyler goes in.</em>]</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Col.</em> You say she’s under age.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in8'>[<em>Alice screams again. Tyler knocks out the Tax-gatherer’s brains. His Companions fly.</em>]</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Piers.</em> A just revenge.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Tyler.</em> Most just indeed; but in the eye of the law</div> - <div class='line'>’Tis murder—and the murderer’s lot is mine.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in28 c002'><span class='sc'>Morceau IV.—Song.</span></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in16'>‘When Adam delv’d and Eve span,</div> - <div class='line in16'>‘Who was then the gentleman?’</div> - <div class='line in16'><span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>Wretched is the infant’s lot,</div> - <div class='line in16'>Born within the straw-roof’d cot!</div> - <div class='line in16'>Be he generous, wise, or brave,</div> - <div class='line in16'>He must only be a slave,</div> - <div class='line in16'>Long, long labour, little rest,</div> - <div class='line in16'>Still to toil to be oppress’d;</div> - <div class='line in16'>Drain’d by taxes of his store,</div> - <div class='line in16'>Punish’d next for being poor;</div> - <div class='line in16'>That is the poor wretch’s lot,</div> - <div class='line in16'>Born within the straw-roof’d cot.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in16'>While the peasant works—to sleep;</div> - <div class='line in16'>What the peasant sows—to reap;</div> - <div class='line in16'>On the couch of ease to lie,</div> - <div class='line in16'>Rioting in revelry:</div> - <div class='line in16'>Be he villain, be he fool,</div> - <div class='line in16'>Still to hold despotic rule,</div> - <div class='line in16'>Trampling on his slaves with scorn;</div> - <div class='line in16'>This is to be nobly born.</div> - <div class='line in16'>‘When Adam delv’d and Eve span,</div> - <div class='line in16'>‘Who was then the gentleman?’</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in28 c002'><span class='sc'>Morceau V.</span></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>John Ball.</em> Friends! Brethren! for ye are my brethren all;</div> - <div class='line'>Englishmen met in arms to advocate</div> - <div class='line'>The cause of freedom! hear me! pause awhile</div> - <div class='line'>In the career of vengeance; it is true</div> - <div class='line'>I am a priest; but, as these rags may speak,</div> - <div class='line'>Not one who riots in the poor man’s spoil,</div> - <div class='line'>Or trades with his religion. I am one</div> - <div class='line'>Who preach the law of Christ, and in my life</div> - <div class='line'>Would practise what he taught. The Son of God</div> - <div class='line'>Came not to you in power:—humble in mien,</div> - <div class='line'>Lowly in heart, the man of Nazareth</div> - <div class='line'>Preach’d mercy, justice, love: ‘Woe unto ye,</div> - <div class='line'>Ye that are rich:—if that ye would be saved,</div> - <div class='line'>Sell that ye have, and give unto the poor.’</div> - <div class='line'>So taught the Saviour: oh, my honest friends!</div> - <div class='line'>Have ye not felt the strong indignant throb</div> - <div class='line'>Of justice in your bosoms, to behold</div> - <div class='line'>The lordly baron feasting on your spoils?</div> - <div class='line'>Have you not in your hearts arraign’d the lot</div> - <div class='line'>That gave him on the couch of luxury</div> - <div class='line'>To pillow his head, and pass the festive day</div> - <div class='line'>In sportive feasts, and ease, and revelry?</div> - <div class='line'>Have you not often in your conscience ask’d</div> - <div class='line'>Why is the difference, wherefore should that man</div> - <div class='line'>No worthier than myself, thus lord it over me,</div> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>And bid me labour, and enjoy the fruits?</div> - <div class='line'>The God within your breasts has argued thus!</div> - <div class='line'>The voice of truth has murmur’d; came he not</div> - <div class='line'>As helpless to the world?—shines not the sun</div> - <div class='line'>With equal ray on both?—do ye not feel</div> - <div class='line'>The self-same winds of heaven as keenly parch ye?</div> - <div class='line'>Abundant is the earth—the Sire of all</div> - <div class='line'>Saw and pronounced that it was very good.</div> - <div class='line'>Look round: the vernal fields smile with new flowers,</div> - <div class='line'>The budding orchard perfumes the soft breeze,</div> - <div class='line'>And the green corn waves to the passing gale.</div> - <div class='line'>There is enough for all, but your proud baron</div> - <div class='line'>Stands up, and, arrogant of strength, exclaims,</div> - <div class='line'>‘I am a lord—by nature I am noble:</div> - <div class='line'>These fields are mine, for I was born to them,</div> - <div class='line'>I was born in the castle—you, poor wretches,</div> - <div class='line'>Whelp’d in the cottage, are by birth my slaves.’</div> - <div class='line'>Almighty God! such blasphemies are uttered!</div> - <div class='line'>Almighty God! such blasphemies believ’d!</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Tom Miller.</em> This is something like a sermon.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Jack Straw.</em> Where’s the bishop</div> - <div class='line'>Would tell you truths like these?</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Hob.</em> There was never a bishop among all the apostles.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>John Ball.</em> My brethren!</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Piers.</em> Silence, the good priest speaks.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>John Ball.</em> My brethren, these are truths, and weighty ones</div> - <div class='line'>Ye are all equal; nature made ye so.</div> - <div class='line'>Equality is your birthright;—when I gaze</div> - <div class='line'>On the proud palace, and behold one man</div> - <div class='line'>In the blood-purpled robes of royalty,</div> - <div class='line'>Feasting at ease, and lording over millions;</div> - <div class='line'>Then turn me to the hut of poverty,</div> - <div class='line'>And see the wretched labourer, worn with toil,</div> - <div class='line'>Divide his scanty morsel with his infants;</div> - <div class='line'>I sicken, and, indignant at the sight,</div> - <div class='line'>‘Blush for the patience of humanity.’</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Jack Straw.</em> We will assert our rights.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in28 c002'><span class='sc'>Morceau VI.</span></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Tyler.</em> King of England,</div> - <div class='line'><em>Petitioning for pity</em> is most weak,</div> - <div class='line'>The sovereign people ought to <em>demand justice</em>.</div> - <div class='line'>I killed your officer, for his lewd hand</div> - <div class='line'>Insulted a maid’s modesty; your subjects</div> - <div class='line'>I lead to rebel against the Lord’s anointed,</div> - <div class='line'>Because his ministers have made him odious:</div> - <div class='line'>His yoke is heavy, and his burden grievous.</div> - <div class='line'>Why do we carry on this fatal war,</div> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>To force upon the French a king they hate;</div> - <div class='line'>Tearing our young men from their peaceful homes;</div> - <div class='line'>Forcing his hard-earn’d fruits from the honest peasant;</div> - <div class='line'>Distressing us to desolate our neighbours?</div> - <div class='line'>Why is this ruinous poll-tax imposed,</div> - <div class='line'>But to support your court’s extravagance,</div> - <div class='line'>And your mad title to the crown of France?</div> - <div class='line'>Shall we sit tamely down beneath these evils,</div> - <div class='line'>Petitioning for pity?</div> - <div class='line'>King of England!</div> - <div class='line'>Why are we sold like cattle in your markets—</div> - <div class='line'>Deprived of every privilege of man?</div> - <div class='line'>Must we lie tamely at our tyrant’s feet,</div> - <div class='line'>And, like your spaniels, lick the hand that beats us?</div> - <div class='line'>You sit at ease in your gay palaces,</div> - <div class='line'>The costly banquet courts your appetite,</div> - <div class='line'>Sweet music sooths your slumbers; we the while,</div> - <div class='line'>Scarce by hard toil can earn a little food,</div> - <div class='line'>And sleep scarce shelter’d from the cold night wind:</div> - <div class='line'>While your wild projects wrest the little from us</div> - <div class='line'>Which might have cheered the wintry hour of age:</div> - <div class='line'>The parliament for ever asks more money:</div> - <div class='line'>We toil and sweat for money for your taxes;</div> - <div class='line'>Where is the benefit, what food reap we</div> - <div class='line'>From all the councils of your government?</div> - <div class='line'>Think you that we should quarrel with the French?</div> - <div class='line'>What boots to us your victories, your glory?</div> - <div class='line'>We pay, we fight, you profit at your ease.</div> - <div class='line'>Do you not claim the country as your own?</div> - <div class='line'>Do you not call the venison of the forest,</div> - <div class='line'>The birds of heaven your own?—prohibiting us,</div> - <div class='line'>Even tho’ in want of food, to seize the prey</div> - <div class='line'>Which nature offers?—King! is all this just?</div> - <div class='line'>Think you we do not feel the wrongs we suffer?</div> - <div class='line'>The hour of retribution is at hand,</div> - <div class='line'>And tyrants tremble—mark me, King of England.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in28 c002'><span class='sc'>Morceau VII.</span></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Hob.</em> ’Twas well order’d,</div> - <div class='line'>I place but little trust in courtly faith.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>John Ball.</em> We must remain embodied; else the king</div> - <div class='line'>Will plunge again in royal luxury;</div> - <div class='line'>And when the storm of danger is past over,</div> - <div class='line'>Forget his promises.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Hob.</em> Aye, like an aguish sinner,</div> - <div class='line'>He’ll promise to repent when the fit’s on him;</div> - <div class='line'>When well recover’d, laugh at his own terrors.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Piers.</em> Oh! I am griev’d that we must gain so little!</div> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>Why are not all these empty ranks abolish’d,</div> - <div class='line'>King, slave, and lord, ‘ennobl’d into MAN?’</div> - <div class='line'>Are we not equal all?—have you not told me,</div> - <div class='line'>Equality is the sacred right of man,</div> - <div class='line'>Inalienable, tho’ by force withheld?</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>John Ball.</em> Even so; but Piers, my frail and fallible judgment</div> - <div class='line'>Knows hardly to decide if it be right,</div> - <div class='line'>Peaceably to return, content with little,</div> - <div class='line'>With this half restitution of our rights,</div> - <div class='line'>Or boldly to proceed thro’ blood and slaughter,</div> - <div class='line'>Till we should all be equal and all happy.</div> - <div class='line'>I chose the milder way:—perhaps I erred.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Piers.</em> I fear me—by the mass, the unsteady people</div> - <div class='line'>Are flocking homewards! how the multitude</div> - <div class='line'>Diminishes!</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in28 c002'><span class='sc'>Morceau the Last.</span></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>John Ball.</em> Why, be it so. I can smile at your vengeance:</div> - <div class='line'>For I am arm’d with rectitude of soul.</div> - <div class='line'>The truth, which all my life I have divulg’d,</div> - <div class='line'>And am now doom’d in torment to expire for,</div> - <div class='line'>Shall still survive—the destin’d hour must come,</div> - <div class='line'>When it shall blaze with sun-surpassing splendor,</div> - <div class='line'>And the dark mists of prejudice and falsehood</div> - <div class='line'>Fade in its strong effulgence. Flattery’s incense</div> - <div class='line'>No more shall shadow round the gore-dyed throne;</div> - <div class='line'>That altar of oppression, fed with rites</div> - <div class='line'>More savage than the priests of Moloch taught,</div> - <div class='line'>Shall be consumed amid the fire of Justice:</div> - <div class='line'>The ray of truth shall emanate around,</div> - <div class='line'>And the whole world be lighted!</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>This will do.</p> - -<h3 id='COURIER' class='c003'>THE COURIER AND ‘THE WAT TYLER.’</h3> - -<p class='c014'>Doth not the appetite alter? A man loves the meat in his youth, that he -cannot endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences, and these paper bullets of -the brain awe a man from the career of his humour?—<cite>Much Ado about Nothing.</cite></p> - -<div class='c021'><em>March 30, 1817.</em></div> - -<p class='c010'>Instead of applying for an injunction against <cite>Wat Tyler</cite>, Mr. Southey -would do well to apply for an injunction against Mr. Coleridge, who -has undertaken his defence in <cite>The Courier</cite>. If he can escape from -the ominous patronage of that gentleman’s pen, he has nothing to fear -from his own. ‘The <cite>Wat Tyler</cite>,’ as Mr. Coleridge has personified -it, can do the author no great harm: it only proves that he was once -<span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span>a wild enthusiast: of the two characters, for which Mr. Southey is a -candidate with the public, this is the most creditable for him to appear -in. At present his reputation ‘somewhat smacks.’ A strong dose -of the Jacobin spirit of <cite>Wat Tyler</cite> may be of use to get the sickly -taste of the Poet-laureate and the Quarterly Reviewer out of our -mouths.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The best thing for Mr. Southey (if we might be allowed to -advise) would be for his friends to say nothing about him, and for -him to say nothing about other people. We have nothing to do -with Mr. Southey ‘the man,’ or even with Mr. Southey the apostate; -but we have something to do with Mr. Southey the spy and informer. -Is it not a little strange, that while this gentleman is getting an injunction -against himself as the author of <cite>Wat Tyler</cite>, he is recommending -gagging bills against us, and the making up by force for his -deficiency in argument! There is a want of keeping in this; but -Mr. Southey and his friends delight in practical and speculative -contradictions. What are we to think of a man who is ‘now a -flagitious incendiary,’ (to use the epithets which Mr. Southey applies -to the Editor of the <cite>Examiner</cite>) ‘a palliater of murder, insurrection, -and treason,’ and anon a pensioned scribbler of court poetry and court -politics? If the writer of the article on Parliamentary Reform thinks -the Editor of this Paper ‘a flagitious incendiary,’ ‘a palliater of -murder, insurrection, and treason,’ what does the Quarterly Reviewer -think of the author of <cite>Wat Tyler</cite>? What, on the other hand, does the -author of <cite>Wat Tyler</cite> think of the Quarterly Reviewer? What does -Mr. Southey, who certainly makes a very aukward figure between the -two, think of himself? Mr. Coleridge indeed steps in to the -assistance of his friend in this dilemma, and says (unsaying all that he -says besides) that the ultra-jacobinical opinions advanced in <cite>Wat Tyler</cite> -were ‘more an honour to the writer’s heart than an imputation on his -understanding?’ Be it so. The Editor of this Paper will, we dare -say, agree to this statement from disinterested motives, (for he is not -answerable for any ultra-jacobinical opinions) as we suppose Mr. -Southey will accede to it from pure self-love. He hardly thinks that -he was ‘a knave and fool’ formerly, as he calls all those who -formerly agreed or now differ with him: he only thinks with Mr. -Coleridge and <cite>The Courier</cite>, that he was not quite so ‘wise and -virtuous’ then, as he is at present! Why then not extend the same -charitable interpretation to those who have held a middle course -between his opposite extravagances? We are sure, that to be -thought <em>a little less wise and virtuous</em> than that celebrated person -thinks himself, would content the ambition of any moderate man. -Will he allow of nothing short of the utmost intolerance of jacobinism -<span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>or anti-jacobinism? Or will he tolerate this intolerance in -nobody but himself? This seems to be his feeling: and it also -seems to be Mr. Coleridge’s opinion, whose maudlin methodistical -casuistry leads him to clothe Mr. Southey’s political sins with -apostacy as with a garment, and to plead one excess of folly and -indecency as a competent set-off against another. To be a renegado, -is, with him, to be virtuous. The greater the sinner the greater the -saint, says <cite>The Courier</cite>. Mr. Southey’s Muse is confessedly not a -vestal; but then she is what is much better, a Magdalen. Now a -Magdalen is a person who has returned to her first habits and notions -of virtue: but Mr. Southey’s laurelled Muse is at present in high -court-keeping, and tosses up her nose at the very mention of reform. -Nor do we think Mr. Southey has a fairer claim to the degree of -respectability good-naturedly assigned him by his friends, that of a -pickpocket or highwayman turned thief-taker or king’s evidence; for -he in fact belies his own character to blacken every honest principle, -and takes the government reward for betraying better men than -himself. There are, as <cite>The Courier</cite> observes, youthful indiscretions; -but there are also riper and more deliberate errors. A woman is -more liable to prostitute her person at nineteen—a man is more likely -to prostitute his understanding at forty. We do not see the exact -parallel which <cite>The Courier</cite> sets up between moral repentance and -political profligacy. A man, says <cite>The Courier</cite>, may surely express -an abhorrence of his past vices, as of drunkenness. Yes; and he may -also express a great abhorrence of his present vices, because his own -opinion, as well as that of all impartial persons, condemns his conduct; -but it would be curious if a man were to express a great abhorrence -of his present opinions, and it is only a less degree of absurdity for a -man to express a great abhorrence of his past opinions; for if he was -not a hypocrite, he must have held those opinions, as he holds his -present ones, because he thought them right. A man is at liberty to -condemn his errors in practice as much as he pleases: it is a point -agreed upon. But he is not at liberty to condemn his errors in -theory at the same unmerciful rate, because many people still think -them right; because it is the height of arrogance in him to assume -his own forfeited opinion as the invariable standard of right and wrong, -and the height of indecency to ascribe the conclusions of others to -bad motives, by which he can only arraign his own. Certainly, all -the presumption of indirect and dishonest motives lies against Mr. -Southey’s unlooked-for conversion, and not against his original -principles. Will he deny this himself? He must then retract what -he says in the Quarterly Review; for he there says, that ‘the late -war was so popular for three and twenty years together, that for any -<span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span>one to be against it,’ (and much more, to be a Jacobin, as he was, -half that time,) ‘exposed him to contempt, insult, persecution, the -loss of property, and even of life.’ The odds, we grant, were -against Mr. Southey’s pure reason; they proved too much for it. -According, however, to the new theory of political integrity, to be a -steady, consistent, conscientious Whig or Tory, is nothing. It is -the change of opinion that stamps its value on it; and the more -outrageous the change, the more meritorious the stigma attached to it. -It is the sacrifice of all principle, that is the triumph of corruption; it -is the shameless effrontery of a desertion of the people, that is the -chief recommendation to the panders of a court; it is the contempt, -the grinning scorn and infamy, which is poured on all patriotism and -independence, by shewing the radical baseness and fickleness of its -professors in the most startling point of view, that strengthens the -rotten foundations of power, by degrading human nature. Poor -Bob Southey! how they laugh at him! What are the abuse and -contumely which we are in the habit of bestowing upon him, -compared with the cordial contempt, the flickering sneers, that play -round the lips of his new-fangled friends, when they see ‘the Man of -Humanity’ decked out in the trappings of his prostitution, and feel -the rankling venom of their hearts soothed by the flattering reflection -that virtue and genius are mere marketable commodities! What a -squeeze must that be which Mr. Canning gives the hand that wrote -the Sonnet to Old Sarum, and the Defence of Rotten Boroughs in -the Quarterly Review! Mr. Canning was at first suspected of being -the author of this last article: no one has attributed <cite>Wat Tyler</cite> to the -classical pen of that glib orator and consistent anti-jacobin. Yet -what are the pretensions of that gentleman’s profligate consistency -opposed to Mr. Southey’s profligate versatility; what a pitiful -spectacle does his sneaking, servile adherence to a party make, -compared with Mr. Southey’s barefaced and magnanimous desertion -of one! Mr. Canning has indeed served a cause; Mr. Southey -has betrayed one. Mr. Canning threw contempt on the cause of -liberty by his wit; Mr. Southey has done it by his want of principle. -‘This, this is the unkindest blow of all.’ We should not mind any -thing but that;—that is the reflection that stabs us:</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>—— —— —— ——‘That the law</div> - <div class='line'>By which mankind now suffers, is most just.</div> - <div class='line'>For by superior energies; more strict</div> - <div class='line'>Affiance with each other; faith more firm</div> - <div class='line'>In their unhallow’d principles; the bad</div> - <div class='line'>Have fairly earned a victory o’er the weak,</div> - <div class='line'>The vacillating, inconsistent good.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>Mr. Coleridge thinks that this triumph over himself and the Poet-laureate -is a triumph to us. God forbid! It shews that he knows -as little about us as he does about himself. This question of apostacy -may be summed up in a very few words:—First, if Mr. Southey is -not an apostate, we should like to know who ever was? Secondly, -whether the term, apostate, is a term of reproach? If it has ceased -to be so, it is another among the triumphs of the present king’s reign, -and a greater proof than any brought forward in the Quarterly Review, -of the progress of public spirit and political independence among us -of late years! A man may change his opinion. Good. But if he -changes his opinion as his interest or vanity would prompt, if he -deserts the weak to go to the stronger side, the change is a suspicious -one! and we shall have a right to impute it rather to a defect of moral -principle than to an accession of intellectual strength. Again, no -man, be he who he may, has a right to change his opinion, and to be -violent on opposite sides of a question. For the only excuse for -dogmatical intolerance is, that the person who holds an opinion is totally -blinded by habit to all objections against it, so that he can see nothing -wrong on his own side, and nothing right on the other; which cannot -be the case with any person who has been sincere in the opposite -opinion. No one, therefore, has a right to call another ‘the greatest -of scoundrels’ for holding the opinions which he himself once held, -without first formally acknowledging that he himself was the greatest -of hypocrites when he maintained those opinions. When Mr. Southey -subscribes to these conditions, we will give him a license to rail on -whom and as long as he pleases: but not—<em>till then</em>! Apostates are -violent in their opinions, because they suspect their truth, even when -they are most sincere: they are forward to vilify the motives of those -who differ from them, because their own are more than suspected by -the world! We proceed to notice the flabby defence of ‘the <cite>Wat -Tyler</cite>,’ from the well-known pen of Mr. Coleridge, which, as far as -we can understand it, proceeds upon the following assumptions:—</p> - -<p class='c010'>1. <em>That Mr. Southey was only 19 when he wrote it, and had forgotten, -from that time to this, all the principles and sentiments contained in it.</em></p> - -<p class='c010'><em>Answer.</em> A person who forgets all the sentiments and principles to -which he was most attached at nineteen, can have no sentiments ever -after worth being attached to. Further, it is not true that Mr. -Southey gave up the general principles of <cite>Wat Tyler</cite>, which he wrote -at nineteen, till almost as many years after. He did not give them -up till many years after he had received his Irish pension in 1800. -He did not give them up till with this <em>leaning</em> to something beyond -‘the slides of his magic lanthorn,’ and ‘the pleasing fervour of his -imagination,’ he was canted out of them by the misty metaphysics of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>Mr. Coleridge, Mr. Southey being no conjurer in such matters, and -Mr. Coleridge being a great quack. The dates of his works will -shew this: as it was indeed excellently well shewn in <cite>The Morning -Chronicle</cite> the other day. His Joan of Arc, his Sonnets and -Inscriptions, his Letters from Spain and Portugal, his Annual Anthology, -in which was published Mr. Coleridge’s ‘Fire, Famine, -and Slaughter,’ are a series of invectives against Kings, Priests, and -Nobles, in favour of the French Revolution, and against war and -taxes up to the year 1803. Why does he not get an injunction -against all these? To set aside all Mr. Southey’s jacobin publications, -it would be necessary to erect a new court of Chancery. Mr. -Coleridge’s insinuation, that he had changed all his opinions the year -after, when Mr. S. and Mr. C., in conjunction, wrote the Fall of -Robespierre, is, therefore, not true. But Mr. Coleridge never -troubles himself about facts or dates; he is only ‘watching the slides -of his magic lanthorn,’ and indulging in ‘the pleasing fervour of -poetical inspiration.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>2. <em>That Mr. Southey was a mere boy when he wrote Wat Tyler, -and entertained Jacobin opinions: that being a child, he felt as a child, -and thought slavery, superstition, war, famine, bloodshed, taxes, bribery -and corruption, rotten boroughs, places, and pensions, shocking things; but -that now he is become a man, he has put away childish things, and thinks -there is nothing so delightful as slavery, superstition, war, famine, bloodshed, -taxes, bribery and corruption, rotten boroughs, places and pensions, -and particularly, his own.</em></p> - -<p class='c010'><em>Answer.</em> Yet Mr. Coleridge tells us that when he wrote <cite>Wat Tyler</cite>, -he was a man of genius and learning. That Mr. Southey was a wise -man when he wrote this poem, we do not pretend: that he has ever -been so, is more than we know. This we do know, and it is worth -attending to; that all that Mr. Southey has done best in poetry, he -did before he changed his political creed; that <em>all</em> that Mr. Coleridge -ever did in poetry, as the <cite>Ancient Mariner</cite>, <cite>Christabel</cite>, the <cite>Three -Graves</cite>, his Poems and his Tragedy, he had written, when, according -to his own account, he must have been a very ignorant, idle, thoughtless -person; that much the greater part of what Mr. Wordsworth -has done best in poetry was done about the same period; and if what -these persons have done in poetry, in indulging the ‘pleasing fervour -of a lively imagination,’ gives no weight to their political opinions at -the time they did it, what they have done since in science or -philosophy to establish their authority, is more than we know. All -the authority that they have as poets and men of genius must be -thrown into the scale of Revolution and Reform. Their Jacobin -principles indeed gave rise to their Jacobin poetry. Since they gave -<span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>up the first, their poetical powers have flagged, and been comparatively -or wholly ‘in a state of suspended animation.’ Their genius, their -style, their versification, every thing down to their spelling, was -revolutionary. Their poetical innovations unhappily did not answer -any more than the French Revolution. As their ambition was -baulked in this first favourite direction, it was necessary for these -restless persons to do something to get into notice; as they could not -change their style, they changed their principles; and instead of -writing popular poetry, fell to scribbling venal prose.—Mr. Southey’s -opinion, like Mr. Wordsworth’s or Mr. Coleridge’s, is of no value, -except as it is his own, the unbiassed, undepraved dictate of his own -understanding and feelings; not as it is a wretched, canting, reluctant -echo of the opinion of the world. Poet-laureates are courtiers by -profession; but we say that poets are naturally Jacobins. All the -poets of the present day have been so, with a single exception, which -it would be invidious to mention. If they have not all continued so, -this only shews the instability of their own characters, and that their -natural generosity and romantic enthusiasm, ‘their lofty, imaginative, -and innocent spirits,’ have not been proof against the incessant, unwearied -importunities of vulgar ambition. The poets, we say then, -are with us, while they are worth keeping. We take the sound part -of their heads and hearts, and make Mr. Croker and the <cite>Courier</cite> a -present of the rest. What the philosophers are, let the dreaded name -of <em>modern philosophy</em> answer!</p> - -<p class='c010'>3. <em>Mr. Coleridge compares us to the long-eared virtuoso, the ass, that -found Apollo’s lute, ‘left behind by him when he ascended to his own -natural place, to sit thenceforward with all the Muses around him, instead -of the ragged cattle of Admetus.’</em></p> - -<p class='c010'><em>Answer.</em> Now it seems that Mr. Coleridge and other common -friends of his, such as the author of the Fall of Robespierre and of -Democratic Lectures, or Lectures on Democracy, in the year 1794, -knew a good deal of Mr. Southey before he dropped this lute. -Were they the ragged cattle of Admetus that Mr. Southey was fain -to associate with during his obscure metamorphosis and strange Jacobin -disguise? Did the Coleridges, the Wordsworths, the Lloyds and -Lambs and Co. precede the Hunts, the Hazlitts, and the Cobbetts, -in listening to Mr. Southey ‘tuning his mystic harp to praise Lepaux,’ -the Parisian Theophilanthropist? And is it only since Mr. Southey -has sat ‘quiring to the young-eyed cherubim,’ with the Barrymores, -the Crokers, the Giffords, and the Stroehlings, that his natural genius -and moral purity of sentiment have found their proper level and -reward? Be this as it may, we plead guilty to the charge of some -little indiscreet admiration of the Apollo of Jacobinism. We did -<span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span>not however find his lute three and twenty years after he had dropped -it ‘in a thistle.’ We saw it in his hands. We heard him with our -own ears play upon it, loud and long; and we can swear he was as -well satisfied with his own music as we could be. ‘<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Asinos asinina -decent</span></i>,’—a bad compliment, in the style of <em>Dogberry</em>, which Mr. C. -pays to his friend and to himself, as one of his early ragged auditors. -Now whether Mr. Southey has since that period ascended to heaven -or descended to the earth, we shall leave it to Mr. Coleridge himself -to decide. For he says, that at the time when the present poet-laureate -wrote <cite>Wat Tyler</cite>, he (Mr. Southey) was ‘a young man full -of glorious visions concerning the possibilities of human nature, -because his lofty, imaginative, and innocent spirit, had mistaken its -own virtues and powers for the average character of mankind.’—Since -Mr. Southey went to court, he has changed his tone. <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Asinos -asinina decent.</span></i> Is that Mr. Coleridge’s political logic?<a id='r35' /><a href='#f35' class='c011'><sup>[35]</sup></a></p> - -<p class='c010'>4. <em>That Mr. Southey did not express his real opinions, even at that -time, in Wat Tyler, which is a dramatic poem, in which mob-orators and -rioters figure, with appropriate sentiments, as Jack Cade may do in -Shakespear.</em></p> - -<p class='c010'><em>Answer.</em> This allusion to the dramatic characters of Shakespear -is certainly unfortunate, and Mr. Coleridge himself hints as much. -Rioters and mob-preachers are not the only persons who appear in -‘the <cite>Wat Tyler</cite>.’ The King and the Archbishop come forward in -their own persons, according to Mr. Coleridge, with appropriate -sentiments, labelled and put into their mouths. For example:—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Philpot.</em> Every moment brings</div> - <div class='line'>Fresh tidings of our peril.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>King.</em> It were well</div> - <div class='line'>To yield them what they ask.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Archbishop.</em> Aye, that my liege</div> - <div class='line'>Were politic. Go boldly forth to meet them,</div> - <div class='line'>Grant all they ask—however wild and ruinous;—</div> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>Meantime, the troops you have already summoned</div> - <div class='line'>Will gather round them. Then my Christian power</div> - <div class='line'>Absolves you of your promise.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Walworth.</em> Were but their ringleaders cut off, the rabble</div> - <div class='line'>Would soon disperse.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>The very burden of <cite>The Courier</cite> all last week, and for many weeks -last past and to come.</p> - -<p class='c010'>5. Mr. Coleridge sums up his opinion of the ultimate design and -secret origin of ‘the <cite>Wat Tyler</cite>’ in these remarkable words:—‘We -should have seen that the vivid, yet indistinct images in which he had -painted the evils of war and the hardships of the poor, proved that -neither the forms nor the feelings were the result of real observation. -The product of the poet’s own fancy, they’—[<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">viz.</span></i> the evils of war -and the hardships of the poor]—‘were impregnated, therefore, with -<em>that pleasurable fervour which is experienced in all energetic exertion of -intellectual power</em>. But as to any serious wish, akin to reality,’ [that -is, to remove these evils] ‘as to any real persons or events designed -or expected, we should think it just as wise and just as charitable, -to believe that Quevedo or Dante would have been glad to realise -the horrid phantoms and torments of <em>imaginary</em> oppressors, whom -they beheld in the infernal regions—<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">i.e.</span></i> on the slides of their own -magic lanthorn.’</p> - -<p class='c010'><em>Answer.</em> The slides of the guillotine, excited (as we have been -told) the same pleasurable fervour in Mr. Southey’s mind: and -Mr. Coleridge seems to insinuate, that the 5,800,000 lives which -have been lost to prove mankind the property of kings, by divine -right, have been lost ‘on the slides of a magic lanthorn’; the evils -of war, like all other actual evils, being ‘the products of a fervid -imagination.’ So much for the sincerity of poetry.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Audrey.</em> Is not poetry a true thing?</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Touchstone.</em> No.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>Would these gentlemen persuade us that there is nothing evil in the -universe but what exists in their imagination, but what is the product -of their fervid fancy? That the world is full of nothing but their -egotism, their vanity, and their hypocrisy? The world is <em>sick</em> of -them, their egotism, their vanity, and their hypocrisy.</p> - -<p class='c010'>6th and lastly. ‘Mr. Southey’s darling poet from his childhood -was Edmund Spenser, from whom, next to the spotless purity of his -own moral habits, he learned that reverence for</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in8'>—— ——“constant chastity,</div> - <div class='line'>Unspotted faith, and comely womanhood,</div> - <div class='line'>Regard of honour and mild modesty.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span>‘And we are strongly persuaded that the indignation which, in his -early perusal of our history, the outrage on <em>Wat Tyler’s</em> Daughter -had kindled within him, was the circumstance that recommended -the story to his choice for the first powerful exercise of his dramatic -powers. It is this, too, we doubt not, that coloured and shaped his -feelings during the whole composition of the drama.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Through the allegiance and just fealty</div> - <div class='line'>Which he did owe unto all womankind.”’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>Mr. Coleridge might as well tell us that the Laureate wrote <cite>Wat -Tyler</cite> as an Epithalamium on his own marriage. There is but one -line on the subject from the beginning to the end. No; it is not -Mr. Southey’s way to say nothing on the subject on which he writes. -If this were the main drift and secret spring of the poem, why does -Mr. Southey wish to retract it now? Has he been taught by his -present fashionable associates to laugh at Edmund Spenser, the darling -of the <em>boy</em> Southey, to abjure ‘his allegiance and just fealty to all -womankind,’ and to look upon ‘rapes and ravishments’ as ‘exaggerated -evils,’ the product of an idle imagination, exciting a -pleasurable fervour at the time, and signifying nothing afterwards? -Is the outrage upon <em>Wat Tyler’s</em> Daughter the only evil in history, -or in the poem itself, which ought to inflame the virtuous indignation -of the full-grown stripling bard? Are all the other oppressions -recorded in the annals of the world nothing but ‘horrible shadows, -unreal mockeries,’ that this alone should live ‘within the book and -volume of his brain unmixed with baser matter’? Or has Mr. -Southey, the historian and the politician, at last discovered, that even -this evil, the greatest and the only evil in the world, and not a mere -illusion of his boyish imagination, is itself a bagatelle, compared with -the blessings of the poll-tax, feudal vassalage, popery, and slavery, -the attempt to put down which by murder, insurrection, and treason, -in the reign of Richard <span class='fss'>II.</span> the poet-laureate once celebrated <i><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">con -amore</span></i> in ‘the <cite>Wat Tyler</cite>‘?—In courtly malice and servility Mr. -Southey has outdone Herodias’s daughter. He marches into -Chancery ‘with his own head in a charger,’ as an offering to Royal -delicacy. He plucks out the heart of Liberty within him, and -mangles his own breast to stifle every natural sentiment left there: -and yet Mr. Coleridge would persuade us that this stuffed figure, this -wretched phantom, is the living man. The finery of birth-day suits -has dazzled his senses, so that he has ‘no speculation in those eyes -that he does glare with’; yet Mr. Coleridge would persuade us that -this is the clear-sighted politician. Famine stares him in the face, -and he looks upon her with lack-lustre eye. Despotism hovers over -<span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span>him, and he says, ‘Come, let me clutch thee.’ He drinks the cup -of human misery, and thinks it is a cup of sack. He has no feeling -left, but of ‘tickling commodity’; no ears but for court whispers; -no understanding but of his interest; no passion but his vanity. And -yet they would persuade us that this non-entity is somebody—‘the -chief dread of Jacobins and Jacobinism, or quacks and quackery.’ -If so, Jacobins and Jacobinism have not much to fear; and Mr. -Coleridge may publish as many Lay Sermons as he pleases.</p> - -<p class='c010'>There is but one statement in the article in <cite>The Courier</cite> to which -we can heartily assent; it is Mr. Southey’s prediction of the fate of -the French Revolution. ‘The Temple of Despotism,’ he said, -‘would be rebuilt, like that of the Mexican God, with human skulls, -and cemented with human blood.’ He has lived to see this; to -assist in the accomplishment of his prophecy, and to consecrate the -spectre-building with pensioned hands!</p> - -<h3 class='c003'><span class='sc'>A Letter to William Smith, Esq.</span>, M.P. <em>from</em> Robert Southey, <em>Esq.</em> John Murray, Albemarle-street. 1817. <em>Price</em> 2<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">s.</span></i></h3> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>May 4, 1817.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>This is very unlike Mr. Burke’s celebrated ‘Letter to the Duke of -Bedford.’ The last is the only work of the Irish orator and patriot, -in which he was in earnest, and all that he wanted was sincerity. -The attack made upon his pension, by rousing his self-love, kindled -his imagination, and made him blaze out in a torrent of fiery eloquence, -in the course of which his tilting prose-Pegasus darted upon the titles -of the noble duke like a thunderbolt, reversed his ancestral honours, -overturned the monstrous straddle-legged figure of that legitimate -monarch, Henry <span class='fss'>VIII.</span>, exploded the mines of the French revolution, -kicked down the Abbé Sieyes’s pigeon-holes full of constitutions, and -only reposed from his whirling career, in that fine retrospect on himself, -and the affecting episode to Admiral Keppel. Mr. Burke was an -apostate, ‘a malignant renegado,’ like Mr. Southey; but there the -comparison ends. He would not have been content, on such an -occasion as the present, with <em>Mistering</em> his opponent, and <em>Esquiring</em> -himself, like the ladies in the Beggar’s Opera, who express the -height of their rankling envy and dislike, by calling each other—<em>Madam</em>. -Mr. Southey’s self-love, when challenged to the lists, does -not launch out into the wide field of wit or argument: it retires into -its own littleness, collects all its slender resources in one poor effort of -pert, pettifogging spite, makes up by studied malice for conscious -<span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>impotence, and attempts to mortify others by the angry sense of his -own insignificance. He grows tenacious of his ridiculous pretensions, -in proportion as they are given up by every body else. His self-complacency -riots, with a peculiar and pointed gusto, in the universal -contempt or compassion of friends and foes. In the last stage of a -galloping consumption, while the last expiring puff of <cite>The Courier</cite> -makes ‘a swan-like end,’ in a compliment to his opponents, he is -sanguine of a deathless reputation—considers his soreness to the least -touch as a proof of his being in a whole skin, and his uneasiness to -repel every attack as a proof of his being invulnerable. In a word, -he mistakes an excess of spleen and irritability for the consciousness -of innocence, and sets up his own egotism, vanity, ill-humour, and -intolerance, as an answer in full to all the objections which have been -brought against him of vanity, egotism, malignity, and intolerance. -His ‘Letter’ is a concentrated essence of a want of self-knowledge. -It is the picture of the author’s mind in little. In this respect, it is ‘a -psychological curiosity’; a study of human infirmity. As some -persons bequeath their bodies to the surgeons to be dissected after -their death, Mr. Southey publicly exposes his mind to be anatomized -while he is living. He lays open his character to the scalping-knife, -guides the philosophic hand in its painful researches, and on the bald -crown of our <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">petit tondu</span></i>, in vain concealed under withered bay-leaves -and a few contemptible grey hairs, you see the organ of vanity -triumphant—sleek, smooth, round, perfect, polished, horned, and -shining, as it were in a transparency. This is the handle of his -intellect, the index of his mind; ‘the guide, the anchor of his purest -thoughts, and soul of all his moral being’; the clue to the labyrinth -of all his tergiversations and contradictions; the <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">medius terminus</span></i> of -his political logic.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>—— ——‘The ruling passion once express’d,</div> - <div class='line'>Wharton is plain, and Chartres stands confess’d.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>Once admit that Mr. Southey is always in the right, and every one -else in the wrong, and all the rest follows. This at once reconciles -‘Wat Tyler’ and the ‘Quarterly Review,’ which Mr. William -Smith took down to the House, in two different pockets for fear of -a breach of the peace; identifies the poet of the ‘Joan of Arc’ and -of the ‘Annual Anthology’ with the poet-laureate; and <em>jumps</em> the -stripling into the man, whenever the latter has a mind to jump into a -place or pension. Till you can deprive him of his personal identity, -he will always be the same infallible person—in his own opinion. -He is both judge and jury in his own cause; the sole standard of -right and wrong. To differ with him is inexcusable; for ‘there is -<span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span>but one perfect, even himself.’ He is the central point of all moral -and intellectual excellence; the way, the truth, and the life. There -is no salvation out of his pale; and yet he makes the terms of communion -so strict, that there is no hope that way. The crime of Mr. -William Smith and others, against whom this high-priest of impertinence -levels his anathemas, is <em>in not being</em> Mr. Southey. What is -right in him, is wrong in them; what is the height of folly or -wickedness in them, is, ‘as fortune and the flesh shall serve,’ the -height of wisdom and virtue in him; for there is no medium in his -reprobation of others and approbation of himself. Whatever he does, -is proper: whatever he thinks, is true and profound: ‘I, Robert -Shallow, Esquire, have said it.’ Whether Jacobin or Anti-jacobin, -Theophilanthropist or Trinitarian, Spencean, or Ex-Spencean, the -patron of Universal Suffrage or of close Boroughs, of the reversion -of sinecure places, and pensions, or of the abolition of all property,—however -extreme in one opinion or another, he alone is in the -right; and those who do not think as he does, and change their -opinions as he does, and go the lengths that he does, first on one side -and then on the other, are necessarily knaves and fools. Wherever -he sits, is the head of the table. Truth and justice are always at his -side. The wise and virtuous are always with him. How should it -be otherwise? He calls those ‘wise and virtuous’ who are of his -way of thinking; the rest are ‘sciolists, profligates, and coxcombs.’ -By a fiction of his own making, not by a fiction of the law, Mr. -Southey can do no wrong; and to accuse him of it, is a libel on the -face of it, and little short of high treason. It is not the poet-laureate, -the author of ‘Wat Tyler’ and of the ‘Quarterly Review,’ who is to -blame for his violence and apostacy; with that portion of self-sufficiency -which this author possesses, ‘these are most virtuous’; -but it is the person who brings forward the contradictions and -intemperance of these two performances who is never to be forgiven -for questioning Mr. Southey’s consistency and moderation. All this -is strange, but not new to our readers. We have said it all before. -Why does Mr. Southey oblige us to repeat the accusation, by furnishing -us with fresh proofs of it? He is betrayed to his ruin by trusting -to the dictates of his personal feelings and wounded pride; and yet -he dare not look at his situation through any other medium. ‘To -know my deed, ‘t were best not know myself.’ But does he expect -all eyes as well as his to be ‘blind with the pin and web’? Does he -pull his laurel-crown as a splendid film over his eyes, and expect us -to join in a game of political blindman’s-buff with him, with a ‘Hoop, -do me no harm, good man’? Are we not to cry out while an -impudent, hypocritical, malignant renegado is putting his gag in our -<span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>mouths, and getting his thumb-screws ready? ‘Dost thou think, -because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale,’ says -<em>Sir Toby</em> to the fantastical steward <em>Malvolio</em>? Does Mr. Southey -think, because he is a pensioner, that he is to make us willing slaves? -While he goes on writing in the ‘Quarterly,’ shall we give over -writing in <cite>The Examiner</cite>? Before he puts down the liberty of the -press, the press shall put him down, with all his hireling and changeling -crew. In the <em>servile war</em> which Mr. Southey tells us is -approaching, the service we have proposed to ourselves to do is, to -neutralize the servile intellect of the country. This we have already -done in part, and hope to make clear work of it, before we have done.—For -example:</p> - -<p class='c010'>This heroic epistle to William Smith, Esq. from Robert Southey, -sets off in the following manner:—</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘<span class='sc'>Sir</span>,—You are represented in the newspapers as having entered, -during an important discussion in parliament, into a comparison -between certain passages in the ‘Quarterly Review,’ and the opinions -which were held by the author of ‘Wat Tyler’ three-and-twenty -years ago. It appears farther, according to the same authority, that -the introduction of so strange a criticism, in so strange a place, did -not arise from the debate, but was a premeditated thing; that you had -prepared yourself for it, by stowing the ‘Quarterly Review’ in one -pocket, and ‘Wat Tyler’ in the other; and that you deliberately -stood up for the purpose of reviling an individual who was not present -to vindicate himself, and in a place which afforded you protection.’ -p. 2.</p> - -<p class='c010'>So that for Mr. William Smith in a debate on a bill <em>for the suppression -of all political opinions</em> (as we are told by Mr. Alderman -Smith, a very different person, to be sure, and according to Mr. -Southey, no doubt, a highly respectable character, and a true lover -of liberty and the constitution) for Mr. William Smith on such an -occasion to introduce the sentiments of a well-known writer in a public -journal, that writer being a whiffling tool of the court, and that -journal the avowed organ of the government-party, in confirmation of -his apprehensions of the objects and probable results of the bill then -pending, was quite irrelevant and unparliamentary; nor had Mr. -William Smith any right to set an additional stigma on the unprincipled -and barefaced lengths which this writer now goes in servility and -intolerance, by shewing the equal lengths to which he went formerly -in popular fanaticism and licentiousness. Yet neither Mr. Southey -nor his friend Mr. Wynne complained of Mr. Canning’s want of -regularity, or disrespect of the House, in lugging out of his pocket -<span class='sc'>The Spencean Plan</span> as an argument against Reform, and as decisive -<span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>of the views of the Friends of Reform in parliament. Nay, Mr. -Southey requoted Mr. Canning’s quotation, for the purpose of reviling -all Reform and all Reformers, in the ‘Quarterly Review’;—a place -in which any one so reviled can no more defend himself than Mr. -Southey can defend himself in parliament; and which it seems affords -equal ‘protection’ to those who avail themselves of it; for a -Quarterly Reviewer, according to Mr. Southey, being anonymous, -is not at all accountable for what he writes. He says,—</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘As to the “Quarterly Review,” you can have no other authority -for ascribing any particular paper in that journal to one person or to -another, than common report. The “Quarterly Review” stands -upon its own merits.’ [Yet it was for what Mr. Southey wrote in -that Review, that <cite>The Courier</cite> told us at the time that Mr. Southey -was made Poet-laureate.] ‘What I may have said or thought in any -part of my life, no more concerns that journal than it does you or the -House of Commons.’ [What Mr. Southey has said publicly any -where in any part of his life, concerns the public and every man in it, -unless Mr. Southey means to say that his opinions are utterly worthless -and contemptible, a piece of modesty of which we cannot suspect -him.] ‘What I have written in it is a question which you, Sir, have -no right to ask, and which certainly I will not answer. As little -right have you to take that for granted which you cannot possibly -know.’ Now mark. In the very paragraph before the one in which -he skulks from the responsibility of the ‘Quarterly Review,’ and with -pert vapid assurance repels every insinuation implying a breach of his -inviolability as an anonymous writer, he makes an impudent, unqualified, -and virulent attack on Mr. Brougham as an Edinburgh Reviewer, -‘This was not necessary in regard to Mr. Brougham ... <em>he only -carried the quarrels as well as the practices of the Edinburgh Review -into the House of Commons. But as calumny, Sir, has not been your -vocation</em>, it may be useful, even to yourself, if I comment upon your -first attempt.’—p. 3. Such a want of common logic is to our literal -capacities quite inexplicable: it is ‘in the third tier of wonders above -wonders.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>In page 5, Mr. Southey calls the person who published ‘Wat -Tyler’ ‘a skulking scoundrel,’ with his characteristic delicacy and -moderation in the use of epithets; and says that it was published, -‘for the avowed purpose of insulting him, and with the hope of -injuring him if possible.’ Perhaps one object was to prevent Mr. -Southey from insulting and injuring other people. It was supposed -that ‘Wat Tyler’ might prove an antidote to the ‘Quarterly Review’: -that, ‘the healing might come from the same weapon that gave the -wound’; and in this instance it has turned out so. He adds, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span>‘You knew that the transaction bore upon its face every character of -baseness and malignity. You knew that it must have been effected -either by robbery, or by breach of trust. <em>These things, Mr. William -Smith, you knew!</em>’ [Mr. Southey at least knows no such thing, but -he is here in his glory; putting a false statement into epigrammatic -phraseology; bristling with horror at antithetical enormities of his -own fabricating, and concluding with that formidable and significant -repetition of the title, Christian and surname of <em>Mr. William Smith</em>.] -The above paragraph concludes thus, with the author’s usual logical -precision and personal modesty. ‘And knowing them as you did, I -verily believe, that if it were possible to revoke what is irrevocable, -you would <em>at this moment</em> be far more desirous of blotting from -remembrance the <em>disgraceful</em> speech which stands upon record in your -name, than I should be of cancelling the boyish composition which -gave rise to it. “Wat Tyler” is full of errors ... but they are -the errors of youth and ignorance; they bear no indication of an -ungenerous spirit, or of a malevolent heart.’ p. 6. It seems by this -passage that any attempt to fix disgrace on Mr. Southey only, recoils -upon the head of his accuser. ‘Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit.’ -He says that Mr. W. Smith’s <em>disgraceful</em> speech was occasioned by -‘Wat Tyler.’ That is not true. It was occasioned by ‘Wat Tyler’ -coupled with the ‘Quarterly Review.’ He says, ‘“Wat Tyler” is -full of errors.’ So is the article in the ‘Quarterly Review’; but -<em>they</em> are not ‘the errors of youth and ignorance; they bear strong -indications of an ungenerous spirit and a malignant heart.’ Let not -Mr. Southey mistake. It is not the indiscreet and romantic -extravagance of the boy which has brought the man into this predicament: -it is the deliberate and rancorous servility of the man that -has made those who were the marks of his slanderous and cowardly -invectives, rake up the errors of his youth against him.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Mr. Southey next proceeds to a defence of himself for writing ‘the -Wat Tyler.’ He argues that ‘it is not <em>seditious</em>, because it is <em>dramatic</em>.’ -We deny that it is dramatic. He acknowledges that it is mischievous, -and particularly so, at the present time. To the last part of the -proposition we cannot assent. When this poem was written, there -was a rage of speculation which might be dangerous: the danger at -present arises from the rage of hunger. And the true reason why -Mr. Southey was eager to suppress this publication was not what he -pretends, a fear that it might inculcate notions of perfect equality and -general licentiousness: but a feeling that it might prevent him from -defending every abuse of excessive inequality, and every stretch of -arbitrary power, the end of which must be to sink ‘the people’ in an -abyss of slavery, and to plunge ‘the populace’ in the depths of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span>famine, despair, and misery, or by a sudden and tremendous revulsion, -to occasion all that confusion, anarchy, violence, and bloodshed, -which Mr. Southey hypocritically affects to deprecate as the consequences -of seditious and inflammatory publications. Now we -contend in opposition to Mr. Southey and all that servile crew, that -the only possible preventive of one or other of these impending evils, -namely, lasting slavery, famine, and general misery on the one hand, -or a sudden and dreadful convulsion on the other, is the liberty of the -press, which Mr. Southey calls sedition, and the firm, manly, and -independent expression of public opinion, which he calls rebellion. -We detest despotism: we deprecate popular commotion: but if we -are forced upon an alternative, we have a choice: we prefer temporary -to lasting evils. Mr. Southey has indeed a new-acquired and therefore -lively dread of the horrors of revolution. But his passion for -despotism is greater than his dread of anarchy; and he runs all the -risks of the one, rather than not glut his insatiable and unnatural -appetite for the other. Such are his politics, and such are ours. He -says, ‘The piece was written under the influence of opinions which I -have long since outgrown, and repeatedly disclaimed, but for which -I have never felt either shame or contrition. They were taken up -conscientiously in early youth, they were acted upon in disregard of -all worldly considerations, <em>and they were left behind in the same strait-forward</em> -<em>course, as I advanced in years</em>.’ The latter part of this -statement is not self-evident. Mr. Southey says that while he -adhered to his first principles, he acted with a total disregard of his -worldly interest; and this is easily understood:—but that his desertion -of those principles, so contrary to his worldly views, was equally -independent, disinterested and free from sinister motives, is not so -plain. Nor can we take Mr. Southey’s word for it. And we will -tell him the reason. If he had been <em>progressive</em>, as he calls it, in his -course, up to the year 1814, we should not have found much fault -with him: but why did he become stationary then? Has nothing -happened in the three last years,—nothing—to make Mr. Southey -retreat back to some of his old opinions, as he had advanced from -them, guided, as he professes to be in his undeviating course, by facts -and experience? Are the actual events of the last three years -nothing in the scale of Mr. Southey’s judgment? Is not their -weight overpowering, irresistible? What, do not the names of Poland, -Norway, Finland, Saxony, Italy, Spain and Portugal, the Pope, the -Inquisition, and the Cortes (to say nothing of France, Nismes, and -the Bourbons) thrown into the scale of common sense and common -honesty, dash it down, with a startling sound, upon the counter, -where Mr. Southey is reckoning his well-gotten gains, the price of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span>his disinterested exertions in the cause of Spanish liberty and the -deliverance of mankind, making his hair stand on end at his own -folly and credulity, and forcing him indignantly to fling his last year’s -pension and the arrears of the Quarterly in the face of Mr. Murray’s -shopmen and the clerks of the Treasury, and swear, ‘in disregard of -all worldly considerations,’ never to set his foot in Downing or -Albemarle-street again? No such thing. In advocating the cause -of the French people, Mr. Southey’s principles and his interest were -at variance, and therefore he quitted his principles when he saw a -good opportunity: in taking up the cause of the Allies, his principles -and his interest became united and thenceforth indissoluble. His -engagement to his first love, the Republic, was only upon liking; his -marriage to Legitimacy is <em>for better, for worse</em>, and nothing but death -shall part them. Our simple Laureate was sharp upon his hoyden -Jacobin mistress, who brought him no dowry, neither place nor -pension, who ‘found him poor and kept him so,’ by her prudish -notions of virtue. He divorced her, in short, for nothing but the -spirit and success with which she resisted the fraud and force to -which the old bawd Legitimacy was forever resorting to overpower -her resolution and fidelity. He said she was a virago, a cunning -gipsey, always in broils about her honour and the inviolability of her -person, and always getting the better in them, furiously scratching the -face or cruelly tearing off the hair of the said pimping old lady, who -would never let her alone, night or day. But since her foot slipped -one day on the ice, and the detestable old hag tripped up her heels, -and gave her up to the kind keeping of the Allied Sovereigns, Mr. -Southey has devoted himself to her more fortunate and wealthy rival: -he is become uxorious in his second matrimonial connexion; and -though his false Duessa has turned out a very witch, a foul, ugly -witch, drunk with insolence, mad with power, a griping, rapacious -wretch, bloody, luxurious, wanton, malicious, not sparing steel, or -poison, or gold, to gain her ends—bringing famine, pestilence, and -death in her train—infecting the air with her thoughts, killing the -beholders with her looks, claiming mankind as her property, and -using them as her slaves—driving every thing before her, and playing -the devil wherever she comes, Mr. Southey sticks to her in spite of -every thing, and for very shame lays his head in her lap, paddles with -the palms of her hands, inhales her hateful breath, leers in her eyes -and whispers in her ears, calls her little fondling names, Religion, -Morality, and Social Order, takes for his motto,</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Be to her faults a little blind,</div> - <div class='line'>Be to her virtues very kind’—</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span>sticks close to his filthy bargain, and will not give her up, because -she keeps him, and he is down in her will. Faugh!</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in18'>‘What’s here?</div> - <div class='line'>Gold! yellow, glittering, precious gold!</div> - <div class='line'>—— —— ——The wappened widow,</div> - <div class='line'>Whom the spittle-house and ulcerous sores</div> - <div class='line'>Would heave the gorge at, this embalms and spices</div> - <div class='line'>To the April day again.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>The above passage is, we fear, written in the style of Aretin, which -Mr. Southey condemns in the <cite>Quarterly</cite>. It is at least a very sincere -style: Mr. Southey will never write so, till he can keep in the same -mind for three and twenty years together. Why should not one -make a sentence of a page long, out of the feelings of one’s whole -life? The early Protestant Divines wrote such prodigious long -sentences from the sincerity of their religious and political opinions. -Mr. Coleridge ought not to imitate them.</p> - -<h4 class='c017'><span class='sc'>A Letter to William Smith, Esq.</span> M.P. <em>from</em> Robert Southey, <em>Esq.</em> John Murray, Albemarle-street. 1817. <em>Price</em> 2<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">s.</span></i></h4> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘What word hath passed thy lips, Adam severe?’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>May 11, 1817.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Has Mr. Murray turned Quaker, that he styles himself John -Murray (‘Mark you his absolute John?‘) in the title-page? Or -has Mr. Southey resigned his place and his pretensions, that he omits -in the same page his honorary titles of Poet-Laureate and Member of -the Royal Spanish Academy? We cannot tell; but we should think -it some sign of grace, if, without a hint from the Lord Chamberlain, -he had for a while laid by his tattered laurel and spattered birth-day -suit: if, as the Commander in Chief retired after the droll affair of -Mrs. Clarke (we are not such rigid moralists as Mr. Southey) the -Poet-Laureate had thought proper to veil his blushing court favours -during the dramatic representation of <cite>Wat Tyler</cite>, and did not consider -it either prudent or becoming to be seen going to or coming -from Carlton-house with the mob, ‘the reading rabble,’ at his heels, -and with a shower of twopenny pamphlets sticking to the skirts of -his turned coat. Poor <em>Morgan</em>, the honest Welchman in <cite>Roderic -Random</cite>, reeking with the fumes of tobacco and garlic, was not more -offensive to the sensitive organs of <em>Captain Whiffle</em>, than Mr. Southey -must be to the nice feelings of an exalted Personage, reeking with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span>the fumes of Jacobinism, and rolled, as he has been, in the kennel of -the newspaper press. A voyage to Italy, a classical quarantine of a -year or two, with the Pope’s blessing, seems absolutely necessary to -wipe out the stains of his <cite>Wat Tyler</cite>, ‘as pure as sin with baptism’; -and to restore him to the vows of Prince and People as smug as a -young novice in a monastery, and sweet as any waiting-gentlewoman.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Mr. Southey says, in continuation of his Defence of <cite>Wat Tyler</cite>, -p. 7, ‘It was written when republicanism was confined to a very -small number of the educated classes:’ [Is it more common now -among the intended hearers of Mr. Coleridge’s Second and Third -Lay-Sermons?]—‘when those who were known to entertain such -opinions were exposed to personal danger from <em>the populace</em>‘; [The -populace of course were not set on by the higher classes, the clergy -or gentry, nor can Mr. S. mean to include the Attorney-General of -that day, my Lord Eldon, as one of <em>the populace</em>.] ‘And when a -spirit of anti-jacobinism was predominant, which I cannot characterise -more truly than by saying that it was as unjust and intolerant, though -not quite as ferocious, <em>as the Jacobinism of the present day</em>.’—Why not -the <em>anti-jacobinism</em> of the present day? ‘The collusion holds in the -exchange.’ The business is carried on to the present hour; and -though it has changed hands, the principal of the firm is still the -same. Mr. Gifford, the present Editor of the <cite>Quarterly Review</cite>, -where Mr. Southey now writes, was formerly the Editor of the <cite>Anti-Jacobin</cite> -newspaper, where he was written at. The above passage is -however a sly passing hit at Mr. Canning’s parodies, who (shame to -say it) was as wise and as witty three and twenty years ago as he is -now, and has not been making that progressive improvement ever -since, on which Mr. Southey compliments himself, congratulates his -friends, and insults over his enemies! How nicely this gentleman -<em>differences</em> himself from all his contemporaries, Jacobin or anti-Jacobin! -No one can come up to him at all points. ‘The lovely Marcia -towers above her sex!’</p> - -<p class='c010'>The Letter-writer goes on to say:—‘When therefore Mr. Smith -informed the House of Commons that the author of <cite>Wat Tyler</cite> thinks -no longer upon certain points as he did in his youth, he informed -that legislative assembly of nothing more than what the author has -shown during very many years, <em>in the course of his writings</em> ... -that while events have been moving on upon the great theatre of -human affairs, <em>his intellect has not been stationary</em>.’—[Mr. S. here confounds -a change of opinions with the progress of intellect, a mistake -which we shall correct presently.]—‘But when the Member for -Norwich asserts that I impute evil motives to men merely for holding -the same doctrines’ [No, only a tenth part of the same doctrines] -<span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span>‘which I myself formerly professed, and when he charges me with -the malignity and baseness of a Renegade, the assertion and the -charge are as false, as the language in which they are conveyed is -coarse and insulting.’ p. 9.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Now we know of no writings of Mr. Southey’s, in the course of -which he had shewn for many years the change or progress of his -opinions, but in the <cite>Quarterly Review</cite> and other anonymous publications. -We suppose he will hardly say that his Birth-day Odes, the -<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Carmen Nuptiale</span></i>, &c. have shewn the progress of his intellect. But -in the same anonymous writings, in which the public would find, to -Mr. Southey’s credit, that his intellect had not been stationary, the -Member for Norwich would find what was not so much to his credit, -but all that was wanting to make good the charge—that Mr. Southey’s -moderation and charity to those whose intellects had been stationary, -did not keep pace with the progress of his own—for in the articles in -the <cite>Quarterly</cite>, which he claims or disclaims as he pleases, he, the -writer of the Inscription on Old Sarum, describes ‘a Reformer as no -better than a housebreaker’: he, the writer of the Inscription at -Chepstow Castle, calls all those who do not bow their necks to the -doctrine of Divine Right, Rebels and Regicides: he, the author of -<cite>Wat Tyler</cite>, calls those persons who think taxes, wars, the wanton -waste of the resources of a country, and the unfeeling profligacy of -the rich, likely to aggravate and rouse to madness the intolerable -sufferings of the poor, ‘flagitious incendiaries, panders to insurrection, -murder, and treason, and the worst of scoundrels’; he, the equalizer -of all property and of popular representation, would protect the -holders of rotten boroughs and of entailed sinecures, by shutting up -all those who write against them in solitary confinement, without pen, -ink, or paper, to answer the unanswerable arguments of Mr. Southey—in -short, the author of the articles in the <cite>Quarterly Review</cite>, if he -was not always a base and malignant sycophant, shews himself to be -a base and malignant Renegade, by defending all the rotten, and -undermining all the sound parts of the system to which he professes -to be a convert, and by consigning over to a ‘vigour beyond the law’ -all those who expose his unprincipled, pragmatical tergiversations, or -would maintain the system itself, without maintaining those corruptions -and abuses, which were all that Mr. Southey at one time saw -to hold up to execration in the English Constitution, and are all that -he now sees to admire and revere in it. This is as natural in a -Renegado, as it would be unaccountable in any one else.</p> - -<p class='c010'>We must get on a little faster, for to expose the absurdities of this -Letter one by one would fill ‘a nice little book.’ In the pages -immediately following, Mr. Southey glances at the Editor of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span><cite>Edinburgh Review</cite>, whom he condemns ‘to bear a <i><span lang="hu" xml:lang="hu">gore sinister tenné</span></i> -in his escutcheon,’ for saying that Mr. Southey does not form an -exception to the <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">irritabile genus vatum</span></i>. He says, that he has often -refrained from exposing the ignorance and inconsistency of his -opponents, as well as ‘that moral turpitude,’ which, our readers -must by this time perceive, can hardly fail to accompany any difference -of opinion with him. He says that ‘he has a talent for satire, -but that (good soul!) he has long since subdued the disposition.’ -This must be since writing the last <cite>Quarterly</cite>: we thought there -were some shrewd hits there, and we suspect Sir Richard Phillips, -whom he laughs at for his dislike of war and of animal food, for -pages together, will be of our opinion. He says that ‘he has been -lately employed, while among the mountains of Cumberland, upon -the Mines of Brazil and the War in the Peninsula.’</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Why man, he doth bestride the world</div> - <div class='line'>Like a Colossus, and we, petty men, peep</div> - <div class='line'>Under his huge legs.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>‘His <em>name</em>, in the mean time, has served in London for the very -shuttlecock of discussion.’ Why should not his name be a shuttlecock, -when he himself is no better?—‘He has impeded the rising -reputation of Toby, the Sapient Pig;’—has overlaid the posthumous -birth of the young Shiloh, and perhaps prevented Mr. Coleridge’s -premature deliverance of his last <cite>Lay Sermon</cite>. After all these misfortunes, -the author makes merry with Bonaparte’s ‘having been -exposed, like Bishop Hatto, to be devoured by the rats!’ The -levelling rogue cares neither for Bishops nor Emperors, but grows -grave again in recounting the retrograde progress of his own mind.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘In my youth, when my stock of knowledge consisted of such an -acquaintance with Greek and Roman history, as is acquired in the -course of a regular scholastic education,’—[The Greek and Roman -history is as good as the history of rotten boroughs or the reign of -George <span class='fss'>III.</span>]—‘when my heart was full of poetry and romance,—[Is -it so no longer?]—‘and Lucan and Akenside were at my tongue’s -end.’—[Instead of the red book and the court calendar]—‘<em>I fell into</em> -the political opinions which the French Revolution was then scattering -throughout Europe:’ [We have here a pretty fair account of the -origin and genealogy of the opinions of the French Revolution, -which opinions of liberty, truth, and justice, neither the French -Revolution shall destroy, nor those who destroyed <em>it</em>, because it was -produced by and gave birth to those opinions; and does Mr. Southey -suppose that the suppression of <cite>Wat Tyler</cite> is to suppress those opinions, -and that a lying article in the <cite>Quarterly Review</cite> is to persuade us -<span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>that they who made war on those opinions from the beginning (and -by so doing, produced all the evils of those opinions, produced them -purposely, in the malice of their hearts and the darkness of their -minds produced them to destroy all liberty, truth, and justice, and to -keep mankind their slaves in perpetuity by right divine) were right -from the beginning, that they deserved well of mankind, that their -boasted triumph, the triumph of kings over the species, is ours and -Mr. Southey’s triumph? Or would he persuade us that the Greek -and Roman History has become obsolete, because Mr. Southey left -school three and twenty years ago; that poetry and romance were -banished from the human heart when he took a place and pension; -that Lucan and Akenside will not live as long as <cite>Wat Tyler</cite>, or the -<cite>Quarterly Review</cite>!—We broke off in an interesting part. Mr. -Southey proceeds:]—‘Following those opinions with ardour wherever -they led.’ [This is an old trick of the author, he is a keen sportsman;] -‘I soon perceived that inequalities of rank were a light -evil compared to the inequalities of property,<a id='r36' /><a href='#f36' class='c011'><sup>[36]</sup></a> and those more -fearful distinctions which the want of moral and intellectual culture -occasions between man and man. At that time, and with those -opinions or rather feelings (for their root was in the heart, and not -in the understanding) I wrote <cite>Wat Tyler</cite> as one who was impatient -of “all the oppressions that are done under the sun.”’ [Here we -must make another full stop.] Mr. Southey is incapable of forming -any other opinions but from his feelings: he never had any other -opinions, he never will have any others, worth a rush. When the -opinions he professes ceased to be the dictates of his heart, they -became the dictates of his vanity and interest; they became good for -nothing. When the first ebullition of youthful ardour was over, his -understanding was not competent to maintain its independence against -<span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span>the artifices of sophistry, aided by the accumulating force of ‘worldly -considerations,’ showy or substantial, the long neglect of which he -had felt to his cost. Mr. Southey’s pure reason was not steady -enough to contemplate the truth in an unprejudiced and unimpassioned -point of view. His imagination first ran away with his understanding; -and now, that he is getting old, his convenience, the -influence of fashion, and the tide of opinion, rush in, and fill up all -the void both of sense and imagination, driving him into the very -vortex of court-sycophancy, the sinks and common sewers of corruption. -Mr. Southey is not a man to hear reason at any time of his -life. He thinks his change of opinion is owing to an increase of -knowledge, because he has in fact no idea of any progress in intellect -but exchanging one error for another. He has no idea that a man -may grow wiser in the same opinion by discovering new reasons for -the faith that is in him; for Mr. Southey has no reasons for the -faith that is in him. He does not see how a man may devote -his whole life to the discovery of the principle of the most common -truth; for he has no principles of thought, either to guide, enlarge, -or modify his knowledge. He has nothing to shew for the wisdom -of his opinions but his own opinion of their wisdom: they are mere -self-opinions: he considers his present notions as profound and solid, -because his former ones were hasty and shallow; asserts them with -pert, vapid assurance, because he does not see the objections against -them; and thinks he must be right in his premises in proportion to -the violence and extravagance of his conclusions. Because when he -wrote <cite>Wat Tyler</cite>, he was ‘impatient of all the oppressions that are -done under the sun,’ he now thinks it his bounden duty to justify -them all, with equal impatience of contradiction. Mr. Southey does -not know himself so well as we do; and a greater confirmation of -his ignorance in this respect cannot well be given than the rest of the -above passage. ‘The subject of <cite>Wat Tyler</cite> was injudiciously chosen; -and it was treated as might be expected by a youth of twenty, in -such times, who regarded only one side of the question.’ [It is -Mr. Southey’s fault or his misfortune that at all times he regards -only one side of a question.]</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘There is no other misrepresentation. The sentiments of the -historical characters are correctly stated.’ [What, of the King, the -Judge, and the Archbishop?] ‘Were I now to dramatize the same -story, there would be much to add, but little to alter. I should not -express those sentiments less strongly, but I should oppose to them -more enlarged views of the nature of man and the progress of -society. <em>I should set forth with equal force the oppressions of the -feudal system, the excesses of the insurgents, and the treachery of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span>government</em>,’ [Doctors doubt that] ‘and hold up the errors and crimes -which were then committed, as a warning <em>for this</em> and for future -generations. I should write <em>as a man; not as a stripling</em>; with the -same heart, and the same desires, but with a ripened understanding -and competent stores of knowledge,’ p. 15. Let him do it, but he -dare not. He would shew by the attempt the hollowness of his -boasted independence, the little time-serving meanness of his most -enlarged views; in a word, that he has still the same understanding, -but no longer the same heart. What are ‘the ripened discoveries -and competent stores of knowledge’ which Mr. Southey would bring -to this task? Are they the barefaced self-evident sophistries, the -wretched shuffling evasions of common-sense and humanity which he -contributes to the <cite>Quarterly Review</cite>, the cast-off, thread-bare, tattered -excuses of Paley’s Moral Philosophy, and Windham’s hashed-up -speeches? Why, all the prodigious discoveries which Mr. Southey -there details with such dry significance, are familiar to every school-boy, -are the common stock in trade of every spouter at a debating -society, have been bandied about, hackneyed, exhausted any time -these thirty years! And yet Mr. Southey was quite ignorant of -them till very lately; they have broke upon him with a new and -solemn light; they have come upon him by surprise, after three-and-twenty -years; and at the last rebound, have overturned his tottering -patriotism? Where is the use of Mr. Southey’s <em>regular scholastic -education</em>, if he is to be thus ignorant at twenty, thus versatile at forty? -The object of such an education is to make men less astonished at -their own successive discoveries, by putting them in possession before-hand -of what has been discovered by others. Mr. Southey cannot, -like Mr. Cobbett, plead in extenuation of his change of sentiment, that -he was a self-taught man, who had to grope his way from error and -prejudice to truth and reason; neither can he plead like Mr. Cobbett, -in proof of the sincerity of his motives, that he has suffered the loss -of liberty and property by his change of opinion: Mr. Southey has -suffered nothing by his—but a loss of character!</p> - -<h4 class='c017'><span class='sc'>A Letter to William Smith, Esq.</span> M.P. <em>from</em> Robert Southey, <em>Esq.</em> John Murray, Albemarle-street. 1817. Price 2<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">s.</span></i></h4> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div><span class='small'>(CONCLUDED.)</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='c021'><em>May 18, 1817.</em></div> - -<p class='c010'>Mr. Southey in the next paragraph says, that, ‘it is a nice question, -in what degree he, as the author, partook of the sentiments expressed -in the dramatic poem of <cite>Wat Tyler</cite>;—too nice a one for Mr. Wm. -Smith to decide;’ and yet he accuses him of excessive malice or -<span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span>total want of judgment for deciding wrong. He then falls foul of -the <cite>Monthly</cite>, and other Dissenting Reviews, for praising his <cite>Joan of -Arc</cite>, and makes it the subject of a sneer at Mr. W. Smith, that his -Minor Poems were praised by the same critical authorities on their -first appearance. We might ask here, Did not Mr. Southey himself -write in these Reviews at one time? But he might refuse to answer -the question. ‘In these productions, <cite>Joan of Arc</cite>,’ &c. Mr. Southey -observes, and observes truly, that Mr. W. Smith ‘might have seen -expressed an enthusiastic love of liberty,’ (not a cold-blooded recommendation -to extinguish the liberty of the press) ‘a detestation of -tyranny in whatever form,’ (legitimate or illegitimate, not a palliation -of all its most inveterate and lasting abuses) ‘an ardent abhorrence -of all wicked ambition,’ (particularly of that most wicked ambition -which would subject mankind, as a herd of cattle, to the power and -pride of Kings) ‘and a sympathy not less ardent with those who -were engaged in war for the defence of their country, and in a -righteous cause’—to wit, the French!</p> - -<p class='c010'>Mr. Southey, however, vindicates with still more self-complacency -and success, the purity of his religious and moral character. ‘For -while I imbibed the Republican opinions of the day, I escaped the -atheism and leprous immorality which generally accompanied them. -I cannot, therefore, join with Beattie in blessing</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>——“The hour when I escap’d the wrangling crew,</div> - <div class='line'>From Pyrrho’s maze, and Epicurus’ sty;”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>for I was never lost in the one, nor defiled in the other. My -progress was of a different kind.’ And Mr. Southey then tells a story, -not so good as the story of Whittington and his Cat, how he was -prevented from setting off for America to set up the Pantisocracy -scheme, and turned back, ‘from building castles in the air, and -founding Christian Commonwealths,’ to turn Poet Laureate, and -write in the Quarterly Review. The above extract is a fine specimen -of character. Mr. Southey there thanks God that he is not, and -was not, <em>like other men</em>. He was proof against the worst infection of -his time. Poor Doctors Price and Priestley, who were Republicans -like Mr. Southey, were religious, moral men; but they were -Dissenters, and this excites as much contempt in Mr. Southey, as -if they had been atheists and profligates. Others again, among -Mr. Southey’s political compeers, were atheists and immoral; and -for this, Mr. Southey expresses the same abhorrence of them, as if -they had been Dissenters! He, indeed, contrives to make the -defects of others so many perfections in himself; and by this mode -of proceeding, abstracts himself into a <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">beau ideal</span></i> of moral and political -<span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span>egotism—a <em>Sir Charles Grandison</em>, calculated for the beginning of the -nineteenth, and the latter end of the eighteenth century, upon the -true infallible principles of intellectual coxcombry. It is well for -Mr. Southey that he never was lost ‘in Pyrrho’s maze,’ for he never -would have found his way out of it:—that his tastes were not a -little more Epicurean, perhaps is not so well for him. There is a -monachism of the understanding in Mr. Southey, which may be -traced to the over-severity, the prudery of his moral habits. He -unites somewhat of the fanaticism and bigotry of the cloister with its -penances and privations. A decent mixture of the pleasurable -and the sensual, might relieve the morbid acrimony of his temper, -and a little more indulgence of his appetites might make him a little -less tenacious of his opinions. It is his not sympathising with the -enjoyments of others, that makes him feel such an antipathy to every -difference of sentiment. We hope Mr. Southey, when he was in -town, went to see <cite>Don Giovanni</cite>, and heard him sing that fine song, -‘Women and wine are the sustainers and glory of life.’ We do not -wish to see Mr. Southey quite a <cite>Don Giovanni</cite>, (that would be as -great a change in his moral, as to see him Poet-laureate, is in his -political character) but if he had fewer pretensions to virtue, he -would, perhaps, be a better man,—‘to relish all as sharply, passioned -as we!’ The author, in p. 21, informs Mr. W. Smith, that his -early Poems, which contain all the political spirit, without the -dramatic form, of <cite>Wat Tyler</cite>, are continually on sale, and that he -has never attempted to withdraw them? Why does he not withdraw -them, or why did he attempt to get an Injunction against poor <em>Wat</em>? -Some one who does not know Mr. Southey—has suggested as an -answer,—By not withdrawing the Poems, he pockets the receipts; -and by getting an Injunction against <cite>Wat Tyler</cite>, he would have done -the same thing. In p. 23, Mr. Southey states, that he is ‘in the -same <em>rank in society</em>’ as Mr. Smith, which we have yet to learn: and -that he and Mr. Smith ‘were cast by nature in different moulds,’ -which we think was lucky for the Member for Norwich. In p. 25, -Mr. Southey rails at ‘the whole crew of ultra Whigs and Anarchists, -from Messrs. Brougham and Clodius, down to Cobbett, Cethegus -and Co.’; and in pages 26, 27, he compliments himself: ‘I ask -you, Sir, in which of my writings I have appealed to the base and -malignant feelings of mankind;—and I ask you, whether the present -race of revolutionary writers appeal to any other? What man’s -private character did I stab? Whom did I libel? Whom did I -slander? Whom did I traduce? <span class='sc'>These miscreants live by calumny -and sedition: they are libellers and liars by trade.</span>’—After this, -<em>Sir Anthony Absolute’s</em> ‘Damn you, can’t you be cool, like me?’ will -<span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span>hardly pass for a joke! ‘For a man to know another well, were to -know himself.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>But we must conclude, and shall do so, with some passages taken -at a venture. ‘I did not fall into the error of those, who, having -been the friends of France when they imagined that the cause of -liberty was implicated in her success, transferred their attachment -from the Republic to the military tyranny in which it ended, and -regarded with complacency the progress of oppression, because France -was the oppressor.’ What does Mr. Southey call that military -establishment which is at present kept up in France to keep the -Bourbons on the throne, and to keep down the French people? -Mr. Southey has, it seems, transferred his attachment from the -Republic, not to Bonaparte, but to the Bourbons. <em>They</em> stand -Mr. Southey instead of the Republic; they are the true ‘children -and champions of Jacobinism’; the legitimate heirs and successors -of the Revolution. We have never fallen into that error—into the -error of preferring the monstrous claim of hereditary and perpetual -despotism over whole nations, to a power raised to whatever height, -(a gigantic, but glorious height) in repelling that monstrous claim; a -claim set up in contempt of human nature and human liberty, and -never quitted for a single instant; the unwearied, implacable, systematic -prosecution of which claim, to force the doctrine of Divine Right on -the French people, caused all the calamities of the Revolution, all -the horrors of anarchy, and all the evils of military despotism, with -loss of liberty and independence; and the restoring and hallowing of -which claim, to hold mankind as slaves in perpetuity, Mr. Southey -hails as the deliverance of mankind, and ‘a consummation devoutly to -be wished.’ ‘O fool, fool, fool!’ He cannot go along with France -when France becomes the oppressor; nor can he leave the Allies -when they become the oppressors, when they return to the point -from whence they set out in 1792. He could not accompany the -march to Paris then, but he has run all the way by the side of it -twice since, with his laurel wreath on his head, playing tricks and -antics like a Jack-of-the Green. We explained this before. Mr. -Southey was a revolutionary weathercock; he is become a court-fixture. -‘They (says he, meaning us<a id='r37' /><a href='#f37' class='c011'><sup>[37]</sup></a>) had turned their faces -towards the East in the morning, to worship the rising sun, and in -the evening they were looking eastward still, obstinately affirming -that still the sun was there. I, on the contrary, altered my position -as the world went round.’ It is not always that a simile runs on -all-fours; but this does. The sun, indeed, passes from the East to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_228'>228</span>the West, but it rises in the East again: yet Mr. Southey is still -looking in the West—for his pension. The world has gone round a -second time, but he has not altered his position—at the Treasury -door. Does the sun of Liberty still rise over the towers of the -Inquisition? Is its glow kindled at the funeral pile of massacred -Protestants? Does its breath issue in vain from French dungeons, in -which all those are confined who cannot forget that for twenty-five -years they have been counted men, not slaves to Louis <span class='fss'>XVIII.</span>, -under God and the Prince Regent? The doctrine of Divine Right -has been restored, and Mr. Southey is still dreaming of military -usurpation. The Inquisition has been re-established, and Mr. Southey -still talks of the deliverance of Spain and Portugal. The war was -renewed to put down Bonaparte as a military usurper, and not, as it -was stated, to force the Bourbons as the legitimate Sovereigns, back -upon the French nation; and yet the moment he was put down, the -Bourbons were forced back upon the French people; (he was the only -barrier between them and the delicious doctrine of Divine Right) and -yet Mr. Southey says nothing of this monstrous outrage and insult on -them, on us, on all mankind: his spirits are frozen up by this word -‘legitimacy,’ as fish are in a pond: and yet he does say something—for -he dotes, and raves, and drivels about national monuments to commemorate -the final triumph over national independence and human rights.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Mr. Southey next gives us his succedaneum to the doctrine of -Legitimacy; and a precious piece of quackery it is:—</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘Slavery has long ceased to be tolerable in Europe: the remains -of feudal oppression are disappearing even in those countries which -have improved the least: nor can it be much longer endured, that -the extremes of ignorance, wretchedness, and brutality, should exist -in the very centre of civilized society. There can be no safety with -a populace, <em>half Luddite, half Lazzaroni</em>. Let us not deceive -ourselves. We are far from that state in which any thing resembling -equality would be possible; but we are arrived at that state in which -<em>the extremes of inequality</em> are become intolerable. <em>They are too -dangerous, as well as too monstrous, to be borne much longer.</em> Plans -which would have led to the utmost horrors of insurrection, have -been prevented by the government, and by the enactment of strong, -but necessary laws. Let it not, however, be supposed that the -disease is healed, because the ulcer may skin over. The remedies -by which the body politic can be restored to health, must be slow in -their operation. The condition of the populace, physical, moral, and -intellectual, must be improved, or a <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Jacquerie</span></i>, a <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Bellum Servile</span></i>, sooner -or later, will be the result. <em>It is the people at this time who stand in -need of reformation, not the government.</em>’</p> - -<p class='c010'><span class='pageno' id='Page_229'>229</span>We could not have said most of this better ourselves; and yet he -adds—‘The Government must better the condition of the populace; -and the first thing necessary is’—to do what—to suppress the liberty -of the press, and make Mr. Southey the keeper. That is, the -Government must put a stop to the press, in order that they may -continue, with perfect impunity, all the other evils complained of, -which Mr. Southey says are too dangerous, as well as too monstrous -to be borne. Put down the liberty of the press, and leave it to -Mr. Southey and the Quarterly Review to remove ‘the extremes of -inequality, ignorance, wretchedness, and brutality, existing in the very -centre of civilized society,’ and they will remain there long enough. -Remove them, and what will become of Mr. Southey and the -Quarterly Review? This modest gentleman and mild reformer, -proposes to destroy at once the freedom of discussion, to prevent its -ultimate loss; to make us free by first making us slaves; to put a -gag in the mouths of the people instead of bread; to increase the -comforts of the poor by laying on more taxes; to spread abroad the -spirit of liberty and independence, by teaching the doctrines of -Passive Obedience and Non-resistance; and to encourage the love -of peace by crying up the benefits of war, and deprecating the loss of -a war-establishment. The borough-mongers will not object to such -a helpmate in the cause of reform. In the midst of all this desultory -jargon, the author somehow scrapes acquaintance with Mr. Owen, -and we find them disputing about the erection of a chapel of ease on -a piece of waste ground. ‘To build upon any other foundation than -religion, is building upon sand,’ says Mr. Southey, with a sort of -<em>Do-me-good</em> air, as if in giving his advice he had performed an act -of charity. We did not hear Mr. Owen’s answer, but we know -that a nod is as good as a wink to that gentleman. Mr. Southey -then talks of the Established Church, whom, as well as the Government, -in his courtly way, he accuses of having for centuries ‘neglected -its first and paramount duty,’ the bettering the condition of the -people; of Saving Banks; of colonies of disbanded soldiers and -sailors; of columns of Waterloo and Trafalgar; of diminishing the -poor-rates, and improving the morals of the people, so that they may -live without eating; of the glories of our war-expenditure, and of the -necessity of keeping up the same expenditure in time of peace. -‘Never indeed,’ he exclaims, ‘was there a more senseless cry than -that which is at this time raised for retrenchment in the public -expenditure, as a means of alleviating the present distress.’ [This -senseless cry, however, is either an echo of, or was echoed by, the -Prince Regent in his Speech from the Throne. Is there no better -understanding between Mr. Southey and the Prince Regent’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_230'>230</span>advisers?]—‘That distress arises from a great and sudden diminution -of employment, occasioned by many coinciding causes, the chief -of which is, that the war-expenditure of from forty to fifty millions -yearly, has ceased.’—[No, the chief is, that our war-expenses of -from forty to fifty millions yearly and for ever, are continued, and -that our war-monopoly of trade to pay them with has ceased.]—‘Men -are out of employ’—[True.]... ‘the evil is, that too -little is spent,’ [Because we have wasted too much.]—‘and as a -remedy, we are exhorted to spend less.’ [‘Yes, to waste less, or to -spend what we have left in things useful to ourselves, and not in -Government gimcracks, whether of peace or war.’] Is it better, does -Mr. Southey think, that ten poor men should keep ten pounds a-piece -in their pockets, which they would of course spend in food, clothing, -fuel, &c. for themselves and families, or that this hundred pounds, -that is, ten pounds a-piece, should be paid out of the pockets of these -ten poor men in <em>taxes</em>, which, added to Mr. Croker’s salary, would -enable him to keep another horse, to pay for the feed, furniture, -saddle, bridle, whip, and spurs? We ask Mr. Southey this question, -and will put the issue of the whole argument upon the answer to it. -The money would be spent equally in either case, say in agriculture, -in raising corn for instance, wheat or oats: but the corn raised and -paid for by it in the one instance would go into the belly of the poor -man and his family: in the other, into the belly of Mr. Croker’s -horse. Does that make no difference to Mr. Southey? Answer, -Man of Humanity! Or, if Mr. Southey, the Man of Humanity, -will not answer, let Mr. Malthus, the Man of God, answer for him! -Again, what would go to pay for a new saddle for the Secretary of -the Admiralty, would buy the poor man and his family so many pair -of shoes in the year; or what would pay for a straw litter for his -sleek gelding, would stuff a flock-bed for the poor man’s children! -Does not Mr. Southey understand this question yet? We have -given him a clue to the whole difference between productive and -unproductive labour, between waste and economy, between taxes and -no taxes, between a war-expenditure and what ought to be a peace-establishment, -between money laid out and debts contracted in -gunpowder, in cannon, in ships of war, in scattering death, and -money laid out in paying for food, furniture, houses, the comforts, -necessaries, and enjoyments of life. Let Mr. Southey take the -problem and the solution with him to Italy, study it there amidst a -population, half Lazzaroni, half Monks:<a id='r38' /><a href='#f38' class='c011'><sup>[38]</sup></a> let him see his error, and -return an honest man! But if he will not believe us, let him at least -<span class='pageno' id='Page_231'>231</span>believe himself. In the career of his triumph about our national -monuments, he has fallen into one of the most memorable lapses of -memory we ever met with. ‘In proportion,’ says he, ‘to their magnificence, -also, will be the present benefit, as well as the future good; -for they are not like the Egyptian pyramids, to be raised by bondsmen -under rigorous taskmasters: the wealth which is taken from the -people returns to them again, like vapours which are drawn imperceptibly -from the earth, but distributed to it in refreshing dews<a id='r39' /><a href='#f39' class='c011'><sup>[39]</sup></a> and -fertilizing showers. What bounds could imagination set to the -welfare and glory of this island, if a tenth part, or even a twentieth -of what the war expenditure has been, were annually applied in -improving and creating harbours, in bringing our roads to the best -possible state, in colonizing upon our waste lands, in reclaiming fens -and conquering tracks from the sea, in encouraging the liberal arts, in -erecting churches, in building and endowing schools and colleges, and -making war upon physical and moral evil with the whole artillery of -wisdom and righteousness, with all the resources of science, and all -the ardour of enlightened and enlarged benevolence!’</p> - -<p class='c010'>Well done, Mr. Southey. No man can argue better, when he -argues against himself. What! one-twentieth part of this enormous -waste of money laid out in war, which has sunk the nation into the -lowest state of wretchedness, would, if wisely and beneficially laid -out in works of peace, have raised the country to the pinnacle of -prosperity and happiness! Mr. Southey in his raptures forgets his -war-whoop, and is ready to exclaim with <em>Sancho Panza</em>, when the -exploits of knight-errantry are over, and he turns all his enthusiasm to -a pastoral account, ‘Oh what delicate wooden spoons shall I carve! -What crumbs and cream shall I devour!’ Mr. Southey goes on to -state, among other <em>items</em>, that ‘Government should reform its prisons.’ -But Lord Castlereagh, soon after the war-addition to Mr. Croker’s -peace-salary, said that this was too expensive. In short, the author -sums up all his hopes and views in the following sentences:—‘Government -must reform the populace, the people must reform -themselves.’ The interpretation of which is, The Government must -prevent the lower classes from reading any thing; the middle classes -should read nothing but the Quarterly Review. ‘This is the true -Reform, and compared with this, all else is, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">flocci, nauci, nihili, pili</span></i>.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>The last page of this performance is ‘as arrogant a piece of paper’ -as was ever scribbled. We give it as it stands. ‘It will be said of -him, (Mr. S.) that in an age of personality, he abstained from satire; -and that during the course of his literary life, often as he was assailed, -the only occasion on which he ever <em>condescended</em> to reply, was, when -<span class='pageno' id='Page_232'>232</span><em>a certain Mr. William Smith</em>’—[What, was the only person worthy -of Mr. Southey’s notice a very insignificant person?] ‘insulted him in -Parliament with the appellation of Renegade. On that occasion, it -will be said, that he vindicated himself, <em>as it became him to do</em>: [How -so? Mr. Southey is only a literary man, and neither a commoner -nor a peer of the realm] ‘and treated his calumniator <em>with just and -memorable severity</em>. Whether it shall be added, that Mr. William -Smith redeemed his own character, by coming forward with honest -manliness, and acknowledging that he had spoken rashly and unjustly, -concerns himself, but is not of the slightest importance to me.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Robert Southey.</span>’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>We do not think this conclusion is very like what Mr. Southey -somewhere wishes the conclusion of his life to resemble—‘the high -leaves upon the holly tree.’ Mr. Southey’s asperities do not wear off, -as he grows older. We are always disposed to quarrel with ourselves -for quarrelling with him, and yet we cannot help it, whenever we -come in contact with his writings. We met him unexpectedly the -other day in St. Giles’s, (it was odd we should meet <em>him</em> there) were -sorry we had passed him without speaking to an old friend, turned -and looked after him for some time, as to a tale of other times—sighing, -as we walked on, <em>Alas poor Southey!</em> ‘We saw in him a -painful hieroglyphic of humanity; a sad memento of departed independence; -a striking instance of the rise and fall of patriot bards!’ -In the humour we were in, we could have written a better epitaph, -for him than he has done for himself. We went directly and bought -his Letter to Mr. W. Smith, which appeared the same day as himself, -and this at once put an end to our sentimentality.</p> - -<h3 class='c003'>ON THE SPY-SYSTEM</h3> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><cite>Morning Chronicle</cite>, <em>June 30, 1817</em>.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Lord Castlereagh, in the debate some evenings ago, appeared in -a new character, and mingled with his usual stock of political common -places, some lively moral paradoxes, after a new French pattern. -According to his Lordship’s comprehensive and liberal views, the -liberty and independence of nations are best supported abroad by the -point of the bayonet; and morality, religion, and social order, are -best defended at home by spies and informers. It is a pretty system, -and worthy of itself from first to last. The Noble Lord in the blue -ribbon took the characters of Castles and Oliver under the protection -of his blushing honours and elegant casuistry, and lamented that by -the idle clamour raised against such characters, <em>Gentlemen</em> were -deterred from entering into the honourable, useful, and profitable -<span class='pageno' id='Page_233'>233</span>profession of Government Spies. Perhaps this piece of intellectual -gallantry on the part of the Noble Lord, was not quite so disinterested -as it at first appears. There might be something of fellow-feeling -in it. The obloquy which lights on the underlings in such cases, -sometimes glances indirectly on their principals and patrons; nor do -they wipe it off by becoming their defenders. Lord Castlereagh -may say with <em>Lingo</em> in the play, who boasts ‘that he is not a scholar, -but a master of scholars,’ that he is not a spy, but a creator of spies -and informers—not a receiver, but a distributor of blood-money—not -a travelling companion and scurvy accomplice in the forging and -uttering of sham treasons and accommodation plots, but head of the -town-firm established for that purpose—not the dupe or agent of the -treason hatched by others, but chief mover and instigator of the grand -plot for increasing the power of the Sovereign, by hazarding the -safety of his person. Lord Castlereagh recommended the character -of his accomplices, as spies and informers, to the respect and gratitude -of the country and the House; he lamented the prejudice entertained -against this species of patriotic service, as hindering <em>gentlemen</em> from -resorting to it as a liberal and honourable profession. One of these -delicious protegés of ministerial gratitude, was, it seems, at one time -a distributor of forged notes, and gained the reward promised by Act -of Parliament, by hanging his accomplices. Could not his Lordship’s -nice notions of honour relax a little farther, and recommend the legal -traffic in bank notes and blood-money, as a new opening to honourable -ambition and profitable industry? Castles’s wife was also the keeper -of a house of ill fame. Could not his Lordship, with the hand of -a master, have drawn a veil of delicacy over this slight stain in his -character, and redeemed a profession, not without high example to -justify it, from the vulgar obloquy that attends it? We are afraid -his Lordship is but half an adept in these sort of lax paradoxes, and -that Peachum, Jonathan Wild, and Count Fathom, are much honester -teachers of that kind of transcendental morality than he. This kind -of revolutionary jargon must have sounded oddly in the ears of some -of his Lordship’s hearers. Mr. Wynne, who dreads all re-action so -much, must have looked particularly argute at this innovation in the -parliamentary theory of moral sentiments. What would the country -gentlemen say to it? One would think Lord Lascelles’s hat, that -broad brimmed monument of true old English respectability, must -have cowered and doubled down in dog’s ears at the sound! What -will the ardent and superannuated zeal of that <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">preux Chevalier</span></i>, the -Editor of <cite>The Day and New Times</cite>, say to this stain upon the innate -honour and purity of legitimacy, to this new proof that ‘the age of -chivalry is gone for ever, and that of sophisters, economists, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_234'>234</span>calculators, has succeeded!’ What will John Bull, who has been -crammed these twenty-five years with the draff and husks of concrete -prejudices, unsifted, unbolted, in their rawest state, say to the -analytical distinctions, to the refined <em>police</em>-morality of the Noble -Lord? We might consider his harangue on the public services and -private virtues of spies and informers, according to the utility-doctrine -of modern philosophy, as forming an era in the history of English -loyalty and Parliamentary pliability. What! Is it meant, after -building up the present system of power and influence on the -accumulated pile of our political prejudices, to extend and strengthen -it, by undermining all our moral sentiments and national habits? Yet -we are told, that there is no imputation on the <em>moral</em> character of -Oliver! We wonder Mr. Wilberforce did not suggest that his -<em>religious</em> character also remained unimpeached, except, indeed, that -he had been guilty of subornation of treason on the Sabbath-day. -According to our present catechism of legitimacy, to be a <em>cat’s-paw</em> -is to be virtuous—is to be moral—is to be pious—is to be loyal—is -to be a patriot—is to be what Castles <em>is</em>, and Castlereagh <em>approves</em>!—This -subject naturally leads us into low company and low allusions. -As, after Fielding’s Hero had finished his speech on <em>honour</em> his -friend the <em>Count</em> pronounced him a Great Prig, so, after Lord -Castlereagh’s speech of Monday evening, we can no longer refuse -to consider him a Great Man, in the sense of the philosophical -historian; that is to say, a man who has a very great regard for -himself, and a very great contempt for the prejudices and feelings -of the rest of mankind.</p> - -<h3 class='c003'>ON THE SPY-SYSTEM (<em>continued</em>)</h3> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>July 15, 1817.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>The debate in the House of Commons on Mr. Brougham’s motion -took a very spirited, and rather personal turn. We do not think -Lord Castlereagh was quite successful in rebutting the principal -charges brought against his foreign and domestic policy. With -respect to Genoa, for instance, and the late arbitrary contributions -levied on British merchants there, his Lordship seemed to say that -he had but one object, and that in this respect his conduct had been -uniformly consistent while abroad, namely, to protect legitimacy, and -that the rights and property of British subjects were accordingly left -to shift for themselves, as things beneath his notice. This answer -will hardly satisfy most of our readers. He considered it an illiberal -and injurious policy to attempt to force our exclusive commercial -interests upon foreign nations. But is there no alternative in his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_235'>235</span>Lordship’s mind between bullying and domineering over other -nations, and tamely crouching under every species of insult or act -of pillage they may wantonly exercise upon us? We have put -down the colossal power of Bonaparte. Is every ‘petty tyrant’ -who has succeeded him, to brave us with impunity, lest a word of -remonstrance, a whisper of complaint, should rouse their vengeance? -Are we not to mention their names, lest these new Gods of the -earth, these modern <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Dii Minores</span></i>, should hear us! His Lordship -also appears to despair of the restoration of peace in Spanish -America. If he includes in the idea of <em>peace</em> the quiet re-establishment -of the tyranny of the old Government, we are happy -to agree with him.</p> - -<p class='c010'>With respect to the changes which have taken place at home, his -Lordship failed in making the necessity for them clear to our understandings. -We cannot assent to the accuracy of his statements, or -the soundness of his logic. He has suspended the laws of the country -to save us from the danger of anarchy! We deny the danger, and -deprecate the remedy. If ministers could afford to fan the flame of -insurrection, to <em>alarm</em> the country into a surrender of its liberties, we -contend that a danger that could be thus tampered with, thus made a -convenient pretence for seizing a power beyond the law to put it down, -might have been put down <em>without a power beyond the law</em>. If a -Government’s conspiring against itself were a sufficient ground for -arming it with arbitrary power, no country could for a moment be -safe against ministerial treachery and encroachment, against real -despotism founded on pretended disaffection. Government would be -in perpetual convulsions and affected hysterics, like a fine lady who -wants to domineer over her credulous husband. We deny that -disaffection existed, except that kind which arose from extreme -distress. Hunger is not disloyalty. Nor can we admit that a -Government’s having reduced a country to a state of unparalleled -distress, and consequent desperation, is a reason for giving <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">carte-blanche</span></i> -to the Government, and putting the people under military -execution. At this rate, the worse the Government, the more -firmly it ought to be rooted: the greater the abuse of confidence, -the more blind and unlimited the confidence ought to be: and any -administration need only bring a nation to the brink of ruin, in -order to have a right to plunge it into the depths of slavery. It is -easy to keep the peace with the sword;—more flattering to the pride -of power to crush resistance to oppression, than to remove the causes -of it. To reduce a people to the alternative of rebellion or of -arbitrary sway, does not require the talents of a great statesman. If -Lord Castlereagh claims the merit of having reduced us to that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_236'>236</span>alternative, we shall not dispute it with him: whatever may be the -result, we cannot thank him.</p> - -<p class='c010'>His Lordship might, however, have made good his retreat, with a -decent orderly appearance, if he had not chosen to go out of his way -to take up a Spy behind him on his new metaphysical charger, and to -ride the high horse over all those, who are not the fast friends and -staunch admirers of that profession, as traitors and <em>no true men</em>. Sir -Francis Burdett, not relishing this assault of the master and man, -pulled off the Squire, and rolling him in the mud, pelted him so -unmercifully with Irish evidence and musty affidavits of his friends -and relations, that his gallant patron, seeing the plight he was in, dismounted, -and was condescending enough to acknowledge, that ‘cruelty -was in every species detestable,’ and that ‘he lamented to think that -there were miscreants in human nature capable of committing crime -for the love of reward’; sentiments not new indeed, but new in his -Lordship’s mouth. The country gentlemen must have felt relieved, -and Lord Lascelles’s hat have recovered its primitive shape! The -House of Commons is no dupe; Lord Castlereagh no driveller. -Would he then seriously persuade them, that the Spy hanged his old -friends and accomplices out of pure love to his country, and disinterested -friendship to his Lordship? We would advise the noble -Lord in the blue ribbon to <em>cut</em> his parliamentary connexion with his -police acquaintance at once. The thing cannot answer; it is against -decorum. He might as well introduce his scavenger as a person of -fashion at Carlton-House, as attempt to pass off his <em>Spy</em> as a gentleman, -and a man of honour, any where else! The gentlemen-ushers would -turn up their noses at one of his Lordship’s necessary appendages, -and the moral sense of the English nation turns with disgust from the -other, when forced upon it as a <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">beau morceau</span></i> of morality, with the -<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">sauce picquant</span></i> of ministerial panegyric! We were glad to find the -former Secretary for Ireland reprobating the practice of flogging to -extract evidence, as ‘a most wicked and unwarrantable piece of -torture’; a confession which seemed to be extorted from his Lordship -by the impression made by the reading of some of Mr. Finnerty’s -affidavits, as they are called, though they are no more Mr. Finnerty’s -affidavits, who procured them, than they are Mr. Bennet’s, who read -them. Every thing relating to this subject is particularly interesting -at this moment, when the same power is vested in the same hands in -this country, that was wielded twenty years ago in Ireland—not -indeed as a precedent to the English government, but as a warning -to the English people. We give no opinion on the truth or falsehood -of the allegations contained in the affidavits, but we do say, that -the noble Secretary reasoned very badly on the subject. He says -<span class='pageno' id='Page_237'>237</span>that Mr. Finnerty is not a very loyal man, that is, he is not very -strongly attached to his Lordship’s person or government, and therefore -neither Mr. Finnerty, nor any person taking an oath in an Irish -court of justice, reflecting on his Lordship’s administration, is to be -believed. Mr. Finnerty published an account of the proceedings on -Orr’s trial, which was deemed a libel, and therefore the whole -history of the Irish rebellion and of the year 1798 is a fable. Lord -Castlereagh would not consent to quash his prosecution of Mr. -Finnerty on this ground some years ago, because he would not shun -inquiry, and yet the affidavits were not suffered to be read in court, -and his lordship deprecates their production in parliament. He -thinks it hard that he must be called on to prove a negative, when -others swear positively to the affirmative. Accusation against his -Lordship is to pass not for a proof of guilt but innocence, and his -inability to refute the charge only calls for a greater degree of candid -interpretation and implicit faith in his Lordship’s word. Insinuation -only requires confidence to repel it—proof more confidence—conviction -unlimited confidence. Whether the things ever happened or -no, they are to be equally buried in eternal silence in Mr. Finnerty’s -‘disloyal breast’: not a tittle of evidence is to be suffered to escape -from the budget of affidavits which he has got together by forbidden -means. His Lordship’s Irish administration is to be -inscrutable as another Providence, secret as another Inquisition; -the English Parliament are to put the broad seal of their sanction -upon it! It was certainly unlucky at this juncture of the debate, -that Mr. W. Smith should have started up with the case of Mr. -Judkin Fitzgerald, who (it seems, by his own account of his services, -not from any affidavits against him) had been most active in inflicting -this ‘cruel and unwarrantable species of torture,’ and was made a -Baronet in consequence.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘And struts Sir Judkin, an exceeding knave!’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>The unconsciousness of the Irish government exceeds every thing. -They are not only ‘innocent of the knowledge, till they applaud the -deed,’ but ignorant of it, after they have applauded it. It is no -wonder that the fixed air and volatile spirit of Mr. Canning’s wit -frothed up at this indiscreet mention of Sir Judkin, and that he -wished to ‘bury him quick,’ under the artificial flowers of his oratory. -<em>The dead tell no tales</em>—of the dead or the living! Mr. Canning -twitted Mr. W. Smith with attacking the dead, because ‘he had -found that the absent could answer.’ Does this allude to the -Laureate? If so, let Mr. Canning call for more flowers, and lay -him by the side of Sir Judkin. This allusion to the answer to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_238'>238</span>Mr. W. Smith is, however, remarkably candid, as Mr. Southey -declares in it that he never thought Mr. Canning worth an answer. -He may now return the compliment in kind, by inscribing the next -edition of his ‘Inscriptions’ to the author of the ‘Anti-Jacobin.’</p> - -<h3 class='c003'>ON THE TREATMENT OF STATE PRISONERS.</h3> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘O silly sheep, come ye to seek the lamb here of the wolf!’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>July 17, 1817.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>A writer in a Morning Paper, a few days ago, commented very -wisely and wittily on the situation of the State Prisoners under the Suspension -of the Habeas Corpus, as a warning to the people of England -not to meddle in politics. He seemed infinitely amused with the -inability of these poor devils ‘to get out,’ though he seemed to know -no reason why they should be kept in. ‘One of these gentlemen -must have a flute, <em>forsooth</em>!’ he exclaims with a very hysterical air, -as if it was a good joke truly for a man to have a flute taken from -him, and not to be able to get it back again.<a id='r40' /><a href='#f40' class='c011'><sup>[40]</sup></a> Even Mr. Hiley -Addington allows that Evans might have his flute again, if he did -not use it. If this writer had himself been in the habit of blowing -a great war-trumpet, and wished to make as much noise as ever with -it in time of peace, he might not like to have it taken from him. -He, however, consoles Mr. Evans for the loss of his flute, with the -very old and original observation, ‘That the people bear the same -relation to the Government, as the sheep to the shepherd, and that the -sheep ought not to dictate to the shepherd, or remonstrate against what -he does for their good.’ Now the sheep are not usually in the habit -of dictating, or remonstrating on such occasions, except in that sort -of language which <em>Lawyer Scout</em> advises <em>Sheep-face</em> to imitate before -<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Justice Mittimus</span></i>, and to which this Professional Gentleman seems to -wish the State Prisoners to resort in their intercourse with the Home -Department. The fleecy fools, whom the writer holds up as models -of wisdom and spirit to his countrymen, do, to be sure, make a -terrible noise at a sheep-shearing, and a short struggle when they feel -<span class='pageno' id='Page_239'>239</span>the knife at their throats. But our allegorist, we suspect, would regard -these as Jacobinical, or Ultra-Jacobinical symptoms. He would have -the people stand still to be fleeced, and have their throats cut, whenever -Government pleases. He has in his eye the sublimest example -of self-devotion: ‘As a lamb, he was led to the slaughter: as a sheep -before the shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth.’ We -cannot understand the point of comparison in this <em>sheep-biting</em> argument. -If the people are really to be as silly, and as submissive as sheep, they -will be worse treated. A flock of sheep pass their time very comfortably -on Salisbury plain, biting the short sweet grass, or lying with -‘meek mouths ruminant,’ till they are fit to send to market: we have -sometimes heard them fill the air with a troublous cry, as they pass -down Oxford-street, to Smithfield, and the next morning it is all -over with them. But Governments have not the same reasons for -taking care of the people, ‘poor, poor dumb mouths,’ they do not -ordinarily sell them or eat them. The comparison would be much -nearer to beasts of burden, asses, or ‘camels in their war,’ who, as -Shakspeare expresses it,—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in10'>——‘have their provender</div> - <div class='line'>Only for bearing burthens, and sore blows</div> - <div class='line'>For sinking under them.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>However edifying and attractive these kind of examples of simplicity, -patience, and good behaviour, taken from sheep, oxen, and asses, -must be to the people, they are rather invidious, something worse -than equivocal, as they relate to the designs and good-will of the -Government towards them. This writer indeed commits himself -very strangely on this subject, or, as the phrase is, <em>lets the cat out of -the bag</em>, without intending it. In a broadside which he published -against the author of the ‘Political Register,’ he says with infinite -<em>naiveté</em>:—‘Mr. Cobbett had been sentenced to two years’ imprisonment -for a libel; and during the time that he was in Newgate, it was -discovered that he had been secretly in treaty with Government to -avoid the sentence passed upon him; and that he had proposed -to certain of the Agents of Ministers, that if they would let him -off, they might make what future use they pleased of him: <em>he would -entirely betray the cause of the people</em>: he would either write or not -write, or <em>write against them</em>, as he had once done before, just as -Ministers thought proper. To this, however, it was replied, that -“<em>Cobbett had written on too many sides already to be worth a groat -for the service of Government,” and he accordingly suffered his -confinement</em>.’</p> - -<p class='c010'><span class='pageno' id='Page_240'>240</span>This passage is at least worth a groat: it lets us into the Editor’s -real opinion of what it is that alone makes any writer ‘worth a -groat for the service of Government,’ viz. his being able and willing -<em>entirely to betray the cause of the people</em>; and, we should hope, -may operate as an antidote to any future cant about sheep and -shepherds!</p> - -<p class='c010'>The same consistent patriot and loyalist, the Sir Robert Filmer of -the day, asked some time ago—‘Where is the madman that believes -the doctrine of Divine Right? Where is the madman that asserts -that doctrine?’ As no one else was found to do it, he himself, the -other day, took up his own challenge, and affirmed, with a resolute -air, that—‘Louis <span class='fss'>XVIII.</span> had the same right to the throne of France, -independently of his merits or conduct, that Mr. Coke, of Norfolk, -had to his estate at Holkham.’ He did not say whether James <span class='fss'>II.</span> -had the same right to the throne of England, independently of his -conduct or merits, that Louis <span class='fss'>XVIII.</span> has to the throne of France: -but the inference of course is that the people of France belong to -Louis <span class='fss'>XVIII.</span> just as the live stock on a farm belongs to the owner of -it, or as the slaves in the West Indies belong to the owners of the -plantation, and that mankind are neither more or less than a herd of -slaves, the property of kings. This is at least as good a thing as -the doctrine of divine right. We do not wonder that the writer, -after this ‘delicious declaration,’ thought it proper to apologize to his -court-readers for expressing his approbation of the abolition of the -Slave Trade, as indirectly compromising those principles of legitimacy, -which make one part of the species the property of another, and -which we have seen so successfully established in Europe as the basis -of liberty, humanity, and social order!</p> - -<h3 class='c003'>THE OPPOSITION AND ‘THE COURIER’</h3> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>July 19, 1817.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>The Opposition, it seems, with Mr. Brougham at their head, -‘attack all that is valuable in our institutions.’ So says Lord -Castlereagh? and, to make the thing the more incredible, so says -<cite>The Courier</cite>! They attack Sir Judkin Fitzgerald and the use of -the torture; and <em>therefore</em> they attack all that is valuable in our -institutions. They attack the system of spies and informers; and -therefore they attack all that is valuable in our institutions. They -object to the moral characters of such men as Castles and Oliver; -and therefore they attack all that is most respectable in the country. -They consider Lord Sidmouth, who is ‘to acquaint us with the -perfect spy o’ th’ time,’ as no conjurer, treat his circular letters and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_241'>241</span>itinerant incendiaries with as little ceremony as respect; and therefore -they are hostile to all that is venerable in our constituted authorities. -They do not approve of the Suspension of the Habeas Corpus, of -Standing Armies, and Rotten Boroughs; and therefore they would -overturn all that is most valuable in the Constitution. They say that -Lord Castlereagh was connected with the measures of the Irish -government in the year 1798; and they are said to hold a language -‘grossly libellous.’ They say that they do not wish the same system -to be introduced by his Lordship in this country; and their principles -are denounced as ‘of a decidedly revolutionary character.’ They -think of the present administration as Mr. Canning formerly thought -of it, and they think of Mr. Canning as all the world think. Is that -all? Oh no! They speak against the renewal of the Income Tax; -and this, in the opinion of some persons, is attacking what is more -valuable than all our other institutions put together! For our own -parts, our political confession of faith on this subject is short: we -neither consider Lord Castlereagh as the Constitution, nor <cite>The Courier</cite> -as the Country.</p> - -<p class='c010'>But if, after all, and in spite of our teeth, we should be forced to -acknowledge that Sir Judkin Fitzgerald and the use of the torture, -that the system of spies and informers, that Lord Sidmouth’s sagacity, -circulars, and travelling delegates, that arbitrary imprisonment and -solitary confinement, the Suspension of the Habeas Corpus, Standing -Armies, and Rotten Boroughs, Lord Castlereagh’s past measures or -future designs, Mr. Canning’s love of liberty, and Mr. Vansittart’s -hankerings after the Income Tax, are all that is left <em>valuable in our -institutions, or respectable in the country</em>, then we must say, that the -more effectually the Opposition ‘attack all that is valuable in such -institutions,’ the more we shall thank them; and that the sooner we -can get rid of all that is ‘most respectable’ in such a system, the less -occasion we shall have to blush for the Country.</p> - -<h3 class='c003'><span class='sc'>ENGLAND in 1798</span></h3> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div><span class='sc'>By S. T. Coleridge.</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>August 2, 1817.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>‘The Monthly Magazine tells us that this country has occasioned -the death of 5,800,000 persons in Calabria, Russia, Poland, Germany, -France, Spain, and Portugal. This country, reader, England! our -country, our great, our glorious, our beloved country, according to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_242'>242</span>this Magazine, has been the guilty cause of all this carnage!’—So -says <em>Mr. Southey</em> apud <cite>the Quarterly Review</cite>, 1817. Thus sings Mr. -Coleridge, in his ‘Fears in Solitude,’ 1798:—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘We have offended, oh! my countrymen!</div> - <div class='line'>We have offended very grievously,</div> - <div class='line'>And been most tyrannous.</div> - <div class='line in18'>——Thankless too for peace;</div> - <div class='line'>(Peace long preserv’d by fleets and perilous seas)</div> - <div class='line'>Secure from actual warfare, we have lov’d</div> - <div class='line'>To swell the war-whoop, passionate for war!</div> - <div class='line'>Alas! for ages ignorant of all</div> - <div class='line'>Its ghastlier workings (famine or blue plague,</div> - <div class='line'>Battle, or siege, or flight through wintry snows),</div> - <div class='line'>We, this whole people, have been clamorous</div> - <div class='line'>For war and bloodshed; animating sports,</div> - <div class='line'>The which we pay for as a thing to talk of,</div> - <div class='line'>Spectators and not combatants! No guess</div> - <div class='line'>Anticipative of a wrong unfelt,</div> - <div class='line'>No speculation on contingency.</div> - <div class='line'>However dim and vague, too vague and dim</div> - <div class='line'>To yield a justifying cause; and forth</div> - <div class='line'>(Stuff’d out with big preamble, holy names,</div> - <div class='line'>And adjurations of the God in Heaven),</div> - <div class='line'>We send our mandates for the certain death</div> - <div class='line'>Of thousands and ten thousands! Boys and girls,</div> - <div class='line'>And women, that would groan to see a child</div> - <div class='line'>Pull off an insect’s leg, all read of war,</div> - <div class='line'>The best amusement for our morning’s meal!</div> - <div class='line'>The poor wretch, who has learnt his only prayers</div> - <div class='line'>For curses, who knows scarcely words enough</div> - <div class='line'>To ask a blessing from his Heavenly Father,</div> - <div class='line'>Becomes a fluent phraseman, absolute</div> - <div class='line'>And technical in victories and defeat,</div> - <div class='line'>And all our dainty terms for fratricide;</div> - <div class='line'>Terms which we trundle smoothly o’er our tongues,</div> - <div class='line'>Like mere abstractions, empty sounds to which</div> - <div class='line'>We join no feeling and attach no form!</div> - <div class='line'>As if the soldier died without a wound;</div> - <div class='line'>As if the fibres of this godlike frame</div> - <div class='line'>Were gored without a pang; as if the wretch</div> - <div class='line'>Who fell in battle, doing bloody deeds,</div> - <div class='line'>Pass’d off to heaven, translated, and not killed;</div> - <div class='line'>As though he had no wife to pine for him—</div> - <div class='line'>No God to judge him! Therefore, evil days</div> - <div class='line'>Are coming on us, O my countrymen!</div> - <div class='line'>And what if all-avenging Providence,</div> - <div class='line'>Strong and retributive, should make us know</div> - <div class='line'>The meaning of our words; force us to feel</div> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_243'>243</span>The desolation and the agony</div> - <div class='line'>Of our fierce doings!</div> - <div class='line in28'>I have told,</div> - <div class='line'>O Britons! O my brethren! I have told</div> - <div class='line'>Most bitter truth, but without bitterness.</div> - <div class='line'>Nor deem my zeal or factious or mistimed:</div> - <div class='line'>For never can true courage dwell with them,</div> - <div class='line'>Who playing tricks with conscience, dare not look</div> - <div class='line'>At their own vices. We have been too long</div> - <div class='line'>Dupes of a deep delusion!—Others, meanwhile,</div> - <div class='line'>Dote with a mad idolatry; and all</div> - <div class='line'>Who will not fall before their images,</div> - <div class='line'>And yield them worship, they are enemies</div> - <div class='line'>Even of their country!</div> - <div class='line in16'>Such have I been deem’d.<a id='r41' /><a href='#f41' class='c011'><sup>[41]</sup></a>—</div> - <div class='line in44'>S. T. C.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<h3 class='c003'>ON THE EFFECTS OF WAR AND TAXES</h3> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Great princes have great playthings. Some have play’d</div> - <div class='line'>At hewing mountains into men, and some</div> - <div class='line'>At building human wonders mountain-high.</div> - <div class='line'>But war’s a game, which, were their subjects wise,</div> - <div class='line'>Kings would not play at.’ <span class='sc'>Cowper.</span></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='c021'><em>August 13, 1817.</em></div> - -<p class='c010'>The whole question of the effect of war and taxes, in an economical -point of view, reduces itself to the distinction between <em>productive</em> and -<em>unproductive labour</em>. It is a pity that some member of the House -of Commons does not move a string of resolutions on this subject, -as a comment on the measures of the present, and a guide to those -of future reigns. A film appears to have been spread for some time -over the eyes of the nation, as to the consequences of the course -they were pursuing; and a good deal of pains has been taken, by -sophistry, and false statements, to perplex a very plain question. But -we are not without hopes, in the following observations, of putting -the merits of our debt and taxes in so clear a light, that not even the -Finance Committee shall be any longer blind to them.</p> - -<p class='c010'><span class='pageno' id='Page_244'>244</span>Labour is of two kinds, productive and unproductive:—that which -adds materially to the comforts and necessaries of life, or that which -adds nothing to the common stock, or nothing in proportion to what -it takes away from it in order to maintain itself. Money may be laid -out, and people employed in either of these two kinds of labour -equally, but not, we imagine, with equal benefit to the community.—[<em>See -p. <a href='#Page_130'>130</a>, &c. of this volume.</em>]</p> - -<p class='c010'>Suppose I employ a man in standing on his head, or running up -and down a hill all day, and that I give him five shillings a day for -his pains. He is equally employed, equally paid, and equally gains -a subsistence in this way, as if he was employed, in his original trade -of a shoemaker, in making a pair of shoes for a person who wants -them. But in the one case he is employed in unproductive, in the -other in productive labour. In the one, he is employed and paid -and receives a subsistence for doing that which might as well be let -alone; in the other, for doing that which is of use and importance, -and which must either be done by him, or give some one else double -trouble to do it. If I hire a livery-servant, and keep him fine and lazy -and well-fed to stand behind my chair while I eat turtle or venison, -this is another instance of unproductive labour. Now the person -who is in real want of a pair of shoes, and who has by his own labour -and skill raised money enough to pay for them will not assuredly -lay it out, in preference, in hiring the shoemaker to run up a hill for -him, or to stand upon his head, or behind a chair for his amusement.<a id='r42' /><a href='#f42' class='c011'><sup>[42]</sup></a> -But if I have received this money from him in the shape -of taxes, having already received enough in the same way to pay -for my shoes, my stockings, my house, my furniture, &c., then -it is very likely (as we see it constantly happen) that I shall lay -out this last five shillings worth of taxes, which I probably get -for doing nothing, in employing another person to do nothing,—or -to run up a hill, or to stand upon his head, or wait behind me -at dinner, while the poor man, who pays me the tax, goes without -his shoes and his dinner. Is this clear? Or put it thus in two -words. <em>That</em> is productive labour, for which a man will give the -only money he has in the world, or a certain sum, having no more -than other people: <em>that</em> is unproductive labour, for which a man -<span class='pageno' id='Page_245'>245</span>will never give the only money he is worth, the money he has earned -by his own labour, nor any money at all, unless he has ten times as -much as he wants, or as other people have, to throw away in -superfluities. A man who has only got money to buy a loaf will not lay -it out in an ice. But he may lay it out in a dram? Yes; because to -the wretched it is often more important to forget their future than even -to supply their present wants. The extravagance and thoughtlessness -of the poor arise, not from their having more than enough to -satisfy their immediate necessities, but from their not having enough -to ward off impending ones,—in a word, from <em>desperation</em>. This -is the true answer to Mr. Malthus’s politico-theological system -of parish ethics, the only real clue to the causes and the cure of -pauperism!</p> - -<p class='c010'>If the Board of Works were to have a canal made from London -to the Land’s End (as has been proposed) this, for aught we know, -would be productive labour, and well paid for out of the public -taxes; because the public might in the end reap the benefit of the -money and the labour so employed. But if the Prince Regent were -by the advice of some fantastical, purblind politician, to order this -canal to be lined all the way with gold-leaf, which would be washed -away as soon as the water came into the canal, this is what we should -call unproductive labour. Such a project would indeed cost as much -money, it would require the raising of as many taxes, it would keep -as many men employed, it would maintain them while they were so -employed, just as well as if they were employed in any other way; -but when done, it would be of no use to Prince or people. We have -heard of a patriotic nobleman, who had a brick-wall built round his -estate, to give employment to the poor in his neighbourhood. If he -had afterwards employed them to pull it down again, it would have -given them twice the employment and done twice the good. But -if the same persons had been employed in productive labour, in -raising corn, in making furniture, in building or improving cottages, -it would not have been equally adviseable to set them to work again -to burn the corn, or destroy the furniture, or pull down the -cottages. In spite then of the fashionable doctrines of political -economy, so well suited to the extravagance of the times, there is -something else to be considered in judging of the value of labour, -besides what it costs, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">viz.</span></i>, what it <em>produces</em>; whether it is of use to -any body, and to whom. All is not gain that goes out of the purse. -The nobleman above mentioned did not take the money to pay for -building the wall round his estate out of the pockets of the people; -but suppose an equal sum to be taken yearly out of the Civil List or -any other branch of public revenue, and employed in raising some -<span class='pageno' id='Page_246'>246</span>huge heap of stones—not a monument, but a mausoleum of royal -taste and magnificence—the question is, whether the money thus -raised by taxes, and laid out in a job, is a saving or a loss to the -public? And this question is, we conceive, answered by another, -whether if the money had remained in the hands of the public, they -would have agreed among themselves, to have laid it out in such a -building for them to look at? It would hardly be thought wise to -vote a sum of money, to build a <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Cottage Ornée</span></i>, large enough to cover a -whole county; though the expense (and, according to the theory we -are combating, the benefit) would increase with the size of the building -and the waste of work. The Pyramids of Egypt and the -Pavilion at Brighton, are among the instances of unproductive -labour.</p> - -<p class='c010'>We have been twenty years at war, and have laid out five hundred -millions in war taxes; and what have we gained by it? Where are -the <em>proceeds</em>? If it has not been thrown away in what produces no -return, if it has not been sunk in the war, as much as if it had been -sunk in the sea, if the government as good factors for the general -weal have laid out all this enormous sum in useful works, in <em>productive -labour</em>, let them give us back the principal and the interest, -(which is just double) and keep the profits to themselves—instead of -which, they have made away with the principal, and come to us to -pay <em>them</em> the interest in taxes. They have nothing to shew for either, -but spiked cannon, rotten ships, gunpowder blown into the air, -heaps of dead men’s skulls, the turned heads and coats of Poets -Laureate, with the glories of Trafalgar and Waterloo, which however -will pay no scores. Let them set them up at auction, and see -what they will fetch. Not a <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">sous</span></i>! We have killed so many -French, it is true. But we had better have spent powder and shot -in shooting at crows. Though we have laid the ghost of the French -Revolution, we cannot ‘go to supper’ upon the carcase. If the -present distress and difficulty arise merely from our no longer having -a bugbear to contend with, or because (as Mr. Southey says), the -war is no longer a customer to the markets, to the amount of fifty -millions a year, why not declare war upon the Man in the Moon to-morrow, -and never leave off till we have sent him to keep Bonaparte -company at St. Helena? Why, it is but ordering so many cannon -and cutlasses, no matter for what purpose—and equipping, and -fantastically accoutring so many loyal corps of <em>minions of the -moon</em>, <em>Diana’s foresters</em>, and ‘the manufactures of Birmingham -and Sheffield would revive to-morrow.’ If we had howitzers -before of a prodigious size, let us have bombs of a calibre that Lord -Castlereagh never dreamt of; and instead of iron balls, golden -<span class='pageno' id='Page_247'>247</span>ones. Why not? The expense would be the greater. If we -made the earth ring before, let us now make the welkin roar. -The absurdity would be as costly, and more bloodless. A -voyage to the moon would take at least as much time, as many lives -and millions to accomplish as the march to Paris. But then our -merchants would not meanwhile get a monopoly of the trade of -Europe, to stimulate their laggard patriotism, nor would the -sovereigns of Europe be able to plant the standard of Legitimacy -on the horns of the moon!—But though we have nothing to shew -for the money we have madly squandered in war, we have something -to pay for it (rather more than we can afford) to contractors, -monopolists, and sinecurists, to the great fundholders and borough-mongers, -to those who have helped to carry on, and to those -who have been paid for applauding this sport-royal, as the most -patriotic and profitable employment of the wealth and resources -of a country. These persons, the tax-receivers, have got a -mortgage on the property, health, strength, and skill of the rest -of the community, who pay the taxes, which bows their industry -to the ground, and deprives them of the necessary means of subsistence. -The principal of the debt which the nation has contracted, has been -laid out in <em>unproductive labour</em>, in inflicting the mischiefs and miseries -of war; and the interest is for the most part equally laid out in -<em>unproductive labour</em>, in fomenting the pride and luxury of those who -have made their fortunes by the war and taxes. In a word, the debt -and taxes are a government machine, which diverts that portion of the -wealth and industry of the people, which would otherwise be employed -in supplying the wants and comforts (say) of a hundred persons, to -pamper the extravagance, vices, and artificial appetites of a single -individual; and so on in proportion to the whole country. Every -tax laid on in this manner, unnerves the arm of industry, is wrung from -the bowels of want, and breaks the spirit of a nation, lessens the -number of hands which are employed in useful labour, to seduce them -into artificial, dependent, and precarious modes of subsistence, while -the rich themselves find their reward for the indulgence of their -indolence and voluptuousness in ‘the gout, serpigo, and the rheum,’ -so that ‘their proper loins do curse them.’ It has been said that the -taxes taken from the people return to them again, like the vapours -drawn up from the earth in clouds, that descend again in refreshing -dews and fertilizing showers. On the contrary, they are like these -dews and showers drawn off from the ground by artificial channels -into private reservoirs and useless cisterns to stagnate and corrupt. -The money which is paid in taxes is taken from the people; the -labour for which it pays does not benefit the people. A tax which -<span class='pageno' id='Page_248'>248</span>goes to pay for the feeding of a pair of curricle horses or favourite -hunters, swallows up the subsistence of several poor families. We -cannot for ourselves approve of the privations, of the hunger, cold, or -nakedness, to which these poor families are exposed, to keep up the -flesh and the spirit of the sleek and high-mettled inhabitants of the -warm, well-littered stable, even though they were of the breed of -Swift’s Houynhyms! But that is a different question. All that we -mean to say here is, that the tax takes the corn out of the bellies of -the one to put it into those of the other species. A tax which is laid -on to pay for a dog-kennel or a stable, might have saved a whole -village from going into ruin and decay: and the carriage that glitters -like a meteor along the streets of the metropolis, often deprives the -wretched inmate of the distant cottage of the chair he sits on, the -table be eats on, the bed he lies on. A street lined with coaches and -with beggars dying at the steps of the doors, gives a strong lesson to -common sense and political foresight, if not to humanity. A nation -cannot subsist on unproductive labour, on war and taxes, or be -composed merely of parish and state paupers. All unproductive -labour is supported by productive labour. All persons maintained by -the taxes or employed by those who are maintained by them are a -clog, a dead weight upon those who pay them, that consume the -produce of the State, and add nothing to it—a dead carcase fastened -to a living one, with this difference, that it still devours the food -which it does not provide. Need we ask any farther, how war and -taxes, sinecures and monopolies, by degrees, weaken, impoverish, and -ruin a State? Or whether they can go on increasing for ever? -There is an excess of inequality and oppression, of luxury and want, -which no state can survive; as there is a point at which the palsied -frame can no longer support itself, and at which the withered tree falls -to the ground.</p> - -<p class='c010'>If the sovereign of a country were to employ the whole population -in doing nothing but throwing stones into the sea, he would soon -become the king of a desert island. If a sovereign exhausts the -wealth and strength of a country in war, he will end in being a king -of slaves and beggars. The national debt is just the measure, the -check-account of the labour and resources of the country which have -been so wasted—of the stones we have been throwing into the sea. -This debt is in fact an obligation entered into by the government on -the part of the tax-payers, to indemnify the tax-receivers for their -sacrifices in enabling the government to carry on the war. It is a -power of attorney, extorted from nine-tenths of the community, -making over to the remaining tenth an unlimited command over the -resources, the comforts, the labour, the happiness and liberty of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_249'>249</span>great mass of society, by which their resources, their comforts, their -labour, their happiness, and their liberty, have been lost, and made -away with in government knick-knacks, and the kickshaws of -legitimacy. Half the resources and productive labour of the country -for the last twenty years, have been sunk in this debt, and we are now -called upon to make good the deficiency—how we can!—It has been -shrewdly asked, whether, if every one paid a hundred <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">per cent.</span></i> -income tax, the nation could flourish? And when we are told that -‘the war has been a <em>customer</em> to the country for a length of time to -the amount of fifty millions a year,’ that is, has drained that sum -from the pockets of the nation to employ the hands of the nation in -<em>producing nothing</em>—we are at no loss to account for the consequences. -A writer, whose own fault it is that we do not feel all the respect for -him we could wish, has ridiculed the idea of a nation being in debt -to itself, ‘like a tradesman to his creditors,’ and contends that ‘a -much fairer instance would be that of a husband and wife playing -cards at the same table against each other, where what the one loses, -the other gains.’ Now men and their wives do not usually pay one -another the money they lose at cards; and most people will be ready -enough to reduce this simile to practice, by not paying the taxes, -whenever the author shall have convinced Mr. Vansittart, that it is -no matter whether the money is in the hands of the people or the -government, and that to save trouble it had better remain where it -is. Mr. Southey, in his late pamphlet, has very emphatically -described the different effects of money laid out in war and peace. -‘What bounds,’ he exclaims, ‘could imagination set to the welfare -and glory of this island, if a tenth part, or even a twentieth of what -the war expenditure has been, were annually applied in improving and -creating harbours, in bringing roads to the best possible repair, in -colonizing upon our waste lands, in reclaiming fens, and conquering -tracts from the sea, in encouraging the liberal arts, endowing schools -and churches,’ &c. This is a singular slip of the pen in so noisy and -triumphant a war-monger as the Poet Laureate. But logical inconsistency -seems to be a sort of poetical license. Even in contradicting -himself, he is not right. For the money as he proposes to employ it, -would only degenerate into so many government jobs, and the low-lived -mummery of Bible Societies. The pinnacle of prosperity and -glory to which he would by these means raise the country, does not -seem quite so certain. The other extreme of distress and degradation, -to which the war-system has reduced it, is deep and deplorable -indeed.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_250'>250</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHARACTER OF MR. BURKE</h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>October 5, 1817.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>It is not without reluctance that we speak of the vices and infirmities -of such a mind as Burke’s: but the poison of high example has by -far the widest range of destruction: and, for the sake of public -honour and individual integrity, we think it right to say, that however -it may be defended upon other grounds, the political career of that -eminent individual has no title to the praise of consistency. Mr. -Burke, the opponent of the American war, and Mr. Burke, the -opponent of the French Revolution, are not the same person, but -opposite persons—not opposite persons only, but deadly enemies. In -the latter period, he abandoned not only all his practical conclusions, -but all the principles on which they were founded. He proscribed -all his former sentiments, denounced all his former friends, rejected -and reviled all the maxims to which he had formerly appealed as -incontestable. In the American war, he constantly spoke of the -rights of the people as inherent, and inalienable: after the French -Revolution, he began by treating them with the chicanery of a sophist, -and ended by raving at them with the fury of a maniac. In the -former case, he held out the duty of resistance to oppression, as the -palladium and only ultimate resource of natural liberty; in the latter, -he scouted, prejudged, vilified, and nicknamed, all resistance in the -abstract, as a foul and unnatural union of rebellion and sacrilege. In -the one case, to answer the purposes of faction, he made it out, that -the people are always in the right; in the other, to answer different -ends, he made it out that they are always in the wrong—lunatics in -the hands of their royal keepers, patients in the sick-wards of an -hospital, or felons in the condemned cells of a prison. In the one, -he considered that there was a constant tendency on the part of the -prerogative to encroach on the rights of the people, which ought -always to be the object of the most watchful jealousy, and of -resistance, when necessary: in the other, he pretended to regard it as -the sole occupation and ruling passion of those in power, to watch -over the liberties and happiness of their subjects. The burthen of all -his speeches on the American war, was conciliation, concession, -timely reform, as the only practicable or desirable alternative of -rebellion: the object of all his writings on the French Revolution -was, to deprecate and explode all concession and all reform, as -encouraging rebellion, and as an irretrievable step to revolution and -anarchy. In the one, he insulted kings personally, as among the -lowest and worst of mankind; in the other, he held them up to the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_251'>251</span>imagination of his readers, as sacred abstractions. In the one case, -he was a partisan of the people, to court popularity; in the other, to -gain the favour of the Court, he became the apologist of all courtly -abuses. In the one case, he took part with those who were actually -rebels against his Sovereign: in the other, he denounced as rebels -and traitors, all those of his own countrymen who did not yield -sympathetic allegiance to a foreign Sovereign, whom we had always -been in the habit of treating as an arbitrary tyrant.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Nobody will accuse the principles of his present Majesty, or the -general measures of his reign, of inconsistency. If they had no other -merit, they have, at least, that of having been all along actuated by -one uniform and constant spirit: yet Mr. Burke at one time vehemently -opposed, and afterwards most intemperately extolled them: and it -was for his recanting his opposition, not for his persevering in it, that -he received his pension. He does not himself mention his flaming -speeches in the American war, as among the public services which -had entitled him to this remuneration.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The truth is, that Burke was a man of fine fancy and subtle -reflection; but not of sound and practical judgment, nor of high or -rigid principles.—As to his understanding, he certainly was not a -great philosopher; for his works of mere abstract reasoning are -shallow and inefficient:—nor was he a man of sense and business; -for, both in counsel, and in conduct, he alarmed his friends as much -at least as his opponents:—but he was an acute and accomplished man -of letters—an ingenious political essayist. He applied the habit of -reflection, which he had borrowed from his metaphysical studies, but -which was not competent to the discovery of any elementary truth in -that department, with great facility and success, to the mixed mass of -human affairs. He knew more of the political machine than a recluse -philosopher; and he speculated more profoundly on its principles and -general results than a mere politician. He saw a number of fine -distinctions and changeable aspects of things, the good mixed with -the ill, and the ill mixed with the good; and with a sceptical -indifference, in which the exercise of his own ingenuity was obviously -the governing principle, suggested various topics to qualify or assist -the judgment of others. But for this very reason, he was little -calculated to become a leader or a partizan in any important practical -measure. For the habit of his mind would lead him to find out a -reason for or against any thing: and it is not on speculative refinements, -(which belong to <em>every</em> side of a question), but on a just -estimate of the aggregate mass and extended combinations of objections -and advantages, that we ought to decide or act. Burke had the -power of throwing true or false weights into the scales of political -<span class='pageno' id='Page_252'>252</span>casuistry, but not firmness of mind (or, shall we say, honesty enough) -to hold the balance. When he took a side, his vanity or his spleen -more frequently gave the casting vote than his judgment; and the -fieriness of his zeal was in exact proportion to the levity of his understanding, -and the want of conscious sincerity.</p> - -<p class='c010'>He was fitted by nature and habit for the studies and labours of -the closet; and was generally mischievous when he came out; because -the very subtlety of his reasoning, which, left to itself, would have -counteracted its own activity, or found its level in the common sense -of mankind, became a dangerous engine in the hands of power, which -is always eager to make use of the most plausible pretexts to cover -the most fatal designs. That which, if applied as a general observation -to human affairs, is a valuable truth suggested to the mind, may, -when forced into the interested defence of a particular measure or -system, become the grossest and basest sophistry. Facts or consequences -never stood in the way of this speculative politician. He -fitted them to his preconceived theories, instead of conforming his -theories to them. They were the playthings of his style, the sport -of his fancy. They were the straws of which his imagination made -a blaze, and were consumed, like straws, in the blaze they had served -to kindle. The fine things he said about Liberty and Humanity, in -his speech on the Begum’s affairs, told equally well, whether Warren -Hastings was a tyrant or not: nor did he care one jot who caused -the famine he described, so that he described it in a way that no one -else could. On the same principle, he represented the French priests -and nobles under the old regime as excellent moral people, very -charitable and very religious, in the teeth of notorious facts—to -answer to the handsome things he had to say in favour of priesthood -and nobility in general; and, with similar views, he falsifies the -records of our English Revolution, and puts an interpretation on the -word <em>abdication</em>, of which a school-boy would be ashamed. He constructed -his whole theory of government, in short, not on rational, -but on picturesque and fanciful principles; as if the king’s crown -were a painted gewgaw, to be looked at on gala-days; titles an empty -sound to please the ear; and the whole order of society a theatrical -procession. His lamentations over the age of chivalry, and his -projected crusade to restore it, are about as wise as if any one, from -reading the Beggar’s Opera, should take to picking of pockets: or, -from admiring the landscapes of Salvator Rosa, should wish to convert -the abodes of civilized life into the haunts of wild beasts and banditti. -On this principle of false refinement, there is no abuse, nor system of -abuses, that does not admit of an easy and triumphant defence; for -there is something which a merely speculative enquirer may always -<span class='pageno' id='Page_253'>253</span>find out, good as well as bad, in every possible system, the best or the -worst; and if we can once get rid of the restraints of common sense -and honesty, we may easily prove, by plausible words, that liberty -and slavery, peace and war, plenty and famine, are matters of perfect -indifference. This is the school of politics, of which Mr. Burke was -at the head; and it is perhaps to his example, in this respect, that we -owe the prevailing tone of many of those newspaper paragraphs, -which Mr. Coleridge thinks so invaluable an accession to our political -philosophy.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Burke’s literary talents were, after all, his chief excellence. His -style has all the familiarity of conversation, and all the research of the -most elaborate composition. He says what he wants to say, by any -means, nearer or more remote, within his reach. He makes use of -the most common or scientific terms, of the longest or shortest -sentences, of the plainest and most downright, or of the most figurative -modes of speech. He gives for the most part loose reins to his -imagination, and follows it as far as the language will carry him. As -long as the one or the other has any resources in store to make the -reader feel and see the thing as he has conceived it, in its nicest -shades of difference, in its utmost degree of force and splendour, he -never disdains, and never fails to employ them. Yet, in the extremes -of his mixed style, there is not much affectation, and but little either -of pedantry or of coarseness. He everywhere gives the image he -wishes to give, in its true and appropriate colouring: and it is the -very crowd and variety of these images that has given to his language -its peculiar tone of animation, and even of passion. It is his -impatience to transfer his conceptions entire, living, in all their rapidity, -strength, and glancing variety, to the minds of others, that constantly -pushes him to the verge of extravagance, and yet supports him there -in dignified security—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Never so sure our rapture to create,</div> - <div class='line'>As when he treads the brink of all we hate.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>He is the most poetical of our prose writers, and at the same time -his prose never degenerates into the mere effeminacy of poetry; for -he always aims at overpowering rather than at pleasing; and consequently -sacrifices beauty and delicacy to force and vividness. He -has invariably a task to perform, a positive purpose to execute, -an effect to produce. His only object is therefore to strike hard, -and in the right place; if he misses his mark, he repeats his blow; -and does not care how ungraceful the action, or how clumsy the -instrument, provided it brings down his antagonist.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_254'>254</span> - <h3 class='c003'>ON COURT-INFLUENCE</h3> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘To be honest as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>January 3, 1818.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>It is not interest alone, but prejudice or fashion that sways mankind. -Opinion governs opinion. It is not merely what we can get -by a certain line of conduct that we have to consider, but what -others will think of it. The possession of money is but one mode of -recommending ourselves to the good opinion of the world, of securing -distinction and respect. Except as a bribe to popularity, money is of -very limited value. Avarice is (oftener than we might at first suspect) -only vanity in disguise. We should not want fine clothes or fine -houses, an equipage or livery-servants, but for what others will think -of us for having or wanting them. The chief and most expensive -commodity that money is laid out in purchasing, is respect. Money, -like other things, is worth no more than it will fetch. It is a passport -into society; but if other things will answer the same purpose, -as beauty, birth, wit, learning, desert in art or arms, dress, behaviour, -the want of wealth is not felt as a very severe privation. If a man, -who, on whatever pretensions is received into good company, behaves -with propriety, and converses rationally, it is not inquired after -he is gone, nor once thought of while he is present, whether he is -rich or poor. In the mixed intercourse of private society every -one finds his level, in proportion as he can contribute to its amusement -or information. It is even more so in the general intercourse -of the world, where a poet and a man of genius (if extrinsic -circumstances make any difference) is as much courted and -run after for being a common ploughman, as for being a peer of -the realm. Burns, had he been living, would have started fair -with Lord Byron in the race of popularity, and would not have -lost it.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The temptation to men in public life to swerve from the path -of duty, less frequently arises from a sordid regard to their private -interests, than from an undue deference to popular applause. A -want of political principle is, in nine cases out of ten, a want of -firmness of mind to differ with those around us, and to stand the -brunt of their avowed hostility or secret calumnies.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘But still the world and its dread laugh prevails!’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>An honest man is one whose sense of right and wrong is stronger -<span class='pageno' id='Page_255'>255</span>than his anxiety that others should think or speak well of him. A -man in the same sense forfeits his character for political integrity, -whose love of truth truckles to his false shame and cringing complaisance, -and who tampers with his own convictions, that he -may stand well with the world. A man who sells his opinion -merely to gain by his profligacy, is not a man without public -principle, but common honesty. He ranks in the same class with -a highwayman or a pickpocket.—It is true, interest and opinion -are in general linked together; but opinion flies before, and interest -comes limping after. As a woman first loses her virtue -through her heart, so the yielding patriot generally sacrifices his -character to his love of reputation.</p> - -<p class='c010'>It is usually opposed by those who make no distinction between -the highest point of integrity and the lowest mercenariness, that -Mr. Burke changed his principles to gain a pension: and that -this was the main-spring of his subsequent conduct. We do not -think so; though this may have been one motive, and a strong one -to a needy and extravagant man. But the pension which he -received was something more than a mere grant of money—it was -a mark of royal favour, it was a tax upon public opinion. If any -thing were wanting to fix his veering loyalty, it was the circumstance -of the king’s having his ‘Reflections on the French Revolution’ -bound in morocco (not an unsuitable binding), and giving -it to all his particular friends, saying, ‘It was a book which every -gentleman ought to read!’ This praise would go as far with a vain -man as a pension with a needy one; and we may be sure, that if -there were any lurking seeds of a leaning to the popular side remaining -in the author’s breast, he would after this lose no time in -rooting them out of the soil, that his works might reflect the perfect -image of his royal master’s mind, and have no plebeian stains -left to sully it. Kings are great critics: they are the fountain of -honour; the judges of merit. After such an authority had pronounced -it ‘a book which every gentleman ought to read,’ what -gentleman could refuse to read, or dare to differ with it? With what -feelings a privy-counsellor would open the leaves of a book, which -the king had had richly bound, and presented with his own hand! -How lords of the bed-chamber would wonder at the profound -arguments! How peeresses in their own right must simper over -the beautiful similes! How the judges must puzzle over it! -How the bishops would bless themselves at the number of fine -things; and our great classical scholars, Doctors Parr and Burney, -sit down for the first time in their lives to learn English, to -write themselves into a bishopric! Burke had long laboured hard -<span class='pageno' id='Page_256'>256</span>to attain a doubtful pre-eminence. He had worked his way into -public notice by talents which were thought specious rather than -solid, and by sentiments which were obnoxious to some, suspected -by others. His connexions and his views were ambiguous. He -professedly espoused the cause of the people, and found it as hard -to defend himself against popular jealousy as ministerial resentment. -He saw court-lacqueys put over his head; and country -squires elbowing him aside. He was neither understood by -friends nor enemies. He was opposed, thwarted, cross-questioned, -and obliged to present ‘a certificate of merit’ (as he himself -says) at every stage of his progress through life. But the king’s -having pronounced that ‘his book was one which every gentleman -ought to read,’ floated him at once out of the flats and -shallows in which his voyage of popularity had been bound, into -the full tide of court-favour; settled all doubts; smoothed all -difficulties; rubbed off old scores; made the crooked straight, and -the rough plain;—what was obscure, became profound;—what -was extravagant, lofty; every sentiment was liberality, every expression -elegance: and from that time to this, Burke has been -the oracle of every dull venal pretender to taste or wisdom. -Those who had never heard of or despised him before, now -joined in his praise. He became a fashion; he passed into a -proverb; he was an idol in the eyes of his readers, as much as -he could ever, in the days of his youthful vanity, have been in -his own; he was dazzled with his own popularity; and all this -was owing to the king. No wonder he was delighted with the -change, infatuated with it, infuriated! It was better to him than -four thousand pounds a-year for his own life, and fifteen hundred -a-year to his widow during the joint-lives of four other persons. -It was what all his life he had been aiming at.—‘Thou hast it -now, King, Cawdor, Glamis, all!’ It was what the nurses had -prophecied of him, and what the school-boy had dreamt; and -that which is first, is also last in our thoughts. It was this that -tickled his vanity more than his pension: it was this that raised -his gratitude, that melted his obdurate pride, that opened the -sluices of his heart to the poison of corruption, that exorcised the -low, mechanic, vulgar, morose, sour principles of liberty clean -out of him, left his mind ‘swept and garnished,’ parched and dry, -fevered with revenge, bloated with adulation; and made him as -shameless and abandoned in sacrificing every feeling of attachment or -obligation to the people, as he had before been bold and prodigal in -heaping insult and contumely upon the throne. He denounced his -former principles, in the true spirit of an apostate, with a fury equal -<span class='pageno' id='Page_257'>257</span>to the petulant and dogmatical tone in which he had asserted them; -and then proceeded to abuse all those who doubted the honesty or -wisdom of this change of opinion. He, in short, looked upon every -man as his enemy who did not think ‘his book fit for a gentleman to -read’; and would willingly have committed every such presumptuous -sceptic to the flames for not bowing down in servile adoration before -this idol of his vanity and reputation. Hence the frantic philippics -in his latter revolutionary speeches and writings, and the alteration -from a severe and stately style of eloquence and reasoning in his -earlier compositions to the most laboured paradoxes and wildest -declamation. We do not mean to say that his latest works did not -display the greatest genius. His native talents blazed out, undisguised -and unconfined in them. <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Indignatio facit versus.</span></i> Burke’s best Muse -was his vanity or spleen. He felt quite at home in giving vent to -his personal spite and venal malice. He pleaded his own cause and -the cause of the passions better and with more eloquence, than he -ever pleaded the cause of truth and justice. He felt the one rankling -in his heart with all their heat and fury; he only conceived the other -with his understanding coldly and circuitously.—The ‘Letters of -William Burke’ give one, however, a low idea of Burke’s honesty, -even in a pecuniary point of view.—(See Barry’s ‘Life.’) He -constantly tells Barry, as a source of consolation to his friend, and a -compliment to his brother, ‘that though his party had not hitherto -been successful, or had not considered him as they ought, matters -were not so bad with him but that he could still afford to be honest, -and not desert the cause.’ This is very suspicious. This querulous -tone of disappointment, and cockering up of his boasted integrity, -must have come from Burke himself; who would hardly have expressed -such a sentiment, if it had not been frequently in his thoughts; -or if he had not made out a previous debtor and creditor account -between preferment and honesty, as one of the regular principles of -his political creed.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The same narrow view of the subject, drawn from a supposition -that money, or interest in the grossest sense, is the only inducement -to a dereliction of principle or sinister conduct, has been applied to -shew the sincerity of the present laureate in his change of opinions; -for it was said that the paltry salary of 100<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">l.</span></i> a-year was not a sufficient -temptation to any man of common sense, and who had other means -of gaining an ample livelihood honourably, to give up his principles -and his party, unless he did so conscientiously. That is not the real -alternative of the case. It is not the hundred pounds salary; it is -the honour (some may think it a disgrace) conferred along with it, -that enhances the prize. ‘And with it words of so sweet breath -<span class='pageno' id='Page_258'>258</span>composed, as made the gift more rare.’<a id='r43' /><a href='#f43' class='c011'><sup>[43]</sup></a> It is the introduction to -Carlton-House, the smile, the squeeze by the hand that awaits him -there, ‘escap’d from Pyrrho’s maze, and Epicurus’ sty.’ The being -presented at court is worth more than a hundred pounds a-year. A -person with a hundred thousand pounds a-year can only be presented -at court, and would consider it the greatest mortification to be shut -out. It is the highest honour in the land; and Mr. Southey, by -accepting his place and discarding his principles, receives that highest -honour as a matter of course, in addition to his salary and his butt of -sack. He is ushered into the royal presence as by a magic charm, -the palace-gates fly open at the sight of his laurel-crown, and he -stands in the midst of ‘Britain’s warriors, her statesman, and her -fair,’ as if suddenly dropped from the clouds. Is this nothing to a -vain man? Is it nothing to the author of ‘Wat Tyler’ and ‘Joan -of Arc’ to have those errors of his youth veiled in the honours of his -riper years? To fill the poetic throne of Dryden, of Shadwell, of -Cibber, and of Pye? To receive distinctions which Spenser, -Shakspeare, and Milton never received, and to chaunt to the unaverted -ear of sovereignty strains such as they never sung? To be -seen on each returning birth-day joining the bright throng, the -lengthened procession, gay, gilt, painted, coronetted, garlanded, that -as it passes to and from St. James’s, all London, in sunshine or in -shower, pours out to gaze at? We tremble for the consequences, -should any thing happen to disturb the Laureate in his dream of -perfect felicity. Racine died broken-hearted, because Louis <span class='fss'>XIV.</span> -frowned upon him as he passed; and yet Racine was as great a poet -and as pious a man as Mr. Southey.</p> - -<p class='c010'>To move in the highest circles, to be in favour at courts, to be -familiar with princes, is then an object of ambition, which may be -supposed to fascinate a less romantic mind than Mr. Southey’s, -setting the lucrativeness of his conversion out of the question. Many -persons have paid dear for this proud elevation, with bankrupt health -and beggared fortunes. How many are ready to do so still! Mr. -Southey only paid for it <em>with his opinion</em>; and some people think it as -much as his opinion was worth. Are we to suppose Mr. Southey’s -vanity of so sordid a kind, that it must be bribed by his avarice? -Might not the Poet-laureate be supposed to catch at a title or a blue -ribbon, if it were offered him, without a round salary attached to it?</p> - -<p class='c010'>Why do country gentlemen wish to get into parliament, but to be -seen there? Why do overgrown merchants and rich nabobs wish to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_259'>259</span>sit there, like so many overgrown school-boys? Look at the hundreds -of thousands of pounds squandered in contested elections? It is not -‘gain but glory’ that provokes the combatants. Do you suppose -that these persons expect to repay themselves by making a market of -their constituents, and selling their votes to the best bidder? No: -but they wish to be thought to have the greatest influence, the greatest -number of friends and adherents in their county; and they will pay -any price for it. We put into the lottery, indeed, in hopes of what -we can get, but in the lottery of life honour is the great prize. It is -the opinion of the people for which the candidate at an election -contends; and on the same principles he will barter the opinion of -the people, their rights and liberty, and his own independence and -character, not for gold, but for the friendship of a court-favourite. -Not that gold has not its weight too, for the great and powerful have -that also to bestow:—it is true, that</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in14'>——‘In their Livery</div> - <div class='line'>Walk Crowns and Crownets, Realms and Islands</div> - <div class='line'>As Plates drop from their Pockets.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>But opinion is a still more insinuating and universal menstruum for -dissolving honesty. <em>That sweet smile that hangs on princes’ favours</em> is -more effectual than even the favours themselves!</p> - -<h4 class='c017'>ON COURT INFLUENCE</h4> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div><span class='small'>(CONCLUDED)</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘To be honest as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>January 10, 1818.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>We are all of us more or less the slaves of opinion. There is no -one, however mean or insignificant, whose approbation is altogether -indifferent to us; whose flattery does not please, whose contempt -does not mortify us. There is an atmosphere of this sort always -about us, from which we can no more withdraw ourselves than from -the air we breathe. But the air of a Court is the concentrated -essence of the opinion of the world. The atmosphere there is -mephitic. It is subtle poison, the least exhalation of which taints -the vitals of its victims. It is made up of servile adulation, of sneering -compliments, of broken promises, of smiling professions, of stifled -opinions, of hollow thanks, of folly and lies—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Soul-killing lies, and truths that work small good.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_260'>260</span>It is infected with the breath of flatterers, and the thoughts of Kings! -Let us see how its influence descends:—from the King to the -people, to his Ministers first, from the Ministers to both Houses of -Parliament, from Lords to Ladies, from the Clergy to the Laity, -from the high to the low, from the rich to the poor, and ‘pierces -through the body of the city, country, court’—it is beauty, birth, -wit, learning, riches, numbers: it is fear and favour; it has all the -splendour that can seduce, all the power that can intimidate, all the -interest that can corrupt, on its side; so that the opinion of the -King is the opinion of the nation; and if that opinion is not a wise -one, hangs like a millstone round its neck, oppresses it like a nightmare, -weighs upon it like lead, makes truth a lie, right wrong, -converts liberty into slavery, peace into war, plenty to famine, turns -the heads of a whole people, and bows their bodies to the earth. -‘Whosoever shall stumble against this stone, it shall bruise him: but -whomsoever it falls upon, it shall grind him to powder.’ The -whisper of a King rounded in the ear of a favourite is re-echoed -back in speeches and votes of Parliament, in addresses and resolutions -from associations in town and country, drawls from the pulpit, brawls -from the bar, resounds like the thunder of a people’s voice, roars in -the cannon’s mouth, and disturbs the peace of nations. The frown -of monarchs is like the speck seen in the distant horizon, which soon -spreads and darkens the whole hemisphere. Who is there in his -senses that can withstand the gathering storm, or oppose himself to -this torrent of opinion setting in upon him from the throne and -absorbing by degrees every thing in its vortex—undermining every -principle of independence, confounding every distinction of the understanding, -and obliterating every trace of liberty? To argue against -it, is like arguing against the motion of the world with which we are -carried along: its influence is as powerful and as imperceptible. To -question it, is folly; to resist it, madness. To differ with the -opinion of a whole nation, seems as presumptuous as it is unwise: -and yet the very circumstance which makes it so uniform, is that -which makes it worth nothing. Authority is more absolute than -reason. Truth curtesies to power. No arguments could persuade -ten millions of men in one country to be all of one mind, and thirty -millions in another country to be of just the contrary one; but the -word of a King does it! We do not like to differ from the company -we are in. How much more difficult is it to brave the opinion of -the world! No man likes to be frowned out of society. No man -likes to be without sympathy. He must be a proud man indeed who -can do without it; and proud men do not like to be made a mark for -‘scorn to point his slow and moving finger at.’ No man likes to be -<span class='pageno' id='Page_261'>261</span>thought the enemy of his king and country, without just cause. No -man likes to be called a fool or a knave, merely because he is not a -fool and a knave. It is not desirable to have to answer arguments -backed with informations filed <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ex officio</span></i>; it is not amusing to become -a bye-word with the mob. A nickname is <em>the hardest stone that the -devil can throw at a man</em>. It will knock down any man’s resolution. -It will stagger his reason. It will tame his pride. Fasten it upon -any man, and he will try to shake it off, at any rate, though he -should part with honour and honesty along with it. To be shut out -from public praise or private friendship, to be lampooned in newspapers -or Anti-Jacobin reviews, to be looked blank upon in company, is not -‘a consummation devoutly to be wished.’ The unfavourable opinion -of others gives you a bad opinion of yourself or them: and neither of -these conduces to persevering, high-minded integrity. To wish to -serve mankind, we should think well of them. To be able to serve -them, they should think well of us. To keep well with the public, -is not more necessary to a man’s private interest than to his general -utility. It is a hopeless task to be always striving against the -stream: it is a thankless one to be in a state of perpetual litigation -with the community. The situation of a strange dog in a country -town, barked at and worried by all the curs in the village, is about as -enviable as that of a person who affects singularity in politics. What -is a man to do who gets himself into this predicament, in an age -when patriotism is a misnomer in language, and public principle a -solecism in fact? If he cannot bring the world round to his opinion, -he must as a forlorn hope go over to theirs, and be content to be -knave—or nothing.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Such is the force of opinion, that we would undertake to drive a -first Minister from his place and out of the country, by merely being -allowed to hire a number of dirty boys to hoot him along the streets -from his own house to the treasury and from the treasury back again. -How would a certain distinguished character, remarkable for uniting -the <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">suaviter in modo</span></i> with the <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">fortiter in re</span></i>, and who, with an -invariable consistency in his political principles, carries the easiness -of his temper to a degree of apparent <i><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">non-chalance</span></i>, bear to have a -starling in his neighbourhood taught to repeat nothing but Walcheren, -or to ring the changes in his ears upon the names of Castles, Oliver, -and Reynolds? Can we wonder then at the feats which such -Ministers have performed with the Attorney-General at their backs, -and the country at their heels, in full cry against every one who was -not a creature of the Ministers,—for whose morals they could not -vouch as government-spies, or whose talents they did not reward as -government-critics?—Mr. Coleridge, in his Literary Biography, lately -<span class='pageno' id='Page_262'>262</span>published, complains with pathetic bitterness of the wanton and wilful -slanders formerly circulated with so much zeal in the Anti-Jacobin -against himself, Mr. Southey, and his other poetical friends, merely -for a difference of political opinion; and he significantly assigns these -slanders as the reason why himself and his friends remained so long -adverse to the party who were the authors of them! We will -venture to go a little further, and say, that they were not only the -reason of their long estrangement from the Court-party, but of their -final reconciliation to it. They had time to balance and reflect, and -to make a choice of evils—they deliberated between the loss of -principle and of character, and they were undone. They thought it -better to be the accomplices of venality and corruption than the mark -for them to shoot their arrows at: they took shelter from the abuse -by joining in the cry. Mr. Southey says that he has not changed -his principles, but that circumstances have changed, and that he has -grown wiser from the events of five-and-twenty years. How is it -that his present friend and associate in the Quarterly Review, who -was formerly a contributor to the Beauties of the Anti-Jacobin, has -not changed too? The world has gone round in his time too, but he -remains firm to his first principles. He worships the sun wherever -he sees it. Court-favour, ‘the cynosure of longing eyes,’ sheds a -more steady influence on its votaries than vague popularity. The -confined, artificial air of a Court has a wonderful effect in stopping -that progress of the mind with the march of events, of which -Mr. Southey boasts, and prematurely fixes the volatility of genius -in a <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">caput mortuum</span></i> of prejudice and servility, in those who are -admitted within the magic circle! The Anti-Jacobin poet and -orator, Mr. Canning, has not become a renegado to the opinions of -the Court: the Jacobin poet and prose-writer, Mr. Southey, has -become a renegado to his own.—In an article in the Quarterly -Review (some months back) there was an argument to shew that -the late war against France was all along the undoubted result of -popular opinion, ‘because from the first party-spirit ran so high upon -this subject, that any one who expressed an opinion against it did so -at the hazard of his reputation, fortune, or even life.’ The author -of this singular argument, we believe, was one of those, who did not -at the critical period here alluded to approve of it, and who has since -become a convert to its justice and humanity. His own statement -may account for his change of opinion. What a pity for a man to -hazard his life and fortune in a cause by maintaining an opinion, and -to lose his character afterwards by relinquishing it. The present -Poet-laureate has missed indeed the crown of martyrdom, and has -gained a crown of laurel in its stead!</p> - -<p class='c010'><span class='pageno' id='Page_263'>263</span>The same consistent writers, and friends of civil and religious -liberty, who are delighted with the restoration of the Bourbons, of -the Pope, and the Inquisition, have lately made an attempt to run -down the Dissenters in this country; and in this they are right. -They dwell with fondness on ‘the single-heartedness of the Spanish -nation,’ who are slaves and bigots to a man, and scoff at the -Presbyterians and Independents of this country (who ousted Popery -and slavery at the Revolution, and who had a main hand in placing -and continuing the present family on the throne) as but half-Englishmen, -and as equally disaffected to Church and State. There -is some ground for the antipathy of our political changelings to a -respectable, useful, and conscientious body of men: and we will -here, in discharge of an old debt, say what this ground is. If it -were only meant that the Dissenters are but half Englishmen, because -they are not professed slaves—that they are disaffected to the Constitution -in Church and State, because they are not prepared to go all -the lengths of despotism and intolerance under a Protestant hierarchy -and Constitutional King, which they resisted ‘at the peril of their -characters, their fortunes, and their lives,’ under a persecuting priesthood -and an hereditary Pretender, this would be well: but there is -more in it than this. Our sciolists would persuade us that the -different sects are hot-beds of sedition, because they are nurseries of -public spirit, and independence, and sincerity of opinion in all other -respects. They are so necessarily, and by the supposition. They -are Dissenters from the Established Church: they submit voluntarily -to certain privations, they incur a certain portion of obloquy and -ill-will, for the sake of what they believe to be the truth: they are -not time-servers on the face of the evidence, and that is sufficient to -expose them to the instinctive hatred and ready ribaldry of those who -think venality the first of virtues, and prostitution of principle the -best sacrifice a man can make to the Graces or his Country. The -Dissenter does not change his sentiments with the seasons: he does -not suit his conscience to his convenience. This is enough to -condemn him for a pestilent fellow. He will not give up his -principles because they are unfashionable, therefore he is not to be -trusted. He speaks his mind bluntly and honestly, therefore he is a -secret disturber of the peace, a dark conspirator against the State. -On the contrary, the different sects in this country are, or have been, -the steadiest supporters of its liberties and laws: they are checks and -barriers against the insidious or avowed encroachments of arbitrary -power, as effectual and indispensable as any others in the Constitution: -they are depositaries of a principle as sacred and somewhat rarer than -a devotion to Court-influence—we mean the love of truth. It is -<span class='pageno' id='Page_264'>264</span>hard for any one to be an honest politician who is not born and bred -a Dissenter. Nothing else can sufficiently inure and steel a man -against the prevailing prejudices of the world, but that habit of mind -which arises from non-conformity to its decisions in matters of -religion. There is a natural alliance between the love of civil and -religious liberty, as much as between Church and State. Protestantism -was the first school of political liberty in Europe: Presbyterianism -has been one great support of it in England. The sectary in religion -is taught to appeal to his own bosom for the truth and sincerity of -his opinions, and to arm himself with stern indifference to what -others think of them. This will no doubt often produce a certain -hardness of manner and cold repulsiveness of feeling in trifling matters, -but it is the only sound discipline of truth, or inflexible honesty in -politics as well as in religion. The same principle of independent -inquiry and unbiassed conviction which makes him reject all undue -interference between his Maker and his conscience, will give a -character of uprightness and disregard of personal consequences to -his conduct and sentiments in what concerns the most important -relations between man and man. He neither subscribes to the dogmas -of priests, nor truckles to the mandates of Ministers. He has a rigid -sense of duty which renders him superior to the caprice, the -prejudices, and the injustice of the world; and the same habitual -consciousness of rectitude of purpose, which leads him to rely for his -self-respect on the testimony of his own heart, enables him to disregard -the groundless malice and rash judgments of his opponents. -It is in vain for him to pay his court to the world, to fawn upon -power; he labours under certain insurmountable disabilities for -becoming a candidate for its favour: he dares to contradict its -opinion and to condemn its usages in the most important article of -all. The world will always look cold and askance upon him; and -therefore he may defy it with less fear of its censures. The -Presbyterian is said to be sour: he is not therefore over-complaisant—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in10'>‘Or if severe in thought,</div> - <div class='line'>‘The love he bears to virtue is in fault.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>Dissenters are the safest partizans, and the steadiest friends. Indeed -they are almost the only people who have an idea of an abstract -attachment to a cause or to individuals, from a sense of fidelity, -independently of prosperous or adverse circumstances, and in spite -of opposition. No patriotism, no public spirit, not reared in that -inclement sky and harsh soil, in ‘the <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">hortus siccus</span></i> of dissent,’ will -generally last: it will either bend in the storm or droop in the -sunshine. <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Non ex quovis ligno fit Mercurius.</span></i> You cannot engraft a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_265'>265</span>medlar on a crab-apple. A thorough-bred Dissenter will never make -an accomplished Courtier. The antithesis of a Presbyterian Divine -of the old school is the Poet-laureate of the new. We have known -instances of both; and give it decidedly in favour of old-fashioned -honesty over new-fangled policy.</p> - -<p class='c010'>We have known instances of both. The one we would willingly -forget; the others we hope never to forget, nor can we ever. A -Poet-laureate is an excrescence even in a Court; he is doubly -nugatory as a Courtier and a Poet; he is a refinement upon insignificance, -and a superfluous piece of supererogation. But a -Dissenting Minister is a character not so easily to be dispensed -with, and whose place cannot well be supplied. It is the fault of -sectarianism that it tends to scepticism; and so relaxes the springs -of moral courage and patience into levity and indifference. The -prospect of future rewards and punishments is a useful set-off against -the immediate distribution of places and pensions; the anticipations -of faith call off our attention from the grosser illusions of sense. It -is a pity that this character has worn itself out; that that pulse -of thought and feeling has ceased almost to beat in the heart of a -nation, who, if not remarkable for sincerity and plain downright -well-meaning, are remarkable for nothing. But we have known some -such, in happier days; who had been brought up and lived from -youth to age in the one constant belief of God and of his Christ, and -who thought all other things but dross compared with the glory -hereafter to be revealed. Their youthful hopes and vanity had been -mortified in them, even in their boyish days, by the neglect and -supercilious regards of the world; and they turned to look into their -own minds for something else to build their hopes and confidence -upon. They were true Priests. They set up an image in their own -minds, it was truth: they worshipped an idol there, it was justice. -They looked on man as their brother, and only bowed the knee to -the Highest. Separate from the world, they walked humbly with -their God, and lived in thought with those who had borne testimony -of a good conscience, with the spirits of just men in all ages. They -saw Moses when he slew the Egyptian, and the Prophets who -overturned the brazen images; and those who were stoned and sawn -asunder. They were with Daniel in the lions’ den, and with the -three children who passed through the fiery furnace, Meshech, -Shadrach, and Abednego; they did not crucify Christ twice over, or -deny him in their hearts, with St. Peter; the Book of Martyrs was -open to them; they read the story of William Tell, of John Huss -and Jerome of Prague, and the old one-eyed Zisca; they had Neale’s -History of the Puritans by heart, and Calamy’s Account of the Two -<span class='pageno' id='Page_266'>266</span>Thousand Ejected Ministers, and gave it to their children to read, -with the pictures of the polemical Baxter, the silver-tongued Bates, -the mild-looking Calamy, and old honest Howe; they believed in -Lardner’s Credibility of the Gospel History: they were deep-read -in the works of the <i><span lang="pl" xml:lang="pl">Fratres Poloni</span></i>, Pripscovius, Crellius, -Cracovius, who sought out truth in texts of Scripture, and grew -blind over Hebrew points; their aspiration after liberty was a -sigh uttered from the towers, ‘time-rent,’ of the Holy Inquisition; -and their zeal for religious toleration was kindled at the fires of -Smithfield. Their sympathy was not with the oppressors, but the -oppressed. They cherished in their thoughts—and wished to transmit -to their posterity—those rights and privileges for asserting which their -ancestors had bled on scaffolds, or had pined in dungeons, or in -foreign climes. Their creed too was ‘Glory to God, peace on earth, -good will to man.’ This creed, since profaned and rendered vile, -they kept fast through good report and evil report. This belief they -had, that looks at something out of itself, fixed as the stars, deep as -the firmament, that makes of its own heart an altar to truth, a place -of worship for what is right, at which it does reverence with praise -and prayer like a holy thing, apart and content: that feels that the -greatest being in the universe is always near it, and that all things -work together for the good of his creatures, under his guiding hand. -This covenant they kept, as the stars keep their courses: this -principle they stuck by, for want of knowing better, as it sticks by -them to the last. It grew with their growth, it does not wither in -their decay. It lives when the almond-tree flourishes, and is not -bowed down with the tottering knees. It glimmers with the last -feeble eyesight, smiles in the faded cheek like infancy, and lights a -path before them to the grave!—This is better than the life of a -whirligig Court poet.</p> - -<h3 class='c003'>ON THE CLERICAL CHARACTER</h3> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in6'>——‘Now mark a spot or two,</div> - <div class='line'>Which so much virtue would do well to clear.’—<span class='sc'>Cowper.</span></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Jan. 24, 1818.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>The clerical character has, no doubt, its excellences, which have been -often insisted on: it has also its faults, which cannot be corrected or -guarded against, unless they are pointed out. The following are -some of them.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The first, and most obvious objection we have to it, arises from -<span class='pageno' id='Page_267'>267</span>the dress. All artificial distinctions of this kind have a tendency to -warp the understanding and sophisticate the character. They create -egotism. A man is led to think of himself more than he should, who -by any outward marks of distinction invites others to fix their attention -on him. They create affectation; for they make him study to -be not like himself, but like his dress. They create hypocrisy; for -as his thoughts and feelings cannot be as uniform and mechanical as -his dress, he must be constantly tempted to make use of the one as a -cloak to the other, and to conceal the defects or aberrations of his -mind by a greater primness of professional costume, or a more -mysterious carriage of his person—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>——‘And in Franciscan think to pass disguised.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>No man of the ordinary stamp can retain a downright unaffected -simplicity of character who is always reminding others, and reminded -himself, of his pretensions to superior piety and virtue by a conventional -badge, which implies neither one nor the other, and which -must gradually accustom the mind to compromise appearances for -reality, the form for the power of godliness. We do not care to -meet the Lawyers fluttering about Chancery-lane in their full-bottomed -wigs and loose silk gowns: their dress seems to sit as loose upon -them as their opinions, and they wear their own hair under the well-powdered -dangling curls, as they bury the sense of right and wrong -under the intricate and circuitous forms of law: but we hate much -more to meet a three-cornered well-pinched clerical hat on a prim -expectant pair of shoulders, that seems to announce to half a street -before it, that sees the theological puppet coming, with a mingled air -of humility and self-conceit—‘Stand off, for I am holier than you.’ -We are not disposed to submit to this pharisaical appeal; we are -more inclined to resent than to sympathise with the claims to our -respect, which are thus mechanically perked in our faces. The dress -of the bar merely implies a professional indifference to truth or falsehood -in those who wear it, and they seldom carry it out of Court: -the dress of the pulpit implies a greater gravity of pretension; and -they therefore stick to it as closely as to a doublet and hose of -religion and morality. If the reverend persons who are thus clothed -with righteousness as with a garment, are sincere in their professions, -it is well: if they are hypocrites, it is also well. It is no wonder -that the class of persons so privileged are tenacious of the respect that -is paid to the cloth; that their tenderness on this subject is -strengthened by all the incentives of self-love; by the <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">esprit de corps</span></i>; -by the indirect implication of religion itself in any slight put upon its -authorised Ministers; and that the deliberate refusal to acknowledge -<span class='pageno' id='Page_268'>268</span>the gratuitous claims which are thus set up to our blind homage, is -treated as a high offence against the good order of society in the -present world, and threatened with exemplary punishment in the next. -There is nothing fair or manly in all this. It is levying a tax on our -respect under fraudulent, or at best, equivocal pretences. There is no -manner of connexion between the thing and the symbol of it, to which -public opinion is expected to bow. The whole is an affair of dress—a -dull masquerade. There is no proof of the doctrine of the Trinity -in a three-cornered hat, nor does a black coat without a cape imply -sincerity and candour. A man who wishes to pass for a saint or a -philosopher on the strength of a button in his hat or a buckle in his -shoes, is not very likely to be either; as the button in the hat or the -buckle in the shoes will answer all the same purpose with the vulgar, -and save time and trouble. Those who make their dress a principal -part of themselves, will, in general, become of no more value than -their dress. Their understandings will receive a costume. Their -notions will be as stiff and starched as their bands; their morals -strait-laced and ricketty; their pretended creed formal and out of -date; and they themselves a sort of demure lay-figures, sombre Jacks-of-the-Green, -to carry about the tattered fragments and hoarded relics -of bigotry and superstition, which, when they no longer awe the -imagination or impose on credulity, only insult the understanding and -excite contempt.—No one who expects you to pay the same regard -to the cut or colour of his coat as to what he says or does, will be -anxious to set an exclusive value on what can alone entitle him to -respect. You are to take his merit for granted on the score of -civility, and he will take it for granted himself on the score of convenience. -He will do all he can to keep up the farce. These -gentlemen find it no hardship</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in10'>‘<span lang="enm" xml:lang="enm">To counterfeiten chere</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="enm" xml:lang="enm">Of court, and ben estatelich of manere,</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="enm" xml:lang="enm">And to ben holden digne of reverence.</span>’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>On the contrary, if you offer to withhold it from them,</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in10'>‘Certain so wroth are they,</div> - <div class='line'>That they are out of all charity.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>This canonical standard of moral estimation is too flattering to their -pride and indolence to be parted with in a hurry; and nothing will -try their patience or provoke their humility so much as to suppose -that there is any truer stamp of merit than the badge of their profession. -It has been contended, that more is made here of the -clerical dress than it is meant to imply; that it is simply a mark of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_269'>269</span>distinction, to know the individuals of that particular class of society -from others, and that they ought to be charged with affectation, or an -assumption of self-importance for wearing it, no more than a waterman, -a fireman, or a chimney-sweeper, for appearing in the streets in their -appropriate costume. We do not think ‘the collusion holds in the -exchange.’ If a chimney-sweeper were to jostle a spruce divine in -the street, which of them would ejaculate the word ‘Fellow’? The -humility of the churchman would induce him to lift up his cane at -the sooty professor, but the latter would hardly take his revenge by -raising his brush and shovel, as equally respectable insignia of office. -As to the watermen and firemen, they do not, by the badges of their -trade, claim any particular precedence in moral accomplishments, nor -are their jacket and trowsers hieroglyphics of any particular creed, -which others are bound to believe on pain of damnation. It is there -the shoe pinches. Where external dress really denotes distinction of -rank in other cases, as in the dress of officers in the army, those who -might avail themselves of this distinction lay it aside as soon as -possible; and, unless very silly fellows or very great coxcombs, do -not choose to be made a gazing-stock to women and children. But -there is in the clerical habit something too sacred to be lightly put -on or off: <em>once a priest, and always a priest</em>: it adheres to them as -a part of their function; it is the outward and visible sign of an -inward and invisible grace; it is a light that must not be hid; it is -a symbol of godliness, an edifying spectacle, an incentive to good -morals, a discipline of humanity, and a <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">memento mori</span></i>, which cannot be -too often before us. To lay aside their habit, would be an unworthy -compromise of the interests of both worlds. It would be a sort of -denying Christ. They therefore venture out into the streets with -this gratuitous obtrusion of opinion and unwarrantable assumption of -character wrapped about them, ticketted and labelled with the -Thirty-nine Articles, St. Athanasius’s Creed, and the Ten Commandments,—with -the Cardinal Virtues and the Apostolic Faith sticking -out of every corner of their dress, and angling for the applause or -contempt of the multitude. A full-dressed ecclesiastic is a sort of -go-cart of divinity; an ethical automaton. A clerical prig is, in -general, a very dangerous as well as contemptible character. The -utmost that those who thus habitually confound their opinions and -sentiments with the outside coverings of their bodies can aspire to, -is a negative and neutral character, like wax-work figures, where -the dress is done as much to the life as the man, and where both -are respectable pieces of pasteboard, or harmless compositions of -fleecy hosiery.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The bane of all religions has been the necessity (real or supposed) -<span class='pageno' id='Page_270'>270</span>of keeping up an attention and attaching a value to external forms -and ceremonies. It was, of course, much easier to conform to these, -or to manifest a reverence for them, than to practise the virtues or -understand the doctrines of true religion, of which they were merely -the outward types and symbols. The consequence has been, that -the greatest stress has been perpetually laid on what was of the least -value, and most easily professed. The form of religion has superseded -the substance; the means have supplanted the end; and the sterling -coin of charity and good works has been driven out of the currency, -for the base counterfeits of superstition and intolerance, by all the -money-changers and dealers in the temples established to religion -throughout the world. Vestments and chalices have been multiplied -for the reception of the Holy Spirit; the tagged points of controversy -and lackered varnish of hypocrisy have eaten into the solid -substance and texture of piety; ‘and all the inward acts of worship, -issuing from the native strength of the soul, run out (as Milton -expresses it) lavishly to the upper skin, and there harden into the -crust of formality.’ Hence we have had such shoals of</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in26'>‘Eremites and friars,</div> - <div class='line'>White, black, and grey, with all their trumpery’—</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>who have foisted their ‘idiot and embryo’ inventions upon us for -truth, and who have fomented all the bad passions of the heart, and -let loose all the mischiefs of war, of fire, and famine, to avenge the -slightest difference of opinion on any one iota of their lying creeds, -or the slightest disrespect to any one of those mummeries and idle -pageants which they had set up as sacred idols for the world to -wonder at. We do not forget, in making these remarks, that there -was a time when the persons who will be most annoyed and -scandalized at them, would have taken a more effectual mode of -shewing their zeal and indignation; when to have expressed a free -opinion on a Monk’s cowl or a Cardinal’s hat, would have exposed -the writer who had been guilty of such sacrilege, to the pains and -penalties of excommunication; to be burnt at an <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">auto da fe</span></i>; to be -consigned to the dungeons of the Inquisition, or doomed to the -mines of Spanish America; to have his nose slit, or his ears cut off, -or his hand reduced to a stump. Such were the considerate and -humane proceedings by which the Priests of former times vindicated -their own honour, which they pretended to be the honour of God. -Such was their humility, when they had the power. Will they -complain now, if we only criticise the colour of a coat, or smile at -the circumference of a Doctor of Divinity’s wig, since we can do it -with impunity? We cry them mercy!</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_271'>271</span> - <h4 class='c017'>ON THE CLERICAL CHARACTER</h4> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in6'>——‘Now mark a spot or two,</div> - <div class='line'>Which so much virtue would do well to clear.’—<span class='sc'>Cowper</span></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><span class='small'>(CONTINUED.)</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>Jan. 31, 1818.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>Many people seem to think, that the restraints imposed on the -Clergy by the nature of their profession, take away from them, -by degrees, all temptations to violate the limits of duty, and that the -character grows to the cloth. We are afraid that this is not -altogether the case.</p> - -<p class='c010'>How little can be done in the way of extracting virtues or intellect -from a piece of broad-cloth or a beaver hat, we have an instance in -the Quakers, who are the most remarkable, and the most unexceptionable -class of professors in this kind. They bear the same relation to -genuine characters, not brought up in the trammels of dress and -custom, that a clipped yew-tree, cut into the form of a peacock or -an armchair, does to the natural growth of a tree in the forest, left to -its own energies and luxuriance. The Quakers are docked into -form, but they have no spirit left. They are without ideas, except in -trade; without vices or virtues, unless we admit among the latter -those which we give as a character to servants when we turn them -away, viz. ‘that they are cleanly, sober, and honest.’ The Quaker -is, in short, a negative character, but it is the best that can be formed -in this mechanical way. The Priest is not a negative character; he -is something positive and disagreeable. He is not, like the Quaker, -distinguished from others merely by singularity of dress and manner, -but he is distinguished from others by pretensions to superiority over -them. His faults arise from his boasted exemption from the opposite -vices; and he has one vice running through all his others—hypocrisy. -He is proud, with an affectation of humility; bigotted, from a pretended -zeal for truth; greedy, with an ostentation of entire contempt -for the things of this world; professing self-denial, and always thinking -of self-gratification; censorious, and blind to his own faults; intolerant, -unrelenting, impatient of opposition, insolent to those below, and -cringing to those above him, with nothing but Christian meekness and -brotherly love in his mouth. He thinks more of external appearances -than of his internal convictions. He is tied down to the opinions -and prejudices of the world in every way. The motives of the heart -are clogged and checked at the outset, by the fear of idle censure; -his understanding is the slave of established creeds and formulas -<span class='pageno' id='Page_272'>272</span>of faith. He can neither act, feel, or think for himself, or from -genuine impulse. He plays a part through life. He is an actor upon -a stage. The public are a spy upon him, and he wears a mask the -better to deceive them. If in this sort of theatrical assumption of -character he makes one false step, it may be fatal to him, and he -is induced to have recourse to the most unmanly arts to conceal it, -if possible. As he cannot be armed at all points against the flesh -and the devil, he takes refuge in self-delusion and mental imposture; -learns to play at fast and loose with his own conscience, and to -baffle the vigilance of the public by dexterous equivocations; sails -as near the wind as he can, shuffles with principle, is punctilious in -matters of form, and tries to reconcile the greatest strictness of -decorum and regularity of demeanour with the least possible sacrifice -of his own interest or appetites. Parsons are not drunkards, -because it is a vice that is easily detected and immediately offensive; -but they are great eaters, which is no less injurious to the health and -intellect. They indulge in all the sensuality that is not prohibited -in the Decalogue: they monopolize every convenience they can lay -lawful hands on: and consider themselves as the peculiar favourites of -Heaven, and the rightful inheritors of the earth. They are on a -short allowance of sin; and are only the more eager to catch at all -the stray bits and nice morsels they can meet. They are always -considering how they shall indemnify themselves in smaller things, -for their grudging self-denial in greater ones. Satan lies in wait -for them in a pinch of snuff, in a plate of buttered toast, or the -kidney end of a loin of veal. They lead their cooks the devil of a -life. Their dinner is the principal event of the day. They say -a long grace over it, partly to prolong the pleasure of expectation, -and to keep others waiting. They are appealed to as the most -competent judges, as arbiters <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">deliciarum</span></i> in all questions of the palate. -Their whole thoughts are taken up in pampering the flesh, and -comforting the spirit with all the little debasing luxuries which do -not come under the sentence of damnation, or breed scandal in the -parish. You find out their true character in those of them who -have quitted the cloth, and think it no longer necessary to practise -the same caution or disguise. You there find the dogmatism of the -divine ingrafted on the most lax speculations of the philosophical -freethinker, and the most romantic professions of universal benevolence -made a cover to the most unfeeling and unblushing spirit of selfishness. -The mask is taken off, but the character was the same under a more -jealous attention to appearances. With respect to one vice from -which the Clergy are bound to keep themselves clear, St. Paul has -observed, that <em>it is better to marry than burn</em>. ‘Continents,’ says -<span class='pageno' id='Page_273'>273</span>Hobbes, ‘have more of what they contain than other things.’ The -Clergy are men: and many of them, who keep a sufficient guard over -their conduct, are too apt, from a common law of our nature, to let -their thoughts and desires wander to forbidden ground. This is not -so well. It is not so well to be always thinking of the peccadillos -they cannot commit: to be hankering after the fleshpots of Egypt: -to have the charms of illicit gratification enhanced by privations, to -which others are not liable; to have the fancy always prurient, and -the imagination always taking a direction which they themselves -cannot follow.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Where’s that palace, whereunto foul things</div> - <div class='line'>Sometimes intrude not? Who has that breast so pure,</div> - <div class='line'>But some uncleanly apprehensions</div> - <div class='line'>Keep leets and law-days, and in Sessions sit</div> - <div class='line'>With meditations lawful?’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>But the mind of the Divine and Moralist by profession is a sort of -sanctuary for such thoughts. He is bound by his office to be always -detecting and pointing out abuses, to describe and conceive of them -in the strongest colours, to denounce and to abhor vice in others, to -be familiar with the diseases of the mind, as the physician is with -those of the body. But that this sort of speculative familiarity with -vice leads to a proportionable disgust at it, may be made a question. -The virtue of prudes has been thought doubtful: the morality of -priests, even of those who lead the most regular lives, is not, perhaps, -always ‘pure in the last recesses of the mind.’ They are obliged, as -it were, to have the odious nature of sin habitually in their thoughts, -and in their mouths; to wink, to make wry faces at it, to keep themselves -in a state of incessant indignation against it. It is like living -next door to a brothel, a situation which produces a great degree of -irritation against vice, and an eloquent abuse of those who are known -to practise it, but is not equally favourable to the growth and -cultivation of sentiments of virtue. To keep theoretical watch and -ward over vice, to be systematic spies and informers against immorality, -‘while <em>they</em> the supervisors grossly gape on,’ is hardly -decent. It is almost as bad as belonging to the Society for the -Suppression of Vice—a Society which appears to have had its -origin in much the same feeling as the monkish practice of auricular -confession in former times.—Persons who undertake to pry into, -or cleanse out all the filth of a common sewer, either cannot have -very nice noses, or will soon lose them. Swift used to say, that -people of the nicest imaginations have the dirtiest ideas. The virtues -of the priesthood are not the virtues of humanity. They are not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_274'>274</span>honest, cordial, unaffected, and sincere. They are the mask, not -the man. There is always the feeling of something hollow, assuming, -and disagreeable, in them. There is something in the profession that -does not sit easy on the imagination. You are not at home with it. -Do you, or do you not, seek the society of a man for being a Parson? -You would as soon think of marrying a woman for being an old -maid!</p> - -<p class='c010'>To proceed to what we at first proposed, which was a consideration -of the Clerical Character, less in connexion with private morality -than with public principle. We have already spoken of the Dissenting -Clergy as, in this respect, an honest and exemplary body of -men. They are so by the supposition, in what relates to matters of -opinion. The Established Clergy of any religion certainly are not -so, by the same self-evident rule; on the contrary, they are bound -to conform their professions of religious belief to a certain popular and -lucrative standard, and bound over to keep the peace by certain -articles of faith. It is a rare felicity in any one who gives his -attention fairly and freely to the subject, and has read the Scriptures, -the Misnah, and the Talmud—the Fathers, the Schoolmen, the -Socinian Divines, the Lutheran and Calvinistic controversy, with -innumerable volumes appertaining thereto and illustrative thereof, to -believe all the Thirty-nine Articles, ‘except one.’ If those who -are destined for the episcopal office exercise their understandings -honestly and openly upon every one of these questions, how little -chance is there that they should come to the same conclusion upon -them all? If they do not inquire, what becomes of their independence -of understanding? If they conform to what they do not -believe, what becomes of their honesty? Their estimation in the -world, as well as their livelihood, depends on their tamely submitting -their understanding to authority at first, and on their not seeing reason -to alter their opinion afterwards. Is it likely that a man will intrepidly -open his eyes to conviction, when he sees poverty and -disgrace staring him in the face as the inevitable consequence? Is it -likely, after the labours of a whole life of servility and cowardice—after -repeating daily what he does not understand, and what those -who require him to repeat it do not believe, or pretend to believe, -and impose on others only as a ready test of insincerity, and a compendious -shibboleth of want of principle: after doing morning and -evening service to the God of this world—after keeping his lips -sealed against the indiscreet mention of the plainest truths, and -opening them only to utter mental reservations—after breakfasting, -dining, and supping, waking and sleeping, being clothed and fed, -upon a collusion,—after saying a double grace and washing his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_275'>275</span>hands after dinner, and preparing for a course of smutty jests to make -himself good company,—after nodding to Deans, bowing to Bishops, -waiting upon Lords, following in the train of Heads of Colleges, -watching the gracious eye of those who have presentations in their -gift, and the lank cheek of those who are their present incumbents,—after -finding favour, patronage, promotion, prizes, praise, promises, -smiles, squeezes of the hand, invitations to tea and cards with the -ladies, the epithets, ‘a charming man,’ ‘an agreeable creature,’ ‘a -most respectable character,’ the certainty of reward, and the hopes of -glory, always proportioned to the systematic baseness of his compliance -with the will of his superiors, and the sacrifice of every -particle of independence, or pretence to manly spirit and honesty of -character,—is it likely, that a man so tutored and trammelled, and -inured to be his own dupe, and the tool of others, will ever, in one -instance out of thousands, attempt to burst the cobweb fetters which -bind him in the magic circle of contradictions and enigmas, or risk -the independence of his fortune for the independence of his mind? -<em>Principle</em> is a word that is not to be found in the Young Clergyman’s -Best Companion: it is a thing he has no idea of, except as something -pragmatical, sour, puritanical, and Presbyterian. To oblige is his -object, not to offend. He wishes ‘to be conformed to this world, -rather than transformed.’ He expects one day to be a Court-divine, -a dignitary of the Church, an ornament to the State; and he knows -all the texts of Scripture, which, tacked to a visitation, an assize, or -corporation-dinner sermon, will float him gently, ‘like little wanton -boys that swim on bladders,’ up to the palace at Lambeth. A hungry -poet, gaping for solid pudding or empty praise, may easily be supposed -to set about a conscientious revision and change of his unpopular -opinions, from the reasonable prospect of a place or pension, and to -eat his words the less scrupulously, the longer he has had nothing -else to eat. A snug, promising, soft, smiling, orthodox Divine, who -has a living attached to the cure of souls, and whose sentiments are -beneficed, who has a critical <em>bonus</em> for finding out that all the books -he cannot understand are written against the Christian Religion, and -founds the doctrine of the Trinity, and his hopes of a Bishopric, on -the ignorant construction of a Greek particle, cannot be expected to -change the opinions to which he has formerly subscribed his belief, -with the revolutions of the sun or the changes of the moon. His -political, as well as religious creed, is installed in hopes, pampered in -expectations; and the longer he winks and shuts his eyes and holds -them close, catching only under their drooping lids ‘glimpses that -may make him less forlorn,’ day-dreams of lawn-sleeves, and nightly -beatific visions of episcopal mitres, the less disposed will he be to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_276'>276</span>open them to the broad light of reason, or to forsake the primrose -path of preferment, to tear and mangle his sleek tender-skinned -conscience, dipped and softened in the milk-bath of clerical complaisance, -among the thorns and briars of controversial divinity, or to -get out on the other side upon a dark and dreary waste, amidst a -crew of hereticks and schismatics, and Unitarian dealers in ‘potential -infidelity’—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Who far from steeples and their sacred sound,</div> - <div class='line'>In fields their sullen conventicles found.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>This were too much to expect from the chaplain of an Archbishop.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Take one illustration of the truth of all that has been here said, -and of more that might be said upon the subject. It is related in -that valuable comment on the present reign and the existing order of -things, Bishop Watson’s Life, that the late Dr. Paley having at one -time to maintain a thesis in the University, proposed to the Bishop, -for his approbation, the following:—‘That the eternity of Hell -torments is contradictory to the goodness of God.’ The Bishop -observed, that he thought this a bold doctrine to maintain in the face -of the Church; but Paley persisted in his determination. Soon -after, however, having sounded the opinions of certain persons, high -in authority, and well read in the orthodoxy of preferment, he came -back in great alarm, said he found the thing would not do, and -begged, instead of his first thesis, to have the reverse one substituted -in its stead, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">viz.</span></i>—‘That the Eternity of Hell torments is not contradictory -to the goodness of God.’—What burning day-light is here -thrown on clerical discipline, and the bias of a University education! -This passage is worth all Mosheim’s Ecclesiastical History, Wood’s -Athenæ Oxonienses, and Mr. Coleridge’s two Lay Sermons. This -same shuffling Divine is the same Dr. Paley, who afterwards employed -the whole of his life, and his moderate second-hand abilities, -in tampering with religion, morality, and politics,—in trimming -between his convenience and his conscience,—in crawling between -heaven and earth, and trying to cajole both. His celebrated and -popular work on Moral Philosophy, is celebrated and popular for no -other reason, than that it is a somewhat ingenious and amusing -apology for existing abuses of every description, by which any thing -is to be got. It is a very elaborate and consolatory elucidation of -the text, <em>that men should not quarrel with their bread and butter</em>. It is -not an attempt to show what is right, but to palliate and find out -plausible excuses for what is wrong. It is a work without the least -value, except as a convenient common-place book or <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">vade mecum</span></i>, for -tyro politicians and young divines, to smooth their progress in the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_277'>277</span>Church or the State. This work is a text-book in the University: -its morality is the acknowledged morality of the House of Commons. -The Lords are above it. They do not affect that sort of casuistry, -by which the country gentlemen contrive to oblige the Ministers, and -to reconcile themselves to their constituents.</p> - -<h4 class='c017'>ON THE CLERICAL CHARACTER</h4> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Priests were the first deluders of mankind,</div> - <div class='line'>Who with vain faith made all their reason blind;</div> - <div class='line'>Not Lucifer himself more proud than they,</div> - <div class='line'>And yet persuade the world they must obey;</div> - <div class='line'>Of avarice and luxury complain,</div> - <div class='line'>And practise all the vices they arraign.</div> - <div class='line'>Riches and honour they from laymen reap,</div> - <div class='line'>And with dull <em>crambo</em> feed the silly sheep.</div> - <div class='line'>As Killigrew buffoons his master, they</div> - <div class='line'>Droll on their god, but a much duller way.</div> - <div class='line'>With hocus pocus, and their heavenly light,</div> - <div class='line'>They gain on tender consciences at night.</div> - <div class='line'>Whoever has an over zealous wife,</div> - <div class='line'>Becomes the priest’s Amphitrio during life.’</div> - <div class='line in44'><cite>Marvel’s State Poems.</cite></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><span class='small'>(CONCLUDED)</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>February 7, 1818.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>This then is the secret of the alliance between Church and State—make -a man a tool and a hypocrite in one respect and he will make -himself a slave and a pander in every other, that you can make it -worth his while. Those who make a regular traffic of their belief -in religion, will not be backward to compromise their sentiments in -what relates to the concerns between man and man. He who is in -the habit of affronting his Maker with solemn mockeries of faith, as -the means of a creditable livelihood, will not bear the testimony of a -good conscience before men, if he finds it a losing concern. The -principle of integrity is gone; the patriotism of the religious sycophant -is rotten at the core. Hence we find that the Established Clergy of -all religions have been the most devoted tools of power. Priestcraft -and Despotism have gone hand in hand—have stood and fallen together. -It is this that makes them so fond and loving; so pious and -so loyal; so ready to play the Court-game into one another’s hands, -and so firmly knit and leagued together against the rights and liberties -of mankind. Thus Mr. Southey sings in laureat strains:—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘One fate attends the altar and the throne.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_278'>278</span>Yet the same peremptory versifier qualifies the Church of Rome with -the epithets of ‘that Harlot old,—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘The same that is, that was, and is to be,’—</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>without giving us to understand whether in Popish countries, the best -and most ‘single-hearted’ portion of Europe, the same lofty and -abstracted doctrine holds good. This uncivil laureat has indeed gone -so far in one of his ‘songs of delight and rustical roundelays,’ as to -give the Princess Charlotte the following critical advice:—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Bear thou that great Eliza in thy mind,</div> - <div class='line'>Who from a wreck this fabric edified,</div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>And her who, to a nation’s voice resigned,</span></div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>When Rome in hope her wiliest engines plied,</span></div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>By her own heart and righteous Heav’n approved,</span></div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Stood up against the Father whom she lov’d</span>.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>These lines seem to glance at contingent rebellion, at speculative -treason: they have a squint, a strong cast of the eye, that way. -But it is neither our business nor inclination to point out passages in -prose or verse, for the animadversion of the Attorney-General. Mr. -Croker, we fear, however, must have been greatly scandalised at this -specimen of his friend’s original mode of thinking for himself in such -delicate matters as the cashiering of Kings and encouraging their -daughters, as in duty bound, to stand up against them whenever Mr. -Southey pleases. <em>Launce</em> could not have been put more to it when -his dog misbehaved ‘among the gentlemanlike dogs at the Duke’s -table,’ than the Admiralty Secretary at this faux-pas of Mr. Southey’s -reformed Jacobin Muse. It was shewing the lady’s breeding to -some purpose. This gratuitous piece of advice to a Protestant -Princess is, however, just the reverse of that which Cardinal Wolsey -gave to a Popish ruler of these realms, Henry <span class='fss'>VIII.</span>, before that -Monarch saw reason to change his religious principles for a wife, as -Mr. Southey has changed his political ones for a pension. The -Cardinal was almost as wise a man in his generation as Mr. Southey -is in his; saw as far into reasons of state, and charged by anticipation -all the evils of anarchy and rebellion since his time on that very -Protestant religion, which the modern courtier under the Protestant -succession considers as the only support of passive obedience and -non-resistance. Cavendish, in his Memoirs, in the Harleian Miscellany, -makes Wolsey on his death-bed give this testamentary -advice to his Sovereign:—‘And, Master Kingston, I desire you -further to request his Grace, in God’s name, that he have a vigilant -eye to suppress the hellish Lutherans, that they increase not through -<span class='pageno' id='Page_279'>279</span>his great negligence, in such a sort as to be compelled to take up -arms to subdue them, as the King of Bohemia was; whose commons -being infected with Wickliff’s heresies, the King was forced to take -that course. Let him consider the story of King Richard the -Second, the second son of his progenitor, who lived in the time of -Wickliff’s seditions and heresies: did not the commons, I pray you, -in his time, rise against the nobility and chief governors of this realm; -and at the last, some of them were put to death without justice or -mercy? And, under pretence of having all things common, did they -not fall to spoiling and robbing, and at last took the King’s person, -and carried him about the city, making him obedient to their -proclamations?’—[The author of <cite>Wat Tyler</cite> has given a very different -version of this story.]—‘Did not also the traitorous heretick, -Sir John Oldcastle, Lord Cobham, pitch a field with hereticks -against King Henry the Fourth, where the King was in person, and -fought against them, to whom God gave the victory? Alas! if -these be not plain precedents and sufficient persuasions to admonish -a Prince, then God will take away from us our present rulers, and -leave us to the hands of our enemies. And then will ensue mischief -upon mischief, inconveniences, barrenness, and scarcity, for want of -good orders in the commonwealth, from which God of his tender -mercy defend us.’—<cite>Harleian Miscell.</cite> vol. iv. p. 556.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The dying Cardinal might here be supposed to have foreseen the -grand Rebellion, the glorious Revolution of 1688, the expulsion of -the Stuarts, and the Protestant ascendancy, the American and the -French Revolutions—as all growing out of Wickliff’s heresy, and -the doctrines of the hellish Lutherans. Our laurel-honouring laureat -cannot see all this after it has happened. Wolsey was a prophet; -he is only a poet. Wolsey knew (and so would any man but a poet), -that to allow men freedom of opinion in matters of religion, was to -make them free in all other things. Mr. Southey, who raves in -favour of the Bourbons and against the Pope, is ‘blind with double -darkness.’ He will assuredly never find that ‘single-heartedness’ -which he seeks, but in the bosom of the Church of Rome.</p> - -<p class='c010'>One mischief of this alliance between Church and State (which -the old-fashioned Statesman understood so thoroughly and the modern -sciolist only by halves) is, that it is tacit and covert. The Church -does not profess to take any active share in affairs of State, and by -this means is able to forward all the designs of indirect and crooked -policy more effectually and without suspicion. The garb of religion -is the best cloak for power. There is nothing so much to be guarded -against as the wolf in sheep’s clothing. The Clergy pretend to be -neutral in all such matters, not to meddle with politics. But that is, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_280'>280</span>and always must be, a false pretence. <em>Those that are not with us, are -against us</em>, is a maxim that always holds true. These pious pastors -of the people and accomplices of the government make use of their -heavenly calling and demure professions of meekness and humility, -as an excuse for never committing themselves on the side of the -people: but the same sacred and spiritual character, not to be sullied -by mixing with worldly concerns, does not hinder them from employing -all their arts and influence on the side of power and of their own -interest. Their religion is incompatible with a common regard to -justice or humanity; but it is compatible with an excess of courtly -zeal. The officiating Clergyman at Derby the other day pestered -Brandreth to death with importunities to inform against his associates, -but put his hand before his mouth when he offered to say what he -knew of Oliver, the Government-spy. This is not exactly as it -should be; but it cannot be otherwise than it is. Priests are -naturally favourers of power, inasmuch as they are dependent on it.—Their -power over the mind is hardly sufficient of itself to insure -absolute obedience to their authority, without a reinforcement of -power over the body. The secular arm must come in aid of the -spiritual. The law is necessary to compel the payment of tythes. -Kings and conquerors make laws, parcel out lands, and erect -churches and palaces for the priests and dignitaries of religion: -‘they will have them to shew their mitred fronts in Courts and -Parliaments’; and in return, Priests anoint Kings with holy oil, -hedge them round with inviolability, spread over them the mysterious -sanctity of religion, and, with very little ceremony, make over the -whole species as slaves to these Gods upon earth by virtue of divine -right! This is no losing trade. It aggrandizes those who are -concerned in it, and is death to the rest of the world. It is a -solemn league and covenant fully ratified and strictly carried into -effect, to the very letter, in all countries, Pagan, Mahommedan, and -Christian,—except this. It is time to put an end to it everywhere. -But those who are pledged to its support, and ‘by this craft have -their wealth,’ have unfortunately remained of one opinion, quite -‘single-hearted’ from the beginning of the world: those who, like -Mr. Southey, are for separating the Man of Sin from the Scarlet -Whore, change their opinions once every five and twenty years. Need -we wonder at the final results? Kings and priests are not such coxcombs -or triflers as poets and philosophers. The two last are always -squabbling about their share of reputation; the two first amicably -divide the spoil. It is the opinion, we understand, of an eminent poet -and a minute philosopher of the present day, that the press ought to -be shackled,—severely shackled; and particularly that the <cite>Edinburgh -<span class='pageno' id='Page_281'>281</span>Review</cite>, the <cite>Examiner</cite>, and the <cite>Yellow Dwarf</cite>, as full of <cite>Examinerisms</cite>, -ought to be instantly put down. Another poet or philosopher, who -has not been so severely handled in these works, thinks differently; -and so do we. Nay, Mr. —— himself has been a long time in -coming to this opinion; and no wonder, for he had a long way to -come in order to arrive at it. But all the Kings that ever were, -and ninety-nine out of a hundred of all the Priests that surround them, -jump at this conclusion concerning the fatal consequences of the -Liberty of the Press—by instinct. We have never yet seen -that greatest calamity that can befal mankind, deprecated by Mr. -Burke, namely, literary men acting in <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">corps</span></i>, and making common -cause for the benefit of mankind, as another description of persons -act in concert and make common cause against them. He himself -was an instance how little need be dreaded in this way. If the -National Assembly had sent for Burke over, to assist in framing -a Constitution for them, this traitor to liberty and apostate from -principle, instead of loading the French Revolution with every -epithet of obloquy and execration which his irritable vanity and -mercenary malice could invent, would have extolled it to the skies, -as the highest monument of human happiness and wisdom. But the -genius of philosophy, as he said, is not yet known. It is a subject -which we shall shortly endeavour to make clear.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in22'>——‘At this day</div> - <div class='line'>When a Tartarean darkness overspreads</div> - <div class='line'>The groaning nations; when the impious rule,</div> - <div class='line'>By will or by established ordinance,</div> - <div class='line'>Their own dire agents, and constrain the good</div> - <div class='line'>To acts which they abhor; though I bewail</div> - <div class='line'>This triumph, yet the pity of my heart</div> - <div class='line'>Prevents me not from owning that the law,</div> - <div class='line'>By which mankind now suffers, is most just.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>For by superior energies; more strict</span></div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Affiance with each other; faith more firm</span></div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>In their unhallowed principles; the bad</span></div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>Have fairly earned a victory o’er the weak,</span></div> - <div class='line'><span class='sc'>The vacillating, inconsistent good.</span>’</div> - <div class='line in32'><span class='sc'>Wordsworth.</span></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>In another point of view, Priests are a sort of women in the State, -and naturally subject to the higher powers. The Church has no -means of temporal advancement but through the interest and countenance -of the State. It receives what the other is pleased to allow it -as a mark of friendship, out of the public purse. The Clergy do not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_282'>282</span>engage in active or lucrative professions: they are occupied with praise -and prayer and the salvation of souls—with heaping up for themselves -treasures in heaven, and wrath upon their enemies’ heads against the -day of judgment. The candidate for Church preferment must therefore -look for it as a free gift at the hands of the great and powerful; -he must win his way to wealth and honours by ‘the sufferance of -supernal power.’ The Church can only hope for a comfortable -establishment in the world by finding favour, as a handmaid, in the -eye of the State: the Church must wed the State, both for protection -and a maintenance. The preacher of God’s word looks for his -reward in heaven, but he must live in the mean time. But he is -precluded by his cloth and his spiritual avocations from getting on in -the world by the usual means of interest or ambition. His only hope -of advancement lies in the Bishop’s blessing and his patron’s smile. -These may in time translate him to a vacant diocese of 10,000<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">l.</span></i> a -year. His labours in the cure of souls, or the settling the most -difficult point of controversial divinity, would not, on an average -calculation, bring him in a 100<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">l.</span></i> Parson Adams could not dispose -of his manuscript sermons to the booksellers; and he ruined his hopes -of preferment with Lady Booby, by refusing to turn pimp. Finally, -the Clergy are lovers of abstract power, for they are themselves the -representatives of almighty power: they are ambassadors of religion, -delegates of heaven. The authority under which they act is not -always respected so readily, cordially, and implicitly, as it ought to -be, and they are indignant at the neglect. They become tetchy and -imperious, and mingle the irritability of self-love with their zeal for -the honour of God. They are not backward to call for fire from -heaven, and to put down the Atheist and the Schismatic by the -strong hand of power. <em>Fear God and honour the King</em>, is the motto -of priestcraft; but it is not a sound logical dilemma, for this reason, -that God is always the same; but Kings are of all sorts, good, bad, -or indifferent—wise, or mad, or foolish—arbitrary tyrants, or constitutional -Monarchs, like our own. The rule is absolute in the first -case, not in the second. But the Clergy, by a natural infirmity, are -disposed to force the two into a common analogy. They are servants -of God by profession, and sycophants of power from necessity. -They delight to look up with awe to Kings, as to another Providence. -It was a Bishop, in the reign of James <span class='fss'>I.</span> who drew a parallel between -‘their divine and sacred Majesties,’ meaning the pitiful tyrant whom -he served, and God Almighty: yet the Attorney-General of that -day did not prosecute him for blasphemy. The Clergy fear God -more than they love him. They think more of his power than -of his wisdom or goodness. They would make Kings Gods -<span class='pageno' id='Page_283'>283</span>upon earth; and as they cannot clothe them with the wisdom -or beneficence of the Deity, would arm them with his power at -any rate.<a id='r44' /><a href='#f44' class='c011'><sup>[44]</sup></a></p> - -<h3 class='c003'>WHAT IS THE PEOPLE?</h3> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>March 7, 1818.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>—And who are you that ask the question? One of the people. -And yet you would be something! Then you would not have the -People nothing. For what is the People? Millions of men, like -you, with hearts beating in their bosoms, with thoughts stirring in -their minds, with the blood circulating in their veins, with wants and -appetites, and passions and anxious cares, and busy purposes and -affections for others and a respect for themselves, and a desire of -happiness, and a right to freedom, and a will to be free. And yet -you would tear out this mighty heart of a nation, and lay it bare and -bleeding at the foot of despotism: you would slay the mind of a -country to fill up the dreary aching void with the old, obscene, -drivelling prejudices of superstition and tyranny: you would tread out -the eye of Liberty (the light of nations) like ‘a vile jelly,’ that mankind -may be led about darkling to its endless drudgery, like the -Hebrew Sampson (shorn of his strength and blind), by his insulting -taskmasters: you would make the throne every thing, and the people -nothing, to be yourself less than nothing, a very slave, a reptile, a -creeping, cringing sycophant, a court favourite, a pander to Legitimacy—that -detestable fiction, which would make you and me and all -mankind its slaves or victims; which would, of right and with all the -sanctions of religion and morality, sacrifice the lives of millions to the -least of its caprices; which subjects the rights, the happiness, and -liberty of nations, to the will of some of the lowest of the species; -which rears its bloated hideous form to brave the will of a whole -<span class='pageno' id='Page_284'>284</span>people; that claims mankind as its property, and allows human nature -to exist only upon sufferance; that haunts the understanding like a -frightful spectre, and oppresses the very air with a weight that is not -to be borne; that like a witch’s spell covers the earth with a dim and -envious mist, and makes us turn our eyes from the light of heaven, -which we have no right to look at without its leave: robs us of ‘the -unbought grace of life,’ the pure delight and conscious pride in works -of art or nature; leaves us no thought or feeling that we dare call our -own; makes genius its lacquey, and virtue its easy prey; sports with -human happiness, and mocks at human misery; suspends the breath -of liberty, and almost of life; exenterates us of our affections, blinds -our understandings, debases our imaginations, converts the very hope -of emancipation from its yoke into sacrilege, binds the successive -countless generations of men together in its chains like a string of -felons or galley-slaves, lest they should ‘resemble the flies of a -summer,’ considers any remission of its absolute claims as a gracious -boon, an act of royal clemency and favour, and confounds all sense of -justice, reason, truth, liberty, humanity, in one low servile death-like -dread of power without limit and without remorse!<a id='r45' /><a href='#f45' class='c011'><sup>[45]</sup></a></p> - -<p class='c010'>Such is the old doctrine of Divine Right, new-vamped up under -the style and title of Legitimacy. ‘Fine word, Legitimate!’ We -wonder where our English politicians picked it up. Is it an echo -from the tomb of the martyred monarch, Charles the First? Or was -it the last word which his son, James the Second, left behind him -in his flight, and bequeathed with his <em>abdication</em>, to his legitimate -successors? It is not written in our annals in the years 1688, in -1715, or 1745. It was not sterling then, which was only fifteen -years before his present Majesty’s accession to the throne. Has it -become so since? Is the Revolution of 1688 at length acknowledged -to be a blot in the family escutcheon of the Prince of Orange or the -Elector of Hanover? Is the choice of the people, which raised them -to the throne, found to be the only flaw in their title to the succession; -the weight of royal gratitude growing more uneasy with the distance -of the obligation? Is the alloy of liberty, mixed up with it, thought -to debase that <em>fine carat</em>, which should compose the regal diadem? -Are the fire-new specimens of the principles of the Right-Liners, and -of Sir Robert Filmer’s patriarchal scheme, to be met with in <cite>The -Courier</cite>, <cite>The Day</cite>, <cite>The Sun</cite>, and some time back, in <cite>The Times</cite>, handed -about to be admired in the highest circle, like the new gold coinage -of sovereigns and half-sovereigns? We do not know. It may seem -<span class='pageno' id='Page_285'>285</span>to be <em>Latter Lammas</em> with the doctrine at this time of day; but better -late than never. By taking root in the soil of France, from which -it was expelled (not quite so long as from our own), it may in -time stretch out its feelers and strong suckers to this country; and -present an altogether curious and novel aspect, by ingrafting the -principles of the House of Stuart on the illustrious stock of the -House of Brunswick.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Miraturque novas frondes, et non sua poma.</span>’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>What then is the People? We will answer first, by saying what -it is not; and this we cannot do better than in the words of a certain -author, whose testimony on the subject is too important not to avail -ourselves of it again in this place. That infatuated drudge of -despotism, who at one moment asks, ‘Where is the madman that -maintains the doctrine of divine right?’ and the next affirms, that -‘Louis <span class='fss'>XVIII.</span> has the same right to the throne of France, -independently of his merits or conduct, that Mr. Coke of Norfolk -has to his estate at Holkham,’<a id='r46' /><a href='#f46' class='c011'><sup>[46]</sup></a> has given us a tolerable clue to -what we have to expect from that mild paternal sway to which he -would so kindly make us and the rest of the world over, in hopeless -perpetuity. In a violent philippic against the author of the <cite>Political -Register</cite>, he thus inadvertently expresses himself:—‘Mr. Cobbett -had been sentenced to two years’ imprisonment for a libel, and during -the time that he was in Newgate, it was discovered that he had been in -treaty with Government to avoid the sentence passed upon him; and -that he had proposed to certain of the agents of Ministers, that if they -would let him off, they might make what future use they pleased of -him; <em>he would entirely betray the cause of the people</em>; he would either -write or not write, or <em>write against them</em>, as he had once done before, -just as Ministers thought proper. To this, however, it was replied, -that ‘Cobbett had written on too many sides already <em>to be worth a -groat for the service of Government</em>‘; and he accordingly suffered his -confinement!’—We here then see plainly enough what it is that, -in the opinion of this very competent judge, alone renders any -writer ‘worth a groat for the service of Government,’ <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">viz.</span></i> that he -shall be able and willing entirely to betray the cause of the people. -It follows from this principle (by which he seems to estimate the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_286'>286</span>value of his lucubrations in the service of Government—we do not -know whether the Government judge of them in the same way), -that the cause of the people and the cause of the Government, who -are represented as thus anxious to suborn their creatures to write -against the people, are not the same but the reverse of one another. -This slip of the pen in our professional retainer of legitimacy, though -a libel on our own Government, is, notwithstanding, a general philosophic -truth (the only one he ever hit upon), and an axiom in -political mechanics, which we shall make the text of the following -commentary.</p> - -<p class='c010'>What are the interests of the people? Not the interests of those -who would betray them. Who is to judge of those interests? Not -those who would suborn others to betray them. That Government -is instituted for the benefit of the governed, there can be little doubt; -but the interests of the Government (when once it becomes absolute -and independent of the people) must be directly at variance with -those of the governed. The interests of the one are common and -equal rights: of the other, exclusive and invidious privileges. The -essence of the first is to be shared alike by all, and to benefit the -community in proportion as they are spread: the essence of the last -is to be destroyed by communication, and to subsist only—in wrong -of the people. Rights and privileges are a contradiction in terms: -for if one has more than his right, others must have less. The -latter are the deadly nightshade of the commonwealth, near which no -wholesome plant can thrive,—the ivy clinging round the trunk of the -British oak, blighting its verdure, drying up its sap, and oppressing -its stately growth. The insufficient checks and balances opposed to -the overbearing influence of hereditary rank and power in our own -Constitution, and in every Government which retains the least trace -of freedom, are so many illustrations of this principle, if it needed -any. The tendency in arbitrary power to encroach upon the liberties -and comforts of the people, and to convert the public good into a -stalking-horse to its own pride and avarice, has never (that we know) -been denied by any one but ‘the professional gentleman,’ who writes -in <cite>The Day and New Times</cite>. The great and powerful, in order to be -what they aspire to be, and what this gentleman would have them, -perfectly independent of the will of the people, ought also to be -perfectly independent of the assistance of the people. To be formally -invested with the attributes of Gods upon earth, they ought first to be -raised above its petty wants and appetites: they ought to give proofs -of the beneficence and wisdom of Gods, before they can be trusted -with the power. When we find them seated above the world, -sympathizing with the welfare, but not feeling the passions of men, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_287'>287</span>receiving neither good nor hurt, neither tilth nor tythe from them, -but bestowing their benefits as free gifts on all, they may then be -expected, but not till then, to rule over us like another Providence. -We may make them a present of all the taxes they do not apply to -their own use: they are perfectly welcome to all the power, to the -possession of which they are perfectly indifferent, and to the abuse of -which they can have no possible temptation. But Legitimate Governments -(flatter them as we will) are not another Heathen mythology. -They are neither so cheap nor so splendid as the Delphin edition of -Ovid’s Metamorphoses. They are indeed ‘Gods to punish,’ but in -other respects ‘men of our infirmity.’ They do not feed on ambrosia -or drink nectar; but live on the common fruits of the earth, of -which they get the largest share, and the best. The wine they drink -is made of grapes: the blood they shed is that of their subjects: the -laws they make are not against themselves: the taxes they vote, they -afterwards devour. They have the same wants that we have: and -having the option, very naturally help themselves first, out of the -common stock, without thinking that others are to come after them. -With the same natural necessities, they have a thousand artificial -ones besides; and with a thousand times the means to gratify them, -they are still voracious, importunate, unsatisfied. Our State-paupers -have their hands in every man’s dish, and fare sumptuously every -day. They live in palaces, and loll in coaches. In spite of Mr. -Malthus, their studs of horses consume the produce of our fields, their -dog-kennels are glutted with the food which would maintain the -children of the poor. They cost us so much a year in dress and -furniture, so much in stars and garters, blue ribbons, and grand -crosses,—so much in dinners, breakfasts, and suppers, and so much -in suppers, breakfasts, and dinners.<a id='r47' /><a href='#f47' class='c011'><sup>[47]</sup></a> These heroes of the Income-tax, -Worthies of the Civil List, Saints of the Court calendar -(<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Compagnons du Lys</span></i>), have their naturals and non-naturals, like the -rest of the world, but at a dearer rate. They are real <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">bonâ fide</span></i> -personages, and do not live upon air. You will find it easier to keep -them a week than a month; and at the end of that time, waking from -the sweet dream of Legitimacy, you may say with Caliban, ‘Why, -what a fool was I to take this drunken monster for a God!’ In -fact, the case on the part of the people is so far self-evident. There -is but a limited earth and a limited fertility to supply the demands -both of Government and people; and what the one gains in the -division of the spoil, beyond its average proportion, the other must -needs go without. Do you suppose that our gentlemen-placemen -<span class='pageno' id='Page_288'>288</span>and pensioners would suffer so many wretches to be perishing in -our streets and highways, if they could relieve their extreme misery -without parting with any of their own superfluities? If the Government -take a fourth of the produce of the poor man’s labour, they will -be rich, and he will be in want. If they can contrive to take -one half of it by legal means, or by a stretch of arbitrary power, -they will be just twice as rich, twice as insolent and tyrannical, -and he will be twice as poor, twice as miserable and oppressed, -in a mathematical ratio to the end of the chapter, that is, till the -one can extort and the other endure no more. It is the same with -respect to power. The will and passions of the great are not -exerted in regulating the seasons, or rolling the planets round their -orbits for our good, without fee or reward, but in controlling the will -and passions of others, in making the follies and vices of mankind -subservient to their own, and marring,</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Because men suffer it, their toy, the world.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>This is self-evident, like the former. Their will cannot be paramount, -while any one in the community, or the whole community -together, has the power to thwart it. A King cannot attain absolute -power, while the people remain perfectly free; yet what King -would not attain absolute power? While any trace of liberty is left -among a people, ambitious Princes will never be easy, never at peace, -never of sound mind; nor will they ever rest or leave one stone -unturned, till they have succeeded in destroying the very name of -liberty, or making it into a by-word, and in rooting out the germs of -every popular right and liberal principle from a soil once sacred to -liberty. It is not enough that they have secured the whole power of -the state in their hands,—that they carry every measure they please -without the chance of an effectual opposition to it: but a word -uttered against it is torture to their ears,—a thought that questions -their wanton exercise of the royal prerogative rankles in their breasts -like poison. Till all distinctions of right and wrong, liberty and -slavery, happiness and misery, are looked upon as matters of indifference, -or as saucy, insolent pretensions,—are sunk and merged in their -idle caprice and pampered self-will, they will still feel themselves -‘cribbed, confined, and cabin’d in’: but if they can once more set -up the doctrine of Legitimacy, ‘the right divine of Kings to govern -wrong,’ and set mankind at defiance with impunity, they will then be -‘broad and casing as the general air, whole as the rock.’ This is -the point from which they set out, and to which by the grace of God -and the help of man they may return again. Liberty is short and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_289'>289</span>fleeting, a transient grace that lights upon the earth by stealth and at -long intervals—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Like the rainbow’s lovely form,</div> - <div class='line'>Evanishing amid the storm;</div> - <div class='line'>Or like the Borealis race,</div> - <div class='line'>That shift ere you can point their place;</div> - <div class='line'>Or like the snow falls in the river,</div> - <div class='line'>A moment white, then melts for ever.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>But power is eternal; it is ‘enthroned in the hearts of Kings.’ -If you want the proofs, look at history, look at geography, look -abroad; but do not look at home!</p> - -<p class='c010'>The power of an arbitrary King or an aspiring Minister does not -increase with the liberty of the subject, but must be circumscribed by -it. It is aggrandized by perpetual, systematic, insidious, or violent -encroachments on popular freedom and natural right, as the sea gains -upon the land by swallowing it up.—What then can we expect from -the mild paternal sway of absolute power, and its sleek minions? -What the world has always received at its hands, an abuse of power -as vexatious, cowardly, and unrelenting, as the power itself was -unprincipled, preposterous, and unjust. They who get wealth and -power from the people, who drive them like cattle to slaughter or to -market, ‘and levy cruel wars, wasting the earth’; they who wallow -in luxury, while the people are ‘steeped in poverty to the very lips,’ -and bowed to the earth with unremitting labour, can have but little -sympathy with those whose loss of liberty and property is their gain. -What is it that the wealth of thousands is composed of? The tears, -the sweat, and blood of millions. What is it that constitutes the -glory of the Sovereigns of the earth? To have millions of men -their slaves. Wherever the Government does not emanate (as in -our own excellent Constitution) from the people, the principle of the -Government, the <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">esprit de corps</span></i>, the point of honour, in all those -connected with it, and raised by it to privileges above the law and -above humanity, will be hatred to the people. Kings who would be -thought to reign in contempt of the people, will shew their contempt -of them in every act of their lives. Parliaments, not chosen by the -people, will only be the instruments of Kings, who do not reign in -the hearts of the people, ‘to betray the cause of the people.’ -Ministers, not responsible to the people, will squeeze the last -shilling out of them. <em>Charity begins at home</em>, is a maxim as true of -Governments as of individuals. When the English Parliament -insisted on its right of taxing the Americans without their consent, -it was not from an apprehension that the Americans would, by being -left to themselves, lay such heavy duties on their own produce and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_290'>290</span>manufactures, as would afflict the generosity of the mother-country, -and put the mild paternal sentiments of Lord North to the blush. -If any future King of England should keep a wistful eye on the map -of that country, it would rather be to hang it up as a trophy of -legitimacy, and to ‘punish the last successful example of a democratic -rebellion,’ than from any yearnings of fatherly good-will to the -American people, or from finding his ‘large heart’ and capacity for -good government, ‘confined in too narrow room’ in the united -kingdoms of Great Britain, Ireland, and Hanover. If Ferdinand -<span class='fss'>VII.</span> refuses the South American patriots leave to plant the olive or -the vine, throughout that vast continent, it is his pride, not his -humanity, that steels his royal resolution.<a id='r48' /><a href='#f48' class='c011'><sup>[48]</sup></a></p> - -<p class='c010'>In 1781, the Controller-general of France, under Louis <span class='fss'>XVI.</span> -Monsieur Joli de Fleuri, defined the people of France to be <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">un peuple -serf, corveable et baillable, à merci et misericorde</span></i>. When Louis <span class='fss'>XVIII.</span> -as the Count de Lille, protested against his brother’s accepting the -Constitution of 1792 (he has since become an accepter of Constitutions -himself, if not an observer of them,) as compromising the rights and -privileges of the noblesse and clergy as well as of the crown, he was -right in considering the Bastile, or ‘King’s castle,’ with the -picturesque episode of the Man in the Iron Mask, the fifteen -thousand <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">lettres de cachet</span></i>, issued in the mild reign of Louis <span class='fss'>XV.</span>, -<i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">corvées</span></i>, tythes, game-laws, holy water, the right of pillaging, -imprisoning, massacring, persecuting, harassing, insulting, and -ingeniously tormenting the minds and bodies of the whole French -people at every moment of their lives, on every possible pretence, and -without any check or control but their own mild paternal sentiments -towards them, as among the <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">menus plaisirs</span></i>, the chief points of -etiquette, the immemorial privileges, and favourite amusements of -Kings, Priests, and Nobles, from the beginning to the end of time, -without which the bare title of King, Priest, or Noble, would not -have been worth a groat.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The breasts of Kings and Courtiers then are not the safest depository -of the interests of the people. But they know best what is -for their good! Yes—to prevent it! The people may indeed feel -their grievance, but their betters, it is said, must apply the remedy—which -<span class='pageno' id='Page_291'>291</span>they take good care never to do! If the people want judgment -in their own affairs (which is not certain, for they only meddle -with their own affairs when they are forcibly brought home to them -in a way which they can hardly misunderstand), this is at any rate -better than the want of sincerity, which would constantly and systematically -lead their superiors to betray those interests, from their having -other ends of their own to serve. It is better to trust to ignorance -than to malice—to run the risk of sometimes miscalculating the odds -than to play against loaded dice. The people would in this way -stand as little chance in defending their purses or their persons against -Mr. C—— or Lord C——, as an honest country gentleman would -have had in playing at put or hazard with Count Fathom or Jonathan -Wild. A certain degree of folly, or rashness, or indecision, or even -violence in attaining an object, is surely less to be dreaded than a -malignant, deliberate, mercenary intention in others to deprive us of -it. If the people must have attorneys, and the advice of counsel, let -them have attorneys and counsel of their own chusing, not those who -are employed by special retainer against them, or who regularly hire -others to <em>betray their cause</em>.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in10'>—— —— ——‘O silly sheep,</div> - <div class='line'>Come ye to seek the lamb here of the wolf?’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>This then is the cause of the people, the good of the people, judged -of by common feeling and public opinion. Mr. Burke contemptuously -defines the people to be ‘any faction that at the time can get the -power of the sword into its hands.’ No: that may be a description -of the Government, but it is not of the people. The people is the -hand, heart, and head of the whole community acting to one purpose, -and with a mutual and thorough consent. The hand of the people -so employed to execute what the heart feels, and the head thinks, -must be employed more beneficially for the cause of the people, than -in executing any measures which the cold hearts, and contriving heads -of any faction, with distinct privileges and interests, may dictate to -betray their cause. The will of the people necessarily tends to the -general good as its end; and it must attain that end, and can only -attain it, in proportion as it is guided—First, by popular feeling, as -arising out of the immediate wants and wishes of the great mass of -the people,—secondly, by public opinion, as arising out of the impartial -reason and enlightened intellect of the community. What is -it that determines the opinion of any number of persons in things they -actually feel in their practical and home results? Their common -interest. What is it that determines their opinion in things of general -inquiry, beyond their immediate experience or interest? Abstract -<span class='pageno' id='Page_292'>292</span>reason. In matters of feeling and common sense, of which each -individual is the best judge, the majority are in the right; in things -requiring a greater strength of mind to comprehend them, the greatest -power of understanding will prevail, if it has but fair play. These -two, taken together, as the test of the practical measures or general -principles of Government, must be right, cannot be wrong. It is an -absurdity to suppose that there can be any better criterion of national -grievances, or the proper remedies for them, than the aggregate -amount of the actual, dear-bought experience, the honest feelings, -and heartfelt wishes of a whole people, informed and directed by -the greatest power of understanding in the community, unbiassed by -any sinister motive. Any other standard of public good or ill must, -in proportion as it deviates from this, be vitiated in principle, and -fatal in its effects. <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Vox populi vox Dei</span></i>, is the rule of all good -Government: for in that voice, truly collected and freely expressed -(not when it is made the servile echo of a corrupt Court, or a -designing Minister), we have all the sincerity and all the wisdom -of the community. If we could suppose society to be transformed -into one great animal (like Hobbes’s Leviathan), each member of -which had an intimate connexion with the head or Government, so -that every individual in it could be made known and have its due -weight, the State would have the same consciousness of its own wants -and feelings, and the same interest in providing for them, as an -individual has with respect to his own welfare. Can any one doubt -that such a state of society in which the greatest knowledge of its -interests was thus combined with the greatest sympathy with its -wants, would realize the idea of a perfect Commonwealth? But such -a Government would be the precise idea of a truly popular or <em>representative</em> -Government. The opposite extreme is the purely hereditary -and despotic form of Government, where the people are an inert, -torpid mass, without the power, scarcely with the will, to make its -wants or wishes known: and where the feelings of those who are at -the head of the State, centre in their own exclusive interests, pride, -passions, prejudices; and all their thoughts are employed in defeating -the happiness and undermining the liberties of a country.</p> - -<h4 class='c017'>WHAT IS THE PEOPLE?</h4> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div><span class='small'>(CONCLUDED.)</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>March 14, 1818.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>It is not denied that the people are best acquainted with their own -wants, and most attached to their own interests. But then a question -<span class='pageno' id='Page_293'>293</span>is started, as if the persons asking it were at a great loss for the -answer,—Where are we to find the intellect of the people? Why, -all the intellect that ever was is theirs. The public opinion expresses -not only the collective sense of the whole people, but of all ages and -nations, of all those minds that have devoted themselves to the love -of truth and the good of mankind,—who have bequeathed their instructions, -their hopes, and their example to posterity,—who have -thought, spoke, written, acted, and suffered in the name and on -the behalf of our common nature. All the greatest poets, sages, -heroes, are ours originally, and by right. But surely Lord Bacon -was a great man? Yes; but not because he was a lord. There is -nothing of hereditary growth but pride and prejudice. That ‘fine -word Legitimate’ never produced any thing but bastard philosophy -and patriotism! Even Burke was one of the people, and would have -remained with the people to the last, if there had been no court-side -for him to go over to. The King gave him his pension, not his -understanding or his eloquence. It would have been better for him -and for mankind if he had kept to his principles, and gone without his -pension. It is thus that the tide of power constantly setting in against -the people, swallows up natural genius and acquired knowledge in the -vortex of corruption, and then they reproach us with our want of -leaders of weight and influence, to stem the torrent. All that has -ever been done for society, has, however, been done for it by this -intellect, before it was cheapened to be a cat’s-paw of divine right. -All discoveries and all improvements in arts, in science, in legislation, -in civilization, in every thing dear and valuable to the heart of man, -have been made by this intellect—all the triumphs of human genius -over the rudest barbarism, the darkest ignorance, the grossest and -most inhuman superstition, the most unmitigated and remorseless -tyranny, have been gained for themselves by the people. Great -Kings, great law-givers, great founders, and great reformers of religion, -have almost all arisen from among the people. What have hereditary -Monarchs, or regular Governments, or established priesthoods, ever -done for the people? Did the Pope and Cardinals first set on foot -the Reformation? Did the Jesuits attempt to abolish the Inquisition? -For what one measure of civil or religious liberty did our own Bench -of Bishops ever put themselves forward? What judge ever proposed -a reform in the laws! Have not the House of Commons, with -all their ‘tried wisdom,’ voted for every measure of Ministers for the -last twenty-five years, except the Income-tax? It is the press that -has done every thing for the people, and even for Governments.—‘If -they had not ploughed with our heifer, they would not have -found out our riddle.’ And it has done this by slow degrees, by -<span class='pageno' id='Page_294'>294</span>repeated, incessant, and incredible struggles with the oldest, most -inveterate, powerful, and active enemies of the freedom of the press -and of the people, who wish, in spite of the nature of things and -of society, to retain the idle and mischievous privileges they possess -as the relics of barbarous and feudal times, who have an exclusive -interest as a separate cast in the continuance of all existing abuses, and -who plead a permanent <em>vested right</em> in the prevention of the progress -of reason, liberty, and civilization. Yet they tax us with our want -of intellect; and <em>we</em> ask them in return for their court-list of great -names in arts or philosophy, for the coats of arms of their heroic -vanquishers of error and intolerance, for their devout benefactors and -royal martyrs of humanity. What are the claims of the people—the -obvious, undoubted rights of common justice and humanity, forcibly -withheld from them by pride, bigotry, and selfishness,—demanded -for them, age after age, year after year, by the wisdom and virtue of -the enlightened and disinterested part of mankind, and only grudgingly -yielded up, with indecent, disgusting excuses, and sickening delays, -when the burning shame of their refusal can be no longer concealed -by fear or favour from the whole world. What did it not cost to -abolish the Slave Trade? How long will the Catholic Claims be -withheld by our State-jugglers? How long, and for what purpose? -We may appeal, in behalf of the people, from the interested verdict -of the worst and weakest men now living, to the disinterested reason -of the best and wisest men among the living and the dead. We -appeal from the corruption of Courts, the hypocrisy of zealots, and -the dotage of hereditary imbecility, to the innate love of liberty in the -human breast, and to the growing intellect of the world. We appeal -to the pen, and they answer us with the point of the bayonet; and, at -one time, when that had failed, they were for recommending the -dagger.<a id='r49' /><a href='#f49' class='c011'><sup>[49]</sup></a> They quote Burke, but rely on the Attorney-General. -They hold Universal Suffrage to be the most dreadful of all things, -and a Standing Army the best representatives of the people abroad -and at home. They think Church-and-King mobs good things, for -the same reason that they are alarmed at a meeting to petition for a -Reform of Parliament. They consider the cry of ‘No Popery’ -a sound, excellent, and constitutional cry,—but the cry of a starving -population for food, strange and unnatural. They exalt the war-whoop -of the Stock-Exchange into the voice of undissembled -patriotism, while they set down the cry for peace as the work of the -Jacobins, the ventriloquism of the secret enemies of their country. -The writers on the popular side of the question are factious, designing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_295'>295</span>demagogues, who delude the people to make tools of them: but the -government-writers, who echo every calumny, and justify every -encroachment on the people, are profound philosophers and very -honest men. Thus when Mr. John Gifford, the Editor of the -‘Anti-Jacobin’ (not Mr. William Gifford, who at present holds the -same office under Government, as the Editor of the ‘Quarterly -Review’), denounced Mr. Coleridge as a person, who had ‘left his -wife destitute and his children fatherless,’ and proceeded to add—‘<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Ex -hoc disce</span></i> his friends Lamb and Southey’—we are to suppose that he -was influenced in this gratuitous statement purely by his love for his -King and country. Loyalty, patriotism, and religion, are regarded as -the natural virtues and plain unerring instincts of the common people: -the mixture of ignorance or prejudice is never objected to in these: -it is only their love of liberty or hatred of oppression that are -discovered, by the same liberal-minded junto, to be proofs of a base -and vulgar disposition. The Bourbons are set over the immense -majority of the French people against their will, because a talent for -governing does not go with numbers. This argument was not -thought of when Bonaparte tried to shew his talent for governing the -people of the Continent against their will, though he had quite as -much talent as the Bourbons. Mr. Canning rejoiced that the first -successful resistance to Bonaparte was made in Russia, a country of -barbarians and slaves. The heroic struggles of ‘the universal Spanish -nation’ in the cause of freedom and independence, have ended in the -destruction of the Cortes and the restoration of the Inquisition, but -without making the Duke of Wellington look thoughtful:—not a -single renegado poet has vented his indignation in a single ode, elegy, -or sonnet; nor does Mr. Southey ‘make him a willow cabin at its -gate, write loyal cantos of contemned love, and sing them loud even -in the dead of the night!’ He indeed assures us in the ‘Quarterly -Review,’ that the Inquisition was restored by the voice of the Spanish -people. He also asks, in the same place, ‘whether the voice of God -was heard in the voice of the people at Jerusalem, when they cried, -“Crucify him, crucify him”?’ We do not know; but we suppose, -he would hardly go to the Chief Priests and Pharisees to find it. -This great historian, politician, and logician, breaks out into a -rhapsody against the old maxim, ‘<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">vox populi vox Dei</span></i>, in the midst of -an article of 55 pages, written expressly to prove that the last war -was ‘the most popular, <em>because</em> the most just and necessary war that -ever was carried on.’ He shrewdly asks, ‘Has the <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">vox populi</span></i> been -the <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">vox Dei</span></i> in France for the last twenty-five years?’ But, at least, -according to his own shewing, it has been so in this country for all -that period. We, however, do not think so. The voice of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_296'>296</span>country has been for war, because the voice of the King was for it, -which was echoed by Parliament, both Lords and Commons, by -Clergy and Gentry, and by the populace, till, as Mr. Southey himself -states in the same connected chain of reasoning, the cry for war -became <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">so</span></i> popular, that all those who did not join in it (of which -number the Poet-laureate himself was one) were ‘persecuted, insulted, -and injured in their persons, fame, and fortune.’ This is the true -way of accounting for the fact, but it unfortunately knocks the Poet’s -inference on the head. Mr. Locke has observed, that there are not -so many wrong opinions in the world as we are apt to believe, -because most people take their opinions on trust from others. Neither -are the opinions of the people their own, when they have been bribed -or bullied into them by a mob of Lords and Gentlemen, following -in full cry at the heels of the Court. The <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">vox populi</span></i> is the <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">vox Dei</span></i> -only when it springs from the individual, unbiassed feelings, and -unfettered, independent opinion of the people. Mr. Southey does -not understand the terms of this good old adage, now that he is so -furious against it: we fear, he understood them no better when he -was as loudly in favour of it.</p> - -<p class='c010'>All the objections, indeed, to the voice of the people being the -best rule for Government to attend to, arise from the stops and -impediments to the expression of that voice, from the attempts to -stifle or to give it a false bias, and to cut off its free and open -communication with the head and heart of the people—by the -Government itself. The sincere expression of the feelings of the -people must be true; the full and free development of the public -opinion must lead to truth, to the gradual discovery and diffusion of -knowledge in this, as in all other departments of human inquiry. It -is the interest of Governments in general to keep the people in a state -of vassalage as long as they can—to prevent the expression of their -sentiments, and the exercise and improvement of their understandings, -by all the means in their power. They have a patent, and a monopoly, -which they do not like to have looked into or to share with others. -The argument for keeping the people in a state of lasting wardship, -or for treating them as lunatics, incapable of self-government, wears a -very suspicious aspect, as it comes from those who are trustees to the -estate, or keepers of insane asylums. The long minority of the -people would, at this rate, never expire, while those who had an -interest had also the power to prevent them from arriving at years of -discretion: their government-keepers have nothing to do but to drive -the people mad by ill-treatment, and to keep them so by worse, in -order to retain the pretence for applying the gag, the strait waistcoat, -and the whip as long as they please. It is like the dispute between -<span class='pageno' id='Page_297'>297</span>Mr. Epps, the angry shopkeeper in the Strand, and his journeyman, -whom he would restrict from setting up for himself. Shall we never -serve out our apprenticeship to liberty? Must our indentures to -slavery bind us for life? It is well, it is perfectly well. You teach -us nothing, and you will not let us learn. You deny us education, like -Orlando’s eldest brother, and then ‘stying us’ in the den of legitimacy, -you refuse to let us take the management of our own affairs into our -own hands, or to seek our fortunes in the world ourselves. You found -a right to treat us with indignity on the plea of your own neglect and -injustice. You abuse a trust in order to make it perpetual. You -profit of our ignorance and of your own wrong. You degrade, -and then enslave us; and by enslaving, you degrade us more, to -make us more and more incapable of ever escaping from your -selfish, sordid yoke. There is no end of this. It is the fear of -the progress of knowledge and a <em>Reading Public</em>, that has produced -all the fuss and bustle and cant about Bell and Lancaster’s -plans, Bible and Missionary, and Auxiliary and Cheap Tract -Societies, and that when it was impossible to prevent our reading -something, made the Church and State so anxious to provide us -with that sort of food for our stomachs, which they thought best. -The Bible is an excellent book; and when it becomes the Statesman’s -Manual, in its precepts of charity—not of beggarly alms-giving, -but of peace on earth and good will to man, the people -may read nothing else. It reveals the glories of the world to -come, and records the preternatural dispensations of Providence -to mankind two thousand years ago. But it does not describe the -present state of Europe, or give an account of the measures of -the last or of the next reign, which yet it is important the people of -England should look to. We cannot learn from Moses and the -Prophets what Mr. Vansittart and the Jews are about in ‘Change-alley. -Those who prescribe us the study of the miracles and -prophecies, themselves laugh to scorn the promised deliverance of -Joanna Southcott and the Millennium. Yet they would have us -learn patience and resignation from the miraculous interpositions of -Providence recorded in the Scriptures. ‘<em>When the sky falls</em>’—the -proverb is somewhat musty. The worst compliment ever paid to -the Bible was the recommendation of it as a political palliative by the -Lay Preachers of the day.</p> - -<p class='c010'>To put this question in a different light, we might ask, What is -the public? and examine what would be the result of depriving -the people of the use of their understandings in other matters as -well as government—to subject them to the trammels of prescriptive -prejudice and hereditary pretension. Take the stage as an -<span class='pageno' id='Page_298'>298</span>example. Suppose Mr. Kean should have a son, a little crook-kneed, -raven-voiced, disagreeable, mischievous, stupid urchin, -with the faults of his father’s acting exaggerated tenfold, and none -of his fine qualities,—what if Mr. Kean should take it into his -head to get out letters-patents to empower him and his heirs for -ever, with this hopeful commencement, to play all the chief parts -in tragedy, by the grace of God and the favour of the Prince -Regent! What a precious race of tragedy kings and heroes we -should have! They would not even play the villain with a good -grace. The theatres would soon be deserted, and the race of the -Keans would ‘hold a barren sceptre’ over empty houses, to be -‘wrenched from them by an unlineal hand!’—But no! For it -would be necessary to uphold theatrical order, the cause of the -legitimate drama, and so to levy a tax on all those who staid away -from the theatre, or to drag them into it by force. Every one -seeing the bayonet at the door, would be compelled to applaud -the hoarse tones and lengthened pauses of the illustrious house of -Kean; the newspaper critics would grow wanton in their praise, -and all those would be held as rancorous enemies of their country, -and of the prosperity of the stage, who did not join in the praises -of the best of actors. What a falling off there would be from the -present system of universal suffrage and open competition among -the candidates, the frequency of rows in the pit, the noise in the -gallery, the whispers in the boxes, and the lashing in the newspapers -the next day!</p> - -<p class='c010'>In fact, the argument drawn from the supposed incapacity of -the people against a representative Government, comes with the -worst grace in the world from the patrons and admirers of hereditary -government. Surely, if government were a thing requiring -the utmost stretch of genius, wisdom, and virtue, to carry it on, -the office of King would never even have been dreamt of as hereditary, -any more than that of poet, painter, or philosopher. It is -easy here ‘for the Son to tread in the Sire’s steady steps.’ It -requires nothing but the will to do it. Extraordinary talents are not -once looked for. Nay, a person, who would never have risen by -natural abilities to the situation of churchwarden or parish beadle, -succeeds by unquestionable right to the possession of a throne -and wields the energies of an empire, or decides the fate of the -world, with the smallest possible share of human understanding. -The line of distinction which separates the regal purple from the -slabbering-bib, is sometimes fine indeed; as we see in the case of -the two Ferdinands. Any one above the rank of an ideot is supposed -capable of exercising the highest functions of royal state. Yet -<span class='pageno' id='Page_299'>299</span>these are the persons who talk of the people as a swinish multitude, -and taunt them with their want of refinement and philosophy.</p> -<hr class='c022' /> - -<p class='c010'>The great problem of political science is not of so profoundly -metaphysical or highly poetical a cast as Mr. Burke represents it. -It is simply a question on the one part, with how little expense of -liberty and property the Government, ‘that complex constable,’ -as it has been quaintly called, can keep the peace; and on the -other part, for how great a sacrifice of both, the splendour of the -throne and the safety of the state can be made a pretext. Kings -and their Ministers generally strive to get their hands in our -pockets, and their feet on our necks; the people and their representatives -will be wise enough, if they can only contrive to prevent -them; but this, it must be confessed, they do not always succeed -in. For a people to be free, it is sufficient that they will to be -free. But the love of liberty is less strong than the love of power; -and is guided by a less sure instinct in attaining its object. Milton -only spoke the sentiments of the English people of his day (sentiments -too which they had acted upon), in strong language, when -he said, in answer to a foreign pedant:—<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">‘<em>Liceat, quæso, populo -qui servitutis jugum in cervicibus grave sentit, tam sapienti esse, -tam docto, tamque nobili, ut sciat quid tyranno suo faciendum sit, -etiamsi neque exteros neque grammaticos sciscitatum mittat.</em>’—(<em>Defensio -pro populo Anglicano.</em>)</span> Happily the whole of the passage -is not applicable to their descendants in the present day; but -at all times a people may be allowed to know when they are -oppressed, enslaved, and miserable, to feel their wrongs and to -demand a remedy—from the superior knowledge and humanity of -Ministers, who, if they cannot cure the State-malady, ought in -decency, like other doctors, to resign their authority over the -patient. The people are not subject to fanciful wants, speculative -longings, or hypochondriacal complaints. Their disorders -are real, their complaints substantial and well-founded. Their -grumblings are in general seditions of the belly. They do not cry -out till they are hurt. They do not stand upon nice questions, or -trouble themselves with Mr. Burke’s Sublime and Beautiful; but -when they find the money conjured clean out of their pockets, -and the Constitution suspended over their heads, they think it time -to look about them. For example, poor Evans, that amateur of -music and politics (strange combination of tastes), thought it hard, -no doubt to be sent to prison and deprived of his flute by a -State-warrant, because there was no ground for doing it by law; -<span class='pageno' id='Page_300'>300</span>and Mr. Hiley Addington, being himself a flute-player, thought -so too: though, in spite of this romantic sympathy, the Minister -prevailed over the musician, and Mr. Evans has, we believe, -never got back his flute. For an act of injustice, by the new -system, if complained of ‘forsooth,’ becomes justifiable by the -very resistance to it: if not complained of, nobody knows any -thing about it, and so it goes equally unredressed in either way. -Or to take another obvious instance and sign of the times: a -tenant or small farmer who has been distrained upon and sent to -gaol or to the workhouse, probably thinks, and with some appearance -of reason, that he was better off before this change of -circumstances; and Mr. Cobbett, in his twopenny Registers, -proves to him so clearly, that this change for the worse is owing to -the war and taxes, which have driven him out of his house and -home, that Mr. Cobbett himself has been forced to quit the -country to argue the question, whether two and two make four, -with Mr. Vansittart, upon safer ground to himself, and more equal -ground to the Chancellor of the Exchequer. Such questions as -these are, one would think, within the verge of common sense and -reason. For any thing we could ever find, the people have as -much common sense and sound judgment as any other class of -the community. Their folly is second-hand, derived from their -being the dupe of the passions, interests, and prejudices of their -superiors. When they judge for themselves, they in general -judge right. At any rate, the way to improve their judgment in -their own concerns (and if they do not judge for themselves, they -will infallibly be cheated both of liberty and property, by those -who kindly insist on relieving them of that trouble) is not to deny -them the use and exercise of their judgment altogether. Nothing -can be pleasanter than one of the impositions of late attempted to -be put upon the people, by persuading them that economy is no -part of a wise Government. The people must be pretty competent -judges of the cheapness of a Government. But it is pretended -by our high-flying sinecurists and pensioners, that this is a -low and vulgar view of the subject, taken up by interested knaves, -like Paine and Cobbett, to delude, and, in the end, make their -market of the people. With all the writers and orators who -compose the band of gentlemen pensioners and their patrons, -politics is entirely a thing of sentiment and imagination. To -speak of the expenses of Government, as if it were a little paltry -huckstering calculation of profit and loss, quite shocks their lofty, -liberal, and disinterested notions. They have no patience with -the people if they are not ready to sacrifice their all for the public -<span class='pageno' id='Page_301'>301</span>good! This is something like a little recruiting cavalry-lieutenant -we once met with, who, sorely annoyed at being so -often dunned for the arrears of board and lodging by the people -where he took up his quarters, exclaimed with the true broad -Irish accent and emphasis—‘<em>Vulgar ideas! These wretches -always expect one to pay for what one has of them!</em>’ Our modest -lieutenant thought, that while he was employed on his Majesty’s -service, he had a right to pick the pockets of his subjects, and -that if they complained of being robbed of what was their own, -they were blackguards and <em>no gentlemen</em>! Mr. Canning hit -upon nothing so good as this, in his luminous defence of his -Lisbon Job!</p> - -<p class='c010'>But allow the people to be as gross and ignorant as you please, -as base and stupid as you can make them or keep them, ‘duller -than the fat weed that roots itself at ease on Lethe’s wharf,’—is -nothing ever to rouse them? Grant that they are slow of apprehension—that -they do not see till they feel. Is that a reason that -they are not to feel then, neither? Would you blindfold them -with the double bandages of bigotry, or quench their understandings -with ‘the dim suffusion,’ ‘the drop serene,’ of Legitimacy, -that ‘they may roll in vain and find no dawn’ of liberty, -no ray of hope? Because they do not see tyranny till it is mountain -high, ‘making Ossa like a wart,’ are they not to feel its -weight when it is heaped upon them, or to throw it off with giant -strength and a convulsive effort? If they do not see the evil till -it has grown enormous, palpable, and undeniable, is that a reason -why others should then deny that it exists, or why it should not -be removed? They do not snuff arbitrary power a century off: -they are not shocked at it on the other side of the globe, or of -the Channel: are they not therefore to see it, could it in time be -supposed to stalk over their heads, to trample and grind them to -the earth? If in their uncertainty how to deal with it, they -sometimes strike random blows, if their despair makes them -dangerous, why do not they, who, from their elevated situation, -see so much farther and deeper into the principles and consequences -of things—in their boasted wisdom prevent the causes -of complaint in the people before they accumulate to a terrific -height, and burst upon the heads of their oppressors? The -higher classes, who would disqualify the people from taking the -cure of their disorders into their own hands, might do this very -effectually, by preventing the first symptoms of their disorders. -They would do well, instead of abusing the blunders and brutishness -of the multitude, to shew their superior penetration and zeal -<span class='pageno' id='Page_302'>302</span>in detecting the first approaches of mischief, in withstanding -every encroachment on the comforts and rights of the people, in -guarding every bulwark against the influence and machinations of -arbitrary power, as a precious, inviolable, sacred trust. Instead -of this, they are the first to be lulled into security, a security ‘as -gross as ignorance made drunk’—the last to believe the consequences, -because they are the last to feel them. Instead of this, -the patience of the lower classes, in submitting to privations and -insults, is only surpassed by the callousness of their betters in -witnessing them. The one never set about the redress of grievances -or the reform of abuses, till they are no longer to be borne; -the others will not hear of it even then. It is for this reason, -among others, that the <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">vox populi</span></i> is the <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">vox Dei</span></i>, that it is the -agonizing cry of human nature raised, and only raised, against intolerable -oppression and the utmost extremity of human suffering. -The people do not rise up till they are trod down. They do not -turn upon their tormentors till they are goaded to madness. -They do not complain till the thumb-screws have been applied, -and have been strained to the last turn. Nothing can ever wean -the affections or confidence of a people from a Government (to -which habit, prejudice, natural pride, perhaps old benefits and -joint struggles for liberty have attached them) but an excessive -degree of irritation and disgust, occasioned either by a sudden and -violent stretch of power, contrary to the spirit and forms of the -established Government, or by a blind and wilful adherence to -old abuses and established forms, when the changes in the state -of manners and opinion have rendered them as odious as they are -ridiculous. The Revolutions of Switzerland, the Low Countries, -and of America, are examples of the former—the French Revolution -of the latter: our own Revolution of 1688 was a mixture -of the two. As a general rule, it might be laid down, that for -every instance of national resistance to tyranny, there ought to -have been hundreds, and that all those which have been attempted -ought to have succeeded. In the case of Wat Tyler, -for instance, which has been so naturally dramatised by the poet-laureate, -the rebellion was crushed, and the ringleaders hanged -by the treachery of the Government; but the grievances of which -they had complained were removed a few years after, and the -rights they had claimed granted to the people, from the necessary -progress of civilization and knowledge. Did not Mr. Southey -know, when he applied for an injunction against Wat Tyler, that -the feudal system had been abolished long ago?—Again, as -nothing rouses the people to resistance but extreme and aggravated -<span class='pageno' id='Page_303'>303</span>injustice, so nothing can make them persevere in it, or push their -efforts to a successful and triumphant issue, but the most open and -unequivocal determination to brave their cries and insult their -misery. They have no principle of union in themselves, and -nothing brings or holds them together, but the strong pressure of -want, the stern hand of necessity—‘a necessity that is not -chosen, but chuses,—a necessity paramount to deliberation, that -admits of no discussion and demands no evidence, that can alone, -(according to Mr. Burke’s theory) justify a resort to anarchy,’ -and that alone ever did or can produce it. In fine, there are but -two things in the world, might and right. Whenever one of these -is overcome, it is by the other. The triumphs of the people, or -the stand which they at any time make against arbitrary sway, are -the triumphs of reason and justice over the insolence of individual -power and authority, which, unless as it is restrained, curbed, and -corrected by popular feeling or public opinion, can be guided only -by its own drunken, besotted, mad pride, selfishness and caprice, and -must be productive of all the mischief, which it can wantonly or -deliberately commit with impunity.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The people are not apt, like a fine lady, to affect the vapours -of discontent; nor to volunteer a rebellion for the theatrical eclat -of the thing. But the least plausible excuse, one kind word, one -squeeze of the hand, one hollow profession of good will, subdues -the soft heart of rebellion, (which is ‘too foolish fond and pitiful’ -to be a match for the callous hypocrisy opposed to it) dissolves -and melts the whole fabric of popular innovation like butter in -the sun. Wat Tyler is a case in point again. The instant the -effeminate king and his unprincipled courtiers gave them fair -words, they dispersed, relying in their infatuation on the word of -the King as binding, on the oath of his officers as sincere; and no -sooner were they dispersed than they cut off their leaders’ heads, and -poor John Ball’s along with them, in spite of all his texts of Scripture. -The story is to be seen in all the shop-windows, <em>written in very choice -blank verse</em>!—That the people are rash in trusting to the promises of -their friends, is true; they are more rash in believing their enemies. -If they are led to expect too much in theory, they are satisfied with -too little in reality. Their anger is sometimes fatal while it lasts, but -it is not roused very soon, nor does it last very long. Of all dynasties, -anarchy is the shortest lived. They are violent in their revenge, no -doubt; but it is because justice has been long denied them, and they -have to pay off a very long score at a very short notice. What -Cæsar says of himself, might be applied well enough to the people, -that they ‘did never wrong but with just cause.’ The errors of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_304'>304</span>people are the crimes of Governments. They apply sharp remedies -to lingering diseases, and when they get sudden power in their hands, -frighten their enemies, and wound themselves with it. They rely on -brute force and the fury of despair, in proportion to the treachery -which surrounds them, and to the degradation, the want of general -information and mutual co-operation, in which they have been kept, -on purpose to prevent them from ever acting in concert, with wisdom, -energy, confidence, and calmness, for the public good. The American -Revolution produced no horrors, because its enemies could not -succeed in sowing the seeds of terror, hatred, mutual treachery, and -universal dismay in the hearts of the people. The French Revolution, -under the auspices of Mr. Burke, and other friends of social -order, was tolerably prolific of these horrors. But that should not -be charged as the fault of the Revolution or of the people. Timely -Reforms are the best preventives of violent Revolutions. If Governments -are determined that the people shall have no redress, no -remedies for their acknowledged grievances, but violent and desperate -ones, they may thank themselves for the obvious consequences. -Despotism must always have the most to fear from the re-action of -popular fury, where it has been guilty of the greatest abuses of -power, and where it has shewn the greatest tenaciousness of those -abuses, putting an end to all prospect of amicable arrangement, and -provoking the utmost vengeance of its oppressed and insulted victims. -This tenaciousness of power is the chief obstacle to improvement, and -the cause of the revulsions which follow the attempts at it. In -America, a free Government was easy of accomplishment, because it -was not necessary, in building up, to pull down: there were no -nuisances to abate. The thing is plain. Reform in old Governments -is just like the new improvements in the front of Carlton House, that -would go on fast enough but for the vile, old, dark, dirty, crooked -streets, which cannot be removed without giving the inhabitants notice -to quit. Mr. Burke, in regretting these old institutions as the result -of the wisdom of ages, and not the remains of Gothic ignorance and -barbarism, played the part of <em>Crockery</em>, in the farce of <cite>Exit by Mistake</cite>, -who sheds tears of affection over the loss of the old windows and -buttresses of the houses that no longer jut out to meet one another, -and stop up the way.</p> - -<p class='c010'>There is one other consideration which may induce hereditary -Sovereigns to allow some weight to the arguments in favour of -popular feeling and public opinion. They are the only security which -they themselves possess individually for the continuance of their -splendour and power. Absolute monarchs have nothing to fear from -the people, but they have every thing to fear from their slaves and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_305'>305</span>one another. Where power is lifted beyond the reach of the law or -of public opinion, there is no principle to oppose it, and he who can -obtain possession of the throne (by whatever means) is always the -rightful possessor of it, till he is supplanted by a more fortunate or -artful successor, and so on in a perpetual round of treasons, conspiracies, -murders, usurpations, regicides, and rebellions, with which -the people have nothing to do, but as passive, unconcerned spectators.—Where -the son succeeds to the father’s throne by assassination, -without being amenable to public justice, he is liable to be cut off -himself by the same means, and with the same impunity. The only -thing that can give stability or confidence to power, is that very will -of the people, and public censure exercised upon public acts, of which -legitimate Sovereigns are so disproportionately apprehensive. For one -regicide committed by the people, there have been thousands committed -by Kings themselves. A Constitutional King of England -reigns in greater security than the Persian Sophi, or the Great -Mogul; and the Emperor of Turkey, or the Autocrat of all the -Russias, has much more to fear from a cup of coffee or the bowstring, -than the Prince Regent from the speeches and writings of all -the Revolutionists in Europe. By removing the barrier of public -opinion, which interferes with their own lawless acts, despotic Kings -lay themselves open to the hand of the assassin,—and while they -reign in contempt of the will, the voice, the heart and mind of a -whole people, hold their crowns, and every moment of their lives at -the mercy of the meanest of their slaves.</p> - -<h3 class='c003'>ON THE REGAL CHARACTER</h3> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>May 16, 1818.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>This is a subject exceedingly curious, and worth explaining. In -writing a criticism, we hope we shall not be accused of intending -a libel.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Kings are remarkable for long memories, in the merest trifles. -They never forget a face or person they have once seen, nor an -anecdote they have been told of any one they know. Whatever -differences of character or understanding they manifest in other -respects, they all possess what Dr. Spurzheim would call the <em>organ -of individuality</em>, or the power of recollecting particular local circumstances, -nearly in the same degree; though we shall attempt to -account for it without recurring to his system. This kind of personal -memory is the natural effect of that self-importance which makes them -attach a corresponding importance to all that comes in contact with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_306'>306</span>themselves. Nothing can be a matter of indifference to a King, that -happens to a King. That intense consciousness of their personal -identity, which never quits them, extends to whatever falls under -their immediate cognisance. It is the glare of Majesty reflected -from their own persons on the persons of those about them that fixes -their attention; and it is the same false glare that makes them blind -and insensible to all that lies beyond that narrow sphere. ‘My -Lord,’ said an English King to one of his courtiers, ‘I have seen -you in that coat before with different buttons’—to the astonishment -of the Noble Peer. There was nothing wonderful in it. It was the -habitual jealousy of the Sovereign of the respect due to him, that -made him regard with lynx-eyed watchfulness even the accidental -change of dress in one of his favourites. The least diminution of -glossy splendour in a birth-day suit, considered as a mark of slackened -duty, or waning loyalty, would expose it, tarnished and thread-bare, -to the keen glance of dormant pride, waked to suspicion. A God -does not penetrate into the hearts of his worshippers with surer -insight, than a King, fond of the attributes of awe and sovereignty, -detects the different degrees of hollow adulation in those around him. -Every thing relating to external appearance and deportment is scanned -with the utmost nicety, as compromising the dignity of the royal -presence. Involuntary gestures become overt acts; a look is construed -into high treason; an inconsiderate word is magnified into a -crime against the State. To suggest advice, or offer information -unasked, is to arraign the fallibility of the throne: to hint a difference -of opinion to a King, would create as great a shock, as if you were to -present a pistol to the breast of any other man. ‘Never touch a -King,’ was the answer of an infirm Monarch to one who had saved -him from a dangerous fall. When a glass of wine was presented to -the Emperor Alexander by a servant in livery, he started, as if he -had trod upon a serpent. Such is their respect for themselves! -Such is their contempt for human nature!—‘There’s a divinity doth -hedge a King,’ that keeps their bodies and their minds sacred within -the magic circle of a name; and it is their fear lest this circle should -be violated or approached without sufficient awe, that makes them -observe and remember the countenances and demeanour of others with -such infinite circumspection and exactness.</p> - -<p class='c010'>As Kings have the sagacity of pride, courtiers have the cunning of -fear. They watch their own behaviour and that of others with -breathless apprehension, and move amidst the artificial forms of court-etiquette, -as if the least error must be fatal to them. Their sense of -personal propriety is heightened by servility: every faculty is wound -up to flatter the vanity and prejudices of their superiors. When -<span class='pageno' id='Page_307'>307</span>Coates painted a portrait in crayons of the Queen, on her first arrival -in this country, the King, followed by a train of attendants, went to -look at it. The trembling artist stood by. ‘Well, what do you -think?’ said the King to those in waiting. Not a word in reply. -‘Do you think it like?’ Still all was hushed as death. ‘Why, -yes, I think it is like, very like.’ A buzz of admiration instantly -filled the room; and the old Duchess of Northumberland, going up -to the artist, and tapping him familiarly on the shoulder, said, -‘Remember, Mr. Coates, I am to have the first copy.’ On another -occasion, when the Queen had sat for her portrait, one of the Maids -of Honour coming into the room, curtsied to the reflection in the -glass, affecting to mistake it for the Queen. The picture was, you -may be sure, a flattering likeness. In the ‘Memoirs of Count -Grammont,’ it is related of Louis <span class='fss'>XIV.</span> that having a dispute at -chess with one of his courtiers, no one present would give an opinion. -‘Oh!’ said he, ‘here comes Count Hamilton, he shall decide which -of us is in the right.’ ‘Your Majesty is in the wrong,’ replied the -Count, without looking at the board. On which, the King remonstrating -with him on the impossibility of his judging till he -saw the state of the game, he answered, ‘Does your Majesty suppose -that if you were in the right, all these noblemen would stand by and -say nothing?’ A King was once curious to know, which was the -tallest, himself or a certain courtier. ‘Let us measure,’ said the -King. The King stood up to be measured first; but when the -person who was fixed upon to take their height came to measure the -Nobleman, he found it quite impossible, as he first rose on tip-toe, -then crouched down, now shrugged up his shoulders to the right, -then twisted his body to the left. Afterwards his friend asking him -the reason of these unaccountable gesticulations, he replied, ‘I could -not tell whether the King wished me to be taller or shorter than -himself; and all the time I was making those odd movements, I was -watching his countenance to see what I ought to do.’ If such is the -exquisite pliability of the inmates of a court in trifles like these, what -must be their independence of spirit and disinterested integrity in -questions of peace and war, that involve the rights of Sovereigns or -the liberties of the people! It has been suggested (and not without -reason), that the difficulty of trusting to the professions of those who -surround them, is one circumstance that renders Kings such expert -physiognomists, the language of the countenance being the only one -they have left to decypher the thoughts of others; and the very -disguises which are practised to prevent the emotions of the mind -from appearing in the face, only rendering them more acute and -discriminating observers. It is the same insincerity and fear of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_308'>308</span>giving offence by candour and plain-speaking in their immediate -dependents, that makes Kings gossips and inquisitive. They have -no way of ascertaining the opinions of others, but by getting them up -into a corner, and extorting the commonest information from them, -piecemeal, by endless teasing tiresome questions, and cross-examination. -The walls of a palace, like those of a nunnery, are the favoured -abode of scandal and tittle-tattle. The inhabitants of both are equally -shut out from the common privileges and common incidents of -humanity, and whatever relates to the every-day world about us, -has to them the air of a romance. The desire which the most -meritorious Princes have shewn to acquire information on matters of -fact rather than of opinion, is partly because their prejudices will not -suffer them to exercise their understandings freely on the most -important speculative questions, partly from their jealousy of being -dictated to on any point that admits of a question;—as, on the other -hand, the desire which the Sovereigns of northern and uncultivated -kingdoms have shewn to become acquainted with the arts and -elegances of life in southern nations, is evidently owing to their -natural jealousy of the advantages of civilization over barbarism. -From the principle last stated, Peter the Great visited this country, -and worked in our dock-yards as a common shipwright. To the -same source may be traced the curiosity of the Duchess of Oldenburgh -to see a beef-steak cooked, to take a peep into Mr. Meux’s great -brewing-vat, and to hear Mr. Whitbread speak!</p> - -<p class='c010'>The common regal character is then the reverse of what it ought -to be. It is the purely <em>personal</em>, occupied with its own petty feelings, -prejudices, and pursuits; whereas it ought to be the purely philosophical, -exempt from all personal considerations, and contemplating -itself only in its general and paramount relation to the State. This -is the reason why there have been so few great Kings. They want -the power of abstraction: and their situations are necessarily at -variance with their duties, in this respect; for every thing forces -them to concentrate their attention upon themselves, and to consider -their rank and privileges in connexion with their private advantage, -rather than with public good. This is but natural. It is easier to -employ the power they possess in pampering their own appetites and -passions, than to wield it for the benefit of a great empire. They -see well enough how the community is made for them, not so well -how they are made for the community. Not knowing how to act as -stewards for their trust, they set up for heirs to the estate, and waste -it at their pleasure:—without aspiring to reign as Kings, they are -contented to live as <em>spunges</em> upon royalty. A great King ought to be -the greatest philosopher and the truest patriot in his dominions: -<span class='pageno' id='Page_309'>309</span>hereditary Kings can be but common mortals. It is not that they -are not equal to other men, but to be equal to their rank as Kings, -they ought to be more than men. Their power is equal to that of -the whole community: their wisdom and virtue ought to keep pace -with their power. But in ordinary cases, the height to which they -are raised, instead of enlarging their views or ennobling their -sentiments, makes them giddy with vanity, and ready to look down -on the world which is subjected to their power, as the plaything of -their will. They regard men crawling on the face of the earth, as -we do insects that cross our path, and survey the common drama of -human life, as a fantoccini exhibition got up for their amusement. -There is no sympathy between Kings and their subjects—except in a -constitutional monarchy like ours, through the medium of Lords and -Commons! Take away that check upon their ambition and rapacity, -and their pretensions become as monstrous as they are ridiculous. -Without the common feelings of humanity in their own breasts, they -have no regard for them in their aggregate amount and accumulating -force. Reigning in contempt of the people, they would crush and -trample upon all power but their own. They consider the claims of -justice and compassion as so many impertinent interferences with the -royal prerogative. They despise the millions of slaves whom they -see linked to the foot of the throne; and they soon hate what they -despise. They will sacrifice a kingdom for a caprice, and mankind -for a bauble. Weighed in the scales of their pride, the meanest -things become of the greatest importance: weighed in the balance of -reason, the universe is nothing to them. It is this overweening, -aggravated, intolerable sense of swelling pride and ungovernable self-will, -that so often drives them mad; as it is their blind fatuity and -insensibility to all beyond themselves, that, transmitted through -successive generations and confirmed by regal intermarriages, in time -makes them idiots. When we see a poor creature like Ferdinand <span class='fss'>VII.</span>, -who can hardly gabble out his words like a human being, more -imbecile than a woman, more hypocritical than a priest, decked and -dandled in the long robes and swaddling-clothes of legitimacy, lullabied -to rest with the dreams of superstition, drunk with the patriot -blood of his country, and launching the thunders of his coward-arm -against the rising liberties of a new world, while he claims the style -and title of Image of the Divinity, we may laugh or weep, but there -is nothing to wonder at. Tyrants lose all respect for humanity in -proportion as they are sunk beneath it;—taught to believe themselves -of a different species, they really become so; lose their -participation with their kind; and, in mimicking the God, dwindle -into the brute! Blind with prejudices as a mole, stung with truth as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_310'>310</span>with scorpions, sore all over with wounded pride like a boil, their -minds a heap of morbid proud flesh and bloated humours, a disease -and gangrene in the State, instead of its life-blood and vital principle;—foreign -despots claim mankind as their property, ‘independently -of their conduct or merits,’ and there is one Englishman -found base enough to echo the foul calumny against his country and -his kind.</p> - -<p class='c010'>We might, in the same manner, account for the disparity between -the public and private character of Kings. It is the misfortune -of most Kings (not their fault) to be born to thrones, a situation -which ordinary talents or virtue cannot fill with impunity. We often -find a very respectable man make but a very sorry figure as a -Sovereign. Nay, a Prince may be possessed of extraordinary virtues -and accomplishments, and not be the more thought of for them. He -may, for instance, be a man of good nature and good manners, -graceful in his person, the idol of the other sex, the model of his -own; every word or look may be marked with the utmost sense of -propriety and delicate attention to the feelings of others; he may be -a good classic, well versed in history,—may speak Italian, French, -Spanish, and German fluently; he may be an excellent mimic; he -may say good things, and do friendly ones; he may be able to join -in a catch, or utter a repartee, or dictate a billet-doux; he may be -master of Hoyle, and deep in the rules of the Jockey club; he may -have an equal taste in ragouts and poetry, in dancing and in dress; -he may adjust a toupee with the dexterity of a friseur, or tie a -cravat with the hand and eye of a man-milliner: he may have all -these graces and accomplishments, and as many more, and yet he may -be nothing; as without any one of them he may be a great Prince. -They are not the graces and accomplishments of a Sovereign, but of -a lord of the bed-chamber. They do not shew a great mind, bent -on great objects, and swayed by lofty views. They are rather -foibles and blemishes in the character of a ruler, for they imply that -his attention has been turned as much upon adorning his own person -as upon advancing the State. Charles <span class='fss'>II.</span> was a King, such as we -have here described; amiable, witty, and accomplished, and yet his -memory is equally despised and detested. Charles was without -strength of mind, or public principle. He could not arrive at the -comprehension of that mixed mass of thought and feeling, a <em>kingdom</em>—he -thought merely of the <em>throne</em>. He was as unlike Cromwell in the -manner in which he came by the sovereignty of the realm as in the -use he made of it. He saw himself, not in the glass of history, but -in the glass on his toilette; not in the eyes of posterity, but in those -of his courtiers and mistresses. Instead of regulating his conduct -<span class='pageno' id='Page_311'>311</span>by public opinion and abstract reason, he did every thing from a -feeling of personal vanity. Charles would have been more annoyed -with the rejection of a licentious overture than with the rebellion of -a province; and poured out the blood of his subjects with the same -gaiety and indifference as he did a glass of wine. He had no idea -of his obligations to the State, and only laid aside the private gentleman, -to become the tyrant of his people. Charles was popular in his -life-time, Cibber tells us, because he used to walk out with his spaniels -and feed his ducks in St. James’s park. History has consigned his -name to infamy for the executions under Jefferies, and for his league -with a legitimate despot (Louis <span class='fss'>XIV.</span>), to undermine the liberties of -his country.</p> - -<p class='c010'>What is it, then, that makes a great Prince? Not the understanding -Purcell or Mozart, but the having an ear open to the voice -of truth and justice! Not a taste in made dishes, or French wines, -or court-dresses, but a fellow-feeling with the calamities of hunger, -of cold, of disease, and nakedness! Not a knowledge of the -elegances of fashionable life, but a heart that feels for the millions -of its fellow-beings in want of the common necessaries of life! Not -a set of brilliant frivolous accomplishments, but a manly strength of -character, proof against the seductions of a throne! He, in short, -is a patriot King, who without any other faculty usually possessed -by Sovereigns, has one which they seldom possess,—the power in -imagination of changing places with his people. Such a King may -indeed aspire to the character of a ruling providence over a nation; -any other is but the head-cypher of a court.</p> - -<h3 class='c003'>THE FUDGE FAMILY IN PARIS</h3> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div><em>Edited by</em> Thomas Brown, <em>the younger</em>, <em>Author of the ‘Twopenny Post-bag</em>.’—Longmans.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'><em>April 25, 1818.</em></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>The spirit of poetry in Mr. Moore is not a lying spirit. ‘Set it -down, my tables’—we have still, in the year 1818, three years after -the date of Mr. Southey’s laureateship, one poet, who is an honest -man. We are glad of it: nor does it spoil our theory, for the -exception proves the rule. Mr. Moore unites in himself two names -that were sacred, till they were prostituted by our modern mountebanks, -the Poet and the Patriot. He is neither a coxcomb nor -a catspaw,—a whiffling turncoat, nor a thorough-paced tool, a -mouthing sycophant, ‘a full solempne man,’ like Mr. Wordsworth,—a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_312'>312</span>whining monk, like Mr. Southey,—a maudlin Methodistical -lay-preacher, like Mr. Coleridge,—a merry Andrew, like the fellow -that plays on the salt-box at Bartlemy Fair,—or the more pitiful -jack-pudding, that makes a jest of humanity in St. Stephen’s Chapel. -Thank God, he is like none of these—he is not one of the Fudge -Family. He is neither a bubble nor a cheat. He makes it his -business neither to hoodwink his own understanding, nor to blind or -gag others. He is a man of wit and fancy, but he does not sharpen -his wit on the edge of human agony, like the House of Commons’ -jester, nor strew the flowers of fancy, like the Jesuit Burke, over -the carcase of corruption, for he is a man not only of wit and fancy, -but of common sense and common humanity. He sees for himself, -and he feels for others. He employs the arts of fiction, not to adorn -the deformed, or disguise the false, but to make truth shine out the -clearer, and beauty look more beautiful. He does not make verse, -‘immortal verse,’ the vehicle of lies, the bawd of Legitimacy, the -pander of antiquated prejudices, and of vamped-up sophistry; but -of truths, of home, heartfelt truths, as old as human nature and its -wrongs. Mr. Moore calls things by their right names: he shews us -kings as kings, priests as priests, knaves as knaves, and fools as fools. -He makes us laugh at the ridiculous, and hate the odious. He also -speaks with authority, and not as certain scribes that we could mention. -He has been at Court, and has seen what passes there.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Tam knew what’s what full brawly.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>But he was a man before he became a courtier, and has continued to -be one afterwards; nor has he forgotten what passes in the human -heart. From what he says of the Prince, it is evident that he speaks -from habits of personal intimacy: he speaks of Lord Castlereagh as -his countryman. In the Epistles of the Fudge Family, we see, as -in a glass without a wrinkle, the mind and person of Royalty in full -dress, up to the very throat, and we have a whole-length figure of -his Lordship, in the sweeping, serpentine line of beauty, down to his -very feet.<a id='r50' /><a href='#f50' class='c011'><sup>[50]</sup></a>—We have heard it said of our poet, by a late celebrated -wit and orator, that ‘there was no man who put so much of his -heart into his fancy as Tom Moore; that his soul seemed as if it -were a particle of fire separated from the sun, and were always -fluttering to get back to that source of light and heat.’ We think -this criticism as happy as it is just: but it will be evident to the -readers of the <cite>Fudge Family</cite>, that the soul of ‘a certain little gentleman’ -is not attracted with the same lively or kindly symptoms to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_313'>313</span>the Bourbons, or to their benefactors and restorers ‘under Providence!’ -The title of this delightful little collection of sweets and bitters, of -honey and gall, is, we suppose, an allusion to the short ejaculation -which honest Burchell, in the ‘Vicar of Wakefield,’ uttered at the -end of every sentence, in the conversation of Miss Amelia Carolina -Wilhelmina Skeggs and her friend, on the Court and Fashionables; -and which word, ‘Fudge,’ our malicious Editor thinks equally -applicable to the cant upon the same subjects at the present day,—to -the <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">fade politesse</span></i> of the <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">ancient regime</span></i>,—to ‘the damnable -face-making’ of Holy Alliances, and ‘the <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">flocci-nauci-pili-nihili-fication</span></i>’ -of Legitimacy. He may be wrong in this; but if so, we are most -assuredly in the wrong with him: and we confess, it gives us as much -pleasure to agree with this writer, as it does to differ with some -others that we could mention, but that they are not worth mentioning.—The -Correspondents of the Fudge Family in Paris are much of -the same stamp (with one exception) as the Correspondents of -Dr. S——, in his work of that name, which was lately put a stop -to by that sort of censorship of the press which is exercised by the -reading public; only the Correspondents in the present volume have -a very different Editor from him of ‘<cite>The Day and New Times</cite>,’ or, -as it is at present called, <cite>The New Times</cite> alone, the <cite>Day</cite> having been -left out as an anomaly, ‘<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ut lucus a non lucendo</span></i>‘: for the readers of -that paper roll their eyes in vain, and ‘find no dawn; but, in its -stead, total eclipse and ever-during dark surrounds them.’—But to -return from ‘the professional <em>gentleman</em>,’ as he calls himself, his -scavenger’s bell, his mud-cart of liberal phraseologies, and go-cart of -slavery and superstition, to something as different as genius from -dulness, as wit from malice, as sense from moon-struck madness, as -independence from servility, as the belles-lettres from law-stationery, -as Parnassus from Grub-street, or as the grub from the butterfly,—as -the man who winged his airy way from a Court which was unworthy -of him, and which would have made him unworthy of -himself, ‘as light as bird from brake,’ is from the man (if so he can -be called) who would grope his way there on all fours, bringing, as -the sacrifice best worthy of himself and of the place, his own dignity -of spirit and the rights of his fellow-creatures, to be trampled down -by the obscene hoofs of a base oligarchy. But we have already in -another place spoken our minds of that person, in a way to cut off -the communication between his ‘blind mouth’ and the Midas ears -of the Stock Exchange; and we do not wish to deprive him of a -livelihood. He may receive his Treasury wages for us, so that he -no longer levies them on public credulity, and we no longer confound -‘his sweet voice’ with that of the country or city, though it may -<span class='pageno' id='Page_314'>314</span>echo the Court. The <cite>New Times</cite> is a nuisance; but it is not one -that requires to be abated. It speaks a plain, intelligible language. -Its principles are as palpable as they are base. Its pettifogging -pedantry and its Billingsgate slang can deceive nobody that is worth -undeceiving. It is the avowed organ of the deliberate, detestable -system which has long been covertly pursued in a certain quarter. -This paper raves aloud, under the ambiguous garb of phrenzy, what -its patrons think in secret. It proclaims on the house-tops what is -whispered in the high places. It soothes the ears of flatterers, of -tyrants, and of slaves,—but it sounds the alarm to free men. It is -so far a great public good. It tells the people of England what -is prepared for them, and what they have to expect. ‘Nothing is -sacred in its pages but tyranny.’ It links this country in chains of -vassalage to the legitimate despotisms of the Continent, which have -been a bye-word with us for ages. It binds this nation, hand and -foot, in the trammels of lasting servitude,—it puts the yoke upon our -necks as we put pack-saddles upon asses,—marks the brand upon -our foreheads as we ruddle over sheep,—binds us in ‘with shame, -with rotten parchments, and vile inky blots,’—makes England, that -threw off the yoke of a race of hereditary pretenders, shew ‘like -a rebel’s whore,’ and every morning illegitimates the House of -Brunswick, and strikes at the title of the Prince Regent to the succession -of the Crown, to which his ancestors had no just claim but the choice -of the people. It is not a paper for a free people to endure, if -a people that has oppressed the struggling liberties of another nation -can dare to call itself free; or for the Sovereign of a free people to -look at, if a Prince who had restored a despot to a throne, in contempt -of the voice of the people, could be supposed to respect the -rights of human nature more than his own power. It reverses the -Revolution of 1688, by justifying the claims of the Bourbons,—brings -back Popery and slavery here, by parity of reasoning,—and -sends the illustrious members of the present Royal Family a packing, -as vagabonds and outlaws—by <span class='fss'>RIGHT DIVINE</span>. If this is not a legitimate -conclusion from the Doctor’s reasoning,—from his ‘brangle and -brave-all, discord and debate,’—why then</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘The pillar’d firmament is rottenness,</div> - <div class='line'>And earth’s base built on stubble.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>The chief <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Dramatis Personæ</span></i>: in the <cite>Fudge Family</cite> are,—Comic -Personages, Miss Biddy Fudge and Mr. Bob Fudge, her brother: -Mr. Philip Fudge, their father, and a friend of Lord Castlereagh, -a grave gentleman; and a Mr. Phelim Connor, who is a patriotic, -or, which is the same thing, a tragic writer. Miss Biddy Fudge -<span class='pageno' id='Page_315'>315</span>takes the account of poke-bonnets and love-adventures upon herself; -Mr. Bob, the <i><span lang="da" xml:lang="da">patés</span></i>, jockey-boots, and high collars: Mr. Phil. -Fudge addresses himself to the Lord Viscount Castlereagh; and -Mr. Phelim, ‘the sad historian of pensive Europe,’ appeals, we -confess, more effectually to us, in words</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘As precious as the ruddy drops</div> - <div class='line'>That visit our sad hearts.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>Take for example the following magnanimous and most heroical -Epistle:—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in12'>FROM PHELIM CONNOR TO ——</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Return!’—no never, while the withering hand</div> - <div class='line'>Of bigot power is on that helpless land;</div> - <div class='line'>While, for the faith my fathers held to God,</div> - <div class='line'>Ev’n in the fields where free those fathers trod,</div> - <div class='line'>I am proscrib’d, and—like the spot left bare</div> - <div class='line'>In Israel’s halls, to tell the proud and fair</div> - <div class='line'>Amidst their mirth, that Slavery had been there—</div> - <div class='line'>On all I love, home, parents, friends, I trace</div> - <div class='line'>The mournful mark of bondage and disgrace!</div> - <div class='line'>No!—let <em>them</em> stay, who in their country’s pangs</div> - <div class='line'>See nought but food for factions and harangues;</div> - <div class='line'>Who yearly kneel before their masters’ doors,</div> - <div class='line'>And hawk their wrongs, as beggars do their sores:</div> - <div class='line'>Still let your<a id='r51' /><a href='#f51' class='c011'><sup>[51]</sup></a> * * * * *</div> - <div class='line'><hr class='poem' /></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Still hope and suffer, all who can!—but I,</div> - <div class='line'>Who durst not hope, and cannot bear, must fly.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>But whither?—everywhere the scourge pursues—</div> - <div class='line'>Turn where he will, the wretched wanderer views,</div> - <div class='line'>In the bright, broken hopes of all his race,</div> - <div class='line'>Countless reflections of th’ Oppressor’s face!</div> - <div class='line'>Every-where gallant hearts, and spirits true,</div> - <div class='line'>Are serv’d up victims to the vile and few;</div> - <div class='line'>While E******, everywhere—the general foe</div> - <div class='line'>Of Truth and Freedom, wheresoe’er they glow—</div> - <div class='line'>Is first, when tyrants strike, to aid the blow!</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Oh, E******! could such poor revenge atone</div> - <div class='line'>For wrongs, that well might claim the deadliest one;</div> - <div class='line'>Were it a vengeance, sweet enough to sate</div> - <div class='line'>The wretch who flies from thy intolerant hate,</div> - <div class='line'>To hear his curses on such barbarous sway</div> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_316'>316</span>Echoed, where’er he bends his cheerless way;—</div> - <div class='line'>Could <em>this</em> content him, every lip he meets</div> - <div class='line'>Teems for his vengeance with such poisonous sweets;</div> - <div class='line'>Were <em>this</em> his luxury, never is thy name</div> - <div class='line'>Pronounc’d, but he doth banquet on thy shame;</div> - <div class='line'>Hears maledictions ring from every side</div> - <div class='line'>Upon that grasping power, that selfish pride,</div> - <div class='line'>Which vaunts its own, and scorns all rights beside;</div> - <div class='line'>That low and desperate envy, which to blast</div> - <div class='line'>A neighbour’s blessings, risks the few thou hast;—</div> - <div class='line'>That monster, Self, too gross to be conceal’d</div> - <div class='line'>Which ever lurks behind thy proffer’d shield;—</div> - <div class='line'>That faithless craft, which in thy hour of need,</div> - <div class='line'>Can court the slave, can swear he shall be freed,</div> - <div class='line'>Yet basely spurns him, when thy point is gain’d,</div> - <div class='line'>Back to his masters, ready gagg’d and chain’d!</div> - <div class='line'>Worthy associate of that band of Kings,</div> - <div class='line'>That royal, rav’ning flock, whose vampire wings</div> - <div class='line'>O’er sleeping Europe treacherously brood,</div> - <div class='line'>And fan her into dreams of promis’d good,</div> - <div class='line'>Of hope, of freedom—but to drain her blood!</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>If <em>thus</em> to hear thee branded be a bliss</div> - <div class='line'>That Vengeance loves, there’s yet more sweet than this,—</div> - <div class='line'>That ’twas an Irish head, an Irish heart,</div> - <div class='line'>Made thee the fall’n and tarnish’d thing thou art;</div> - <div class='line'>That, as the Centaur gave th’ infected vest</div> - <div class='line'>In which he died, to rack his conqueror’s breast,</div> - <div class='line'>We send thee C——gh:—as heaps of dead</div> - <div class='line'>Have slain their slayers by the pest they spread,</div> - <div class='line'>So hath our land breath’d out—thy fame to dim,</div> - <div class='line'>Thy strength to waste, and rot thee, soul and limb—</div> - <div class='line'>Her worst infections all condens’d in him!</div> - <div class='line'><hr class='poem' /></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>When will the world shake off such yokes? Oh, when</div> - <div class='line'>Will that redeeming day shine out on men,</div> - <div class='line'>That shall behold them rise, erect and free</div> - <div class='line'>As Heav’n and Nature meant mankind should be?</div> - <div class='line'>When Reason shall no longer blindly bow</div> - <div class='line'>To the vile pagod things, that o’er her brow,</div> - <div class='line'>Like him of Jaghernaut, drive trampling now;</div> - <div class='line'>Nor conquest dare to desolate God’s earth;</div> - <div class='line'>Nor drunken Victory, with a Nero’s mirth,</div> - <div class='line'>Strike her lewd harp amidst a people’s groans;—</div> - <div class='line'>But, built on love, the world’s exalted thrones</div> - <div class='line'>Shall to the virtuous and the wise be given—</div> - <div class='line'>Those bright, those sole Legitimates of Heaven!</div> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_317'>317</span><em>When</em> will this be?—or, oh! is it, in truth,</div> - <div class='line'>But one of those sweet, day-break dreams of youth,</div> - <div class='line'>In which the Soul, as round her morning springs,</div> - <div class='line'>’Twixt sleep and waking, sees such dazzling things!</div> - <div class='line'>And must the hope, as vain as it is bright,</div> - <div class='line'>Be all giv’n up?—and are <em>they</em> only right,</div> - <div class='line'>Who say this world of thinking souls was made</div> - <div class='line'>To be by Kings partition’d, truck’d, and weigh’d</div> - <div class='line'>In scales that, ever since the world begun,</div> - <div class='line'>Have counted millions but as dust to one?</div> - <div class='line'>Are <em>they</em> the only wise, who laugh to scorn</div> - <div class='line'>The rights, the freedom to which man was born;</div> - <div class='line'>Who * * * * *</div> - <div class='line'><hr class='poem' /></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Who, proud to kiss each separate rod of power,</div> - <div class='line'>Bless, while he reigns, the minion of the hour;</div> - <div class='line'>Worship each would-be God, that o’er them moves,</div> - <div class='line'>And take the thundering of his brass for Jove’s!</div> - <div class='line'>If <em>this</em> be wisdom, then farewell my books,</div> - <div class='line'>Farewell ye shrines of old, ye classic brooks,</div> - <div class='line'>Which fed my soul with currents, pure and fair,</div> - <div class='line'>Of living truth, that now must stagnate there!—</div> - <div class='line'>Instead of themes that touch the lyre with light,—</div> - <div class='line'>Instead of Greece, and her immortal fight</div> - <div class='line'>For Liberty, which once awak’d my strings,</div> - <div class='line'>Welcome the Grand Conspiracy of Kings,</div> - <div class='line'>The High Legitimates, the Holy Band,</div> - <div class='line'>Who, bolder ev’n than He of Sparta’s land,</div> - <div class='line'>Against whole millions, panting to be free,</div> - <div class='line'>Would guard the pass of right-line tyranny!</div> - <div class='line'>Instead of him, th’ Athenian bard, whose blade</div> - <div class='line'>Had stood the onset which his pen pourtray’d,</div> - <div class='line'>Welcome * * * * *</div> - <div class='line'><hr class='poem' /></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>And, ‘stead of Aristides—woe the day</div> - <div class='line'>Such names should mingle!—welcome C——gh!</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Here break we off, at this unhallow’d name,</div> - <div class='line'>Like priests of old, when words ill-omen’d came.</div> - <div class='line'>My next shall tell thee, bitterly shall tell,</div> - <div class='line'>Thoughts that * * * * *</div> - <div class='line'><hr class='poem' /></div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Thoughts that—could patience hold—’twere wiser far</div> - <div class='line'>To leave still hid and burning where they are!</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'><i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Indignatio facit versus.</span></i> Mr. Moore’s better genius is here his -spleen. The politician sharpens the poet’s pen. Poor Phelim -resumes this subject twice afterwards, and the last time with such -<span class='pageno' id='Page_318'>318</span>force and spirit, that he is compelled to break off in the middle, for -fear of consequences. But as far as he goes, we will accompany him.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Yes—’twas a cause, as noble and as great</div> - <div class='line'>As ever hero died to vindicate—</div> - <div class='line'>A Nation’s right to speak a Nation’s voice,</div> - <div class='line'>And own no power but of the Nation’s choice!</div> - <div class='line'>Such was the grand, the glorious cause that now</div> - <div class='line'>Hung trembling on Napoleon’s single brow;</div> - <div class='line'>Such the sublime arbitrement, that pour’d,</div> - <div class='line'>In patriot eyes, a light around his sword,</div> - <div class='line'>A glory then, which never, since the day</div> - <div class='line'>Of his young victories, had illum’d its way!</div> - <div class='line in2'>Oh, ’twas not then the time for tame debates,</div> - <div class='line'>Ye men of Gaul, when chains were at your gates;</div> - <div class='line'>When he, who fled before your Chieftain’s eye,</div> - <div class='line'>As geese from eagles on Mount Taurus fly,</div> - <div class='line'>Denounc’d against the land, that spurn’d his chain,</div> - <div class='line'>Myriads of swords to bind it fast again—</div> - <div class='line'>Myriads of fierce invading swords, to track</div> - <div class='line'>Through your best blood, his path of vengeance back;</div> - <div class='line'>When Europe’s Kings, that never yet combin’d</div> - <div class='line'>But (like those upper Stars, that, when conjoin’d,</div> - <div class='line'>Shed woe and pestilence) to scourge mankind,</div> - <div class='line'>Gather’d around, with hosts from every shore,</div> - <div class='line'>Hating Napoleon much, but Freedom more;</div> - <div class='line'>And, in that coming strife, appall’d to see</div> - <div class='line'>The world yet left one chance for liberty!—</div> - <div class='line'>No, ’twas not then the time to weave a net</div> - <div class='line'>Of bondage round your Chief; to curb and fret</div> - <div class='line'>Your veteran war-horse, pawing for the fight,</div> - <div class='line'>When every hope was in his speed and might—</div> - <div class='line'>To waste the hour of action in dispute,</div> - <div class='line'>And coolly plan how Freedom’s <em>boughs</em> should shoot,</div> - <div class='line'>When your invader’s axe was at the <em>root</em>!</div> - <div class='line'>No, sacred Liberty! that God, who throws</div> - <div class='line'>Thy light around, like his own sunshine, knows</div> - <div class='line'>How well I love thee, and how deeply hate</div> - <div class='line'><em>All</em> tyrants, upstart and Legitimate—</div> - <div class='line'>Yet, in that hour, were France my native land,</div> - <div class='line'>I would have followed, with quick heart and hand,</div> - <div class='line'>Napoleon, Nero—ay, no matter whom—</div> - <div class='line'>To snatch my country from that damning doom,—</div> - <div class='line'>That deadliest curse that on the conquered waits—</div> - <div class='line'>A Conqueror’s satrap, thron’d within her gates!</div> - <div class='line in2'>True, he was false, despotic—all you please—</div> - <div class='line'>Had trampled down man’s holiest liberties—</div> - <div class='line'>Had, by a genius form’d for nobler things</div> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_319'>319</span>Than lie within the grasp of <em>vulgar</em> Kings,</div> - <div class='line'>But rais’d the hopes of men—as eaglets fly</div> - <div class='line'>With tortoises aloft into the sky—</div> - <div class='line'>To dash them down again more shatteringly!</div> - <div class='line'>All this I own—but still<a id='r52' /><a href='#f52' class='c011'><sup>[52]</sup></a> * * * * *</div> - <div class='line'><hr class='poem' /></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>All is not in this high-wrought strain, which we like as well as -the War Eclogues of Tyrtæus, or the Birth-day Odes (which seem -also to have broke off in the middle) of Mr. Southey. Mr. Thomas -Brown the Younger, is a man of humanity, as Mr. Southey formerly -was: he is also a man of wit, which Mr. Southey is not. For -instance, Miss Biddy Fudge, in her first letter, writes as follows:—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in2'>By the bye though at Calais, Papa had a touch</div> - <div class='line'>Of romance on the pier, which affected me much.</div> - <div class='line'>At the sight of that spot, where our darling Dixhuit,</div> - <div class='line'>Set the first of his own dear legitimate feet.<a id='r53' /><a href='#f53' class='c011'><sup>[53]</sup></a></div> - <div class='line'>(Modell’d out so exactly, and—God bless the mark!</div> - <div class='line'>’Tis a foot, Dolly, worthy so <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Grand</span></i> a <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Monarque</span></i>)</div> - <div class='line'>He exclaim’d, ‘Oh mon Roi!’ and, with tear-dropping eye,</div> - <div class='line'>Stood to gaze on the spot—while some Jacobin nigh,</div> - <div class='line'>Mutter’d out with a shrug (what an insolent thing!)</div> - <div class='line'>‘Ma foi, he be right—’tis de Englishman’s King;</div> - <div class='line'>And dat <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gros pied de cochon</span></i>—begar, me vil say</div> - <div class='line'>Dat de foot look mosh better, if turn’d toder way.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Mr. Phil. Fudge, in his dreams, thinks of a plan for changing -heads.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Good Viscount S—dm—th, too, instead</div> - <div class='line'>Of his own grave, respected head,</div> - <div class='line'>Might wear (for aught I see that bars)</div> - <div class='line in2'>Old Lady Wilhelmina Frump’s—</div> - <div class='line'>So while the hand sign’d <em>Circulars</em>,</div> - <div class='line in2'>The head might lisp out ‘What is trumps?’</div> - <div class='line'>The R—g—t’s brains could we transfer</div> - <div class='line'>To some robust man-milliner,</div> - <div class='line'>The shop, the shears, the lace, and ribbon,</div> - <div class='line'>Would go, I doubt not, quite as glib on;</div> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_320'>320</span>And, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">vice versâ</span></i>, take the pains</div> - <div class='line'>To give the P—ce the shopman’s brains,</div> - <div class='line'>The only change from thence would flow,</div> - <div class='line'><em>Ribbons</em> would not be wasted so!</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>Or here is another proposal for weighing the head of the State;</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Suppose, my Lord,—and far from me</div> - <div class='line'>To treat such things with levity—</div> - <div class='line'>But just suppose the R—g—t’s weight</div> - <div class='line'>Were made thus an affair of state;</div> - <div class='line'>And, ev’ry sessions, at the close,</div> - <div class='line in2'>‘Stead of a speech, which, all can see, is</div> - <div class='line'>Heavy and dull enough, God knows—</div> - <div class='line in2'>We were to try how heavy <em>he</em> is.</div> - <div class='line'>Much would it glad all hearts to hear</div> - <div class='line in2'>That, while the Nation’s Revenue</div> - <div class='line'>Loses so many pounds a year,</div> - <div class='line in2'>The P——e, God bless him! <em>gains</em> a few.</div> - </div> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>With bales of muslin, chintzes, spices,</div> - <div class='line in2'>I see the Easterns weigh their Kings;—</div> - <div class='line'>But, for the R—g—t, my advice is,</div> - <div class='line in2'>We should throw in much <em>heavier</em> things:</div> - <div class='line'>For instance, —— ——‘s quarto volumes,</div> - <div class='line in2'>Which, though not spices, serve to wrap them;</div> - <div class='line'><em>Dominie</em> St—dd—t’s Daily columns,</div> - <div class='line in2'>‘Prodigious!’—in, of course we’d clap them—</div> - <div class='line'>Letters, that C—rtw—t’s pen indites,</div> - <div class='line in2'>In which, with logical confusion,</div> - <div class='line'>The <em>Major</em> like a <em>Minor</em> writes,</div> - <div class='line in2'>And never comes to a <em>conclusion</em>:</div> - <div class='line'>Lord S—m—rs’ pamphlet, or his head—</div> - <div class='line'>(Ah, <em>that</em> were worth its weight in lead!)</div> - <div class='line'>Along with which we <em>in</em> may whip, sly,</div> - <div class='line'>The Speeches of Sir John C—x H—pp—sly;</div> - <div class='line'>That Baronet of many words,</div> - <div class='line'>Who loves so, in the House of Lords,</div> - <div class='line'>To whisper Bishops—and so nigh</div> - <div class='line in2'>Unto their wigs in whisp’ring goes,</div> - <div class='line'>That you may always know him by</div> - <div class='line in2'>A patch of powder on his nose!—</div> - <div class='line'>If this won’t do, we must in cram</div> - <div class='line'>The ‘Reasons’ of Lord B—ck—gh—m;</div> - <div class='line'>(A book his Lordship means to write,</div> - <div class='line in2'>Entitled, ‘Reasons for my Ratting’:)</div> - <div class='line'>Or, should these prove too small and light,</div> - <div class='line in2'>His ——‘s a host, we’ll bundle <em>that</em> in!</div> - <div class='line'>And, <em>still</em> should all these masses fail</div> - <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_321'>321</span>To stir the R—g—t’s ponderous scale,</div> - <div class='line'>Why then, my Lord, in heaven’s name,</div> - <div class='line in2'>Pitch in, without reserve or stint,</div> - <div class='line'>The whole of R—g—ly’s beauteous dame—</div> - <div class='line in2'>If that won’t raise him, devil’s in’t.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>But we stop here, or we shall quote the whole work. We like -the political part of this <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">jeu d’esprit</span></i> better, on the whole, than the -merely comic and familiar. Bob Fudge is almost too suffocating a -coxcomb, even in description, with his stays and <i><span lang="da" xml:lang="da">patés</span></i>; and Miss -Biddy Fudge, with her <em>poke</em> bonnet and her princely lover, who -turned out to be no better than a man-milliner, is not half so -interesting as a certain Marchioness in the Twopenny Post Bag, -with curls ‘in the manner of Ackermann’s dresses for May, and her -yellow charioteer.’ Besides, Miss Biddy’s amour ends in nothing. -In short, the Fudges abroad are not such fat subjects for ridicule as -the Fudges at home. ‘They do not cut up so well in the cawl; -they do not tallow so in the kidneys:’ but as far as they go, Mr. -Brown, Junior, uses the dissecting knife with equal dexterity, and -equally to the delight and edification of the byestanders.</p> - -<h3 class='c003'>CHARACTER OF LORD CHATHAM</h3> - -<div class='lg-container-r c002'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>1807.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>Lord Chatham’s genius burnt brightest at the last. The spark -of liberty, which had lain concealed and dormant, buried under the -dirt and rubbish of state intrigue and vulgar faction, now met with -congenial matter, and kindled up ‘a flame of sacred vehemence’ in -his breast. It burst forth with a fury and a splendour that might -have awed the world, and made kings tremble. He spoke as a man -should speak, because he felt as a man should feel, in such circumstances. -He came forward as the advocate of liberty, as the -defender of the rights of his fellow-citizens, as the enemy of -tyranny, as the friend of his country, and of mankind. He did not -stand up to make a vain display of his talents, but to discharge a -duty, to maintain that cause which lay nearest to his heart, to -preserve the ark of the British constitution from every sacrilegious -touch, as the high-priest of his calling, with a pious zeal. The -feelings and the rights of Englishmen were enshrined in his heart; -and with their united force braced every nerve, possessed every faculty, -and communicated warmth and vital energy to every part of his -being. The whole man moved under this impulse. He felt the cause -of liberty as his own. He resented every injury done to her as an -<span class='pageno' id='Page_322'>322</span>injury to himself, and every attempt to defend it as an insult upon his -understanding. He did not stay to dispute about words, about nice -distinctions, about trifling forms. He laughed at the little attempts -of little retailers of logic to entangle him in senseless argument. He -did not come there as to a debating club, or law court, to start -questions and hunt them down; to wind and unwind the web of -sophistry; to pick out the threads, and untie every knot with -scrupulous exactness; to bandy logic with every pretender to a -paradox; to examine, to sift evidence; to dissect a doubt and halve -a scruple; to weigh folly and knavery in scales together, and see on -which side the balance preponderated; to prove that liberty, truth, -virtue, and justice were good things, or that slavery and corruption -were bad things. He did not try to prove those truths which did -not require any proof, but to make others feel them with the same -force that he did; and to tear off the flimsy disguises with which the -sycophants of power attempted to cover them.—The business of an -orator is not to convince, but persuade; not to inform, but to rouse the -mind; to build upon the habitual prejudices of mankind, (for reason -of itself will do nothing,) and to add feeling to prejudice, and action -to feeling. There is nothing new or curious or profound in Lord -Chatham’s speeches. All is obvious and common; there is nothing -but what we already knew, or might have found out for ourselves. -We see nothing but the familiar every-day face of nature. We are -always in broad day-light. But then there is the same difference -between our own conceptions of things and his representation of -them, as there is between the same objects seen on a dull cloudy day, -or in the blaze of sunshine. His common sense has the effect of -inspiration. He electrifies his hearers, not by the novelty of his -ideas, but by their force and intensity. He has the same ideas as -other men, but he has them in a thousand times greater clearness and -strength and vividness. Perhaps there is no man so poorly furnished -with thoughts and feelings but that if he could recollect all that he -knew, and had all his ideas at perfect command, he would be able to -confound the puny arts of the most dexterous sophist that pretended -to make a dupe of his understanding. But in the mind of Chatham, -the great substantial truths of common sense, the leading maxims of -the Constitution, the real interests and general feelings of mankind, -were in a manner embodied. He comprehended the whole of his -subject at a single glance—every thing was firmly rivetted to its -place; there was no feebleness, no forgetfulness, no pause, no distraction; -the ardour of his mind overcame every obstacle, and he -crushed the objections of his adversaries as we crush an insect under -our feet.—His imagination was of the same character with his understanding, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_323'>323</span>and was under the same guidance. Whenever he gave way -to it, it ‘flew an eagle flight, forth and right on’; but it did not -become enamoured of its own motion, wantoning in giddy circles, or -‘sailing with supreme dominion through the azure deep of air.’ It -never forgot its errand, but went strait forward, like an arrow to its -mark, with an unerring aim. It was his servant, not his master.</p> - -<p class='c010'>To be a great orator does not require the highest faculties of the -human mind, but it requires the highest exertion of the common -faculties of our nature. He has no occasion to dive into the depths -of science, or to soar aloft on angels’ wings. He keeps upon the -surface, he stands firm upon the ground, but his form is majestic, and -his eye sees far and near: he moves among his fellows, but he moves -among them as a giant among common men. He has no need to -read the heavens, to unfold the system of the universe, or create new -worlds for the delighted fancy to dwell in; it is enough that he sees -things as they are; that he knows and feels and remembers the -common circumstances and daily transactions that are passing in the -world around him. He is not raised above others by being superior -to the common interests, prejudices, and passions of mankind, but by -feeling them in a more intense degree than they do. Force then is -the sole characteristic excellence of an orator; it is almost the only -one that can be of any service to him. Refinement, depth, elevation, -delicacy, originality, ingenuity, invention, are not wanted: he must -appeal to the sympathies of human nature, and whatever is not founded -in these, is foreign to his purpose. He does not create, he can only -imitate or echo back the public sentiment. His object is to call up -the feelings of the human breast; but he cannot call up what is not -already there. The first duty of an orator is to be understood by -every one; but it is evident that what all can understand, is not in -itself difficult of comprehension. He cannot add any thing to the -materials afforded him by the knowledge and experience of others.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Lord Chatham, in his speeches, was neither philosopher nor poet. -As to the latter, the difference between poetry and eloquence I take -to be this: that the object of the one is to delight the imagination, -that of the other to impel the will. The one ought to enrich and -feed the mind itself with tenderness and beauty, the other furnishes it -with motives of action. The one seeks to give immediate pleasure, -to make the mind dwell with rapture on its own workings—it is to -itself ‘both end and use’: the other endeavours to call up such -images as will produce the strongest effect upon the mind, and makes -use of the passions only as instruments to attain a particular purpose. -The poet lulls and soothes the mind into a forgetfulness of itself, and -‘laps it in Elysium’: the orator strives to awaken it to a sense of its -<span class='pageno' id='Page_324'>324</span>real interests, and to make it feel the necessity of taking the most -effectual means for securing them. The one dwells in an ideal -world; the other is only conversant about realities. Hence poetry -must be more ornamented, must be richer and fuller and more -delicate, because it is at liberty to select whatever images are naturally -most beautiful, and likely to give most pleasure; whereas the orator -is confined to particular facts, which he may adorn as well as he can, -and make the most of, but which he cannot strain beyond a certain -point without running into extravagance and affectation, and losing his -end. However, from the very nature of the case, the orator is -allowed a greater latitude, and is compelled to make use of harsher -and more abrupt combinations in the decoration of his subject; for -his art is an attempt to reconcile beauty and deformity together: -on the contrary, the materials of poetry, which are chosen at pleasure, -are in themselves beautiful, and naturally combine with whatever else -is beautiful. Grace and harmony are therefore essential to poetry, -because they naturally arise out of the subject; but whatever adds to -the effect, whatever tends to strengthen the idea or give energy to the -mind, is of the nature of eloquence. The orator is only concerned -to give a tone of masculine firmness to the will, to brace the sinews -and muscles of the mind; not to delight our nervous sensibilities, or -soften the mind into voluptuous indolence. The flowery and sentimental -style is of all others the most intolerable in a speaker.—I -shall only add on this subject, that modesty, impartiality, and candour, -are not the virtues of a public speaker. He must be confident, -inflexible, uncontrolable, overcoming all opposition by his ardour and -impetuosity. We do not <em>command</em> others by sympathy with them, -but by power, by passion, by will. Calm inquiry, sober truth, and -speculative indifference will never carry any point. The passions are -contagious; and we cannot contend against opposite passions with -nothing but naked reason. Concessions to an enemy are clear loss: -he will take advantage of them, but make us none in return. He -will magnify the weak sides of our argument, but will be blind to -whatever makes against himself. The multitude will always be -inclined to side with that party, whose passions are the most inflamed, -and whose prejudices are the most inveterate. Passion should therefore -never be sacrificed to punctilio. It should indeed be governed -by prudence, but it should itself govern and lend its impulse and -direction to abstract reason. Fox was a reasoner, Lord Chatham -was an orator. Burke was both a reasoner and a poet; and was -therefore still farther removed from that conformity with the vulgar -notions and mechanical feelings of mankind, which will always be -necessary to give a man the chief sway in a popular assembly.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_325'>325</span> - <h3 class='c003'>CHARACTER OF MR. BURKE, 1807<a id='r54' /><a href='#f54' class='c011'><sup>[54]</sup></a></h3> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>The following speech is perhaps the fairest specimen I could give of -Mr. Burke’s various talents as a speaker. The subject itself is not -the most interesting, nor does it admit of that weight and closeness of -reasoning which he displayed on other occasions. But there is no -single speech which can convey a satisfactory idea of his powers of -mind: to do him justice, it would be necessary to quote all his -works; the only specimen of Burke is, <em>all that he wrote</em>. With -respect to most other speakers, a specimen is generally enough, or -more than enough. When you are acquainted with their manner, -and see what proficiency they have made in the mechanical exercise -of their profession, with what facility they can borrow a simile, or -round a period, how dexterously they can argue, and object, and -rejoin, you are satisfied; there is no other difference in their speeches -than what arises from the difference of the subjects. But this was -not the case with Burke. He brought his subjects along with him; -he drew his materials from himself. The only limits which circumscribed -his variety were the stores of his own mind. His stock of -ideas did not consist of a few meagre facts, meagrely stated, of half a -dozen common-places tortured in a thousand different ways: but his -mine of wealth was a profound understanding, inexhaustible as the -human heart, and various as the sources of nature. He therefore -enriched every subject to which he applied himself, and new subjects -were only the occasions of calling forth fresh powers of mind which -had not been before exerted. It would therefore be in vain to look -for the proof of his powers in any one of his speeches or writings: -they all contain some additional proof of power. In speaking of -Burke, then, I shall speak of the whole compass and circuit of his -mind—not of that small part or section of him which I have been -able to give: to do otherwise would be like the story of the man who -put the brick in his pocket, thinking to shew it as the model of a -house. I have been able to manage pretty well with respect to all -my other speakers, and curtailed them down without remorse. It -was easy to reduce them within certain limits, to fix their spirit, and -condense their variety; by having a certain quantity given, you might -infer all the rest; it was only the same thing over again. But who -can bind Proteus, or confine the roving flight of genius?</p> - -<p class='c010'>Burke’s writings are better than his speeches, and indeed his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_326'>326</span>speeches are writings. But he seemed to feel himself more at ease, -to have a fuller possession of his faculties in addressing the public, -than in addressing the House of Commons. Burke was <em>raised</em> into -public life: and he seems to have been prouder of this new dignity -than became so great a man. For this reason, most of his speeches -have a sort of parliamentary preamble to them: there is an air of -affected modesty, and ostentatious trifling in them: he seems fond of -coqueting with the House of Commons, and is perpetually calling the -Speaker out to dance a minuet with him, before he begins. There is -also something like an attempt to stimulate the superficial dulness of -his hearers by exciting their surprise, by running into extravagance: -and he sometimes demeans himself by condescending to what may be -considered as bordering too much upon buffoonery, for the amusement -of the company. Those lines of Milton were admirably applied to -him by some one—‘The elephant to make them sport wreathed his -proboscis lithe.’ The truth is, that he was out of his place in the -House of Commons; he was eminently qualified to shine as a man of -genius, as the instructor of mankind, as the brightest luminary of his -age: but he had nothing in common with that motley crew of knights, -citizens, and burgesses. He could not be said to be ‘native and -endued unto that element.’ He was above it; and never appeared -like himself, but when, forgetful of the idle clamours of party, and of -the little views of little men, he appealed to his country, and the -enlightened judgment of mankind.</p> - -<p class='c010'>I am not going to make an idle panegyric on Burke (he has no -need of it); but I cannot help looking upon him as the chief boast -and ornament of the English House of Commons. What has been -said of him is, I think, strictly true, that ‘he was the most eloquent -man of his time: his wisdom was greater than his eloquence.’ The -only public man that in my opinion can be put in any competition -with him, is Lord Chatham: and he moved in a sphere so very -remote, that it is almost impossible to compare them. But though it -would perhaps be difficult to determine which of them excelled most -in his particular way, there is nothing in the world more easy than to -point out in what their peculiar excellences consisted. They were in -every respect the reverse of each other. Chatham’s eloquence was -popular: his wisdom was altogether plain and practical. Burke’s -eloquence was that of the poet; of the man of high and unbounded -fancy: his wisdom was profound and contemplative. Chatham’s -eloquence was calculated to make men <em>act</em>; Burke’s was calculated to -make them <em>think</em>. Chatham could have roused the fury of a multitude, -and wielded their physical energy as he pleased: Burke’s eloquence -carried conviction into the mind of the retired and lonely student, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_327'>327</span>opened the recesses of the human breast, and lighted up the face of -nature around him. Chatham supplied his hearers with motives to -immediate action: Burke furnished them with <em>reasons</em> for action -which might have little effect upon them at the time, but for which -they would be the wiser and better all their lives after. In research, -in originality, in variety of knowledge, in richness of invention, in -depth and comprehension of mind, Burke had as much the advantage -of Lord Chatham as he was excelled by him in plain common sense, -in strong feeling, in steadiness of purpose, in vehemence, in warmth, -in enthusiasm, and energy of mind. Burke was the man of genius, -of fine sense, and subtle reasoning; Chatham was a man of clear -understanding, of strong sense, and violent passions. Burke’s mind -was satisfied with speculation: Chatham’s was essentially <em>active</em>: it -could not rest without an object. The power which governed Burke’s -mind was his Imagination; that which gave its <em>impetus</em> to Chatham’s -was Will. The one was almost the creature of pure intellect, the -other of physical temperament.</p> - -<p class='c010'>There are two very different ends which a man of genius may -propose to himself either in writing or speaking, and which will -accordingly give birth to very different styles. He can have but one -of these two objects; either to enrich or strengthen the mind; either -to furnish us with new ideas, to lead the mind into new trains of -thought, to which it was before unused, and which it was incapable -of striking out for itself; or else to collect and embody what we -already knew, to rivet our old impressions more deeply; to make -what was before plain still plainer, and to give to that which was -familiar all the effect of novelty. In the one case we receive an -accession to the stock of our ideas; in the other, an additional -degree of life and energy is infused into them: our thoughts continue -to flow in the same channels, but their pulse is quickened and invigorated. -I do not know how to distinguish these different styles better -than by calling them severally the inventive and refined, or the -impressive and vigorous styles. It is only the subject-matter of -eloquence, however, which is allowed to be remote or obscure. The -things in themselves may be subtle and recondite, but they must be -dragged out of their obscurity and brought struggling to the light; -they must be rendered plain and palpable, (as far as it is in the wit of -man to do so) or they are no longer eloquence. That which by its -natural impenetrability, and in spite of every effort, remains dark and -difficult, which is impervious to every ray, on which the imagination -can shed no lustre, which can be clothed with no beauty, is not a -subject for the orator or poet. At the same time it cannot be -expected that abstract truths or profound observations should ever be -<span class='pageno' id='Page_328'>328</span>placed in the same strong and dazzling points of view as natural objects -and mere matters of fact. It is enough if they receive a reflex and -borrowed lustre, like that which cheers the first dawn of morning, -where the effect of surprise and novelty gilds every object, and the -joy of beholding another world gradually emerging out of the gloom -of night, ‘a new creation rescued from his reign,’ fills the mind with -a sober rapture. Philosophical eloquence is in writing what <i><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">chiaro -scuro</span></i> is in painting; he would be a fool who should object that the -colours in the shaded part of a picture were not so bright as those on -the opposite side; the eye of the connoisseur receives an equal -delight from both, balancing the want of brilliancy and effect with -the greater delicacy of the tints, and difficulty of the execution. -In judging of Burke, therefore, we are to consider first the style -of eloquence which he adopted, and secondly the effects which he -produced with it. If he did not produce the same effects on vulgar -minds, as some others have done, it was not for want of power, but -from the turn and direction of his mind.<a id='r55' /><a href='#f55' class='c011'><sup>[55]</sup></a> It was because his -subjects, his ideas, his arguments, were less vulgar. The question -is not whether he brought certain truths equally home to us, but how -much nearer he brought them than they were before. In my opinion, -he united the two extremes of refinement and strength in a higher -degree than any other writer whatever.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The subtlety of his mind was undoubtedly that which rendered -Burke a less popular writer and speaker than he otherwise would -have been. It weakened the impression of his observations upon -others, but I cannot admit that it weakened the observations -themselves; that it took any thing from their real weight and -solidity. Coarse minds think all that is subtle, futile: that because -it is not gross and obvious and palpable to the senses, it is therefore -light and frivolous, and of no importance in the real affairs of life; -thus making their own confined understandings the measure of -truth, and supposing that whatever they do not distinctly perceive, is -nothing. Seneca, who was not one of the vulgar, also says, that -subtle truths are those which have the least substance in them, and -consequently approach nearest to non-entity. But for my own part I -cannot help thinking that the most important truths must be the most -refined and subtle; for that very reason, that they must comprehend -a great number of particulars, and instead of referring to any distinct -or positive fact, must point out the combined effects of an extensive -chain of causes, operating gradually, remotely, and collectively, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_329'>329</span>therefore imperceptibly. General principles are not the less true or -important because from their nature they elude immediate observation; -they are like the air, which is not the less necessary because -we neither see nor feel it, or like that secret influence which binds -the world together, and holds the planets in their orbits. The very -same persons who are the most forward to laugh at all systematic -reasoning as idle and impertinent, you will the next moment hear -exclaiming bitterly against the baleful effects of new-fangled systems -of philosophy, or gravely descanting on the immense importance of -instilling sound principles of morality into the mind. It would not -be a bold conjecture, but an obvious truism to say, that all the great -changes which have been brought about in the moral world, either -for the better or worse, have been introduced not by the bare statement -of facts, which are things already known, and which must -always operate nearly in the same manner, but by the development of -certain opinions and abstract principles of reasoning on life and -manners, on the origin of society and man’s nature in general, which -being obscure and uncertain, vary from time to time, and produce -correspondent changes in the human mind. They are the wholesome -dew and rain, or the mildew and pestilence that silently destroy. -To this principle of generalization all religious creeds, the institutions -of wise law-givers, and the systems of philosophers, owe their -influence.</p> - -<p class='c010'>It has always been with me a test of the sense and candour of -any one belonging to the opposite party, whether he allowed Burke -to be a great man. Of all the persons of this description that I have -ever known, I never met with above one or two who would make -this concession; whether it was that party feelings ran too high to -admit of any real candour, or whether it was owing to an essential -vulgarity in their habits of thinking, they all seemed to be of opinion -that he was a wild enthusiast, or a hollow sophist, who was to be -answered by bits of facts, by smart logic, by shrewd questions, and -idle songs. They looked upon him as a man of disordered intellects, -because he reasoned in a style to which they had not been used and -which confounded their dim perceptions. If you said that though -you differed with him in sentiment, yet you thought him an admirable -reasoner, and a close observer of human nature, you were answered -with a loud laugh, and some hackneyed quotation. ‘Alas! Leviathan -was not so tamed!’ They did not know whom they had to -contend with. The corner stone, which the builders rejected, became -the head-corner, though to the Jews a stumbling block, and to the -Greeks foolishness; for indeed I cannot discover that he was much -better understood by those of his own party, if we may judge from -<span class='pageno' id='Page_330'>330</span>the little affinity there is between his mode of reasoning and theirs.—The -simple clue to all his reasonings on politics is, I think, as follows. -He did not agree with some writers, that that mode of government is -necessarily the best which is the cheapest. He saw in the construction -of society other principles at work, and other capacities of -fulfilling the desires, and perfecting the nature of man, besides those -of securing the equal enjoyment of the means of animal life, and -doing this at as little expense as possible. He thought that the -wants and happiness of men were not to be provided for, as we -provide for those of a herd of cattle, merely by attending to their -physical necessities. He thought more nobly of his fellows. He -knew that man had affections and passions and powers of imagination, -as well as hunger and thirst and the sense of heat and cold. He -took his idea of political society from the pattern of private life, -wishing, as he himself expresses it, to incorporate the domestic -charities with the orders of the state, and to blend them together. -He strove to establish an analogy between the compact that binds -together the community at large, and that which binds together the -several families that compose it. He knew that the rules that form the -basis of private morality are not founded in reason, that is, in the -abstract properties of those things which are the subjects of them, but -in the nature of man, and his capacity of being affected by certain -things from habit, from imagination, and sentiment, as well as from -reason.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Thus, the reason why a man ought to be attached to his wife -and children is not, surely, that they are better than others, (for in -this case every one else ought to be of the same opinion) but -because he must be chiefly interested in those things which are -nearest to him, and with which he is best acquainted, since his -understanding cannot reach equally to every thing; because he must -be most attached to those objects which he has known the longest, -and which by their situation have actually affected him the most, not -those which in themselves are the most affecting, whether they have -ever made any impression on him or no; that is, because he is by -his nature the creature of habit and feeling, and because it is reasonable -that he should act in conformity to his nature. Burke was so -far right in saying that it is no objection to an institution, that it is -founded in <em>prejudice</em>, but the contrary, if that prejudice is natural and -right; that is, if it arises from those circumstances which are -properly subjects of feeling and association, not from any defect or -perversion of the understanding in those things which fall strictly -under its jurisdiction. On this profound maxim he took his stand. -Thus he contended, that the prejudice in favour of nobility was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_331'>331</span>natural and proper, and fit to be encouraged by the positive institutions -of society; not on account of the real or personal merit of the -individuals, but because such an institution has a tendency to enlarge -and raise the mind, to keep alive the memory of past greatness, to -connect the different ages of the world together, to carry back the -imagination over a long tract of time, and feed it with the contemplation -of remote events: because it is natural to think highly of -that which inspires us with high thoughts, which has been connected -for many generations with splendour, and affluence, and dignity, and -power, and privilege. He also conceived, that by transferring the -respect from the person to the thing, and thus rendering it steady and -permanent, the mind would be habitually formed to sentiments of -deference, attachment, and fealty, to whatever else demanded its -respect: that it would be led to fix its view on what was elevated -and lofty, and be weaned from that low and narrow jealousy which -never willingly or heartily admits of any superiority in others, and is -glad of every opportunity to bring down all excellence to a level with -its own miserable standard. Nobility did not therefore exist to the -prejudice of the other orders of the state, but by, and for them. -The inequality of the different orders of society did not destroy the -unity and harmony of the whole. The health and well-being of the -moral world was to be promoted by the same means as the beauty of -the natural world; by contrast, by change, by light and shade, by -variety of parts, by order and proportion. To think of reducing all -mankind to the same insipid level, seemed to him the same absurdity -as to destroy the inequalities of surface in a country, for the benefit of -agriculture and commerce. In short, he believed that the interests -of men in society should be consulted, and their several stations and -employments assigned, with a view to their nature, not as physical, -but as moral beings, so as to nourish their hopes, to lift their imagination, -to enliven their fancy, to rouse their activity, to strengthen -their virtue, and to furnish the greatest number of objects of pursuit -and means of enjoyment to beings constituted as man is, consistently -with the order and stability of the whole.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The same reasoning might be extended farther. I do not say that -his arguments are conclusive; but they are profound and <em>true</em>, as far -as they go. There may be disadvantages and abuses necessarily interwoven -with his scheme, or opposite advantages of infinitely greater value, -to be derived from another order of things and state of society. This -however does not invalidate either the truth or importance of Burke’s -reasoning; since the advantages he points out as connected with the -mixed form of government are really and necessarily inherent in it: -since they are compatible in the same degree with no other; since the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_332'>332</span>principle itself on which he rests his argument (whatever we may -think of the application) is of the utmost weight and moment; and -since on whichever side the truth lies, it is impossible to make a fair -decision without having the opposite side of the question clearly and -fully stated to us. This Burke has done in a masterly manner. He -presents to you one view or face of society. Let him, who thinks he -can, give the reverse side with equal force, beauty, and clearness. It -is said, I know, that truth is <em>one</em>; but to this I cannot subscribe, for -it appears to me that truth is <em>many</em>. There are as many truths as -there are things and causes of action and contradictory principles at -work in society. In making up the account of good and evil, indeed, -the final result must be one way or the other; but the particulars on -which that result depends are infinite and various.</p> - -<p class='c010'>It will be seen from what I have said, that I am very far from -agreeing with those who think that Burke was a man without understanding, -and a merely florid writer. There are two causes which -have given rise to this calumny; namely, that narrowness of mind -which leads men to suppose that the truth lies entirely on the side of -their own opinions, and that whatever does not make for them is -absurd and irrational; secondly, a trick we have of confounding -reason with judgment, and supposing that it is merely the province -of the understanding to pronounce sentence, and not to give in -evidence, or argue the case; in short, that it is a passive, not an -active faculty. Thus there are persons who never run into any -extravagance, because they are so buttressed up with the opinions of -others on all sides, that they cannot lean much to one side or the -other; they are so little moved with any kind of reasoning, that they -remain at an equal distance from every extreme, and are never very -far from the truth, because the slowness of their faculties will not -suffer them to make much progress in error. These are persons of -great judgment. The scales of the mind are pretty sure to remain -even, when there is nothing in them. In this sense of the word, -Burke must be allowed to have wanted judgment, by all those who -think that he was wrong in his conclusions. The accusation of want -of judgment, in fact, only means that you yourself are of a different -opinion. But if in arriving at one error he discovered a hundred -truths, I should consider myself a hundred times more indebted -to him than if, stumbling on that which I consider as the right -side of the question, he had committed a hundred absurdities in -striving to establish his point. I speak of him now merely as an -author, or as far as I and other readers are concerned with him; -at the same time, I should not differ from any one who may be -disposed to contend that the consequences of his writings as instruments -<span class='pageno' id='Page_333'>333</span>of political power have been tremendous, fatal, such as -no exertion of wit or knowledge or genius can ever counteract or -atone for.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Burke also gave a hold to his antagonists by mixing up sentiments -and imagery with his reasoning; so that being unused to such a sight -in the region of politics, they were deceived, and could not discern -the fruit from the flowers. Gravity is the cloke of wisdom; and -those who have nothing else think it an insult to affect the one without -the other, because it destroys the only foundation on which their -pretensions are built. The easiest part of reason is dulness; the -generality of the world are therefore concerned in discouraging any -example of unnecessary brilliancy that might tend to shew that the -two things do not always go together. Burke in some measure -dissolved the spell. It was discovered, that his gold was not the -less valuable for being wrought into elegant shapes, and richly embossed -with curious figures; that the solidity of a building is not -destroyed by adding to it beauty and ornament; and that the strength -of a man’s understanding is not always to be estimated in exact proportion -to his want of imagination. His understanding was not the -less real, because it was not the only faculty he possessed. He -justified the description of the poet,—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘How charming is divine philosophy!</div> - <div class='line'>Not harsh and crabbed as dull fools suppose,</div> - <div class='line'>But musical as is Apollo’s lute!’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>Those who object to this union of grace and beauty with reason, -are in fact weak-sighted people, who cannot distinguish the noble -and majestic form of Truth from that of her sister Folly, if they -are dressed both alike! But there is always a difference even in -the adventitious ornaments they wear, which is sufficient to distinguish -them.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Burke was so far from being a gaudy or flowery writer, that -he was one of the severest writers we have. His words are the -most like things; his style is the most strictly suited to the subject. -He unites every extreme and every variety of composition; the lowest -and the meanest words and descriptions with the highest. He -exults in the display of power, in shewing the extent, the force, -and intensity of his ideas; he is led on by the mere impulse and -vehemence of his fancy, not by the affectation of dazzling his readers -by gaudy conceits or pompous images. He was completely carried -away by his subject. He had no other object but to produce the -strongest impression on his reader, by giving the truest, the most -characteristic, the fullest, and most forcible descriptions of things, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_334'>334</span>trusting to the power of his own mind to mould them into grace and -beauty. He did not produce a splendid effect by setting fire to the -light vapours that float in the regions of fancy, as the chemists make -fine colours with phosphorus, but by the eagerness of his blows struck -fire from the flint, and melted the hardest substances in the furnace of -his imagination. The wheels of his imagination did not catch fire -from the rottenness of the materials, but from the rapidity of their -motion. One would suppose, to hear people talk of Burke, that his -style was such as would have suited the ‘Lady’s Magazine’; soft, -smooth, showy, tender, insipid, full of fine words, without any -meaning. The essence of the gaudy or glittering style consists in -producing a momentary effect by fine words and images brought -together, without order or connexion. Burke most frequently -produced an effect by the remoteness and novelty of his combinations, -by the force of contrast, by the striking manner in which the most -opposite and unpromising materials were harmoniously blended -together; not by laying his hands on all the fine things he could -think of, but by bringing together those things which he knew would -blaze out into glorious light by their collision. The florid style is -a mixture of affectation and common-place. Burke’s was an union of -untameable vigour and originality.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Burke was not a verbose writer. If he sometimes multiplies -words, it is not for want of ideas, but because there are no words -that fully express his ideas, and he tries to do it as well as he can by -different ones. He had nothing of the <em>set</em> or formal style, the -measured cadence, and stately phraseology of Johnson, and most of -our modern writers. This style, which is what we understand by -the <em>artificial</em>, is all in one key. It selects a certain set of words to -represent all ideas whatever, as the most dignified and elegant, and -excludes all others as low and vulgar. The words are not fitted to -the things, but the things to the words. Every thing is seen through -a false medium. It is putting a mask on the face of nature, which -may indeed hide some specks and blemishes, but takes away all -beauty, delicacy, and variety. It destroys all dignity or elevation, -because nothing can be raised where all is on a level, and completely -destroys all force, expression, truth, and character, by arbitrarily -confounding the differences of things, and reducing every thing to the -same insipid standard. To suppose that this stiff uniformity can add -any thing to real grace or dignity, is like supposing that the human -body in order to be perfectly graceful, should never deviate from its -upright posture. Another mischief of this method is, that it confounds -all ranks in literature. Where there is no room for variety, -no discrimination, no nicety to be shewn in matching the idea with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_335'>335</span>its proper word, there can be no room for taste or elegance. A man -must easily learn the art of writing, when every sentence is to be cast -in the same mould: where he is only allowed the use of one word, -he cannot choose wrong, nor will he be in much danger of making -himself ridiculous by affectation or false glitter, when, whatever -subject he treats of, he must treat of it in the same way. This indeed -is to wear golden chains for the sake of ornament.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Burke was altogether free from the pedantry which I have here -endeavoured to expose. His style was as original, as expressive, as -rich and varied, as it was possible; his combinations were as exquisite, -as playful, as happy, as unexpected, as bold and daring, as his fancy. -If any thing, he ran into the opposite extreme of too great an -inequality, if truth and nature could ever be carried to an extreme.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Those who are best acquainted with the writings and speeches of -Burke will not think the praise I have here bestowed on them -exaggerated. Some proof will be found of this in the following -extracts. But the full proof must be sought in his works at large, and -particularly in the ‘Thoughts on the Discontents’; in his ‘Reflections -on the French Revolution’; in his ‘Letter to the Duke of -Bedford’; and in the ‘Regicide Peace.’ The two last of these are -perhaps the most remarkable of all his writings, from the contrast they -afford to each other. The one is the most delightful exhibition of -wild and brilliant fancy, that is to be found in English prose, but it is -too much like a beautiful picture painted upon gauze; it wants something -to support it: the other is without ornament, but it has all the -solidity, the weight, the gravity of a judicial record. It seems to -have been written with a certain constraint upon himself, and to shew -those who said he could not <em>reason</em>, that his arguments might be -stripped of their ornaments without losing any thing of their force. It -is certainly, of all his works, that in which he has shewn most power -of logical deduction, and the only one in which he has made any -important use of facts. In general he certainly paid little attention to -them: they were the playthings of his mind. He saw them as he -pleased, not as they were; with the eye of the philosopher or the -poet, regarding them only in their general principle, or as they might -serve to decorate his subject. This is the natural consequence of -much imagination: things that are probable are elevated into the rank -of realities. To those who can reason on the essences of things, or -who can invent according to nature, the experimental proof is of little -value. This was the case with Burke. In the present instance, -however, he seems to have forced his mind into the service of facts: -and he succeeded completely. His comparison between our connexion -with France or Algiers, and his account of the conduct of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_336'>336</span>war, are as clear, as convincing, as forcible examples of this kind of -reasoning, as are any where to be met with. Indeed I do not think -there is any thing in Fox (whose mind was purely historical) or in -Chatham, (who attended to feelings more than facts) that will bear a -comparison with them.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Burke has been compared to Cicero—I do not know for what -reason. Their excellences are as different, and indeed as opposite, as -they well can be. Burke had not the polished elegance; the glossy -neatness, the artful regularity, the exquisite modulation of Cicero: he -had a thousand times more richness and originality of mind, more -strength and pomp of diction.</p> - -<p class='c010'>It has been well observed, that the ancients had no word that -properly expresses what we mean by the word <em>genius</em>. They perhaps -had not the thing. Their minds appear to have been too exact, too -retentive, too minute and subtle, too sensible to the external differences -of things, too passive under their impressions, to admit of those bold -and rapid combinations, those lofty flights of fancy, which, glancing -from heaven to earth, unite the most opposite extremes, and draw the -happiest illustrations from things the most remote. Their ideas were -kept too confined and distinct by the material form or vehicle in which -they were conveyed, to unite cordially together, or be melted down -in the imagination. Their metaphors are taken from things of the -same class, not from things of different classes; the general analogy -not the individual feeling, directs them in their choice. Hence, as -Dr. Johnson observed, their similes are either repetitions of the same -idea, or so obvious and general as not to lend any additional force to -it; as when a huntress is compared to Diana, or a warrior rushing into -battle to a lion rushing on his prey. Their <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">forte</span></i> was exquisite art -and perfect imitation. Witness their statues and other things of the -same kind. But they had not that high and enthusiastic fancy which -some of our own writers have shewn. For the proof of this, let any -one compare Milton and Shakspeare with Homer and Sophocles, or -Burke with Cicero.</p> - -<p class='c010'>It may be asked whether Burke was a poet. He was so only in -the general vividness of his fancy, and in richness of invention. -There may be poetical passages in his works, but I certainly think -that his writings in general are quite distinct from poetry; and that -for the reason before given, namely, that the subject-matter of them is -not poetical. The finest parts of them are illustrations or personifications -of dry abstract ideas;<a id='r56' /><a href='#f56' class='c011'><sup>[56]</sup></a> and the union between the idea and the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_337'>337</span>illustration is not of that perfect and pleasing kind as to constitute -poetry, or indeed to be admissible, but for the effect intended to be -produced by it; that is, by every means in our power to give animation -and attraction to subjects in themselves barren of ornament, but -which at the same time are pregnant with the most important -consequences, and in which the understanding and the passions are -equally interested.</p> - -<p class='c010'>I have heard it remarked by a person, to whose opinion I would -sooner submit than to a general council of critics, that the sound of -Burke’s prose is not musical; that it wants cadence; and that instead -of being so lavish of his imagery as is generally supposed, he seemed -to him to be rather parsimonious in the use of it, always expanding -and making the most of his ideas. This may be true if we compare -him with some of our poets, or perhaps with some of our early prose -writers, but not if we compare him with any of our political writers -or parliamentary speakers. There are some very fine things of Lord -Bolingbroke’s on the same subjects, but not equal to Burke’s. As for -Junius, he is at the head of his class; but that class is not the highest. -He has been said to have more dignity than Burke. Yes—if the -stalk of a giant is less dignified than the strut of a <em>petit-maître</em>. I do -not mean to speak disrespectfully of Junius, but grandeur is not the -character of his composition; and if it is not to be found in Burke, it -is to be found nowhere.</p> - -<h3 class='c003'>CHARACTER OF MR. FOX, 1807<a id='r57' /><a href='#f57' class='c011'><sup>[57]</sup></a></h3> - -<p class='c008'>I shall begin with observing generally, that Mr. Fox excelled all his -contemporaries in the extent of his knowledge, in the clearness and -distinctness of his views, in quickness of apprehension, in plain, -practical common sense, in the full, strong, and absolute possession of -his subject. A measure was no sooner proposed than he seemed to -have an instantaneous and intuitive perception of its various bearings -and consequences; of the manner in which it would operate on the -different classes of society, on commerce or agriculture, on our -domestic or foreign policy; of the difficulties attending its execution; -in a word, of all its practical results, and the comparative advantages -<span class='pageno' id='Page_338'>338</span>to be gained either by adopting or rejecting it. He was intimately -acquainted with the interests of the different parts of the community, -with the minute and complicated details of political economy, with -our external relations, with the views, the resources, and the maxims -of other states. He was master of all those facts and circumstances -which it was necessary to know in order to judge fairly and determine -wisely; and he knew them not loosely or lightly, but in number, -weight, and measure. He had also stored his memory by reading -and general study, and improved his understanding by the lamp of -history. He was well acquainted with the opinions and sentiments -of the best authors, with the maxims of the most profound politicians, -with the causes of the rise and fall of states, with the general passions -of men, with the characters of different nations, and the laws and -constitution of his own country. He was a man of a large, capacious, -powerful, and highly cultivated intellect. No man could know more -than he knew; no man’s knowledge could be more sound, more plain -and useful; no man’s knowledge could lie in more connected and -tangible masses; no man could be more perfectly master of his ideas, -could reason upon them more closely, or decide upon them more -impartially. His mind was full, even to overflowing. He was so -habitually conversant with the most intricate and comprehensive trains -of thought, or such was the natural vigour and exuberance of his mind, -that he seemed to recal them without any effort. His ideas quarrelled -for utterance. So far from ever being at a loss for them, he was -obliged rather to repress and rein them in, lest they should overwhelm -and confound, instead of informing the understandings of his hearers.</p> - -<p class='c010'>If to this we add the ardour and natural impetuosity of his mind, -his quick sensibility, his eagerness in the defence of truth, and his -impatience of every thing that looked like trick or artifice or affectation, -we shall be able in some measure to account for the character of -his eloquence. His thoughts came crowding in too fast for the slow -and mechanical process of speech. What he saw in an instant, he -could only express imperfectly, word by word, and sentence after -sentence. He would, if he could, ‘have bared his swelling heart,’ -and laid open at once the rich treasures of knowledge with which his -bosom was fraught. It is no wonder that this difference between the -rapidity of his feelings, and the formal round-about method of communicating -them, should produce some disorder in his frame; that the -throng of his ideas should try to overleap the narrow boundaries which -confined them, and tumultuously break down their prison-doors, -instead of waiting to be let out one by one, and following patiently -at due intervals and with mock dignity, like poor dependents, in the -train of words:—that he should express himself in hurried sentences, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_339'>339</span>in involuntary exclamations, by vehement gestures, by sudden starts -and bursts of passion. Every thing shewed the agitation of his mind. -His tongue faltered, his voice became almost suffocated, and his face -was bathed in tears. He was lost in the magnitude of his subject. -He reeled and staggered under the load of feeling which oppressed -him. He rolled like the sea beaten by a tempest.<a id='r58' /><a href='#f58' class='c011'><sup>[58]</sup></a> Whoever, having -the feelings of a man, compared him at these times with his boasted -rival,—his stiff, straight, upright figure, his gradual contortions, -turning round as if moved by a pivot, his solemn pauses, his deep -tones, ‘whose sound reverbed their own hollowness,’ must have said, -This is a man; that is an automaton. If Fox had needed grace, -he would have had it; but it was not the character of his mind, nor -would it have suited with the style of his eloquence. It was Pitt’s -object to smooth over the abruptness and intricacies of his argument -by the gracefulness of his manner, and to fix the attention of his -hearers on the pomp and sound of his words. Lord Chatham, again, -strove to <em>command</em> others; he did not try to convince them, but to -overpower their understandings by the greater strength and vehemence -of his own; to awe them by a sense of personal superiority: and he -therefore was obliged to assume a lofty and dignified manner. It was -to him they bowed, not to truth; and whatever related to <em>himself</em>, -must therefore have a tendency to inspire respect and admiration. -Indeed, he would never have attempted to gain that ascendant over -men’s minds that he did, if either his mind or body had been different -from what they were; if his temper had not urged him to control -and command others, or if his personal advantages had not enabled -him to secure that kind of authority which he coveted. But it would -have been ridiculous in Fox to have affected either the smooth -plausibility, the stately gravity of the one, or the proud, domineering, -imposing dignity of the other; or even if he could have succeeded, it -would only have injured the effect of his speeches.<a id='r59' /><a href='#f59' class='c011'><sup>[59]</sup></a> What he had to -rely on was the strength, the solidity of his ideas, his complete and -thorough knowledge of his subject. It was his business therefore to -fix the attention of his hearers, not on himself, but on his subject; to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_340'>340</span>rivet it there, to hurry it on from words to things:—the only circumstance -of which they required to be convinced with respect to himself, -was the sincerity of his opinions; and this would be best done by the -earnestness of his manner, by giving a loose to his feelings, and by -shewing the most perfect forgetfulness of himself, and of what others -thought of him. The moment a man shews you either by affected -words or looks or gestures, that he is thinking of himself, and you, -that he is trying either to please or terrify you into compliance, there -is an end at once to that kind of eloquence which owes its effect to -the force of truth, and to your confidence in the sincerity of the -speaker. It was, however, to the confidence inspired by the earnestness -and simplicity of his manner, that Mr. Fox was indebted for more -than half the effect of his speeches. Some others (as Lord Lansdown -for instance) might possess nearly as much information, as exact a -knowledge of the situation and interests of the country; but they wanted -that zeal, that animation, that enthusiasm, that deep sense of the -importance of the subject, which removes all doubt or suspicion from -the minds of the hearers and communicates its own warmth to every -breast. We may convince by argument alone; but it is by the interest -we discover in the success of our reasonings, that we persuade others -to feel and act with us. There are two circumstances which Fox’s -speeches and Lord Chatham’s had in common: they are alike distinguished -by a kind of plain downright common sense, and by the -vehemence of their manner. But still there is a great difference -between them, in both these respects. Fox in his opinions was -governed by facts—Chatham was more influenced by the feelings of -others respecting those facts. Fox endeavoured to find out what the -consequences of any measure would be; Chatham attended more to -what people would think of it. Fox appealed to the practical reason -of mankind; Chatham to popular prejudice. The one repelled the -encroachments of power by supplying his hearers with arguments -against it; the other by rousing their passions and arming their resentment -against those who would rob them of their birthright. Their -vehemence and impetuosity arose also from very different feelings. -In Chatham it was pride, passion, self-will, impatience of control, a -determination to have his own way, to carry every thing before him<a id='r60' /><a href='#f60' class='c011'><sup>[60]</sup></a>; -in Fox it was pure good nature, a sincere love of truth, an ardent -attachment to what he conceived to be right; an anxious concern for -the welfare and liberties of mankind. Or if we suppose that ambition -<span class='pageno' id='Page_341'>341</span>had taken a strong hold of both their minds, yet their ambition was -of a very different kind: in the one it was the love of power, in the -other it was the love of fame. Nothing can be more opposite than -these two principles, both in their origin and tendency. The one -originates in a selfish, haughty, domineering spirit; the other in a -social and generous sensibility, desirous of the love and esteem of -others, and anxiously bent upon gaining merited applause. The one -grasps at immediate power by any means within its reach; the other, -if it does not square its actions by the rules of virtue, at least refers -them to a standard which comes the nearest to it—the disinterested -applause of our country, and the enlightened judgment of posterity. -The love of fame is consistent with the steadiest attachment to -principle, and indeed strengthens and supports it; whereas the love -of power, where this is the ruling passion, requires the sacrifice of -principle at every turn, and is inconsistent even with the shadow of it. -I do not mean to say that Fox had no love of power, or Chatham no -love of fame, (this would be reversing all we know of human nature,) -but that the one principle predominated in the one, and the other in -the other. My reader will do me great injustice if he supposes that -in attempting to describe the characters of different speakers by contrasting -their general qualities, I mean any thing beyond the <em>more</em> or -<em>less</em>: but it is necessary to describe those qualities simply and in the -abstract, in order to make the distinction intelligible. Chatham -resented any attack made upon the cause of liberty, of which he was -the avowed champion, as an indignity offered to himself. Fox felt -it as a stain upon the honour of his country, and as an injury to the -rights of his fellow citizens. The one was swayed by his own -passions and purposes, with very little regard to the consequences; the -sensibility of the other was roused, and his passions kindled into a -generous flame, by a real interest in whatever related to the welfare -of mankind, and by an intense and earnest contemplation of the consequences -of the measures he opposed. It was this union of the zeal -of the patriot with the enlightened knowledge of the statesman, that -gave to the eloquence of Fox its more than mortal energy; that -warmed, expanded, penetrated every bosom. He relied on the force -of truth and nature alone; the refinements of philosophy, the pomp -and pageantry of the imagination were forgotten, or seemed light and -frivolous; the fate of nations, the welfare of millions, hung suspended -as he spoke; a torrent of manly eloquence poured from his heart, -bore down every thing in its course, and surprised into a momentary -sense of human feeling the breathing corpses, the wire-moved puppets, -the stuffed figures, the flexible machinery, the ‘deaf and dumb -things’ of a court.</p> - -<p class='c010'><span class='pageno' id='Page_342'>342</span>I find (I do not know how the reader feels) that it is difficult -to write a character of Fox without running into insipidity or extravagance. -And the reason of this is, there are no splendid -contrasts, no striking irregularities, no curious distinctions to work -upon; no ‘jutting frieze, buttress, nor coigne of ‘vantage,’ for the -imagination to take hold of. It was a plain marble slab, inscribed -in plain legible characters, without either hieroglyphics or carving. -There was the same directness and manly simplicity in every thing -that he did. The whole of his character may indeed be summed -up in two words—strength and simplicity. Fox was in the class -of common men, but he was the first in that class. Though it is -easy to describe the difference of things, nothing is more difficult -than to describe their degrees or quantities. In what I am going -to say, I hope I shall not be suspected of a design to underrate -his powers of mind, when in fact I am only trying to ascertain -their nature and direction. The degree and extent to which he -possessed them can only be known by reading, or indeed by having -heard his speeches.</p> - -<p class='c010'>His mind, as I have already said, was, I conceive, purely <em>historical</em>: -and having said this, I have I believe said all. But perhaps it will -be necessary to explain a little farther what I mean. I mean, then, -that his memory was in an extraordinary degree tenacious of facts; -that they were crowded together in his mind without the least perplexity -or confusion; that there was no chain of consequences too -vast for his powers of comprehension; that the different parts and -ramifications of his subject were never so involved and intricate but -that they were easily disentangled in the clear prism of his understanding. -The basis of his wisdom was experience: however, he -not only knew what had happened; but by an exact knowledge of the -real state of things, he could always tell what in the common course -of events would happen in future. The force of his mind was exerted -upon facts: as long as he could lean directly upon these, as long as -he had the actual objects to refer to, to steady himself by, he could -analyse, he could combine, he could compare and reason upon them, -with the utmost exactness; but he could not reason <em>out of</em> them. He -was what is understood by a <em>matter-of-fact</em> reasoner. He was better -acquainted with the concrete masses of things, their substantial forms, -and practical connexions, than with their abstract nature or general -definitions. He was a man of extensive information, of sound knowledge, -and clear understanding, rather than the acute observer or -profound thinker. He was the man of business, the accomplished -statesman, rather than the philosopher. His reasonings were, -generally speaking, calculations of certain positive results, which, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_343'>343</span>the <em>data</em> being given, must follow as matters of course, rather than -unexpected and remote truths drawn from a deep insight into human -nature, and the subtle application of general principles to particular -cases. They consisted chiefly in the detail and combination of a -vast number of items in an account, worked by the known rules -of political arithmetic; not in the discovery of bold, comprehensive, -and original theorems in the science. They were rather acts of -memory, of continued attention, of a power of bringing all his ideas -to bear at once upon a single point, than of reason or invention. -He was the attentive observer who watches the various effects and -successive movements of a machine already constructed, and can -tell how to manage it while it goes on as it has always done; -but who knows little or nothing of the principles on which it is -constructed, nor how to set it right, if it becomes disordered, -except by the most common and obvious expedients. Burke was -to Fox what the geometrician is to the mechanic. Much has been -said of the ‘prophetic mind’ of Mr. Fox. The same epithet has -been applied to Mr. Burke, till it has become proverbial. It -has, I think, been applied without much reason to either. Fox -wanted the scientific part, Burke wanted the practical. Fox had -too little imagination, Burke had too much: that is, he was careless -of facts, and was led away by his passions to look at one side -of a question only. He had not that fine sensibility to outward -impressions, that nice <em>tact</em> of circumstances, which is necessary -to the consummate politician. Indeed, his wisdom was more -that of the legislator than of the active statesman. They both -tried their strength in the Ulysses’ bow of politicians, the French -Revolution: and they were both foiled. Fox indeed foretold the -success of the French in combating with foreign powers. But -this was no more than what every friend of the liberty of France -foresaw or foretold as well as he. All those on the same side of -the question were inspired with the same sagacity on the subject. -Burke, on the other hand, seems to have been before-hand with -the public in foreboding the internal disorders that would attend -the Revolution, and its ultimate failure; but then it is at least a -question whether he did not make good his own predictions: and -certainly he saw into the causes and connexion of events much -more clearly after they had happened than before. He was however -undoubtedly a profound commentator on that apocalyptical -chapter in the history of human nature, which I do not think Fox -was. Whether led to it by the events or not, he saw thoroughly -into the principles that operated to produce them; and he pointed -them out to others in a manner which could not be mistaken. I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_344'>344</span>can conceive of Burke, as the genius of the storm, perched over -Paris, the centre and focus of anarchy, (so he would have us -believe) hovering ‘with mighty wings outspread over the abyss, and -rendering it pregnant,’ watching the passions of men gradually -unfolding themselves in new situations, penetrating those hidden -motives which hurried them from one extreme into another, -arranging and analysing the principles that alternately pervaded the -vast chaotic mass, and extracting the elements of order and the -cement of social life from the decomposition of all society: while -Charles Fox in the meantime dogged the heels of the Allies, (all -the way calling out to them to stop) with his sutler’s bag, his -muster-roll, and army estimates at his back. He said, You have -only fifty thousand troops, the enemy have a hundred thousand: -this place is dismantled, it can make no resistance: your troops -were beaten last year, they must therefore be disheartened this. -This is excellent sense and sound reasoning, but I do not see -what it has to do with philosophy. But why was it necessary -that Fox should be a philosopher? Why, in the first place, -Burke was a philosopher, and Fox, to keep up with him, must -be so too. In the second place, it was necessary, in order that -his indiscreet admirers, who had no idea of greatness but as it -consists in certain names and pompous titles, might be able to talk -big about their patron. It is a bad compliment we pay to our idol -when we endeavour to make him out something different from himself; -it shews that we are not satisfied with what he was. I have -heard it said that he had as much imagination as Burke. To this -extravagant assertion I shall make what I conceive to be a very -cautious and moderate answer: that Burke was as superior to Fox -in this respect as Fox perhaps was to the first person you would -meet in the street. There is in fact hardly an instance of imagination -to be met with in any of his speeches; what there is, is of the -rhetorical kind. I may, however, be wrong. He might excel as -much in profound thought, and richness of fancy, as he did in other -things; though I cannot perceive it. However, when any one -publishes a book called the Beauties of Fox, containing the original -reflections, brilliant passages, lofty metaphors, &c. to be found in his -speeches, without the detail or connexion, I shall be very ready to -give the point up.</p> - -<p class='c010'>In logic Fox was inferior to Pitt—indeed, in all the formalities -of eloquence, in which the latter excelled as much as he was -deficient in the soul or substance. When I say that Pitt was -superior to Fox in logic, I mean that he excelled him in the formal -division of the subject, in always keeping it in view, as far as he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_345'>345</span>chose; in being able to detect any deviation from it in others; -in the management of his general topics; in being aware of the -mood and figure in which the argument must move, with all its -nonessentials, dilemmas, and alternatives; in never committing -himself, nor ever suffering his antagonist to occupy an inch of the -plainest ground, but under cover of a syllogism. He had more -of ‘the dazzling fence of argument,’ as it has been called. He -was, in short, better at his weapon. But then, unfortunately, it -was only a dagger of lath that the wind could turn aside; -whereas Fox wore a good trusty blade, of solid metal, and real -execution.</p> - -<p class='c010'>I shall not trouble myself to inquire whether Fox was a man -of strict virtue and principle; or in other words, how far he was -one of those who screw themselves up to a certain pitch of ideal -perfection, who, as it were, set themselves in the stocks of -morality, and make mouths at their own situation. He was not one -of that tribe, and shall not be tried by their self-denying ordinances. -But he was endowed with one of the most excellent -natures that ever fell to the lot of any of God’s creatures. It has -been said, that ‘an honest man’s the noblest work of God.’ -There is indeed a purity, a rectitude, an integrity of heart, a -freedom from every selfish bias, and sinister motive, a manly -simplicity and noble disinterestedness of feeling, which is in my -opinion to be preferred before every other gift of nature or art. -There is a greatness of soul that is superior to all the brilliancy of -the understanding. This strength of moral character, which is -not only a more valuable but a rarer quality than strength of -understanding (as we are oftener led astray by the narrowness of our -feelings, than want of knowledge) Fox possessed in the highest -degree. He was superior to every kind of jealousy, of suspicion, -of malevolence; to every narrow and sordid motive. He was -perfectly above every species of duplicity, of low art and cunning. -He judged of every thing in the downright sincerity of his -nature, without being able to impose upon himself by any hollow -disguise, or to lend his support to any thing unfair or dishonourable. -He had an innate love of truth, of justice, of probity, of -whatever was generous or liberal. Neither his education, nor his -connexions, nor his situation in life, nor the low intrigues and -virulence of party, could ever alter the simplicity of his taste, nor -the candid openness of his nature. There was an elastic force -about his heart, a freshness of social feeling, a warm glowing -humanity, which remained unimpaired to the last. He was by -nature a gentleman. By this I mean that he felt a certain -<span class='pageno' id='Page_346'>346</span>deference and respect for the person of every man; he had an unaffected -frankness and benignity in his behaviour to others, the utmost -liberality in judging of their conduct and motives. A refined -humanity constitutes the character of a gentleman.<a id='r61' /><a href='#f61' class='c011'><sup>[61]</sup></a> He was the -true friend of his country, as far as it is possible for a statesman to -be so. But his love of his country did not consist in his hatred of -the rest of mankind. I shall conclude this account by repeating -what Burke said of him at a time when his testimony was of the -most value. ‘To his great and masterly understanding he joined the -utmost possible degree of moderation: he was of the most artless, -candid, open, and benevolent disposition; disinterested in the -extreme; of a temper mild and placable, even to a fault; and without -one drop of gall in his constitution.’</p> - -<h3 class='c003'>CHARACTER OF MR. PITT, 1806</h3> - -<p class='c008'>The character of Mr. Pitt was, perhaps, one of the most -singular that ever existed. With few talents, and fewer virtues, -he acquired and preserved in one of the most trying situations, -and in spite of all opposition, the highest reputation for the possession -of every moral excellence, and as having carried the -attainments of eloquence and wisdom as far as human abilities -could go. This he did (strange as it appears) by a negation -(together with the common virtues) of the common vices of -human nature, and by the complete negation of every other talent -that might interfere with the only one which he possessed in a -supreme degree, and which indeed may be made to include the -appearance of all others—an artful use of words, and a certain -dexterity of logical arrangement. In these alone his power consisted; -and the defect of all other qualities, which usually constitute -greatness, contributed to the more complete success of these. -Having no strong feelings, no distinct perceptions, his mind -having no link, as it were, to connect it with the world of external -nature, every subject presented to him nothing more than a <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">tabula -rasa</span></i>, on which he was at liberty to lay whatever colouring of language -he pleased; having no general principles, no comprehensive views of -things, no moral habits of thinking, no system of action, there was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_347'>347</span>nothing to hinder him from pursuing any particular purpose, by any -means that offered; having never any plan, he could not be convicted -of inconsistency, and his own pride and obstinacy were the only rules -of his conduct. Having no insight into human nature, no sympathy -with the passions of men, or apprehension of their real designs, he -seemed perfectly insensible to the consequences of things, and would -believe nothing till it actually happened. The fog and haze in which -he saw every thing communicated itself to others; and the total indistinctness -and uncertainty of his own ideas tended to confound the -perceptions of his hearers more effectually than the most ingenious -misrepresentation could have done. Indeed, in defending his conduct -he never seemed to consider himself as at all responsible for the -success of his measures, or to suppose that future events were in our -own power; but that as the best-laid schemes might fail, and there -was no providing against all possible contingencies, this was a sufficient -excuse for our plunging at once into any dangerous or absurd enterprize, -without the least regard to consequences. His reserved logic -confined itself solely to the <em>possible</em> and the <em>impossible</em>; and he -appeared to regard the <em>probable</em> and <em>improbable</em>, the only foundation -of moral prudence or political wisdom, as beneath the notice of a -profound statesman; as if the pride of the human intellect were concerned -in never entrusting itself with subjects, where it may be -compelled to acknowledge its weakness.<a id='r62' /><a href='#f62' class='c011'><sup>[62]</sup></a> From his manner of -reasoning, he seemed not to have believed that the truth of his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_348'>348</span>statements depended on the reality of the facts, but that the things -depended on the order in which he arranged them in words: you -would not suppose him to be agitating a serious question which had -real grounds to go upon, but to be declaiming upon an imaginary -thesis, proposed as an exercise in the schools. He never set himself -to examine the force of the objections that were brought against his -measures, or attempted to establish them upon clear, solid grounds of -his own; but constantly contented himself with first gravely stating -the logical form, or dilemma, to which the question reduced itself, and -then, after having declared his opinion, proceeded to amuse his hearers -by a series of rhetorical common places, connected together in grave, -sonorous, and elaborately constructed periods, without ever shewing -their real application to the subject in dispute. Thus, if any member -of the Opposition disapproved of any measure, and enforced his -objections by pointing out the many evils with which it was fraught, -or the difficulties attending its execution, his only answer was ‘that -it was true there might be inconveniences attending the measure -proposed, but we were to remember, that every expedient that could -be devised might be said to be nothing more than a choice of -difficulties, and that all that human prudence could do was to consider -on which side the advantages lay; that for his part, he conceived -that the present measure was attended with more advantages and -fewer disadvantages than any other that could be adopted; that if -we were diverted from our object by every appearance of difficulty, -the wheels of government would be clogged by endless delays and -imaginary grievances; that most of the objections made to the -measure appeared to him to be trivial, others of them unfounded and -improbable; or that if a scheme free from all these objections could -be proposed, it might after all prove inefficient; while, in the mean -time, a material object remained unprovided for, or the opportunity -of action was lost.’ This mode of reasoning is admirably described -by Hobbes, in speaking of the writings of some of the Schoolmen, -of whom he says, that ‘they had learned the trick of imposing what -they list upon their readers, and declining the force of true reason by -verbal forks; that is, distinctions which signify nothing, but serve -only to astonish the multitude of ignorant men.’ That what I have -here stated comprehends the whole force of his mind, which consisted -solely in this evasive dexterity and perplexing formality, -assisted by a copiousness of words and common-place topics, will, I -think, be evident to any one who carefully looks over his speeches, -undazzled by the reputation or personal influence of the speaker. It -will be in vain to look in them for any of the common proofs of -human genius or wisdom. He has not left behind him a single -<span class='pageno' id='Page_349'>349</span>memorable saying—not one profound maxim—one solid observation—one -forcible description—one beautiful thought—one humourous -picture—one affecting sentiment.<a id='r63' /><a href='#f63' class='c011'><sup>[63]</sup></a> He has made no addition whatever -to the stock of human knowledge. He did not possess any one -of those faculties which contribute to the instruction and delight of -mankind—depth of understanding, imagination, sensibility, wit, -vivacity, clear and solid judgment. But it may be asked, If these -qualities are not to be found in him, where are we to look for them? -And I may be required to point out instances of them. I shall -answer then, that he had none of the profound legislative wisdom, -piercing sagacity, or rich, impetuous, high-wrought imagination of -Burke; the manly eloquence, strong sense, exact knowledge, -vehemence and natural simplicity of Fox; the ease, brilliancy, and -acuteness of Sheridan. It is not merely that he had not all these -qualities in the degree that they were severally possessed by his -rivals, but he had not any of them in any striking degree. His -reasoning is a technical arrangement of unmeaning common-places; -his eloquence merely rhetorical; his style monotonous and artificial. -If he could pretend to any one excellence in an eminent degree, it -was to taste in composition. There is certainly nothing low, nothing -puerile, nothing far-fetched or abrupt in his speeches; there is a kind -of faultless regularity pervading them throughout; but in the confined, -mechanical, passive mode of eloquence which he adopted, it seemed -rather more difficult to commit errors than to avoid them. A man -who is determined never to move out of the beaten road, cannot lose -his way. However, habit, joined to the peculiar mechanical memory -which he possessed, carried this correctness to a degree which, in an -extemporaneous speaker, was almost miraculous; he perhaps hardly -ever uttered a sentence that was not perfectly regular and connected. -In this respect, he not only had the advantage over his own contemporaries, -but perhaps no one that ever lived equalled him in this -singular faculty. But for this, he would always have passed for a -common man; and to this the constant sameness, and, if I may so -say, vulgarity of his ideas, must have contributed not a little, as there -was nothing to distract his mind from this one object of his unintermitted -attention; and as even in his choice of words he never -<span class='pageno' id='Page_350'>350</span>aimed at any thing more than a certain general propriety, and stately -uniformity of style. His talents were exactly fitted for the situation -in which he was placed; where it was his business, not to overcome -others, but to avoid being overcome. He was able to baffle opposition, -not from strength or firmness, but from the evasive ambiguity and -impalpable nature of his resistance, which gave no hold to the rude -grasp of his opponents: no force could bind the loose phantom, and -his mind (though ‘not matchless, and his pride humbled by such -rebuke,’) soon rose from defeat unhurt,</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘And in its liquid texture mortal wound</div> - <div class='line'>Receiv’d no more than can the fluid air.’<a id='r64' /><a href='#f64' class='c011'><sup>[64]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<h3 class='c003'>PITT AND BUONAPARTE</h3> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div><em>From the Morning Post, March 19, 1800.</em></div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>‘Plutarch, in his comparative biography of Rome and Greece, -has generally chosen for each pair of Lives the two contemporaries -who most nearly resemble each other. His work would, perhaps, -have been more interesting, if he had adopted the contrary arrangement, -and selected those rather, who had attained to the possession -of similar influence, or similar fame, by means, actions, and talents -the most dissimilar. For power is the sole object of philosophical -attention in man, as in inanimate nature; and in the one equally as -in the other, we understand it more intimately, the more diverse the -circumstances are with which we have observed it to exist. In our -<span class='pageno' id='Page_351'>351</span>days, the two persons who appear to have influenced the interests and -actions of men the most deeply and the most diffusively, are, beyond -doubt, the Chief Consul of France, and the Prime Minister of Great -Britain: and in these two, are presented to us similar situations, with -the greatest dissimilitude of characters.</p> - -<p class='c010'>William Pitt was the younger son of Lord Chatham; a fact of no -ordinary importance in the solution of his character, of no mean -significance in the heraldry of morals and intellect. His father’s -rank, fame, political connexions, and parental ambition, were his -mould: he was cast, rather than grew. A palpable election, a -conscious predestination controlled the free agency, and transfigured -the individuality of his mind, and that, which he might have been, -was compelled into that, which he was to be. From his early childhood -it was his father’s custom to make him stand upon a chair, and -declaim before a large company; by which exercise, practised so -frequently, and continued for so many years, he acquired a premature -and unnatural dexterity in the combination of words, which must of -necessity have diverted his attention from present objects, obscured -his impressions, and deadened his genuine feelings. Not the thing on -which he was speaking, but the praises to be gained by the speech, -were present to his intuition; hence he associated all the operations -of his faculties with words, and his pleasures with the surprise excited -by them. But an inconceivably large portion of human knowledge -and human power is involved in the science and management of -words; and an education of words, though it destroys genius, will -often create and always foster, talent. The young Pitt was conspicuous -far beyond his fellows, both at school and at college. He -was always full-grown: he had neither the promise nor the awkwardness -of a growing intellect. Vanity, early satiated, formed, and -elevated itself into a love of power; and in losing this colloquial -vanity, he lost one of the prime links that connect the individual with -the species, too early for the affections, though not too early for the -understanding. At College he was a severe student; his mind was -founded and elemented in words and generalities, and these too -formed all the superstructure. That revelry and that debauchery, -which are so often fatal to the powers of intellect, would probably -have been serviceable to him; they would have given him a closer -communion with realities, they would have induced a greater presentness -to present objects. But Mr. Pitt’s conduct was correct, unimpressibly -correct. His after-discipline in the special pleader’s office, -and at the Bar, carried on the scheme of his education with unbroken -uniformity. His first political connexions were with the -Reformers; but those who accuse him of sympathising or coalescing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_352'>352</span>with their intemperate or visionary plans, misunderstand his character, -and are ignorant of the historical facts. Imaginary situations in an -imaginary state of things, rise up in minds that possess a power and -facility in combining images. Mr. Pitt’s ambition was conversant -with old situations in the old state of things, which furnish nothing -to the imagination, though much to the wishes. In his endeavours -to realise his father’s plan of reform, he was probably as sincere as a -being, who had derived so little knowledge from actual impressions, -could be. But his sincerity had no living root of affection: while it -was propped up by his love of praise and immediate power, so long -it stood erect, and no longer. He became a member of the -Parliament, supported the popular opinions, and in a few years, by -the influence of the popular party, was placed in that high and awful -rank in which he now is. The fortunes of his country, we had -almost said the fates of the world, were placed in his wardship—we -sink in prostration before the inscrutable dispensations of Providence, -when we reflect in whose wardship the fates of the world were -placed.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The influencer of his country and of his species was a young man, -the creature of another’s predetermination, sheltered and weather-fended -from all the elements of experience; a young man, whose -feet had never wandered, whose very eye had never turned to the -right or to the left, whose whole track had been as curveless as the -motions of a fascinated reptile! It was a young man, whose heart -was solitary, because he had existed always amid objects of futurity, -and whose imagination too was unpopulous, because those objects of -hope, to which his habitual wishes had transferred, and as it were, -projected his existence, were all familiar and long established objects. -A plant sown and reared in a hot-house, for whom the very air that -surrounded him, had been regulated by the thermometer of previous -purpose; to whom the light of nature had penetrated only through -glasses and covers, who had had the sun without the breeze; whom -no storm had shaken; on whom no rain had pattered; on whom the -dews of Heaven had not fallen! A being, who had had no feelings -connected with man or nature; no spontaneous impulses; no unbiassed -and desultory studies; no genuine science; nothing that -constitutes individuality in intellect; nothing that teaches brotherhood -in affection. Such was the man, such, and so denaturalized -the spirit, on whose wisdom and philanthropy the lives and living -enjoyments of so many millions of human beings were made unavoidably -dependent. From this time a real enlargement of mind -became almost impossible. Pre-occupations, intrigue, the undue -passion and anxiety, with which all facts must be surveyed; the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_353'>353</span>crowd and confusion of these facts, none of them seen, but all -communicated, and by that very circumstance, and by the necessity -of perpetually classifying them, transmuted into words and -generalities; pride, flattery, irritation, artificial power; these, and -circumstances resembling these, necessarily render the heights of -office barren heights, which command indeed a vast and extensive -prospect, but attract so many clouds and vapours, that, most often, all -prospect is precluded. Still, however, Mr. Pitt’s situation, however -inauspicious for his real being, was favourable to his fame. He -heaped period on period; persuaded himself and the nation, that -extemporaneous arrangement of sentences was eloquence; and that -eloquence implied wisdom. His father’s struggles for freedom, and -his own attempts, gave him an almost unexampled popularity; and -his office necessarily associated with his name all the great events, -that happened during his administration. There were not, however, -wanting men, who saw through the delusion: and refusing to -attribute the industry, integrity, and enterprising spirit of our -merchants, the agricultural improvements of our landholders, the great -inventions of our manufacturers, or the valor and skilfulness of our -sailors, to the merits of a Minister: they have continued to decide -on his character from those acts and those merits which belong to -him, and to him alone. Judging him by this standard, they have -been able to discover in him no one proof or symptom of a commanding -genius. They have discovered him never controlling, never -creating, events, but always yielding to them with rapid change, -and sheltering himself from inconsistency by perpetual indefiniteness. -In the Russian War, they saw him abandoning meanly -what he had planned weakly, and threatened insolently. In the -debates on the Regency, they detected the laxity of his constitutional -principles, and received proofs that his eloquence consisted -not in the ready application of a general system to particular -questions, but in the facility of arguing for or against any question -by specious generalities, without reference to any system. In -these debates, he combined what is most dangerous in democracy, -with all that is most degrading in the old superstitions of Monarchy, -and taught an inherency of the office in the person of the King, -which made the office itself a nullity, and the Premiership, with -its accompanying majority, the sole and permanent power of -the State. And now came the French Revolution. This was -a new event; the old routine of reasoning, the common trade of -politics, were to become obsolete. He appeared wholly unprepared -for it. Half favouring, half condemning, ignorant of what -he favoured, and why he condemned; he neither displayed the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_354'>354</span>honest enthusiasm and fixed principle of Mr. Fox, nor the intimate -acquaintance with the general nature of man, and the consequent -prescience of Mr. Burke. After the declaration of war, -long did he continue in the common cant of office, in declamation -about the Scheld, and Holland, and all the vulgar causes of -common contests, and when at last the immense genius of his new -supporter had beat him out of these words (words signifying -places and dead objects, and signifying nothing more) he adopted -other words in their places, other generalities—Atheism and -Jacobinism, phrases, which he had learnt from Mr. Burke, but -without learning the philosophical definitions and involved consequences, -with which that great man accompanied those words. -Since the death of Mr. Burke, the forms and the sentiments, -and the tone of the French, have undergone many and important -changes: how indeed is it possible, that it should be otherwise, -while man is the creature of experience? But still Mr. Pitt -proceeds in an endless repetition of the same general phrases. -This is his element: deprive him of general and abstract phrases, -and you reduce him to silence. But you cannot deprive him of -them. Press him to specify an individual fact of advantage to be -derived from a war, and he answers, Security. Call upon him to -particularise a crime, and he exclaims, Jacobinism. Abstractions -defined by abstractions—generalities defined by generalities! As -a minister of finance, he is still, as ever, the man of words and -abstractions, figures, Custom-house reports, imports and exports, -commerce and revenue—all flourishing, all splendid. Never was -such a prosperous country as England under his administration. -Let it be objected, that the agriculture of the country is, by the -overbalance of commerce, and by various and complex causes, in -such a state, that the country hangs as a pensioner for bread on -its neighbours, and a bad season uniformly threatens us with -famine, this (it is replied) is owing to our prosperity—all prosperous -nations are in great distress for food. Still prosperity, -still general phrases, uninforced by one single image, one single -fact of real national amelioration, of any one comfort enjoyed, where -it was not before enjoyed, of any one class of society becoming -healthier, or wiser, or happier. These are things, these are realities; -and these Mr. Pitt has neither the imagination to body forth, or -the sensibility to feel for. Once, indeed, in an evil hour intriguing -for popularity he suffered himself to be persuaded to evince a talent -for the real, the individual; and he brought in his Poor Bill. -When we hear the Minister’s talents for finance so loudly trumpeted, -we turn involuntarily to his Poor Bill, to that acknowledged -<span class='pageno' id='Page_355'>355</span>abortion, that unanswerable evidence of his ignorance respecting all -the fundamental relations and actions of property, and of the social -union.</p> - -<p class='c010'>As his reasonings, even so is his eloquence. One character pervades -his whole being. Words on words finely arranged, and so -dexterously consequent, that the whole bears the semblance of -argument, and still keeps awake a sense of surprise; but when -all is done, nothing rememberable has been said; no one philosophical -remark, no one image, not even a pointed aphorism. -Not a sentence of Mr. Pitt’s has ever been quoted, or formed -the favourite phrase of the day, a thing unexampled in any man -of equal reputation. But while he speaks, the effect varies according -to the character of his auditor. The man of no talent is -swallowed up in surprise: and when the speech is ended, he remembers -his feelings, but nothing distinct of that which produced -them; (how opposite an effect to that of nature and genius, from -whose works the idea still remains, when the feeling is passed -away, remains to connect itself with other feelings, and combine -with new impressions!). The mere man of talent hears him with -admiration, the mere man of genius with contempt; the philosopher -neither admires nor contemns, but listens to him with a -deep and solemn interest, tracing in the effects of his eloquence -the power of words and phrases, and that peculiar constitution of -human affairs in their present state, which so eminently favours this -power.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Such appears to us to be the Prime Minister of Great Britain, -whether we consider him a statesman or an orator. The same -character betrays itself in his private life, the same coldness to -realities, to images of realities, and to all whose excellence relates -to reality.</p> - -<p class='c010'>He has patronised no science, he has raised no man of genius -from obscurity; he counts no one prime work of God among his -friends. From the same source he has no attachment to female -society, no fondness for children, no perceptions of beauty in -natural scenery; but he is fond of convivial indulgences, of that -stimulation, which, keeping up the glow of self-importance and the -sense of internal power, gives feelings without the mediation of ideas.</p> - -<p class='c010'>These are the elements of his mind; the accidents of his fortune, -the circumstances that enabled such a mind to acquire and -retain such a power, would form the subject of a philosophical -history, and that too of no scanty size. We scarcely furnish the -chapter of contents to a work which would comprise subjects so -important and delicate, as the causes of the diffusion and intensity -<span class='pageno' id='Page_356'>356</span>of secret influence, the machinery and state intrigue of marriages, -the overbalance of the commercial interest; the panic of property -struck by the late Revolution, the short-sightedness of the careful, -the carelessness of the far-sighted; and all those many and various -events which have given to a decorous profession of religion, and -a seemliness of private morals, such an unwonted weight in the -attainment and preservation of public power. We are unable to -determine whether it be more consolatory or humiliating to human -nature, that so many complexities of event, situation, character, age, -and country, should be necessary in order to the production of a -Mr. Pitt.’</p> - -<h3 class='c003'>AN EXAMINATION OF MR. MALTHUS’S DOCTRINES</h3> - -<h4 class='c017'>I. OF THE GEOMETRICAL AND ARITHMETICAL SERIES</h4> - -<p class='c018'>Wallace, the author of ‘<cite>Various Prospects of Mankind, Nature, and -Providence</cite>,’ was the first person, we believe, who applied the -principle of the superior power of increase in population over the -means of subsistence, as an insuperable objection to the arguments for -the perfectibility of man, for which, in other respects, this author was -an advocate. He has devoted a long and elaborate Essay to prove -these two points:—1. That there is a natural and necessary inability -in the means of subsistence to go on increasing always in the same -ratio as the population, the limits of the earth necessarily limiting the -actual increase of the one, and there being no limits to the tendency -to increase in the other; 2. That the checks which have hitherto, -and which always <em>must</em> keep population down to the level of the -means of subsistence, are <em>vice</em> and <em>misery</em>; and consequently, that in a -state of perfectibility, as it is called, viz. in a state of perfect wisdom, -virtue, and happiness, where these indispensable checks to population, -vice and misery, were entirely removed, population would go on -increasing to an alarming and most excessive degree, and unavoidably -end in the utmost disorder, confusion, vice and misery.—(See <cite>Various -Prospects, &c.</cite> p. 113–123.)</p> - -<p class='c010'>The principle laid down by this author, that population could not go -on for ever increasing at its natural rate, or free from every restraint, -either moral or physical, without ultimately outstripping the utmost -possible increase of the means of subsistence, we hold to be unquestionable, -if not self-evident: the other principle assumed by the original -author, viz. that vice and misery are the only possible checks to population, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_357'>357</span>we hold to be false as a matter of fact, and peculiarly absurd -and contradictory, when applied to that state of society contemplated -by the author, that is to say, one in which abstract reason and pure -virtue, or a regard to the general good, should have got the better -of every animal instinct and selfish passion. Of this, perhaps, a word -hereafter. But be this as it may, both the principle of the necessary -increase of the population beyond the means of subsistence, and the -application of that principle as a final obstacle to all Utopian -perfectibility schemes, are borrowed (whole) by Mr. Malthus from -Wallace’s work. This is not very stoutly denied by his admirers; -but, say they, Mr. Malthus was the first to reduce the inequality -between the possible increase of food and population to a mathematical -certainty, to the arithmetical and geometrical ratios. In -answer to which, we say, that those ratios are, in a strict and scientific -view of the subject, entirely fallacious—a pure fiction. For a grain -of corn or of mustard-seed has the same or a greater power of -propagating its species than a man, till it has overspread the whole -earth, till there is no longer any room for it to grow or to spread -farther. A bushel of wheat will sow a whole field: the produce of -that field will sow twenty fields, and produce twenty harvests. Till -there are no longer fields to sow, that is, till a country or the earth is -exhausted, the means of subsistence will go on increasing in more -than a geometrical ratio; will more than double itself in every -generation or season, and will more than keep pace with the progress -of population; for this is supposed only to double itself, where it -is unchecked, every twenty years. Therefore it is not true as an -abstract proposition, that of itself, or in the nature of the growth of -the produce of the earth, food can only increase in the snail-pace -progress of an arithmetical ratio, while population goes on at a -swinging geometrical rate: for the food keeps pace, or more than -keeps pace, with the population, while there is room to grow it in, -and after that room is filled up, it does not go on, even in that -arithmetical ratio—it does not increase at all, or very little. That is, -the ratio, instead of being always true, is never true at all: neither -before the soil is fully cultivated, nor afterwards. Food does not -increase in an arithmetical series in China, or even in England: it -increases in a geometrical series, or as fast as the population, in -America. The rates at which one or the other increase naturally, -or can be made to increase, have no relation to an arithmetical and -geometrical series. They are co-ordinate till the earth, or any given -portion of it, is occupied and cultivated, and, after that, they are -quite disproportionate: or rather, both stop practically at the same -instant; the means of subsistence with the limits of the soil, and the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_358'>358</span>population with the limits of the means of subsistence. All that is -true of Mr. Malthus’s doctrine, then, is this, that the tendency of -population to increase remains after the power of the earth to produce -more food is gone; that the one is limited, the other unlimited. -This is enough for the morality of the question: his mathematics are -altogether spurious. Entirely groundless as they are, they have still -been of the greatest use to Mr. Malthus, in alarming the imaginations -and confounding the understandings of his readers. For, if the case -had been represented as it stands, the increase of population would -have seemed, till the limits of the earth were full, a great moral good; -and after they were passed, a physical impossibility, the state of -society remaining the same. But, by means of the arithmetical and -geometrical series, ever present to the mental eye, and overlaying the -whole question, whether applicable to it or not, it seems, first, as if -this inordinate and unequal pressure of population on the means of -subsistence was, at all times, and in all circumstances, equally to be -dreaded, and equally inevitable; and again, as if, the more that -population advanced, the greater the evil became, the actual excess as -well as the tendency to excess. For it appears by looking at the -scale, at the ‘stop-watch’ of the new system of morals and legislation, -as if, when the population is at 4, the means of subsistence is at 3; so -that there is here only a deficit of 1 in the latter, and a small -corresponding quantity of <em>vice</em> and <em>misery</em>; but that when it gets on to -32, the means of subsistence being only 6, here is a necessary -deficiency of food, and all the comforts of life, to 26 persons out of -32, so that life becomes an evil, and the world a wretched lazar-house, -a monstrous sink of misery and famine, one foul abortion, in -proportion as it is full of human beings enjoying the comforts and -necessaries of life. It consequently follows, that the more we can, -by the wholesome <em>preventive</em> checks of vice and misery, keep back -the principle of population to its first stages, and the means of -subsistence to as low a level as possible, we keep these two mechanical, -and otherwise unmanageable principles, in closer harmony,—hinder -the one from pressing excessively on the other, and by producing the -least possible quantity of good, prevent the greatest possible quantity -of evil. This doctrine is false in fact and theory. Its advocates do -not understand it, nor is it intelligible. The actual existence of 26 -persons in want, when there is only food for six out of 32, is a -chimera which never entered the brains of any one not an adept in -Mr. Malthus’s mathematical series; the population confessedly never -can or does exceed the means of subsistence in a literal sense; and -the tendency to exceed it in a moral sense, that is, so as to destroy -the comforts and happiness of society, and occasion vice and misery, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_359'>359</span>does not depend on the actual population supported by actual means -of subsistence, but solely on the greater or less degree of <em>moral -restraint</em>, in any number of individuals (ten hundred or ten millions), -inducing them to go beyond or stop short of impending vice and -misery in the career of population. The instant, however, any -increase in population, with or without an increase in the means of -subsistence, is hinted, the disciples of Mr. Malthus are struck with -horror at the vice and misery which must ensue to keep this double -population down; nay, mention any improvement, any reform, any -addition to the comforts or necessaries of life, any diminution of -vice and misery, and the infallible result in their apprehensive -imaginations is only an incalculable increase of vice and misery, -from the increased means of subsistence, and the increased population -that would follow. They have but this one idea in their heads; -it comes in at every turn, and nothing can drive it out. Twice -last year did Major Torrens go down to the City Meeting with -Mr. Malthus’s arithmetical and geometrical ratios in his pocket, as a -double and effectual bar to Mr. Owen’s plan, or, indeed, if he is -consistent, to any other plan of reform. He appeared to consider -these ratios as decisive against any philosophical scheme of <em>perfectibility</em>, -and as proportionably inimical to any subordinate approximation to -any such ultimate visionary perfection. He argued that Mr. Owen’s -‘projected villages,’ if realised in all their pauper splendour, and to -the projector’s heart’s content, would, by providing for the support -and increased comforts of an additional population, only (by that very -means) give a double impetus to the mechanical operation of the -ratios in question, and produce a double quantity of crime and -misery, by making the principle of population press with extended -force on the means of subsistence. This is what we cannot comprehend. -Suppose Mr. Owen’s plan, or any other, would afford -double employment, double comfort and subsistence to the poor -throughout the country, where would be the harm of this, where -the objection, near or remote, except on the false principles laid down -or insinuated in Mr. Malthus’s work? For instance, if another -island such as England could by an enchanter be conjured up in -the middle of the sea, with all the same means of subsistence, arts, -trades, agriculture, manufactures, institutions, laws, &c. as this country, -we ask whether this new country would not be a good in proportion -to the number of beings maintained in such a state of comfort: or, if -these gentlemen will have it so, in proportion to the increase of -population pressing on the means of subsistence? We say it would -be a good, just in the same sense and proportion that it would be an -evil, if England as it is, with all its inhabitants, means of subsistence, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_360'>360</span>arts, trades, manufactures, agriculture, institutions, laws, King, Lords -and Commons, were sunk in the sea? Who would not weep for -England so sunk,—who would not rejoice to see another England so -rising up out of the same element? The good would be immense, -and the evil would be none: for it is evident, that though the -population of both islands would be double that of either singly, -it is the height of absurdity to suppose this would increase the -tendency of the population to press more upon the means of subsistence, -or to produce a greater quantity of vice and misery in either, -than if the one or the other did not exist. But the case is precisely -the same if we suppose England itself, <em>our</em> England, to be doubled in -population and the means of subsistence:—if we suppose such an -improvement in our arts, trade, manufactures, agriculture, institutions, -laws, every thing, possible, as to maintain double the same number of -Englishmen, in the same or in a greater degree of comfort and -enjoyment, of liberty, virtue, knowledge, happiness, and independence. -The population being doubled would not press more unequally on -double the means of subsistence, than half that population would press -on half those means of subsistence. If this increase would be an -evil, the destroying half the present population, and half the present -means of subsistence, the laying waste more lands, the destroying -arts and the implements of husbandry, the re-barbarising and the -re-enslaving the country, would be a good. The sinking the maritime -counties with all their inhabitants in the Channel, instead of ‘redeeming -tracts from the sea,’ would be a great good to the community -and the State; the flooding the fen districts would do something, in -like manner, to prevent the pressure of the principle of population on -the level of the means of subsistence; and if thirty-nine out of forty -of the counties could be struck off the list of shires, and the whole -island reduced to a sand-bank, the King of England would reign, -according to these speculatists, over forty or forty thousand times the -quantity of liberty, happiness, wisdom, and virtue, that he now does, -having no subjects, or only a select few, for the principle of population -to commit its ravages upon, by overstepping the means of subsistence. -The condition of New Zealand must approach nearer to the <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">beau ideal</span></i> -of political philosophy contemplated by these persons, than the state -of Great Britain in the reign of George <span class='fss'>III.</span> Such is the logical -result of their mode of reasoning, though they do not push it to this -length;—they only apply it to the defence of all existing abuses, and -the prevention of all timely reform! Its advocates are contented to -make use of it as a lucky diversion against all Utopian projects of -perfectibility, and against every practical advance in human improvement. -But they cannot consistently stop here, for it requires not -<span class='pageno' id='Page_361'>361</span>only a shrinking back from every progressive refinement, but a -perpetual deterioration and retrograde movement from the positive -advances we have made in civilization, comfort, and population, to -the lowest state of barbarism, ignorance, and depopulation—till we -come back to the age of acorns and pig-nuts, and reduce this once -flourishing, populous, free, industrious, independent, and contented -people, to a horde of wandering savages, housing in thickets, and -living on dewberries, shell-fish, and crab-apples. <em>This will never do.</em></p> - -<h3 class='c003'>ON THE ORIGINALITY OF MR. MALTHUS’S ESSAY</h3> - -<p class='c008'>We asserted in a former article, upon what we thought sufficient and -mature grounds, that the author of the ‘Essay on Population’ had -taken the leading principle of that essay, and the general inference -built on it, from Wallace’s work, entitled, ‘Various Prospects of -Mankind, Nature and Providence.’ We here repeat that assertion; -and to enable our readers to judge for themselves, shall give the -passage in Wallace on which it is founded. It is as follows:—</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘But without entering further into these abstracted and uncertain -speculations, it deserves our particular attention that as no Government -which hath hitherto been established is free from all seeds of -corruption, or can be expected to be eternal; so if we suppose a -Government to be perfect in its original frame, and to be administered -in the most perfect manner, after whatever model we suppose it to -have been framed, such a perfect form would be so far from lasting -for ever, that it must come to an end so much the sooner on account -of its perfection. For, though happily such Governments should be -firmly established—though they should be found consistent with the -reigning passions of human nature, though they should spread far and -wide—nay, though they should prevail universally, they must at last -involve mankind in the deepest perplexity, and in universal confusion. -For how excellent soever they may be in their own nature, they are -altogether inconsistent with the present frame of nature, and with a -limited extent of earth.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘Under a perfect Government, the inconveniences of having a -family would be so entirely removed, children would be so well -taken care of, and every thing become so favourable to populousness, -that though some sickly seasons or dreadful plagues in particular -climates might cut off multitudes, yet in general, mankind would -increase so prodigiously, that the earth would at last be overstocked, -and become unable to support its numerous inhabitants.</p> - -<p class='c010'><span class='pageno' id='Page_362'>362</span>‘How long the earth, with the best culture of which it is capable -from human genius and industry, might be able to nourish its -perpetually increasing inhabitants, is as impossible as it is unnecessary -to be determined. It is not probable that it could have supported -them during so long a period as since the creation of Adam. But -whatever may be supposed of the length of this period, of necessity it -must be granted, that the earth could not nourish them for ever, -unless either its fertility could be continually augmented, or by some -secret in nature, like what certain enthusiasts have expected from the -philosopher’s stone, some wise adept in the occult sciences should -invent a method of supporting mankind quite different from any thing -known at present. Nay, though some extraordinary method of -supporting them might possibly be found out, yet if there was no -bound to the increase of mankind, which would be the case under a -perfect Government, there would not even be sufficient room for -containing their bodies upon the surface of the earth, or upon any -limited surface whatsoever. It would be necessary, therefore, in -order to find room for such multitudes of men, that the earth -should be continually enlarging in bulk, as an animal or vegetable -body.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘Now since philosophers may as soon attempt to make mankind -immortal, as to support the animal frame without food, it is equally -certain that limits are set to the fertility of the earth; and that its -bulk, so far as is hitherto known, hath continued always the same, -and probably could not be much altered without making considerable -changes in the solar system. It would be impossible, therefore, to -support the great numbers of men who would be raised up under -a perfect government; the earth would be overstocked at last, and -the greatest admirers of such fanciful schemes must foresee the fatal -period when they would come to an end, as they are altogether -inconsistent with the limits of that earth in which they must exist.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘What a miserable catastrophe of the most generous of all human -systems of Government! How dreadfully would the Magistrates of -such commonwealths find themselves disconcerted at that fatal period, -when there was no longer any room for new colonies, and when the -earth could produce no farther supplies! During all the preceding -ages, while there was room for increase, mankind must have been -happy; the earth must have been a paradise in the literal sense, as -the greatest part of it must have been turned into delightful and -fruitful gardens. But when the dreadful time should at last come, -when our globe, by the most diligent culture, could not produce what -was sufficient to nourish its numerous inhabitants, what happy expedient -could then be found out to remedy so great an evil?</p> - -<p class='c010'><span class='pageno' id='Page_363'>363</span>‘In such a cruel necessity, must there be a law to restrain marriage? -Must multitudes of women be shut up in cloisters, like the ancient -vestals or modern nuns? To keep a balance between the two sexes, -must a proportionable number of men be debarred from marriage? -Shall the Utopians, following the wicked policy of superstition, -forbid their priests to marry; or shall they rather sacrifice men of -some other profession for the good of the state? Or shall they -appoint the sons of certain families to be maimed at their birth, and -give a sanction to the unnatural institution of eunuchs? If none of -these expedients can be thought proper, shall they appoint a certain -number of infants to be exposed to death as soon as they are born, -determining the proportion according to the exigencies of the state; -and pointing out the particular victims by lot, or according to some -established rule? Or, must they shorten the period of human life by -a law, and condemn all to die after they had completed a certain age, -which might be shorter or longer, as provisions were either more -scanty or plentiful? Or, what other method should they devise (for -an expedient would be absolutely necessary) to restrain the number of -citizens within reasonable bounds?</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘Alas! how unnatural and inhuman must every such expedient be -accounted! The natural passions and appetites of mankind are -planted in our frame, to answer the best ends for the happiness -both of the individuals and of the species. Shall we be obliged to -contradict such a wise order? Shall we be laid under the necessity -of acting barbarously and inhumanly? Sad and fatal necessity! -And which, after all, could never answer the end, but would give -rise to violence and war. For mankind would never agree about -such regulations. Force, and arms, must at last decide their quarrels, -and the deaths of such as fell in battle, leave sufficient provisions for -the survivors, and make room for others to be born.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘Thus the tranquillity and numerous blessings of the Utopian -governments would come to an end; war, or cruel and unnatural -customs, be introduced, and a stop put to the increase of mankind, to -the advancement of knowledge, and to the culture of the earth, in -spite of the most excellent laws and wisest precautions. The more -excellent the laws had been, and the more strictly they had been -observed, mankind must have sooner become miserable. The -remembrance of former times, the greatness of their wisdom and -virtue, would conspire to heighten their distress; and the world, -instead of remaining the mansion of wisdom and happiness, become -the scene of vice and confusion. Force and fraud must prevail, and -mankind be reduced to the same calamitous condition as at present.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘Such a melancholy situation, in consequence merely of the want -<span class='pageno' id='Page_364'>364</span>of provisions, is, in truth, more unnatural than all their present -calamities. Supposing men to have abused their liberty, by which -abuse vice has once been introduced into the world; and that wrong -notions, a bad taste, and vicious habits have been strengthened by the -defects of education and government, our present distresses may be -easily explained. They may even be called natural, being the natural -consequences of our depravity. They may be supposed to be the -means by which Providence punishes vice; and by setting bounds to -the increase of mankind, prevents the earth’s being overstocked, and -men being laid under the cruel necessity of killing one another. But -to suppose that, in the course of a favourable Providence, a perfect -government had been established, under which the disorders of human -passions had been powerfully corrected and restrained; poverty, -idleness, and war banished; the earth made a paradise; universal -friendship and concord established, and human society rendered -flourishing in all respects; and that such a lovely Constitution -should be overturned, not by the vices of men, or their abuse of -liberty, but by the order of nature itself, seems wholly unnatural, -and altogether disagreeable to the methods of Providence.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘By reasoning in this manner, it is not pretended that ’tis unnatural -to set bounds to human knowledge and happiness, or to the grandeur -of society, and to confine what is finite to proper limits. It is -certainly fit to set just bounds to every thing according to its nature, -and to adjust all things in due proportion to one another. Undoubtedly, -such an excellent order is actually established throughout -all the works of God, in his wide dominions. But there are certain -primary determinations in nature, to which all other things of a -subordinate kind must be adjusted. A limited earth, a limited -degree of fertility, and the continual increase of mankind, are three -of these original constitutions. To these determinations, human -affairs, and the circumstance of all other animals, must be adapted. -In which view, it is unsuitable to our ideas of order, that while the -earth is only capable of maintaining a determined number, the human -race should increase without end. This would be the necessary -consequence of a perfect government and education. On which -account it is more contrary to just proportion, to suppose that such a -perfect government should be established, in such circumstances, than -that by permitting vice, or the abuse of liberty, in the wisdom of -Providence, mankind should never be able to multiply so as to be -able to overstock the earth.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘From this view of the circumstances of the world, notwithstanding -the high opinion we have of the merits of Sir Thomas More, and -other admired projectors of perfect governments in ancient or modern -<span class='pageno' id='Page_365'>365</span>times, we may discern how little can be expected from their most -perfect systems.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘As for those worthy philosophers, patriots, and law-givers, who -have employed their talents in framing such excellent models, we -ought to do justice to their characters, and gratefully to acknowledge -their generous efforts to rescue the world out of that distress into -which it has fallen, through the imperfection of government. Sincere, -and ardent in their love of virtue, enamoured of its lovely form, -deeply interested for the happiness of mankind, to the best of their -skill, and with hearts full of zeal, they have strenuously endeavoured -to advance human society to perfection. For this, their memory -ought to be sacred to posterity. But if they expected their beautiful -systems actually to take place, their hopes were ill founded, and they -were not sufficiently aware of the consequences.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘The speculations of such ingenious authors enlarge our views, and -amuse our fancies. They are useful for directing us to correct -certain errors at particular times. Able legislators ought to consider -them as models, and honest patriots ought never to lose sight of -them, or any proper opportunity of transplanting the wisest of their -maxims into their own governments, as far as they are adapted to -their particular circumstances, and will give no occasion to dangerous -convulsions. But this is all that can be expected. Though such -ingenious romances should chance to be read and admired, jealous -and selfish politicians need not be alarmed. Such statesmen need -not fear that ever such airy systems shall be able to destroy their -craft, or disappoint them of their intention to sacrifice the interests of -mankind to their own avarice or ambition. There is too powerful a -charm, which works secretly in favour of such politicians, which will -for ever defeat all attempts to establish a perfect government. There -is no need of miracles for this purpose. The vices of mankind are -sufficient. And we need not doubt but Providence will make use -of them, for preventing the establishment of governments which are -by no means suitable to the present circumstances of the earth.’—See -‘Various Prospects of Mankind, Nature, and Providence,’ chap. 4. -p. 113. 1761.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Here then we have not only the same argument stated, but stated -in the same connexion, and brought to bear on the very same subject -to which it is applied by the author of the Essay on Population. -The principle, and the consequences deduced from it, are exactly the -same. It may happen (and often does) that one man is the first to -make a particular discovery or observation, and that another draws -from it an important inference of which the former was not at all -aware. But this is not the case in the present instance. As far as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_366'>366</span>general reasoning will go, it is impossible that any thing should be -stated more clearly, more fully and explicitly, than Wallace has here -stated the argument against the progressive and ultimate amelioration -of human society, from the sole principle of population. We have -already seen that the addition which Mr. Malthus has made to the -argument, from the geometrical and arithmetical series, is a fallacy, -and not an improvement. The conclusion itself insisted on in the -above passage, by Wallace, appears to us no better than a contradiction -in terms. Of the possibility of realising such a Utopian -system as he first supposes, that is, of making every motive and -principle of action in the human mind absolutely and completely -subservient to the dictates of reason and the calculation of consequences, -we do not say a word; but we <em>do</em> say, that if such a -system is possible, and if it were realised, it would not be destroyed -by the principle of population, that is, by the unrestrained propagation -of the species from a blind, headlong, instinctive, irrational impulse, -and with a total and sovereign disregard of the fatal and overwhelming -consequences which would ensue. The argument is a solecism; but if -Wallace shewed his ingenuity in inventing it, Mr. Malthus has not -shown his judgment in adopting it. Through the whole of the -first edition of the Essay on Population, the author assumed the -impulse to propagate the species as a law, and a physical necessity of -the same force as that of preserving the individual, or, in other words, -he sets down, 1st, hunger, 2d, the sexual appetite, as two co-ordinate, -and equally irresistible principles of action. It was necessary that he -should do this, in order to bear out his conclusion against the Utopian -systems of his antagonists; for, in order to maintain that this -principle of population would be proof against the highest possible -degree of reason, we must suppose it to be an absolute physical -necessity. If reason has any practical power over it, the highest -reason must be able to attain an habitual power over it. Mr. Malthus, -however, having by the rigid interpretation which he gave to his -favourite principle, or by what he called the <em>iron law of necessity</em>, -succeeded in laying the bugbear of the modern philosophy, relaxed -considerably in the second and following editions of his book, in -which he introduced <em>moral restraint</em> as a third check upon the -principle of population, in addition to the two only ones of vice and -misery, with which he before combated the Utopian philosophers; -and though he does not lay an exaggerated or consistent stress on -this third check, yet he thinks something may be done to lighten the -intolerable pressure, the heavy hand of vice and misery, by flattering -old maids, and frightening the poor into the practice of moral -restraint! It will be recollected by those who are familiar with the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_367'>367</span>history of Mr. Malthus’s writings, that his first and grand effort was -directed against the modern philosophy. The use which this author -has since made of his principle, and of the arithmetical and geometrical -ratios to shut up the workhouse, to <em>snub</em> the poor, to stint them in -their wages, to deny them relief from the parish, and preach lectures -to them on the new invented crime of matrimony, was an afterthought; -of the merit of which we shall speak in another article.</p> - -<h3 class='c003'>ON THE PRINCIPLE OF POPULATION AS AFFECTING THE SCHEMES OF UTOPIAN IMPROVEMENT</h3> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div>‘A swaggering paradox, when once explained, soon sinks into an unmeaning common-place.’</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>This excellent saying of a great man was never more strictly -applicable to any system than it is to Mr. Malthus’s paradox, and -his explanation of it. It seemed, on the first publication of the -Essay on Population, as if the whole world was going to be turned -topsy-turvy, all our ideas of moral good and evil, were in a manner -confounded, we scarcely knew whether we stood on our head or our -heels: but after exciting considerable expectation, giving us a good -shake, and making us a little dizzy, Mr. Malthus does as we do -when we shew the children <em>London</em>,—sets us on our feet again, and -every thing goes on as before. The common notions that prevailed -on this subject, till our author’s first population-scheme tended to -weaken them, were that life is a blessing, and that the more people -could be maintained in any state in a tolerable degree of health, -comfort and decency, the better: that want and misery are not -desirable in themselves, that famine is not to be courted for its own -sake, that wars, disease and pestilence are not what every friend of -his country or his species should pray for in the first place: that vice -in its different shapes is a thing that the world could do very well -without, and that if it could be got rid of altogether, it would be a -great gain. In short, that the object both of the moralist and -politician was to diminish as much as possible the quantity of vice -and misery existing in the world: without apprehending that by thus -effectually introducing more virtue and happiness, more reason and -good sense, that by improving the manners of a people, removing -pernicious habits and principles of acting, or securing greater plenty, -and a greater number of mouths to partake of it, they were doing a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_368'>368</span>disservice to humanity. Then comes Mr. Malthus with his octavo -book, and tells us there is another great evil, which had never been -found out, or at least not sufficiently attended to till his time, namely, -excessive population: that this evil was infinitely greater and more -to be dreaded than all others put together; and that its approach -could only be checked by vice and misery: that any increase of virtue -or happiness was the direct way to hasten it on; and that in proportion -as we attempted to improve the condition of mankind, and -lessened the restraints of vice and misery, we threw down the only -barriers that could protect us from this most formidable scourge of -the species, population. Vice and misery were indeed evils, but they -were absolutely necessary evils; necessary to prevent the introduction -of others of an incalculably and inconceivably greater magnitude; and -that every proposal to lessen their actual quantity, on which the -measure of our safety depended, might be attended with the most -ruinous consequences, and ought to be looked upon with horror. I -think that this description of the tendency and complexion of Mr. -Malthus’s first essay is not in the least exaggerated, but an exact and -faithful picture of the impression, which is made on every one’s mind.</p> - -<p class='c010'>After taking some time to recover from the surprise and hurry -into which so great a discovery would naturally throw him, he -comes forward again with a large quarto, in which he is at great -pains both to say and unsay all that he has said in his former volume; -and upon the whole concludes, that population is in itself a good -thing, that it is never likely to do much harm, that virtue and -happiness ought to be promoted by every practicable means, and that -the most effectual as well as desirable check to excessive population -is <em>moral restraint</em>. The mighty discovery thus reduced to, and -pieced out by common sense, the wonder vanishes, and we breathe -a little freely again. Mr. Malthus is, however, by no means willing -to give up his old doctrine, or <em>eat his own words</em>: he stickles stoutly -for it at times. He has his fits of reason and his fits of extravagance, -his yielding and his obstinate moments, fluctuating between the two, -and vibrating backwards and forwards with a dexterity of self-contradiction -which it is wonderful to behold. The following -passage is so curious in this respect that I cannot help quoting it -in this place. Speaking of the Reply of the author of the Political -Justice to his former work, he observes, ‘But Mr. Godwin says, -that if he looks into the past history of the world, he does not see -that increasing population has been controlled and confined by vice -and misery <em>alone</em>. <em>In this observation I cannot agree with him.</em> I -will thank Mr. Godwin to name to me any check, that in past ages -has contributed to keep down the population to the level of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_369'>369</span>means of subsistence, that does not fairly come under some form of -vice or misery; except indeed the check of <em>moral restraint, which I -have mentioned in the course of this work</em>; and which to say the truth, -whatever hopes we may entertain of its prevalence in future, has -undoubtedly in past ages operated with very inconsiderable force.’<a id='r65' /><a href='#f65' class='c011'><sup>[65]</sup></a> -When I assure the reader that I give him this passage fairly and -fully, I think he will be of opinion with me, that it would be difficult -to produce an instance of a more miserable attempt to reconcile a -contradiction by childish evasion, to insist upon an argument, and -give it up in the same breath. Does Mr. Malthus really think that -he has such an absolute right and authority over this subject of -population, that provided he mentions a principle, or shews that he -is not ignorant of it, and cannot be caught <em>napping</em> by the critics, he -is at liberty to say that it has or has not had any operation, just -as he pleases, and that the state of the fact is a matter of perfect -indifference? He contradicts the opinion of Mr. Godwin that vice -and misery are not the only checks to population, and gives as a proof -of his assertion, that he himself truly has mentioned another check. -Thus after flatly denying that moral restraint has any effect at all, -he modestly concludes by saying that it has had some, no doubt, but -promises that it will never have a great deal. Yet in the very next -page, he says, ‘On this sentiment, whether virtue, prudence or pride, -which I have already noticed under the name of moral restraint, -or of the more comprehensive title, the <em>preventive</em> check, it will -appear, that in the sequel of this work, I shall lay considerable -stress.’ p. 385. This kind of reasoning is enough to give one the -headache.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The most singular thing in this singular performance of our author -is, that it should have been originally ushered into the world as the -most complete and only satisfactory answer to the speculations of -Godwin, Condorcet and others, or to what has been called the -modern philosophy. A more complete piece of wrong-headedness, -a more strange perversion of reason could hardly be devised by the -wit of man. Whatever we may think of the doctrine of the progressive -improvement of the human mind, or of a state of society in -which every thing will be subject to the absolute control of reason, -however absurd, unnatural, or impracticable we may conceive such -a system to be, certainly it cannot without the grossest inconsistency -be objected to it, that such a system would necessarily be rendered -abortive, because if reason should ever get the mastery over all our -<span class='pageno' id='Page_370'>370</span>actions, we shall then be governed entirely by our physical appetites -and passions, without the least regard to consequences. This appears -to me a refinement on absurdity. Several philosophers and speculatists -had supposed that a certain state of society very different from any -that has hitherto existed was in itself practicable; and that if it were -realised, it would be productive of a far greater degree of human -happiness than is compatible with the present institutions of society. -I have nothing to do with either of these points. I will allow to -any one who pleases that all such schemes are ‘false, sophistical, -unfounded in the extreme.’ But I cannot agree with Mr. Malthus -that they would be <em>bad</em>, in proportion as they were <em>good</em>; that their -excellence would be their ruin; or that the true and only unanswerable -objection against all such schemes is that very degree of happiness, -virtue, and improvement, to which they are supposed to give -rise. And I cannot agree with him in this, because it is contrary -to common sense, and leads to the subversion of every principle of -moral reasoning. Without perplexing himself with the subtle -arguments of his opponents, Mr. Malthus comes boldly forward, -and says, ‘Gentlemen, I am willing to make you large concessions, -I am ready to allow the practicability and the desirableness of your -schemes; the more happiness, the more virtue, the more refinement -they are productive of, the better; all these will only add to the -“exuberant strength of my argument”; I have a short answer to -all objections, to be sure I found it in an old political receipt-book, -called Prospects, &c. by one Wallace, a man not much known, but -no matter for that, <em>finding is keeping</em>, you know:’ and with one -smart stroke of his wand, on which are inscribed certain mystical -characters, and algebraic proportions, he levels the fairy enchantment -with the ground. For, says Mr. Malthus, though this improved -state of society were actually realised, it could not possibly continue, -but must soon terminate in a state of things pregnant with evils far -more insupportable than any we at present endure, in consequence of -the excessive population which would follow, and the impossibility -of providing for its support.</p> - -<p class='c010'>This is what I do not understand. It is, in other words, to -assert that the doubling the population of a country, for example, -after a certain period, will be attended with the most pernicious -effects, by want, famine, bloodshed, and a state of general violence -and confusion; this will afterwards lead to vices and practices still -worse than the physical evils they are designed to prevent, &c. -and yet that at this period those who will be the most interested -in preventing these consequences, and the best acquainted with the -circumstances that lead to them, will neither have the understanding -<span class='pageno' id='Page_371'>371</span>to foresee, nor the heart to feel, nor the will to prevent the sure -evils to which they expose themselves and others, though this -advanced state of population, which does not admit of any addition -without danger is supposed to be the immediate result of a more -general diffusion of the comforts and conveniences of life, of more -enlarged and liberal views, of a more refined and comprehensive -regard to our own permanent interests, as well as those of others, -of correspondent habits and manners, and of a state of things, in -which our gross animal appetites will be subjected to the practical -control of reason. The influence of rational motives, of refined -and long-sighted views of things is supposed to have taken the place -of narrow, selfish, and merely sensual motives: this is implied in -the very statement of the question. ‘What conjuration and what -mighty magic’ should thus blind our philosophical descendants -on this single subject in which they are more interested than -in all the rest, so that they should stand with their eyes open -on the edge of a precipice, and instead of retreating from it, should -throw themselves down headlong, I cannot comprehend; unless -indeed we suppose that the impulse to propagate the species is -so strong and uncontrolable, that reason has no power over it. -This is what Mr. Malthus was at one time strongly disposed to -assert, and what he is at present half inclined to retract. Without -this foundation to rest on, the whole of his reasoning is unintelligible. -It seems to me a most childish way of answering any one, who -chooses to assert that mankind are capable of being governed -entirely by their reason, and that it would be better for them if they -were, to say, No, for if they were governed entirely by it, they -would be much less able to attend to its dictates than they are at -present: and the evils, which would thus follow from the unrestrained -increase of population, would be excessive.—Almost every little -Miss, who has had the advantage of a boarding-school education, or -been properly tutored by her mamma, whose hair is not of an absolute -flame-colour, and who has hopes in time, if she behaves prettily, of -getting a good husband, waits patiently year after year, looks about -her, rejects or trifles with half a dozen lovers, favouring one, laughing -at another, chusing among them ‘as one picks pears, saying, this I -like, that I loathe,’ with the greatest indifference, as if it were no -such very pressing affair, and <em>all the while behaves very prettily</em>:—why, -what an idea does Mr. Malthus give us of the grave, masculine -genius of our Utopian philosophers, their sublime attainments and -gigantic energy, that they will not be able to manage these matters as -decently and cleverly as the silliest woman can do at present! Mr. -Malthus indeed endeavours to soften the absurdity by saying that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_372'>372</span>moral restraint at present owes its strength to selfish motives: what -is that to the purpose? If Mr. Malthus chooses to say, that men -will always be governed by the same gross mechanical motives that -they are at present, I have no objection to make to it; but it is -shifting the question: it is not arguing against the state of society we -are considering from the consequences to which it would give rise, -but against the possibility of its ever existing. It is absurd to object -to a system on account of the consequences which would follow if we -once suppose men to be actuated by entirely different motives and -principles from what they are at present, and then to say, that those -consequences would necessarily follow, because men would never be -what we suppose them. It is very idle to alarm the imagination by -deprecating the evils that must follow from the practical adoption of -a particular scheme, yet to allow that we have no reason to dread -those consequences, but because the scheme itself is impracticable.—But -I am ashamed of wasting the reader’s time and my own in thus -beating the air. It is not however my fault that Mr. Malthus has -written nonsense, or that others have admired it. It is not Mr. -Malthus’s nonsense, but the opinion of the world respecting it, that -I would be thought to compliment by this serious refutation of what -in itself neither deserves nor admits of any reasoning upon it. If, -however, we recollect the source from whence Mr. Malthus borrowed -his principle and the application of it to improvements in political -philosophy, we must allow that he is merely passive in error. The -principle itself would not have been worth a farthing to him without -the application, and accordingly he took them as he found them lying -snug together; and as Trim having converted the old jack-boots into -a pair of new mortars immediately planted them against whichever of -my uncle Toby’s garrisons the allies were then busy in besieging, so -the public-spirited gallantry of our modern engineer directed him to -bend the whole force of his clumsy discovery against that system of -philosophy which was the most talked of at the time, but to which -it was the least applicable of all others. Wallace, I have no doubt, -took up his idea either as a paradox, or a <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">jeu d’esprit</span></i>, or because any -thing, he thought, was of weight enough to overturn what had -never existed any where but in the imagination; or he was led into -a piece of false logic by an error we are very apt to fall into, of -supposing because he had never been struck himself by the difficulty -of population in such a state of society, that therefore the people -themselves would not find it out, nor make any provision against it. -But though I can in some measure excuse a lively paradox, I do not -think the same favour is to be shewn to the dull, dogged, voluminous -repetition of an absurdity.</p> - -<p class='c010'><span class='pageno' id='Page_373'>373</span>I cannot help thinking that our author has been too much influenced -in his different feelings on this subject, by the particular purpose he -had in view at the time. Mr. Malthus might not improperly have -taken for the motto of his first edition,—‘These three bear record -on earth, vice, misery, and population.’ In his answer to Mr. -Godwin, this principle was represented as an evil, for which no -remedy could be found but in evil;—that its operation was mechanical, -unceasing, necessary; that it went straight forward to its end, unchecked -by fear, or reason, or remorse; that the evils, which it -drew after it, could only be avoided by other evils, by actual vice -and misery. Population was, in fact, the great Devil, the untamed -Beelzebub that was only kept chained down by vice and misery, and -which, if it were once let loose from these restraints, would go forth, -and ravage the earth. That they were, of course, the two main -props and pillars of society, and that the lower and weaker they kept -this principle, the better able they were to contend with it: that -therefore any diminution of that degree of them, which at present -prevails, and is found sufficient to keep the world in order, was of -all things chiefly to be dreaded.—Mr. Malthus seems fully aware of -the importance of the stage-maxim, To elevate and surprise. Having -once heated the imaginations of his readers, he knows that he can -afterwards mould them into whatever shape he pleases. All this -bustle and terror, and stage-effect, and theatrical mummery was only -to serve a temporary purpose, for all of a sudden the scene is shifted, -and the storm subsides. Having frighted away the boldest champions -of modern philosophy, this monstrous appearance, full of strange and -inexplicable horrors, is suffered quietly to shrink back to its natural -dimensions, and we find it to be nothing more than a common-sized -tame looking animal, which however requires a chain and the whip -of its keeper to prevent it from becoming mischievous. Mr. Malthus -then steps forward and says, ‘The evil we were all in danger of was -not population,—but philosophy. Nothing is to be done with the -latter by mere reasoning. I, therefore, thought it right to make use -of a little terror to accomplish the end. As to the principle of -population you need be under no alarm; only leave it to me, and I -shall be able to manage it very well. All its dreadful consequences -may be easily prevented by a proper application of the motives of -common prudence and common decency.’ If, however, any one -should be at a loss to know how it is possible to reconcile such -contradictions, I would suggest to Mr. Malthus the answer which -Hamlet makes to his friend Guildenstern, ‘’Tis as easy as lying: -govern these ventiges (the poor-rates and private charity) with your -fingers and thumb, and this same instrument will discourse most -<span class='pageno' id='Page_374'>374</span>excellent music; look you, here are the stops,’ (namely, Mr. -Malthus’s Essay and Mr. Whitbread’s Poor Bill).<a id='r66' /><a href='#f66' class='c011'><sup>[66]</sup></a></p> - -<h3 class='c003'>ON THE APPLICATION OF MR. MALTHUS’S PRINCIPLE TO THE POOR LAWS</h3> - -<p class='c008'>In speaking of the abolition of the Poor Laws, Mr. Malthus -says:—</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘To this end, I should propose a regulation to be made, declaring, -that no child born from any marriage, taking place after the expiration -of a year from the date of the law, and no illegitimate child born two -years from the same date, should ever be entitled to parish assistance. -And to give a more general knowledge of this law, and to enforce it -more strongly on the minds of the lower classes of people, the clergyman -of each parish should, after the publication of banns, read a short -address, stating the strong obligation on every man to support his -own children; the impropriety, and even immorality, of marrying -without a prospect of being able to do this; the evils which had -resulted to the poor themselves from the attempt which had been -made to assist by public institutions in a duty which ought to be -exclusively appropriated to parents; and the absolute necessity which -had at length appeared of abandoning all such institutions, on account -of their producing effects totally opposite to those which were -intended.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘This would operate as a fair, distinct, and precise notice, which -no man could well mistake, and, without pressing hard on any -particular individuals, would at once throw off the rising generation -from that miserable and helpless dependence upon the government -and the rich, the moral as well as physical consequences of which -are almost incalculable.</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘After the public notice which I have proposed had been given, -and the system of poor-laws had ceased with regard to the rising -generation, if any man chose to marry, without a prospect of being -able to support a family, he should have the most perfect liberty so -to do. Though to marry, in this case, is, in my opinion, clearly an -immoral act, yet it is not one which society can justly take upon -<span class='pageno' id='Page_375'>375</span>itself to prevent or punish; because the punishment provided for it -by the laws of nature falls directly and most severely upon the -individual who commits the act, and through him, only more remotely -and feebly, on the society. When Nature will govern and punish -for us, it is a very miserable ambition to wish to snatch the rod from -her hands, and draw upon ourselves the odium of executioner. To -the punishment therefore of Nature he should be left, the punishment -of want. He has erred in the face of a most clear and precise -warning, and can have no just reason to complain of any persons but -himself when he feels the consequences of his error. All parish -assistance should be most rigidly denied him; and he should be left -to the uncertain support of private charity. He should be taught to -know, that the laws of Nature, which are the laws of God, had -doomed him and his family to starve,<a id='r67' /><a href='#f67' class='c011'><sup>[67]</sup></a> for disobeying their repeated -admonitions; that he had no claim of <em>right</em> on society for the smallest -portion of food, beyond that which his labour would fairly purchase; -and that if he and his family were saved from feeling the natural -consequences of his imprudence, he would owe it to the pity of some -kind benefactor, to whom, therefore, he ought to be bound by the -strongest ties of gratitude.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>This passage has been well answered by Mr. Cobbett in one word, -‘Parson’;—the most expressive apostrophe that ever was made; and -it might be answered as effectually by another word, which I shall -omit. When Mr. Malthus asserts, that the poor man and his family -have been doomed to starve by the laws of nature, which are the -laws of God, he means by the laws of God and nature, the physical -and necessary inability of the earth to supply food for more than a -certain number of human beings; but if he means that the wants of -the poor arise from the impossibility of procuring food for them, while -the rich roll in abundance, or, we will say, maintain their dogs and -horses, &c. out of their ostentatious superfluities, he asserts what he -knows not to be true. Mr. Malthus wishes to confound the necessary -limits of the produce of the earth with the arbitrary and artificial -distribution of that produce according to the institutions of society, or -the caprice of individuals, the laws of God and nature with the laws -of man. And what proves the fallacy is, that the laws of man in -the present case actually afford the relief, which he would wilfully -deny; he proposes to repeal those laws, and then to tell the poor -man impudently, that ‘the laws of God and nature have doomed -him and his family to starve, for disobeying their repeated admonitions,’ -stuck on the church-door for the last twelve months! ’Tis -much.</p> - -<p class='c010'><span class='pageno' id='Page_376'>376</span>I have in a separate work made the following remarks on the -above proposal, which are a little cavalier, not too cavalier;—a little -contemptuous, not too contemptuous; a little gross, but not too gross -for the subject.—</p> - -<p class='c010'>‘I am not sorry that I am at length come to this passage. It will -I hope decide the reader’s opinion of the benevolence, wisdom, piety, -candour, and disinterested simplicity of Mr. Malthus’s mind. Any -comments that I might make upon it to strengthen this impression -must be faint and feeble. I give up the task of doing justice to the -moral beauties that pervade every line of it, in despair. There are -some instances of an heroical contempt for the narrow prejudices of -the world, of a perfect refinement from the vulgar feelings of human -nature, that must only suffer by a comparison with any thing else.</p> - -<p class='c010'>I shall not myself be so uncandid as not to confess, that I think -the poor laws bad things; and that it would be well, if they could be -got rid of, consistently with humanity and justice. This I do not -think they could in the present state of things, and other circumstances -remaining as they are. The reason why I object to Mr. Malthus’s -plan is, that it does not go to the root of the evil, or attack it in its -principle, but its effects. He confounds the cause with the effect. -The wide spreading tyranny, dependence, indolence, and unhappiness, -of which Mr. Malthus is so sensible, are not occasioned by the -increase of the poor-rates, but these are the natural consequence of -that increasing tyranny, dependence, indolence, and unhappiness occasioned -by other causes.</p> - -<p class='c010'>Mr. Malthus desires his readers to look at the enormous proportion -in which the poor-rates have increased within the last ten years. But -have they increased in any greater proportion than the other taxes, -which rendered them necessary, and, which I think, were employed -for much more mischievous purposes? I would ask, what have the -poor got by their encroachments for the last ten years? Do they -work less hard? Are they better fed? Do they marry oftener, -and with better prospects? Are they grown pampered and insolent? -Have they changed places with the rich? Have they been cunning -enough, by means of the poor-laws, to draw off all their wealth and -superfluities from the men of property? Have they got so much as -a quarter of an hour’s leisure, a farthing candle, or a cheese-paring -more than they had? Has not the price of provisions risen enormously? -Has not the price of labour almost stood still? Have -not the government and the rich had their way in every thing? -Have they not gratified their ambition, their pride, their obstinacy, -their ruinous extravagance? Have they not squandered the resources -of the country as they pleased? Have they not heaped up wealth -<span class='pageno' id='Page_377'>377</span>on themselves, and their dependents? Have they not multiplied -sinecures, places, and pensions? Have they not doubled the salaries -of those that existed before? Has there been any want of new -creations of peers, who would thus be impelled to beget heirs to -their titles and estates, and saddle the younger branches of their -rising families, by means of their new influence, on the country at -large? Has there been any want of contracts, of loans, of monopolies -of corn, of a good understanding between the rich and the powerful -to assist one another, and to fleece the poor? Have the poor prospered? -Have the rich declined? What then have they to complain -of? What ground is there for the apprehension, that wealth is -secretly changing hands, and that the whole property of the country -will shortly be absorbed in the poor’s fund? Do not the poor create -their own fund? Is not the necessity for such a fund first occasioned -by the unequal weight with which the rich press upon the poor; and -has not the increase of that fund in the last ten years been occasioned -by the additional exorbitant demands, which have been made upon the -poor and industrious, which, without some assistance from the public, -they could not possibly have answered? Whatever is the increase in -the nominal amount of the poor’s fund, will not the rich always be -able ultimately to throw the burthen of it on the poor themselves? -But Mr. Malthus is a man of general principles. He cares little about -these circumstantial details, and petty objections. He takes higher -ground. He deduces all his conclusions, by an infallible logic, from -the laws of God and nature. When our Essayist shall prove to me, -that by these paper bullets of the brain, by his ratios of the increase of -food, and the increase of mankind, he has prevented one additional -tax, or taken off one oppressive duty, that he has made a single rich -man retrench one article at his table: that he has made him keep -a dog or a horse the less, or part with a single vice, arguing from -a mathematical admeasurement of the size of the earth, and the -number of inhabitants it can contain, he shall have my perfect leave -to disclaim the right of the poor to subsistence, and to tie them down -by severe penalties to their good behaviour, on the same profound -principles. But why does Mr. Malthus practise his demonstrations -on the poor only? Why are they to have a perfect system of rights -and duties prescribed to them? I do not see why they alone should -be put to live on these metaphysical board-wages, why they should be -forced to submit to a course of <em>abstraction</em>; or why it should be meat -and drink to them, more than to others, to do the will of God. -Mr. Malthus’s gospel is preached only to the poor!—Even if I -approved of our author’s plan, I should object to the principle on -which it is founded. The parson of the parish, when a poor man -<span class='pageno' id='Page_378'>378</span>comes to be married—No, not so fast. The author does not say, -whether the lecture he proposes is to be read to the poor only, or to -all ranks of people. Would it not sound oddly, if when the squire, -who is himself worth a hundred thousand pounds, is going to be -married to the rector’s daughter, who is to have fifty, the curate -should read them a formal lecture on their obligation to maintain their -own children and not turn them on the parish? Would it be necessary -to go through the form of the address, when an amorous couple -of eighty presented themselves at the altar? If the admonition were -left to the parson’s own discretion, what affronts would he not -subject himself to, from his neglect of old maids, and superannuated -widows, and from his applying himself familiarly to the little shopkeeper, -or thriving mechanic? Well, then, let us suppose that a -very poor hard-working man comes to be married, and that the -clergyman can take the liberty with him: he is to warn him first -against fornication, and in the next place against matrimony. These -are the two greatest sins which a poor man can commit, who can -neither be supposed to keep his wife, nor his girl. Mr. Malthus, -however, does not think them equal: for he objects strongly to a -country fellow’s marrying a girl whom he has debauched, or, as the -phrase is, making an honest woman of her, as aggravating the crime; -because, by this means, the parish will probably have three or four -children to maintain instead of one. However, as it seems rather -too late to give advice to a man who is actually come to be married, -it is most natural to suppose that he would marry the young woman -in spite of the lecture. Here then he errs in the face of a precise -warning, and should be left to the punishment of <em>nature</em>, the punishment -of severe want. When he begins to feel the consequences -of his error, all parish assistance is to be rigidly denied him, and -the interests of humanity imperiously require that all other assistance -should be withheld from him, or most sparingly administered. In -the meantime, to reconcile him to this treatment, and let him see -that he has nobody to complain of but himself, the parson of the -parish comes to him with the certificate of his marriage, and a copy -of the warning he had given him at the time, by which he is taught -to know that the laws of nature, which are the laws of God, had -doomed him and his family to starve for disobeying their repeated -admonitions; that he had no claim of right to the smallest portion of -food beyond what his labour would actually purchase; and that he -ought to kiss the feet and lick the dust off the shoes of him, who -gave him a reprieve from the just sentence which the laws of God -and nature had passed upon him. To make this clear to him, it -would be necessary to put the Essay on Population into his hands, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_379'>379</span>to instruct him in the nature of a geometrical and arithmetical series, -in the necessary limits to population from the size of the earth; and -here would come in Mr. Malthus’s plan of education for the poor, -writing, arithmetic, the use of the globes, &c. for the purpose of -proving to them the necessity of their being starved. It cannot be -supposed that the poor man (what with his poverty and what with -being priest-ridden) should be able to resist this body of evidence, -he would open his eyes to his error, and “would submit to the -sufferings that were absolutely irremediable, with the fortitude of -a man, and the resignation of a Christian.” He and his family -might then be sent round the parish in a starving condition, accompanied -by the constables and <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">quondam</span></i> overseers of the poor, to see -that no person, blind to “the interests of humanity,” practised upon -them the abominable deception of attempting to relieve their remediless -sufferings; and by the parson of the parish, to point out to the -spectators the inevitable consequences of sinning against the laws of -God and man. By celebrating a number of these <i><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Auto da fes</span></i> yearly -in every parish, the greatest publicity would be given to the principle -of population, “the strict line of duty would be pointed out to every -man,” enforced by the most powerful sanctions; justice and humanity -would flourish, they would be understood to signify that the poor -have no right to live by their labour, and that the feelings of compassion -and benevolence are best shewn by denying them charity; -the poor would no longer be dependent on the rich, the rich could -no longer wish to reduce the poor into a more complete subjection -to their will, all causes of contention, of jealousy, and of irritation -would have ceased between them, the struggle would be over, each -class would fulfil the task assigned by heaven; the rich would -oppress the poor without remorse, the poor would submit to oppression -with a pious gratitude and resignation; the greatest harmony would -prevail between the government and the people; there would be -no longer any seditions, tumults, complaints, petitions, partisans of -liberty, or tools of power; no grumbling, no repining, no discontented -men of talents proposing reforms, and frivolous remedies, but we -should all have the same gaiety and lightness of heart, and the same -happy spirit of resignation that a man feels when he is seized with -the plague, who thinks no more of the physician, but knows that his -disorder is without cure. The best-laid schemes are subject, however, -to unlucky reverses. Some such seem to lie in the way of that -pleasing Euthanasia, and contented submission to the grinding law -of necessity, projected by Mr. Malthus. We might never reach the -philosophic temper of the inhabitants of modern Greece and Turkey -in this respect. Many little things might happen to interrupt our -<span class='pageno' id='Page_380'>380</span>progress, if we were put into ever so fair a train. For instance, -the men might perhaps be talked over by the parson, and their -understandings being convinced by the geometrical and arithmetical -ratios, or at least so far puzzled, that they would have nothing to -say for themselves, they might prepare to submit to their fate with -a tolerable grace. But I am afraid that the women might prove -refractory. They never will hearken to reason, and are much -more governed by their feelings than by calculations. While the -husband was instructing his wife in the principles of population, -she might probably answer that “she did not see why her children -should starve, when the squire’s lady or the parson’s lady kept -half a dozen lap-dogs, and that it was but the other day, that being -at the hall, or the parsonage-house, she heard Miss declare that -not one of the brood that were just littered should be drowned—It -was <em>so inhuman</em> to kill the poor little things—Surely the -children of the poor are as good as puppy-dogs! Was it not a -week ago that the rector had a new pack of terriers sent down, -and did I not hear the squire swear a tremendous oath, that he -would have Mr. Such-a-one’s fine hunter, if it cost him a hundred -guineas? Half that sum would save us from ruin.”—After this -curtain-lecture, I conceive that the husband might begin to doubt the -force of the demonstrations he had read and heard, and the next -time his clerical monitor came, might pluck up courage to question -the matter with him; and as we of the male sex, though dull of -apprehension, are not slow at taking a hint, and can draw tough -inferences from it, it is not impossible but the parson might be -<em>gravelled</em>. In consequence of these accidents happening more than -once, it would be buzzed about that the laws of God and nature, on -which so many families had been doomed to starve, were not so -clear as had been pretended. This would soon get wind amongst the -mob: and at the next grand procession of the Penitents of famine, -headed by Mr. Malthus in person, some discontented man of talents, -who could not bear the distresses of others with the fortitude of a -man and the resignation of a Christian, might undertake to question -Mr. Malthus, whether the laws of nature or of God, to which he -had piously sacrificed so many victims, signified any thing more than -the limited extent of the earth, and the natural impossibility of -providing for more than a limited number of human beings; and -whether those laws could be justly put in force, to the very letter, -while the actual produce of the earth, by being better husbanded, -or more equally distributed, or given to men and not to beasts, might -maintain in comfort double the number that actually existed, and who, -not daring to demand a <em>fair</em> proportion of the produce of their labour, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_381'>381</span>humbly crave charity, and are refused out of regard to the interests of -justice and humanity. Our philosopher, at this critical juncture not -being able to bring into the compass of a few words all the history, -metaphysics, morality, and divinity, or all the intricacies, subtleties, -and callous equivocations contained in his quarto volume, might -hesitate and be confounded—his own feelings and prejudices might -add to his perplexity—his interrogator might persist in his question—the -mob might become impatient for an answer, and not finding one to -their minds, might proceed to extremities. Our unfortunate Essayist -(who by that time would have become a bishop) might be ordered to -the lamp-post, and his book committed to the flames,—I tremble to -think of what would follow:—the poor-laws would be again renewed, -and the poor no longer doomed to starve by the laws of God and -nature! Some such, I apprehend, might be the consequences of -attempting to enforce the abolition of the poor-laws, the extinction of -private charity, and of instructing the poor in their metaphysical -rights.’</p> - -<h3 class='c003'>QUERIES RELATING TO THE ESSAY ON POPULATION</h3> - -<p class='c008'>Query 1. Whether the real source of Mr. Malthus’s Essay is not to -be found in a work published in the year 1761, entitled, ‘Various -Prospects of Mankind,’ by a Scotchman of the name of Wallace? -Or whether this writer has not both stated the principle of the disproportion -between the unlimited power of increase in population, and -the limited power of increase in the means of subsistence, which -principle is the corner-stone of the Essay; and whether he has not -drawn the very same inference from it that Mr. Malthus has done, -viz. that vice and misery are necessary to keep population down to the -level of the means of subsistence?</p> - -<p class='c010'>2. Whether the chapter in Wallace, written expressly to prove -these two points (or in other words, to shew that the principle of -population is necessarily incompatible with any great degree of -improvement in government or morals) does not completely anticipate -Mr. Malthus’s work, both in its principle and its conclusion?</p> - -<p class='c010'>3. Whether the idea of an arithmetical and geometrical series by -which Mr. Malthus has been thought to have furnished the precise -rule or <em>calculus</em> of the disproportion between food and population, is -not, strictly speaking, inapplicable to the subject; inasmuch as in new -and lately occupied countries, the quantity of food may be made to -increase nearly in the same proportion as population, and in all old -<span class='pageno' id='Page_382'>382</span>and well cultivated countries must be stationary, or nearly so? -Whether, therefore, this mode of viewing the subject has not tended -as much to embarrass as to illustrate the question, and to divert the -mind from the real source of the only necessary distinction between -food and population, namely, the want of sufficient room for the -former to grow in; a grain of corn, as long as it has room to increase -and multiply, in fact propagating its species much faster even than -a man?</p> - -<p class='c010'>4. Whether the argument borrowed from Wallace, and constituting -the chief scope and tenor of the first edition of the Essay, -which professed to overturn all schemes of human perfectibility and -Utopian forms of government from the sole principle of population, -does not involve a plain contradiction;—both these authors, first of -all, supposing or taking for granted a state of society in which the -most perfect order, wisdom, virtue, and happiness shall prevail, and -then endeavouring to shew that all these advantages would only hasten -their own ruin, and end in famine, confusion, and unexampled -wretchedness, in consequence of taking away the only possible checks -to population, <em>vice</em> and <em>misery</em>? Whether this objection does not -suppose mankind in a state of the most perfect reason, to be utterly -blind to the consequences of the unrestrained indulgence of their -appetites, and with the most perfect wisdom and virtue regulating all -their actions, not to have the slightest command over their animal -passions? There is nothing in any of the visionary schemes of -human perfection so idle as this objection brought against them, which -has no more to do with the reasonings of Godwin, Condorcet, &c. -(against which Mr. Malthus’s first Essay was directed) than with the -prophecies of the Millennium!</p> - -<p class='c010'>5. Whether, in order to give some colour of plausibility to his -argument, and to prove that the highest conceivable degree of wisdom -and virtue could be of no avail in keeping down the principle of -population, Mr. Malthus did not at first set out with representing this -principle, to wit, the impulse to propagate the species, as a law of the -same order and cogency as that of satisfying the cravings of hunger; -so that reason having no power over it, vice and misery must be the -necessary consequences, and only possible checks to population?</p> - -<p class='c010'>6. Whether this original view of the subject did not unavoidably -lead to the most extravagant conclusions, not only by representing the -total removal of all vice and misery as the greatest evil that could -happen to the world, but (what is of more consequence than this -speculative paradox) by throwing a suspicion and a stigma on all -subordinate improvements or plans of reform, as so many clauses or -sections of the same general principle? Whether the quantity of vice -<span class='pageno' id='Page_383'>383</span>and misery necessary to keep population down to the level of the -means of subsistence, being left quite undetermined by the author, the -old barriers between vice and virtue, good and evil, were not broken -down, and a perfect latitude of choice allowed between forms of -government and modes of society, according to the temper of the -times, or the taste of individuals; only that vice and misery being -always the <em>safe side</em>, the presumption would naturally be in favour of -the most barbarous, ignorant, enslaved, and profligate? Whether the -stumbling-block thus thrown in the way of those who aimed at any -amendment in social institutions, does not obviously account for the -alarm and opposition which Mr. Malthus’s work excited on the one -hand, and for the cordiality and triumph with which it was hailed on -the other?</p> - -<p class='c010'>7. Whether this view of the question, which is all in which the -Essay differs fundamentally from the received and less startling -notions on the subject, is not palpably, and by the author’s subsequent -confession, false, sophistical, and unfounded?</p> - -<p class='c010'>8. Whether the additional principle of <em>moral restraint</em>, inserted in -the second and following editions of the Essay as one effectual, and as -the only desirable means of checking population, does not at once -overturn all the paradoxical conclusions of the author respecting the -state of man in society, and whether nearly all these conclusions do -not still stand in Mr. Malthus’s work as they originally stood, as false -in fact as they are inconsistent in reasoning? Whether, indeed, it -was likely, that Mr. Malthus would give up the sweeping conclusions -of his first Essay, the fruits of his industry and the pledges of his -success, without great reluctance; or in such a manner as not to leave -the general plan of his work full of contradictions and almost -unintelligible?</p> - -<p class='c010'>9. Whether, for example, in treating of the durability of a perfect -form of government, Mr. Malthus has not ‘sicklied over the subject -with the same pale and jaundiced cast of thought,’ by supposing vice -and misery to be the only effectual checks to population; and in his -tenacity on this his old and favourite doctrine, whether he has not -formally challenged his opponents to point out any other, ‘except -indeed’ (he adds, recollecting himself) ‘moral restraint,’ which -however he considers as of no effect at all?</p> - -<p class='c010'>10. Whether, consistently with this verbal acknowledgment and -virtual rejection of the influence of moral causes, the general tendency -of Mr. M.’s system is not to represent the actual state of man in -society as nothing better than a blind struggle between vice, misery, -and the principle of population, the effects of which are just as -mechanical as the ebbing and flowing of the tide, and to bury all other -<span class='pageno' id='Page_384'>384</span>principles, all knowledge, or virtue, or liberty, under a heap of -misapplied facts?</p> - -<p class='c010'>11. Whether, instead of accounting for the different degrees of -happiness, plenty, populousness, &c. in different countries, or in the -same country at different periods, from good or bad government, -from the vicissitudes of manners, civilization, and knowledge, according -to the common prejudice, Mr. Malthus does not expressly and -repeatedly declare that political institutions are but as the dust in the -balance compared with the inevitable consequences of the principle of -population; and whether he does not treat with the utmost contempt -all those, who not being in the secret of ‘the grinding law of -necessity,’ had before his time superficially concluded that moral, -political, religious, and other positive causes were of considerable -weight in determining the happiness or misery of mankind? It were -to be wished that the author, instead of tampering with his subject, -and alternately holding out concessions, and then recalling them, had -made one bold and honest effort to get rid of the bewildering effects -of his original system, by affording his readers some clue to determine, -both in what manner and to what extent other causes, independent of -the principle of population, actually combine with that principle (no -longer pretended to be absolute and uncontroulable) to vary the face -of nature and society, under the same general law, and had not left -this most important <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">desideratum</span></i> in his work, to be apocryphally -supplied by the ingenuity and zeal of his apologists?</p> - -<p class='c010'>12. Whether Mr. Malthus does not uniformly discourage every -plan for extending the limits of population, and consequently the -sphere of human enjoyment, either by cultivating new tracts of soil, -or improving the old ones, by repeating on all occasions the same -stale, senseless objection, that, <em>after all</em>, the principle of population -will press as much as ever on the means of subsistence; or in other -words, that though the means of subsistence and comfort will be -increased, there will be a proportionable increase in the number of -those who are to partake of it? Or whether Mr. Malthus’s panic -fear on this subject has not subsided into an equally unphilosophical -indifference?</p> - -<p class='c010'>13. Whether the principle of moral restraint, formerly recognized -in Mr. Malthus’s latter writings, and in reality turning all his -paradoxes into mere impertinence, does not remain a dead letter, -which he never calls into action, except for the single purpose of -torturing the poor under pretence of reforming their morals?</p> - -<p class='c010'>14. Whether the avowed basis of the author’s system on the poor-laws, -is not the following:—that by the laws of God and nature, the -rich have a right to starve the poor whenever they (the poor) cannot -<span class='pageno' id='Page_385'>385</span>maintain themselves; and whether the deliberate sophistry by which -this right is attempted to be made out, is not as gross an insult on the -understanding as on the feelings of the public? Or whether this -reasoning does not consist in a trite truism and a wilful contradiction; -the truism being, that whenever the earth cannot maintain all its -inhabitants, that then, by the laws of God and nature, or the physical -constitution of things, some of them must perish; and the contradiction -being, that the right of the rich to withhold a morsel of bread -from the poor, while they themselves roll in abundance, is a law of -God and nature, founded on the same physical necessity or absolute -deficiency in the means of subsistence?</p> - -<p class='c010'>15. Whether the commentators on the Essay have not fallen -into the same unwarrantable mode of reasoning, by confounding the -real funds for the maintenance of labour, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">i.e.</span></i> the actual produce of the -soil, with the scanty pittance allowed out of it for the maintenance of -the labourer (after the demands of luxury and idleness are satisfied) -by the positive, varying laws of every country, or by the caprice of -individuals?</p> - -<p class='c010'>16. Whether these two things are not fundamentally distinct in -themselves, and ought not to be kept so, in a question of such -importance, as the right of the rich to starve the poor by system?</p> - -<p class='c010'>17. Whether Mr. Malthus has not been too much disposed to -consider the rich as a sort of Gods upon earth, who were merely -employed in distributing the goods of nature and fortune among the -poor, who themselves neither ate nor drank, ‘neither married nor -were given in marriage,’ and consequently were altogether unconcerned -in the limited extent of the means of subsistence, and the unlimited -increase of population?</p> - -<p class='c010'>18. Lastly, whether the whole of the reverend author’s management -of the principle of population and of the necessity of moral -restraint, does not seem to have been copied from the prudent Friar’s -advice in Chaucer?</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Beware therefore with lordes for to play,</div> - <div class='line'>Singeth Placebo:—</div> - <div class='line'>To a poor man men should his vices tell,</div> - <div class='line'>But not to a lord, though he should go to hell.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div><span class='small'>END OF POLITICAL ESSAYS</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_387'>387</span> - <h2 class='c005'>ADVERTISEMENT AND BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTES<br /> <span class='large'>FROM</span><br /> THE ELOQUENCE OF THE BRITISH SENATE</h2> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_388'>388</span> - <h3 class='c003'>BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>This work was published in two 8vo volumes in 1807 with the following title-page: -‘The Eloquence of the British Senate; or, Select Specimens from the -Speeches of the most Distinguished Parliamentary Speakers. From the beginning -of the Reign of Charles I. to the Present Time. With Notes, Biographical, -Critical, and Explanatory. Two Volumes. London: Printed for Thomas Ostell, -No. 3, Ave Maria Lane, Ludgate St. 1807.’ In the following year the work -appeared with another title-page, which contains the same title, and proceeds -‘By William Hazlitt. In Two Volumes. London: Printed for J. Murray, -Fleet-Street, and J. Harding, St. James’s-Street, London; and A. Constable and -Co., Edinburgh. 1808.’</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_389'>389</span> - <h3 class='c003'>ADVERTISEMENT</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c008'>This collection took its rise from a wish which the compiler had sometimes -felt, in hearing the praises of the celebrated orators of former -times, to know what figure they would have made by the side of those -of our own times, with whose productions we are better acquainted. -For instance, in reading Burke, I should have been glad to have had -the speeches of Lord Chatham at hand, to compare them; and I -have had the same curiosity to know, whether Walpole had any thing -like the dexterity and plausibility of Pitt. As there are probably -other readers, who may have felt the same kind of curiosity, I -thought I could not employ my time better than in attempting to -gratify it. Besides, it is no more than a piece of justice due to the -<em>mighty dead</em>. It is but right we should know what we owe to them, -and how far we have improved upon, or fallen short of them. Who -could not give almost any thing to have seen Garrick, and Betterton, -and Quin? Our politicians are almost as short-lived a race as our -players, ‘who strut and fret an hour upon the stage, and then are -heard no more.’ The event, and the hero of the moment, engross -all our attention, and in the <em>vastness</em> of our present views, we entirely -overlook the past. Those celebrated men of the last age, the Walpoles, -the Pulteneys, the Pelhams, the Harleys, the Townshends, -and the Norths, who filled the columns of the newspapers with their -speeches, and every pot-house with their fame, who were the mouthpieces -of their party, nothing but perpetual smoke and bounce, -incessant volley without let or intermission, who were the wisdom -of the wise, and the strength of the strong, whose praises were -inscribed on every window-shutter or brick-wall, or floated through -the busy air, upborne by the shouts and huzzas of a giddy multitude,—all -of them are now silent and forgotten; all that remains of them -is consigned to oblivion in the musty records of Parliament, or lives -only in the shadow of a name. I wished therefore to bring them on -<span class='pageno' id='Page_390'>390</span>the stage once more, and drag them out of that obscurity, from which -it is now impossible to redeem their <em>fellow-actors</em>. I was uneasy till -I had made the monumental pile of octavos and folios, ‘wherein I -saw them quietly inurned, open its ponderous and marble jaws,’ and -‘set the imprisoned wranglers free again.’ It is possible that some -of that numerous race of orators, who have sprung up within the last -ten years, to whom I should certainly have first paid my compliments, -may not be satisfied with the space allotted them in these volumes. -But I cannot help it. My object was to revive what was forgotten, -and embody what was permanent; and not to echo the loquacious -babblings of these accomplished persons, who, if all their words were -written in a book, the world would not contain them. Besides, -living speakers may, and are in the habit of printing their own -speeches. Or even if this were not the case, there is no danger, -while they have breath and lungs left, that they will ever suffer the -public to be at a loss for daily specimens of their polished eloquence -and profound wisdom.</p> - -<p class='c010'>There were some other objects to be attended to in making this -collection, as well as the style of different speakers. I wished to -make it a history, as far as I could, of the progress of the language, -of the state of parties at different periods, of the most interesting -debates, and in short, an abridged parliamentary history for the time. -It was necessary that it should serve as a common-place book of all -the principal topics, of the <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">pros</span></i> and <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">cons</span></i> of the different questions, -that may be brought into dispute. If, however, this work has the -effect which I intend it to have, it will rather serve to put a stop to -that vice of <em>much speaking</em>, which is the fashion of the present day, -by shewing our forward disputants how little new is to be said on -any of these questions, than offer a temptation to their vanity to -enrich themselves out of the spoils of others. I have also endeavoured -to gratify the reader’s curiosity, by sometimes giving the speeches of -men who were not celebrated for their eloquence, but for other -things; as Cromwell, for example. If, therefore, any one expects -to find nothing but eloquent speeches in these volumes, he will -certainly be disappointed. A very small volume indeed, would contain -all the recorded eloquence of both houses of parliament.</p> - -<p class='c010'>As to the notes and criticisms, which accompany the speeches, I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_391'>391</span>am aware that they are too long and frequent for a work of this -nature. If, however, the reader should not be of opinion that ‘the -things themselves are neither new nor rare,’ he is at liberty to apply -the next line of the satire to them,—he may naturally enough wonder, -‘how the devil they got there.’ The characters of Chatham, Burke, -Fox, and Pitt, are those which are the most laboured. As to the -first of these, I am not so certain. It was written in the heat of the -first impression which his speeches made upon me: and perhaps -the first impression is a fair test of the effect they must produce on -those who heard them.—But farther I will not be answerable for it. -As to the opinions I have expressed of the three last speakers, they -are at least my settled opinions, and I believe I shall not easily change -them. In the selections from Burke, I have followed the advice of -friends in giving a whole speech, whereas I ought to have given only -extracts.</p> - -<p class='c010'>For the bias which may sometimes appear in this work, I shall -only apologize by referring the impartial reader to the different -characters of Fox and Burke. These will, I think, shew, that -whatever my prejudices may be, I am not much disposed to be -blinded by them.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_393'>393</span> - <h3 class='c003'>BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL NOTES</h3> -</div> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>King Charles I.</span>—Came to the crown in 1625, and was beheaded -in 1648. The following is his speech from the throne on meeting -his first parliament. It contains nothing very remarkable, but may -serve as a specimen of the stile that was in use at the time. The -chief subject of the speech is the war with Spain, in which the -country was then engaged. There is also an allusion to the plague, -which at that time prevailed in London.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Sir Edward Coke</span>, (<em>Lord Chief Justice, and author of the Institutes</em>,) -was born in 1550, and died in 1634. He was removed from his -office in 1616, and first joined the popular side in parliament in -1621. There is the same quaintness and pithiness in the other -speeches which are given of this celebrated lawyer, that will be -found in the following one. It is a little remarkable, that almost -all the abuses of expenditure, and heads of œconomical reform, -which were the objects of Mr. Burke’s famous bill, are here -distinctly enumerated.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Sir Robert Cotton</span>, (<em>the famous Antiquary</em>,) was born in 1570, and -died 1631. He was made a baronet by James <span class='fss'>I.</span> and was one of the -opposition party in the time of his successor. The speech which -follows was occasioned by some offence taken by the court at the -severe reflections cast upon the duke of Buckingham in the house of -commons. It is, as one might expect, learned, full of facts and -authorities, containing matters which no doubt were thought to be of -great weight and moment.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>George Villiers</span>, (<em>Created Duke of Buckingham by James I.</em>,) -was born 1592, and was assassinated by Felton in 1628. It is -said that he had originally but an indifferent education. Perhaps -it was owing to this that there is more ease and vivacity, and less -pedantry, in the stile of his speeches, than in those of most of -his contemporaries. We can hardly account for it from his having -been privately tutored by king James the First. The subject of -the following speech was the war with Spain, and recovery of the -Palatinate.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_394'>394</span><span class='sc'>Dr. John Williams</span>, (<em>Keeper of the Great Seal</em>, <em>Bishop of Lincoln</em>, -<em>and afterwards Archbishop of York</em>,) was born in Caernarvonshire in -Wales in 1582, and died in 1650. He preached James the First’s -funeral sermon, in which he compared him to king Solomon. How -well he was qualified for this courtly task may be seen by the following -specimen.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The following speech I have thought worth preserving, as it -pretty clearly shews the relation which at this time was understood -to subsist, and the tone that prevailed, between the king and his -parliament.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Sir Heneage Finch</span> was recorder of London. I have given his -speech on being appointed speaker, as a curious instance of the -flowery stile then in vogue. It is full of far-fetched thoughts, and -fulsome compliments.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>John Selden</span>, (<em>The well-known Author of Table-Talk, and other -works of great learning</em>,) was born in 1584, and died in 1654. -He was member at different times for Great Bedwin, in Wiltshire, -and Lancashire, and through his whole life a strenuous oppositionist.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Sir Dudley Digges</span>, born in 1583, was made master of the rolls -in 1636, and died in 1639. I have already given one or two -specimens of the pompous stile; but as the following extract soars to -a still sublimer pitch, I could not resolve to omit it. After a slight -introduction to the charge brought forward against the duke of -Buckingham, his titles were formally enumerated, and then Sir -Dudley Digges proceeded.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Mr. John Pym</span>, one of the great leaders of the republican party, -was member for Tavistock. He died in 1643. The subject of the -speech is the charge against the duke of Buckingham, of which he -was one of the managers. It certainly contains a great deal of good -sense, strongly expressed.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Mr. Wandesford.</span>—This long and closely reasoned speech about a -posset-drink, and sticking-plaister, applied by the duke of Buckingham -to James <span class='fss'>I.</span> a little before his death, is a proof of the gravity -with which our ancestors could treat the meanest subjects, when they -were connected with serious consequences.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Sir Dudley Carleton.</span>—One may collect from the following -speech of Sir Dudley Carleton’s that he was a great traveller, and a -very well-meaning man. He was born 1573, and died 1631. -Before his death he was created Viscount Dorchester.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_395'>395</span><span class='sc'>Mr. Creskeld.</span>—If the thoughts in the following introduction to -an elaborate legal dissertation are conceits, they are nevertheless -ingenious and poetical conceits.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Robert Rich</span>, (<em>Created Earl of Warwick, and Lord Rich of Leeze, -by James <span class='fss'>I.</span></em>).—I have given the following speech on the right of the -crown to imprison the subject without any reason shewn, for its good -sense and logical acuteness.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Francis Rouse</span> was a native of Cornwall. He represented Truro -in the long parliament, was one of the lay members of the assembly -of divines, and speaker of Barebone’s parliament, and died in 1659. -His speech against a Dr. Manwaring, who had written a flaming -monarchical sermon, is so remarkable for its fanatical absurdity, and -the uncouthness of the stile, that it certainly deserves a place in this -collection, as a curiosity.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Sir John Elliott.</span>—The following is a noble instance of parliamentary -eloquence; for the strength and closeness of the reasoning, -for the clearness of the detail, for the earnestness of the stile, it is -admirable: it in some places reminds one strongly of the clear, plain, -convincing, irresistible appeals of Demosthenes to his hearers. There -is no affectation of wit, no studied ornament, no display of fancied -superiority; his whole heart and soul are in his subject, he is full of -it; his mind seems as it were to surround and penetrate every part -of it; nothing diverts him from his purpose, or interrupts the course -of his reasoning for a moment. The force and connection of his -ideas give vehemence to his expressions, and he convinces others, -because he is thoroughly impressed with the truth of his own -opinions. A certain political writer of the present day might be -supposed to have borrowed his <em>dogged</em> stile from this speaker.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Sir Benjamin Rudyard</span> was member for Wilton. That which is -here given is by far the best speech of his extant. It might pass for -the heads of one of Burke’s speeches, without the ornaments and -without the elegance. It has all the good sense, and moral wisdom, -only more plain and practical.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Sir Robert Philips.</span>—In this apparently unstudied address, we -meet, for the first time, with real warmth and eloquence.</p> - -<p class='c010'>This gentleman was not one of those who make speeches out of -mere parade and ostentation; he never spoke but when he was in -earnest, nor indeed till he was in a downright passion.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_396'>396</span><span class='sc'>Edmund Waller</span> (<em>The celebrated Poet</em>,) was born in 1605, and -died in 1687. He was member for St. Ives. At first he was -hostile to the court; but he seems to have been very wavering and -undecided in his political opinions, and changed his party very often, -according to his whim or convenience. I do not think there is any -thing in the following speech very excellent, either for the matter or -manner of it.</p> - -<p class='c010'>It would be hard to deny that the following speech is a good -one, when we know that it saved the author’s life. Indeed, nothing -can be imagined better calculated to soothe the resentment -of the house of commons, or flatter their pride, than the concluding -part of this address. Not even one of his own amorous heroes -could fawn and cringe, and swear and supplicate, and act a feigned -submission, with more suppleness and dexterity, to avert the mortal -displeasure of some proud and offended beauty, than Mr. Waller has -here employed to appease the fury, and insinuate himself once more -into the good graces of his political paramour, the house of commons. -In this, however, he succeeded no farther than to receive his life at -her hands; which it seems he had forfeited by conspiring to deliver -up the city to the king.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Lord George Digby</span>, (<em>Son of the first Earl of Bristol</em>,) was born -in 1612, and died in 1676. He was member for Dorsetshire in the -long parliament. He at first opposed the court, but afterwards joined -the royal party, and was expelled.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Sir John Wray</span>, (<em>Member for Lincolnshire</em>).—His speech is chiefly -remarkable for the great simplicity of the stile, and as an instance of -the manner in which an honest country gentleman, without much wit -or eloquence, but with some pretensions to both, might be supposed -to express himself at this period.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Thomas Wentworth</span>, (<em>Earl of Strafford</em>,) was a gentleman of an -ancient family in Yorkshire, and created a peer by Charles <span class='fss'>I</span>. He -at first opposed the court with great virulence and ability; but -afterwards became connected with it, and recommended some of -the most obnoxious measures. After a bill of attainder was passed -against him, at the instigation of the commons, the king refused for a -long time to give his assent to it, till at last lord Strafford himself -wrote to advise him to comply, which he did with great reluctance. -He was beheaded 1641. Whatever were his faults, he was a man -of a fine understanding, and an heroic spirit; and undoubtedly a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_397'>397</span>great man. What follows is the conclusion of his last defence before -the house of lords.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Dr. Joseph Hall</span>, (<em>Bishop of Exeter and afterwards of Norwich</em>,) -was born in 1574, and died 1656. He suffered a good deal from -the Puritans. He is celebrated, without much reason, for the -fineness of his writings.</p> - -<p class='c010'>This speech has more feeling in it than the Bishop generally discovers. -It shews that ‘passion makes men eloquent.’</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Bulstrode Whitlocke</span>, (<em>Member for Great Marlow, Buckinghamshire</em>,) -was born in 1605, and died in 1676. In 1653 he was sent -ambassador to Sweden. He was a man of great learning, and he -appears also to have possessed moderation and good sense. He was -the author of the Memorials.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The following speech displays so much knowledge, and such deep -research into the imperfect and obscure parts of English history, -that though it is long, and from the nature of the subject somewhat -uninteresting, I thought it right to let it stand, as a monument of -legal learning in the 17th century. A country may be as different -from itself, at different times, as one country is from another; and -one object that I have chiefly had in view in this work, has been -to select such examples as might serve to mark the successive -changes that have taken place in the minds and characters of Englishmen -within the last 200 years.</p> - -<p class='c010'>The distinctive character of the period of which we are now -speaking was, I think, that men’s minds were stored with facts and -images, almost to excess; there was a tenacity and firmness in them -that kept fast hold of the impressions of things as they were first -stamped upon the mind; and ‘their ideas seemed to lie like substances -in the brain.’ Facts and feelings went hand in hand; the one -naturally implied the other; and our ideas, not yet exorcised and -squeezed and tortured out of their natural objects, into a subtle -essence of pure intellect, did not fly about like ghosts without a body, -tossed up and down, or upborne only by the <span class='fss'>ELEGANT FORMS</span> of words, -through the <em>vacuum</em> of abstract reasoning, and sentimental refinement. -The understanding was invigorated and nourished with its natural and -proper food, the knowledge of things without it; and was not left, -like an empty stomach, to prey upon itself, or starve on the meagre -scraps of an artificial logic, or windy impertinence of ingenuity -self-begotten. What a difference between the grave, clear, solid, -laborious stile of the speech here given, and the crude metaphysics, -false glitter, and trifling witticism of a modern legal oration! The -<span class='pageno' id='Page_398'>398</span>truth is, that the affectation of philosophy and fine taste has spoiled -every thing; and instead of the honest seriousness and simplicity of -old English reasoning in law, in politics, in morality, in all the -grave concerns of life, we have nothing left but a mixed species of -bastard sophistry, got between ignorance and vanity, and generating -nothing.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>William Lenthall</span>, (<em>An eminent Lawyer</em>, <em>and Speaker of the Long -Parliament</em>,) was member for Woodstock. He was born 1591, and -died 1662. This high-flown address to General Fairfax, is a model -of the adulatory stile. Surely a great man does not stand in need of -so much praise.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Oliver Cromwell</span>, (<em>Member for Cambridge</em>, <em>born 1599</em>, <em>died -1658</em>).—I have given the following speeches of his, to shew that -he was not so bad a speaker as is generally imagined. The world -will never (if they can help it) allow one man more than one -excellence; and if he possesses any one quality in the highest degree, -they then, either to excite a foolish wonder, or to gratify a lurking -vanity, endeavour to find out that he is as much below the rest of -mankind in every thing else. Thus it has been the fashion to -suppose, because Cromwell was a great general and statesman, that -therefore he could not utter a sentence that was intelligible, or that -had the least connection, or even common sense in it. But this is -not the fact. His speeches, though not remarkable either for their -elegance or clearness, are not remarkable for the contrary qualities. -They are pithy and sententious; containing many examples of strong -practical reason, (not indeed of that kind which is satisfied with -itself, and supplies the place of action) but always closely linked, and -serving as a prelude to action. His observations are those of a man -who does not rely entirely on words, and has some other resource left -him besides; but who is neither unwilling nor unable to employ them, -when they are necessary to his purpose. If they do not convey any -adequate idea of his great abilities, they contain nothing from which -one might infer the contrary. They are just such speeches as a man -must make with his hand upon his sword, and who appeals to that as -the best decider of controversies. They are full of bustle and -impatience, and always go directly to the point in debate, without -preparation or circumlocution.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>John Thurloe</span>, (<em>Author of the State Papers</em>, <em>and confidential -Secretary to Cromwell</em>,) was born in 1616, and died in 1668. The -following speech of his is interesting, as it shews the temper of the -times; it is shrewd and vulgar enough.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_399'>399</span><span class='sc'>Richard Cromwell</span>, succeeded his father in the Protectorate; but -soon after, not being able to retain the government in his hands, he -resigned, and went abroad. He died 1712. It is curious to have -something of a man who, from the weakness either of his understanding -or passions, tamely lost a kingdom which his father had gained.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Charles II.</span> was born 1630, and died 1685. This prince is justly -celebrated for his understanding and wit. There is, however, nothing -remarkable in his speeches to parliament, of which the following is a -very fair specimen.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Edward Hyde</span>, (<em>Earl of Clarendon</em>, <em>and Lord Chancellor of -England</em>,) was born in 1608, and died abroad in 1673. He was a -steady adherent to the royal party, but in 1667 he was accused of -treason, and obliged to withdraw secretly into France. He was a -man of great abilities, and wrote the well-known history of the -Rebellion. His daughter was married to James <span class='fss'>II</span>.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>George Villiers</span>, (<em>Second Duke of Buckingham</em>,)—Born 1627, died -1688. He is famous for having written the satirical play of the -Rehearsal. His speech at a grave conference between the lords and -commons, to decide the limits of the judicial authority of the former, -is very like what one might expect from him. He seems chiefly -anxious to avoid the imputation of knowing or caring more about the -matter than became a gentleman, and a wit; at the same time he -talks very well about it.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Lord Bristol.</span>—I have given the following Speech, because it -discovers a quaint sort of familiar common sense.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Heneage Finch</span>, (<em>First Earl of Nottingham</em>, <em>Son of Sir Heneage -Finch</em>,) was born 1621, and died 1682. He was member for -Oxford, and in 1670 appointed attorney general, and afterwards lord -keeper and lord chancellor. In this latter office he succeeded Lord -Clarendon. He was rather an elegant speaker.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Sir Leoline Jenkins</span>, (<em>An eminent Civilian and Statesman</em>,) was -born in Glamorganshire, in 1623, and died 1685. He was one of -the representatives of the University of Oxford, and principal of -Jesus College.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Lord William Russell</span>, (<em>Who is generally looked upon as one of -the great martyrs of English liberty</em>,) was born 1641, and beheaded -1683, on the same charge of treason on which Algernon Sidney was -also condemned to suffer death.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_400'>400</span><span class='sc'>Earl of Caernarvon.</span>—The account of this speech is singular -enough. ‘Among the speakers on this occasion was the earl of -Caernarvon, who is said never to have spoken before; but having -been heated with wine, and rallied by the duke of Buckingham on -his never speaking, he said he would speak that very afternoon; and -this having produced some wager between them, he went into the -house with a resolution to speak on any subject that should offer -itself. He accordingly stood up, and delivered himself to the -following effect:’</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Anthony Ashley Cooper</span> was born at Winborn, in Dorsetshire, -in 1621, and died 1683. In 1640, he was chosen member -for Tewksbury. In 1672, he was created earl of Shaftesbury, and -appointed lord chancellor. This office he did not long retain, as he -was a man of fiery passions, turbulent, violent, and self-willed; and -was constantly opposing the schemes and measures of whatever party -he was connected with. He is the person described by Dryden -under the character of Achitophel. There is an instance recorded -of his great sagacity, which carries the <em>prophetic spirit</em> of common -sense as far as it can go. It is said that he had been to dine with -lady Clarendon and her daughter, who was at that time privately -married to the duke of York; and as he returned home with another -nobleman who had accompanied him, he suddenly turned to him, -and said, ‘Depend upon it, the duke has married Hyde’s daughter.’ -His companion could not comprehend what he meant; but on -explaining himself, he said, ‘Her mother behaved to her with an -attention and a marked respect, that is impossible to account for in -any other way; and I am sure of it.’ This shortly afterwards -proved to be the case. The celebrated author of The Characteristics -was his grandson.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Henry Booth</span>, (<em>Lord Delamere</em>, <em>and afterwards created Earl of -Warrington</em>,) was member for Cheshire in the time of Charles <span class='fss'>II.</span> and -a great opposer of the court, and popery. He was committed to the -Tower for high-treason, by James <span class='fss'>II.</span> but was acquitted. He died -1694. There is a collection of his speeches in one volume, octavo. -That which I have given is not, perhaps, the best; but there is an -air of homely interest in it, a mixture of local and personal feeling, -which makes it the most amusing. The independent country gentleman, -the justice of the peace, the <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">custos rotulorum</span></i>, (to which latter -office he appears to have been as much attached as justice Shallow -himself could be,) his own personal disinterestedness, his political -zeal, and his great friendship for sir Thomas Manwaring, who seems -<span class='pageno' id='Page_401'>401</span>to have been a man of much importance in his time, though now -totally forgotten, are all brought together in a way that I like -exceedingly; and I can assure the reader, that if I do not present -him with a good collection, by following my own inclination in -taking those speeches which I like myself, and merely because I like -them, I should, however, make a much worse in any other way.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>John, Lord Somers</span>, was born 1652, and died 1710. He was -member for Worcester in the convention parliament, where he was -appointed to manage the conference with the lords, on the abdication -of king James, and in 1697 was made lord chancellor. He was one -of the principal persons employed in bringing about the revolution. -From this and the following speeches two things appear to me -tolerably clear, in opposition to the theories both of Mr. Burke and -Dr. Price on the subject; that the great constitutional leaders who -were concerned in producing this event, believed first, that the -hereditary right to the crown was not absolute, but conditional; or -that there was an original fundamental compact between the king and -people, the terms of which the former was bound to fulfil to make -good his title; secondly, that so long as these conditions were complied -with, the people were bound to maintain their allegiance to the -lawful successor, and not left at liberty to choose whom they pleased, -having no other law to govern them in their choice than their own -will, or fancy, or sense of convenience. There was indeed an estate -of inheritance, but then this was tied down and limited by certain -conditions, which, if not adhered to, the estate became lapsed and -forfeited. There was no question as the case stood, either of -sovereign absolute power, or of natural rights: the rights and duties -of both parties were defined and circumscribed by a constitution and -order of things already established, and which could not be infringed -on either side with impunity: that is, they were exactly in the state -of all contracting parties, neither of them independent, but each -having a check or control over the other: the one had no right to -enforce his claim if he did not perform what was <em>in the agreement</em>, and -the other party, so long as this was done, could not be <em>off their -bargain</em>. The king could not therefore be said to hold his crown -‘in contempt of the people,’ for both were equally responsible and -bound to one another, and both stood equally in awe of one another, -or of the <em>law</em>. But in case of any difference on this head, the right -to decide must of course belong to those who had the power; for by -the very nature of the thing there is nothing to restrain those who -have power in their hands from exercising it, but the sense of right -and wrong; and where they think they have a right to act, what is -<span class='pageno' id='Page_402'>402</span>there to hinder them from acting in vindication of what they conceive -to be their right? I am not here entering into the abstract question -of government, nor do I pretend to say that this is the true law and -constitution of England; I am only stating what was understood to -be so by the prime movers and abettors of the revolution of 1688.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Daniel Finch</span>, (<em>Second Earl of Nottingham</em>,) was born 1647, and -died 1730. He was all his life an active politician, without being -devoted to any party. He seems to have gone just as far as his -principles would carry him, and no farther; and therefore often -stood still in his political career.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Sir Robert Howard</span>, (<em>Who is known as a Political and Dramatic -Writer</em>,) was the son of the earl of Berkshire, knighted at the -restoration. He died about 1700.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>William III.</span> (<em>Prince of Orange</em>,) was born at the Hague in 1650. -He was the son of William, prince of Orange, and Henrietta, -daughter of king Charles <span class='fss'>I</span>. He married the daughter of James <span class='fss'>II.</span>; -and in consequence of the arbitrary conduct of that monarch, was -invited over in 1688, to take possession of the crown in his stead. -He died 1702, by a fall from his horse. He was a man of great -abilities, both as a statesman and general.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Sir Charles Sedley</span>, (<em>One of the Wits and Poets of the Court of -Charles II.</em>,) was born about 1639, and died 1701. His daughter -had been mistress to James <span class='fss'>II.</span> who made her countess of Dorchester; -so that, on being asked why he was so great a favourer of the revolution, -he replied, ‘From a principle of gratitude: for since his -majesty has made my daughter a countess, it is fit I should do all I -can to make his daughter a queen.’</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Sir John Knight</span>, (<em>Member for Bristol</em>).—This worthy citizen, -(of whom I am sorry I can learn no more than his title, and the -place which he represented,) shall make his appearance, and at full -length, though he should be received with as dreadful a storm of -criticism, as that which he describes in the outset of his speech. He -is a true Englishman, a perfect islander. He seems to have as -thorough a hatred for the continent, and all its inhabitants, as if he -had been first swaddled in the leaky hold of a merchantman, or had -crawled out of the mud of the Bristol channel. He is not merely -warm, he perfectly <em>reeks</em> with patriotism, and antipathy to all -foreigners. For the last hundred years, we have only been working -<span class='pageno' id='Page_403'>403</span>on this model, and I do not see that we can get much beyond it. -We have, it is true, refined the stile, filled up the outlines, added -elegance to fury, and expanded our prejudices into systems of -philosophy. But we have added nothing to the stock. The design -and principles remain the same; and they are unalterable. The -pattern is closely copied from human nature. Indeed, I do not -know whether the best examples of modern declamation on this -subject, will be found to be much better than awkward affectation, -and laboured extravagance, in which the writers scarcely seem to -believe themselves, if we compare them with the spirit, the natural -expression, the force, and broad decided manner of this great master!</p> - -<p class='c010'>For my own part, I confess I like the blunt, uncouth, <em>bear-garden</em> -stile; the coarse familiarity, and virulent abuse of this honest knight, -better than the studied elegance of modern invective. The stile is -suited to the subject. Every thing is natural and sincere, and warm -from the heart. Here are no fine-spun theories, no affected rancour, -no attempts to bind fast the spell of ignorance, by the calling in of -‘metaphysical aid,’ or to make use of the ice of philosophy as a -burning-glass to inflame the violence of the passions. Downright -passion, unconquerable prejudice, and unaffected enthusiasm, are -always justifiable; they follow a blind, but sure instinct; they flow -from a real cause; they are uniform and consistent with themselves; -and their mischiefs, whatever they are, have certain limits, may be -calculated upon, and provided against. But fine reasoning, and gross -feelings, do not accord well together. We may apply to them what -has been said of love, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">non bene conveniunt, nec in una sede morantur -majestas et amor</span></i>. It is an unnatural union, which can produce nothing -but distortion. We are not at present hurried away by the honest -ebullitions of resentment, or blind zeal, but are in that state described -by Shakespeare, in which ‘reason panders will.’ No one is offended -at the ravings, the fierce gestures of a madman; but what should we -think of a man who affected to start, to foam at the mouth, and -feigned himself mad, only to have an opportunity for executing the -most mischievous purposes? We are not surprised to see poisonous -weeds growing in a wilderness; but who would think of transplanting -them into a cultivated garden? I am therefore glad to take refuge -from the mechanic, cold-blooded fury, and mercenary malice of -pretended patriotism, in the honest eloquence, ‘the downright violence -and storm of passion’ of this real enthusiast.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Lord Belhaven.</span> The following Speech is inserted in the debates -of this period. Though it does not come regularly within the plan -of this collection, yet I thought I might be allowed to give it for the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_404'>404</span>sake of diversifying the stile of the work, and as a curious record of -national feeling. As to the stile, ‘it has the melancholy madness -of poetry, without the inspiration.’ It has all the forms of eloquence, -but not all the power; and is an excellent instance to shew how far -mere <em>manner</em> will go. There can be little doubt but that this oration -must have produced a very great effect; and yet there is nothing in -it which any man might not say who was willing to indulge in the -same strain of academic description. But it adopts the language of -imagination, mimics her voice and gestures, conforms to her style by -a continued profusion of figure and personification, and is full of that -eloquence which consists in telling your mind freely, and which -carries the hearer along with it, because you never seem to doubt -for a moment of his sympathy, or that he does not take as great an -interest in the question as you do. There is no captious reserve, no -surly independence, no affected indifference, no fear of committing -yourself, or exposing yourself to ridicule by giving a loose to your -feelings; but every thing seems spoken with a full heart, sensible of -the value of the cause it espouses, and only fearful of failing in -expressions of zeal towards it, or in the respect that is due to it. -Perhaps, what I have here stated may serve to point out the -characteristic difference between the eloquence of the English and -the French. The latter avail themselves of all the advantages that -art and trick and adventitious ornament can give; and they are -chiefly anxious to produce an effect by the most obvious means. -If their thoughts are but fine, they do not care how common they -are: this is because they have more vanity than pride, and are -willing to be pleased at any rate. On the other hand, an Englishman’s -muse is generally the spleen. He is for defying others into -sympathy, and had rather incur their contempt than endeavour to -gain their good opinion by shewing a desire to please them. He -likes to do every thing in the most difficult way, and from a spirit -of contradiction. Accordingly, his eloquence (when it is forced -from him) is the best that can be, because it is of nature’s doing, -and not his own, and comes from him in spite of himself. However, -there is a sort of gallantry in eloquence as well as in love. To coquet -with the muses, to dally with the fair forms of speech, to be full of -nothing but apostrophes, interjections, interrogations, to be in raptures -at the sight of a capital letter, and to take care never to lose a fine -thought any more than a fine girl, for fear of putting a question, are -the only means by which a man without imagination can hope to be -an orator; as it is only by being a coxcomb, that a man who is not -handsome can ever think of pleasing the women! But to return -from this digression to the speech itself, it contains a good deal of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_405'>405</span>warmth and animation, and if the author had been a young man, would -have done him credit.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>George I.</span> was the son of the Elector of Hanover, by Sophia, -grand-daughter of James <span class='fss'>I</span>. He was born in 1660, and succeeded -queen Anne, in 1714. He died suddenly, abroad, in 1727. He -talks of the throne of his ancestors with a pious simplicity.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Robert Harley</span>, (<em>Eldest Son of Sir Edward Harley</em>, <em>and afterwards -Earl of Oxford</em>,) was born 1661, and died 1724. His -politics in the latter part of the reign of queen Anne, rendered him -obnoxious in the succeeding reign; and in 1715, he was accused of -high-treason, but was at length acquitted. He was the friend of -Swift.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Sir Thomas Hanmer</span>, (<em>Member for Suffolk</em>,) was born in 1676; -he was chosen speaker of the house of commons in 1713, and died -in 1746. He published an edition of Shakespeare. He was a very -respectable speaker. The following address contains a sort of -summary of the politics of the day, and gathers up the ‘threads -of shrewd and politic design’ that were snapped short at the end of -the preceding reign.</p> - -<p class='c010'>If this speech does not contain good sound English sense, I do not -know where we shall look for it.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Sir Richard Steele</span> was born at Dublin, though the year in -which he was born is not known, and died in 1729. He was -member for Boroughbridge in Yorkshire. I have made the following -extract less for the sake of the speech than the speaker; for I -could not pass by the name of an author to whom we owe two of the -most delightful books that ever were written, the Spectator and -Tatler. As a party man he was a most furious Whig.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Mr.</span> (afterwards <span class='sc'>Sir</span>) <span class='sc'>Robert Walpole</span> was born at Houghton, -in Norfolk, in 1674, and died 1745. In 1700, he was chosen -member of parliament for Lynn. In 1705, he was appointed -secretary at war; and in 1709, treasurer of the navy; but, on the -change of ministers, he was voted guilty of corruption, and expelled -the house. The whig party strenuously supported him; and he was -re-elected for Lynn, though the election was declared void. At the -accession of George <span class='fss'>I.</span> he was made paymaster of the forces; but -two years after he resigned, and joined the opposition. Another -change taking place in 1725, he took the lead in administration, -being chosen first lord of the treasury, and chancellor of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_406'>406</span>exchequer. He maintained himself in this situation till 1742, when -he resigned, and was created earl of Oxford, with a pension of -4,000 <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">l.</span></i> a year.</p> - -<p class='c010'>We may form as good an idea of the talents of this celebrated man -as a speaker in the house of commons, from the following speech -as from any that he has left behind him. He may be considered -as the first who (if the similitude be not too low to be admitted, -I confess nothing can be lower) threw the house of commons -into the form of a regular debating society. In his time debate -was organized; all the common-place topics of political controversy -were familiar in the mouths of both parties. The combatants on -each side, in this political warfare, were regularly drawn up in -opposition to each other, and had their several parts assigned them -with the greatest exactitude.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘The popular harangue, the tart reply,</div> - <div class='line'>‘The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit,’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c013'>appeared in all their combined lustre. The effect of this -system could not be different from what it has turned out. -The house of commons, instead of being the representative and -depository of the collective sense of the nation, has become a theatre -for wrangling disputants to declaim in the scene of noisy impertinence -and pedantic folly. An empty shew of reason, a set of words -has been substituted for the silent operation of general feeling and -good sense; and ministers referring every thing to this flimsy -standard have been no longer taken up in planning wise measures, -but in studying how to defend their blunders. It has been usual -to draw a sort of parallel between the person of whom we are -speaking, and the late Mr. Pitt. For this perhaps there is little -more foundation than the great length of their administrations, and -their general ability as leaders of the debates in parliament. If I -were disposed to make a comparison of this kind, I should attempt -to describe them by their differences rather than their resemblances. -They had both perhaps equal plausibility, equal facility, -and equal presence of mind; but it was of an entirely different -kind, and arose from different causes in each of them. -Walpole’s manner was more natural and less artificial; his -resources were more the result of spontaneous vigour and quickness -of mind, and less the growth of cultivation and industry. -If the late minister was superior to his predecessor in office in -logical precision, in the comprehensive arrangement of his subject, -and a perfect acquaintance with the topics of common-place -<span class='pageno' id='Page_407'>407</span>declamation, he was certainly at the same time very much his -inferior in acuteness of understanding, in original observation, -and knowledge of human nature, and in lively, unexpected turns -of thought. Pitt’s readiness was not owing to the quickness -or elasticity of his understanding, but to a perfect self-command, -a steadiness and inflexibility of mind, which never lost sight -of the knowledge which it had in its possession, nor was ever distracted -in the use of it. Nothing ever assumed a new shape in passing -through his mind: he recalled his ideas just as they were originally -impressed, and they neither received nor ever threw a sparkling -light on any subject with which he connected them, either by -felicity of combination, or ingenuity of argument. They were of -that loose, general, unconnected kind, as just to fill the places they -were brought out to occupy in the rank and file of an oration, -and then returned mechanically back to their several stations, to -be ready to appear again whenever they were called for. Walpole’s -eloquence, on the other hand, was less an affair of reminiscence, -and more owing to present invention. He seems to have spoken -constantly on the spur of the occasion; without pretending to -exhaust his subject, he often put it in a striking point of view; and -the arguments into which he was led in following the doublings -and windings of a question, were such as do not appear -to have occurred to himself before nor to have been made use -of by others. When he had to obviate any objection, he did -not do it so much by ambiguity or evasion, as by immediately -starting some other difficulty on the opposite side of the question, -which blunted the edge of the former, and staggered the -opinion of his hearers. The stile of their speeches is also marked -by the same differences as their mode of reasoning. In the one -you discover the ease and vivacity of the gentleman, of the man of -the world; in the other the studied correctness of the scholar. -The one has the variety, simplicity, and smartness of conversation; -the other has all the fulness, the pomp, the premeditated involutions -and measured periods of a book, but of a book not written -in the best stile. The one is more agreeable and insinuating; the -other more imposing and majestic. Not to spin out this comparison -to an unnecessary length I should think that Walpole was less completely -armed for entering the lists with his antagonists, but that -his weapons were keener, and more difficult to manage; that Pitt -had more art, and Walpole more strength and activity; that -the display of controversial dexterity was in Walpole more a trial of -wit, and in Pitt more an affair of science; that Walpole had more -imagination, and Pitt more understanding; if, indeed, any thing can -<span class='pageno' id='Page_408'>408</span>entitle a man to the praise of understanding, which is neither -valuable, nor his own.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Francis Atterbury</span>, (<em>Bishop of Rochester</em>,) was born in 1662. -His eloquence brought him early into notice. His political principles -were very violent, and engaged him in several controversies. He -assisted Dr. Sacheverel in drawing up his defence. When the -rebellion broke out in 1715, he and bishop Smalridge refused to -sign the Declaration of the bishops; and in 1722 he was apprehended -and committed to the Tower, on suspicion of being concerned -in some plot to bring in the Pretender. He was sentenced to be -banished for life, and left the kingdom in 1723. He died at Paris -in 1732. He is now chiefly remembered as an elegant writer, and -as the intimate friend of Pope and Swift. The following is the -conclusion of his defence before the house of lords.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Allen</span> (afterwards <span class='sc'>Lord</span>) <span class='sc'>Bathurst</span>, (<em>The Son of Sir Benjamin -Bathurst</em>,) was born in 1684, and educated at Oxford. In 1705 -he was chosen member for Cirencester in Gloucestershire. He -joined the tory party, and was one of the opposers of Walpole’s -administration. He was created a peer in 1711. He died in 1775, -aged 91. He lived on terms of the greatest intimacy with Swift, -Pope, and other literary men. He was one of the ablest speakers -of the house of lords; and I think, that at the time when most -of his speeches were made, the house of lords contained more -excellent speakers, and divided the palm of eloquence more equally -with the house of commons, than at any other period. One reason -why it is morally impossible that the house of peers should ever -be able to rival the house of commons in the display of splendid -talents, is, that all questions of importance are first debated in the -house of commons. Even if the members of the upper house had -any thing of their own to say, the words are fairly taken out of -their mouths.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Philip, Duke of Wharton</span>, was born about 1699. He first -attached himself to the Pretender, when he was abroad and quite a -young man. He then returned home and made his peace with -government. After this he became a violent oppositionist; and -having at length reduced his fortune by his extravagance, he went -abroad again, where he once more attached himself to the Pretender, -and died 1731. He is represented as a man of talents by Pope, who -has given him a niche in one of his satires.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Mr. Shippen</span> was member for Saltash. He was one of the most -<span class='pageno' id='Page_409'>409</span>vehement and vigorous opposers of the measures of government -through the whole of this reign; and, no doubt, had imbibed a very -strong tincture of Jacobitism. But he was a man of great firmness -and independence of mind, a manly, vigorous, and correct speaker; -and whatever his personal motives or sentiments might have been, -the principles which he uniformly avowed and maintained, were -sound and constitutional.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Sir W. Wyndham</span>, (<em>Member for Somersetshire</em>,) was born 1687. -In 1710 he was made secretary at war, and in 1713 chancellor of -the exchequer. He was dismissed from his place on the accession -of George <span class='fss'>I.</span> and being suspected of having a concern in the rebellion -in 1715, was committed to the Tower, but liberated without being -brought to a trial. He died 1740. It was to him that Lord -Bolingbroke addressed that celebrated letter in defence of himself, -which is the best of all his works.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Earl of Strafford.</span> I can find no particular account of the -author of this speech, though I suppose he was a descendant of -the great lord Strafford. A noble line seldom furnishes more than -one great name. The succeeding branches seldom add any thing to -the illustriousness of the stock, and are so far from keeping up the -name, that they are lost in it. However I do not discover any -marks of degeneracy in the present instance: one may trace a sort -of family likeness in the sentiments; the pedigree of the mind seems -to have been well kept up. There is a nobility of soul as well as -of blood; and the feelings of humanity so closely and beautifully -expressed in the conclusion of this speech, are such as we should -expect from the cultivated descendant of ‘a man of honour and a -cavalier.’</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Horace Walpole</span>, (<em>Brother to Sir Robert</em>,) was member for -Yarmouth. He seems to have been little inferior to the minister -in facility of speaking, and a certain ambidexterity of political logic. -He had the art to make the question assume at will whatever shape -he pleased, and to make ‘the worse appear the better reason.’ But -this seems to have been more a trick, or an habitual readiness in the -common-place forms of trivial argument, and less owing to natural -capacity and quickness of mind, than it was in his brother. There -is also less ease and more slovenliness, less grace and more of the -affectation of it, than are to be found in his brother’s speeches. -He appears more desirous of shewing his art than of concealing it, -and to be proud of the trappings of ministerial authority which excite -the spleen and envy of his opponents.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_410'>410</span><span class='sc'>William Pulteney</span>, (<em>afterwards Earl of Bath</em>,) was born 1682, -and died 1764. He was the bitterest opponent Sir Robert Walpole -ever had, (which is said to have arisen from some difference between -them at the outset of their political career) and he at length succeeded -in driving him from his situation. He was member for Heydon, in -Yorkshire. He lost all the popularity he had gained by his long -opposition to the ministerial party, when he was made a peer, and -sunk into obscurity and contempt. I think the following is the best of -his speeches. He was, however, in general, a very able speaker. -The stile of his speeches is particularly good, and exactly fitted to -produce an effect on a mixed audience. His sentences are short, -direct, pointed; yet full and explicit, abounding in repetitions of the -same leading phrase or idea, whenever this had a tendency to rivet -the impression more strongly in the mind of the hearer, or to prevent -the slightest obscurity or doubt. He also knew perfectly well how -to avail himself of the resources contained in the stately significance, -and gross familiarity of the dialect of the house of commons. To -talk in the character of a great parliamentary leader, to assume the -sense of the house, to affect the extensive views and disinterested -feelings that belong to a great permanent body, and to descend in -a moment to all the pertness and scurrility, the conceit and self-importance -of a factious bully, are among the great arts of parliamentary -speaking. Dogmatical assumptions, consequential airs, and big words, -are what convince and overawe the generality of hearers, who always -judge of others by their pretensions, and feel the greatest confidence -in those who have the least doubt about themselves. There is also -in this gentleman’s speeches, a character, which indeed they had in -common with most of the speeches of the time; that is, they discover -a general knowledge of the affairs of Europe, and of the intrigues, -interests, and engagements of the different courts on the continent; -they shew the statesman, and the man of business, as well as the -orator. These minute details render the speeches of this period long -and uninteresting, which prevented me from giving so many of them -as the ability displayed in them would otherwise have required. This -diplomatic eloquence seems to have been gaining ground from the -time of the revolution. We may see from Lord Bolingbroke’s writings -how much the study of such subjects was in fashion in his time.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Sir Gilbert Heathcote</span> was an alderman of London. He spoke -frequently in the house about this period, and always in a plain, -sensible manner.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>John Lord Carteret</span>, (<em>afterwards Earl of Granville</em>,) succeeded -<span class='pageno' id='Page_411'>411</span>his father George lord Carteret when very young. He was educated -at Oxford, and took his seat in the house of lords in 1711, where he -distinguished himself by his zeal for the Hanover succession. In -1719, he went ambassador to Sweden, and in 1724, was appointed -viceroy of Ireland, where his administration, at a very trying period, -was generally applauded for its wisdom and moderation. He died -in 1763. He was a man of abilities, an highly amiable character, -and a great encourager of learned men. To him it was that the -celebrated Hutcheson dedicated his elegant treatise on beauty and -virtue.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Mr. Campbell</span>, (<em>Member for Pembrokeshire</em>).—He seems in this -debate to have steered clear of any thing like common sense, with -such dexterity, that it would be no difficult matter to pronounce him -more knave than fool. A man cannot be so ingeniously in the wrong -by accident. There is a striking resemblance between the arguments -here used, and some that have been brought forward on more recent -occasions. Change the form, the names, and the date, and in reading -this, and the following speech, you would suppose yourself to be -reading the contents of a modern newspaper. It is astonishing how -trite, how thread-bare this subject of politics is worn; how completely -every topic relating to it is exhausted; how little is left for the -invention of low cunning to plume itself upon, or for honest ambition -to boast of! Those who have it in their power may very wisely -devote themselves to politics, either to serve their own ends, or to -serve the public; but it is too late to think of acquiring distinction in -this way. A man can at present only be a retail dealer in politics: -he can only keep a sort of huckster’s shop of ready made goods. Do -what he can, he can only repeat what has already been said a thousand -times, and make a vain display of borrowed wisdom or folly. “’Twas -mine, ’tis his, and may be any man’s.” What gratification there can -be in this to any one, who does not live entirely in the echo of his -own name, I do not understand. I should as soon think of being -proud of wearing a suit of second hand clothes, or marrying another -man’s cast-off mistress. In the beaten path of vulgar ambition, the -dull, the mechanical, the superficial, and the forward press on, and -are successful, while the man of genius, ashamed of his competitors, -shrinks from the contest and is soon lost in the crowd.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Samuel Sandys</span>, (<em>Member for Worcester</em>,) was one of the most -frequent and able speakers of this period. What his principles were -I do not know: for the side which any person took at this time, was -a very equivocal test of his real sentiments; toryism, through this and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_412'>412</span>the preceding reign, generally assuming the shape of resistance to the -encroachments of the prerogative, and attachment to the liberties of -the people.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Philip Dormer Stanhope</span>, (<em>Earl of Chesterfield</em>,) was born in -1694. He was educated at Cambridge, after which he went abroad, -and on his return to England, became a member of the house of -commons. In 1726 he succeeded his father in the house of peers. -He was appointed lord lieutenant of Ireland in 1745, where he continued -till 1748. He died 1773. I have given a greater number of -his speeches than of any person’s about this time, because I found -them more ingenious, and amusing, and elegant, than any others. -They are steeped in classical allusion; and he seems always anxious -to adjust the dress, and regulate the forms of the English constitution, -by the looking-glass of the Roman commonwealth. There may be -a little sprinkling of academic affectation in this, but it is much more -agreeable than the diplomatic impertinence and official dulness, which -were at that time so much in vogue. His speeches are, in this respect, -a striking contrast to those of Pulteney, Pitt, Pelham, &c. It has been -said that they want force and dignity. If it be meant that they are -not pompous and extravagant, I shall admit the truth of the objection. -But I cannot see why ease is inconsistent with vigour, or that it is a -sign of wisdom to be dull. If his speeches contain as much good -sense, and acute discrimination as those of his rivals, as clearly -expressed, and seasoned with more liveliness of fancy, I should be -disposed to listen to them more attentively, or to read them oftener, -than if, as is often the case, their strength consisted in mere violence -and turbulence, and their only pretensions to wisdom arose from -their want of wit. There is something very peculiar in the form -of his sentences. He perpetually takes up the former part of a -sentence, and by throwing it into the next clause, gives a distinctness -and pointedness to every separate branch of it. His sentences look -like a succession of little smart climaxes. ‘And, therefore, an administration -without esteem—without authority among the people, let -their power be never so great—let their power be never so arbitrary, -will be ridiculed. The severest edicts—the most terrible punishments, -cannot prevent it. If any man, therefore, thinks that he has -been censured—if any man thinks he has been ridiculed, upon any of -our public theatres,’ &c. ‘As no man is perfect, as no man is -infallible,’ &c. See his speech on the theatres. This method, is, -I suspect, borrowed from the French: where it suits with the turn -of a man’s mind, it is agreeable enough, and must have a very good -effect in speaking. It is, at least, better than our modern style of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_413'>413</span>rhetorical architecture, where the nominative case is mounted up at -the top of the page, and the verb fixed at the bottom; than those -circular ladders, and winding-staircases in language, where the whole -hangs suspended in an airy round, and the meaning drops down -through the middle. The late Mr. Pitt was a master of this involved -style.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Sir John St. Aubin</span>, (<em>Member for Cornwall</em>,) was one of that -phalanx of ability and energy, that regularly withstood the insidious -encroachments, and undermining influence of Walpole’s administration. -Their motives for this were no doubt various; but the knowledge, -the soundness of understanding, the firmness and perseverance displayed -in pursuit of their object, cannot be too much admired, and -have never been surpassed. The great questions which had occupied -men’s minds from the time of the revolution, and which still continued -to agitate them as much as ever, the interest in them being kept alive -by the doubtful issue of the contest, had given them a manly tone, a -solidity and fervour which could hardly be produced in any other -circumstances. I may say that men’s minds were never so truly -English as they were at this period. Even the leaven of Jacobitism, -which was mingled up with the sentiments of many of the party, must -have contributed to add a zest, a poignancy, a bitterness of indignation -to their opposition to that overbearing influence, and despotic sway, -for the undue exercise of which they had seen a family, to which they -were strongly attached, driven from the throne. The principles of -liberty assented to by both parties, also gave a freedom and animation -to the debates of this period, and an advantage in attacking any unconstitutional -or unpopular measure, which nothing but the great -abilities of the minister, aided by the general confidence in the -government, could have resisted so long as they did. The following -speech of Sir J. St. Aubin, has been often referred to, and it is one of -the most elegant and able compositions to be found in the records of -the house of commons.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Sir Watkin Williams Wynne</span> was member for Denbighshire. It -cannot be denied that the following speech is a real and close -examination of the question.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Mr.</span> (afterwards <span class='sc'>Sir</span>) <span class='sc'>John Barnard</span> was originally a merchant, -and was chosen to represent the city of London in parliament, in -consequence of the abilities he displayed on being appointed by the -body of wine merchants to state before the house of lords their -objections to a bill then pending. He continued to represent the city -<span class='pageno' id='Page_414'>414</span>forty years, and so much to the satisfaction of his constituents, that -they erected a statue to him in the exchange. He was knighted by -George <span class='fss'>II.</span> He was born 1685, and died 1764.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>George</span> (<span class='sc'>Lord</span>) <span class='sc'>Lyttleton</span>, (<em>The eldest son of Sir T. Lyttleton</em>,) -was born 1709, and died 1773. He distinguished himself both as a -speaker and a writer. He appears (as far as I can understand,) to -have been one of those men, who gain a high reputation, not so -much by deserving, as by desiring it; who are constantly going -out of their way in search of fame, and therefore can scarcely -miss it; who are led to seize on the shewy and superficial parts of -science by an instinct of vanity, as the surest means of attracting -vulgar applause; who by aiming at what is beyond them, do at -least all that they are capable of; whose anxiety to distinguish -themselves from others, serves them in the place of genius; and -who obtain the good opinion of the public merely by shewing their -deference to it. This character, it must be confessed, however, is -generally united with sensibility and an elegant turn of mind, and -is therefore entitled to some credit: for next to the possession of -real excellence, I think we ought to respect the admiration of it, -and the wish to possess it, or whatever in our power comes the -nearest to it.</p> - -<p class='c010'>I must confess that the following Speech on abolishing certain -feudal jurisdictions in Scotland is one of the most elegant and -ingenious in this collection.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>William Pitt</span>, (<em>afterwards Earl of Chatham</em>,) was born at -Boconnock, in Cornwall, in 1708, and died in 1778. He was -originally an officer in the army, but was chosen member for -Old Sarum in 1735. His history is too well-known to need -repeating here. I shall say something of his talents as a speaker -hereafter.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Philip Yorke</span>, (<em>afterwards Earl of Hardwicke</em>,) was born 1690, -died 1764. He was brought into parliament for Lewes in Sussex in -1718. In 1736, he was made lord chancellor, which situation he -held for twenty years. He is said to have been a great lawyer. If -so, a great lawyer may be a very little man. There is in his speech -a <em>petiteness</em>, an insignificant subtlety, an affected originality, a trifling -formality, which any one, not accustomed to the laborious fooleries -and idle distinctions of the law, would be ashamed of. All those of -his speeches that I have read are in the same minute stile of special-pleading, -accompanied with the same apologies for the surprize which -<span class='pageno' id='Page_415'>415</span>must be occasioned by his microscopical discoveries and methodical -singularities.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>John Campbell</span>, (<em>Second Duke of Argyle</em>,) was born 1671, and -entered young into the army. He served under the duke of Marlborough: -he also distinguished himself as a statesman, and was an -active promoter of the union, for which he incurred great odium -among his own countrymen. In 1712, he was appointed commander -in chief in Scotland, and in 1715, he routed the earl of Mar’s army -at Dumblain, and forced the pretender to quit the kingdom. Notwithstanding -his eminent services to the state, he was deprived of -several high offices which he held, for his opposition to Sir Robert -Walpole. He died in 1743. There is a noble monument erected -to his memory in Westminster Abbey. His speeches are characterized -by a rough, plain, manly spirit of good sense, and a zealous -attachment to the welfare of his country.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Honourable Edward Coke.</span>—The following speech contains -some reflections that are not inapplicable to the present times. -It is curious to observe how exact a picture the author has -exhibited of the present state of Europe, how literally his fears -have been verified, and yet how utterly unfounded and chimerical -they were at the time. One might be tempted to suppose, in -reading the dreams of these forward and self-pleasing prognosticators, -that the scheme of universal empire, with which the rulers of -France have been so often complimented, had familiarized her -imagination to the design, and engendered those high thoughts of -ambition and vanity which have at length rendered her power, not a -glittering phantom, an idle bugbear, a handle for crooked policy, for -low manœuvres, and petty, vexatious, endless hostility, the plaything -of orators and statesmen, but a tremendous and overwhelming reality, -that like a vast incubus overlays the continent of Europe, and benumbs -its lethargic energies.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Sir Dudley Ryder.</span>—To those who have to wade through the -crude, undigested mass of the records of parliament, there is such a -tedious monotony, such a dreary vacuity of thought, such an eternal -self-complacent repetition of the same worn-out topics, which seem to -descend like an inheritance from one generation to another, that it is -some relief to escape now and then from the dull jargon of political -controversy. I have given the following speech, though it is sufficiently -dry and uninteresting in itself, because it a little varies the prospect, -and contains something that looks like ingenuity and argument.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_416'>416</span><span class='sc'>Henry Fox, Esq.</span>, (<em>afterwards Lord Holland</em>,) was the father of -the late celebrated C. J. Fox. Perhaps the reader may be able to -trace some resemblance in their manner of speaking; the same close -consecutive mode of reasoning, and the same disposition to <em>go round</em> -his subject, and view it in its various aspects and bearings.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Mr. Grenville.</span>—The following is a neat, clear, logical, and I think -masterly speech on the subject. Nothing could be put in a more -simple or forcible manner.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>William Murray</span>, (<em>Earl of Mansfield</em>,) was the fourth son of the -earl of Stormont, and born at Perth in 1705. He was educated at -Westminster school, and afterwards at Oxford, where he took his -degrees. On being called to the bar, his eloquence gained him many -admirers; and he was called by Pope ‘the silver-tongued Murray.’ -In 1742, he became solicitor-general, and was elected member of -parliament. In 1754, he was made attorney-general, and in 1756, -chief justice of the king’s bench, soon after which he was created -baron Mansfield. He resigned his office in 1788, owing to his -infirmities, and died in 1793. The reputation which he acquired, -both as a lawyer and a speaker, was not unmerited. I believe his -character has been in all respects as justly appreciated as that of most -men. He was undoubtedly a man of great abilities and great acquirements; -but he was neither a very great nor a very honest man. -He was a man of nice perceptions, of an acute and logical understanding, -of a clear and comprehensive mind, as far as the habits of his -profession and his pursuits in life would suffer him to be so. Indeed -it is difficult to say, what are the capacities of a man of this character, -whose views are cramped and confined by the servility of office; who -adjusts the dimensions of his understanding according to the size of -the occasion; whose reason is constantly the puppet of his will; -whose powers expand in the gleam of popularity, or shrink and shrivel -up at the touch of power. There was a natural antipathy between -his mind and lord Chatham’s. The one was ardent and impetuous: -the other was cool, circumspect, wary, delighting in difficulties and -subtlety, proud rather of distrusting its natural feelings and detecting -errors in them, than impatient of any thing that thwarted their course, -and exerting all its powers to prove them to be right. The manner -in which lord Chatham always spoke of Mansfield was the most -pointed that could be: Junius did not treat him with more sarcastic -bitterness and contempt. Indeed there is a striking coincidence -between the opinions and sentiments of that celebrated writer, and -those of lord Chatham, in many respects. They had the same -<span class='pageno' id='Page_417'>417</span>political creed and the same personal prejudices. Chatham had not -only the same marked dislike to lord Mansfield, but he had evidently -the same personal dislike to the king, always directing his censures -not so much against his measures, as the man; always tracing them -beyond his ministers to the throne itself, and connecting them with a -deliberate plan to overturn the balance of the constitution, and undermine -the liberties of the people. He has expressed the same unpopular -opinion respecting the impressing of seamen that Junius has done; -which is rather singular in two men professing so strong an attachment -to the liberty of the subject, and who so generally appealed to popular -feelings. It is to be remembered, also, that Junius speaks of certain -mysterious arrangements, and expresses himself concerning certain -characters, in a tone of confidence and with a degree of asperity which -could hardly be expected in any one who was not personally acquainted -with the secrets of the cabinet. As to the differences of stile between -Junius’s letters and lord Chatham’s speeches, though they are very -great, I do not think they are so great but that they may be accounted -for from the mere difference between writing and speaking. The -materials themselves are not essentially different: the difference is in -the manner of working them up. There is none of that pointed -neatness, that brilliant contrast, that artificial modulation, and elaborate -complexity in the style of lord Chatham’s speeches that there is in -Junius; and there is a flow, a rapidity, a vehemence and ardour in -them, that is totally wanting in Junius. At the same time, I can -easily conceive that a man like lord Chatham, who has gained the -highest reputation as an orator, and was satisfied with the proofs he -had given of the force and solidity of his mind, should take a pride -in exciting the admiration of the public by the neatness and elegance -of his compositions, by adding delicacy to strength, by the minute -refinements and graceful ornaments of style: as your bold, dashing -designers have generally (to shew the versatility of their talents) -executed their small cabinet pieces in a style of the most highly -finished correctness. On the other hand, it is not at all likely that -lord Chatham, even supposing him to have been master of all the -subtlety and exactness of Junius, would have spoken in any other -manner than he did. It would have been nearly impossible to speak -as Junius writes; and besides, he was a man of too much sense to -forego the advantages which his person, voice, and manner afforded -him in that impressive, simple, manly style which he adopted, and -which they could not have afforded him equally in any other, for the -reputation of an elegant speaker. As to the character which Junius -gives of lord Chatham, it is just such a character as a man would give -of himself. Both his silence and his praise are suspicious. Though -<span class='pageno' id='Page_418'>418</span>I do not, on the whole, think it probable that lord Chatham was the -author of Junius, yet I think that he was by far the most likely person -that has been named. He was about equal to the task. He had the -same pith and nerve, the same acuteness and vigour: he worked in -the same metal as Junius, with a little less sharpness and fineness in -the execution, and more boldness in the design. Burke was above it, -Dunning was below it. It was physically impossible that Burke -should have been the author. He could no more have written -Junius, from the exuberance and originality of his mind, than Dunning -could have written it, from the poverty of his. The speeches of the -latter are ‘as dry as the remainder biscuit after a voyage.’ No human -art could have moulded his stiff set meagre sentences, with all the -technical formality and servile exactness of a legal document, into the -harmonious combinations and graceful inflections of Junius’s style. It -is most likely that it will never be known who Junius really was, and -I do not wish it ever should; it is a sort of singular phenomenon, -and curious riddle in the history of literature. It is better that it -should remain a secret, and be something to wonder at, than that by -it’s being explained, every one should become perfectly satisfied and -perfectly indifferent about it.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Charles Pratt</span>, (<em>Earl Camden</em>,) was the son of Sir John Pratt, -and born in the year 1713. He was educated at Cambridge. He -made little figure for many years after he was called to the bar; but -at length, by the interest of the chancellor Henley, he obtained -considerable practice, and was recommended by him to the friendship -of Mr. Pitt, afterwards lord Chatham. By this means, he successively -rose to the stations of attorney-general, chief justice of the common -pleas, and lord chancellor. He distinguished himself in the latter -situations by taking a decided part against the government, in favour -of Wilkes. For this, he had the freedom of the city of London -voted him in a gold box, and his portrait was stuck up in Guildhall. -He was made president of the council after the American war, which -situation he held till his death, in 1794. He appears to have been a -mere party man, without any abilities whatever, and without that -sense of his own deficiencies which atones for the want of them. He -was the legal mouth-piece of Chatham, the judicial oracle of the party, -who gravely returned the answers that were given him by the political -priesthood, of whom he was the organ. He was one of those dull, -plodding, headstrong, honest men, with whom so large a part of the -community naturally sympathise, and of whom it is always convenient -to have one at least in every administration, or antiministerial -party. To the generality of mankind, dulness is the natural object of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_419'>419</span>sympathy and admiration; it is the element in which they breathe; -it is that which is best fitted to their gross capacities. The divinity -of genius is itself too dazzling an object for them to behold, and -requires the friendly interposition of some thick cloud to dim its -lustre, and blunt the fierceness of its rays. The people love to -idolize greatness in some vulgar representation of it, and to worship -their own likeness in stocks and stones. Lord Camden was just the -man to address those who can only assent, but cannot reason. With -men of this character, the strength of the reasoning always weakens -the force of the argument; their heads will only bear a certain -quantity of thought, and by attempting to enlighten, you only confound -their understandings. Any thing like proof always operates as -a negative quantity upon their prejudices, because it puts them out of -their way, and they cannot get into any other. Nothing can be more -feeble than the following reply of his to lord Mansfield, in which he -had pledged himself to prove—I know not what. He was more -ready to throw down his pledges than to redeem them, (to speak in -the parliamentary style). This was of little consequence. Though -often foiled, it did not abate his ardour, or lessen his confidence: he -was still <em>staunch</em> to his cause, and (no matter whether right or wrong -in his argument,) he was always sure of his conclusion. The less -success a man has in maintaining his point, the more does he shew his -steadiness and attachment to his object in persevering in it in spite of -opposition; and the proof of fortitude which he thus gives must -naturally induce all those of the same sanguine disposition, who have -the same zeal and the same imbecility in the defence of truth, to make -common cause with him. Such was lord Camden; of whom, however, -(lest I should seem to have conceived some hasty prejudice -against him,) I must confess that I am by no means convinced that -he was not quite as great a man as the generality of those who have -risen by the same gradations to the same high offices that he did, -either before or since his time.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Colonel Barre.</span>—He was one of the most strenuous opposers of -lord North’s administration. Junius says, ‘I would borrow a simile -from Burke, or a sarcasm from Barre.’ There is a vein of shrewd -irony, a lively, familiar, conversational pleasantry running through all -his speeches. <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Garrit aniles ex re fabellas.</span></i> His eloquence is certainly -the most <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">naïve</span></i>, the most unpremeditated, the most gay and heedless, -that can be imagined. He was really and naturally what Courteney -(afterwards) only pretended to be. [Hazlitt adds in a note]—I am -sorry that I can give no account of this celebrated character. Indeed, -I have to apologize to the reader for the frequent defects and chasms -<span class='pageno' id='Page_420'>420</span>in the biographical part of the work. I have looked carefully into -the dictionaries, but unless a man happens to have been a nonconformist -divine in the last century, a chymist, or the maker of a -new spelling and pronouncing dictionary, his name is hardly sure of -obtaining a place in these learned compilations. The writers seem, -by a natural sympathy, more anxious to bring obscure merit into -notice, than to gratify the idle curiosity of the public respecting -characters on which a dazzling splendor has been shed, by the -accidental circumstances of situation, by superficial accomplishments, -and shewy talents. In giving the history of illustrious statesmen or -politicians, they are very uncertain helps; but if any one had to make -out a list of antiquarians, schoolmasters, or conjurors, he would find -them complete for his purpose. The Barres, the Grenvilles, and the -Townshends, are forgotten; while the Dyches, the Fennings, the -Lillys, and the Laxtons, vie with the heroes and sages of antiquity, -in these motley lists of fame, which like death, level all ranks, and -confound all distinctions.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Frederick, Lord North</span>, (<em>afterwards Earl of Guildford</em>,) was born -in 1732. He succeeded Mr. C. Townshend as chancellor of the -exchequer, and in 1770 was made first lord of the treasury, in which -situation he continued till the close of the American war. He died -in 1792. His speeches are in general, like the following, short, -shrewd, and lively, and quite free from the affectation of oratory. -He spoke like a gentleman, like a man of sense and business, who -had to explain himself on certain points of moment to the country, -and who in doing this did not think that his first object was to shew -how well he could play the orator by the hour. The following -masterly character is given of him by Burke. ‘He was a man of -admirable parts; of a general knowledge; of versatile understanding -fitted for every sort of business; of infinite wit and pleasantry; -of a delightful temper; and with a mind most perfectly disinterested. -But it would be only to degrade myself by a weak adulation, and not -to honour the memory of a great man, to deny that he wanted -something of the vigilance and spirit of command that the time -required.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>The following Speech is a most masterly defence of himself. It is -a model in its kind.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Mr. Burke</span> was born at Dublin, January 1, 1730. His father -was a respectable attorney, and a Protestant. He received his school -education under Abraham Shackleton, a Quaker; and whenever Mr. -Burke afterwards visited Ireland, he always went to see his old tutor. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_421'>421</span>In 1746, he entered as a scholar at Trinity College, which he left, -after taking his bachelor’s degree, in 1749. Not long after, he -became candidate for the professorship of logic, at Glasgow, but did -not succeed. In 1753, he entered himself of the Inner Temple, but -he did not apply very closely to the study of the law, and supported -himself by writing for the booksellers. In 1756, he published his -Vindication of Natural Society, and in 1757 his Essay on the -Sublime and Beautiful. He was first brought into parliament for the -borough of Wendover, by the interest of lord Rockingham, to whom -he had been private secretary. He soon after published his Thoughts -on the Causes of the Present Discontents. In 1774, he was invited -by the citizens of Bristol to become one of their representatives; but -at the next election, he was rejected by them, for having supported -the free trade of Ireland and the Catholic claims, and was returned -for Malton, in Yorkshire. The rest of his political life is too well -known to need recapitulating here. The part he took against the -French revolution was the most important and memorable event of -his life. He withdrew from parliament in 1794, leaving his seat for -Malton to his son, who died shortly after. This hastened his death, -which happened in July, 1797. The best character of him, and -perhaps the finest that ever was drawn of any man, is that by -Goldsmith, in his poem of Retaliation.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>The Honourable C. J. Fox</span> was born Jan. 13, 1748. He was -educated first at Eton and afterwards at Hertford College, Oxford. -He was returned to Parliament for Midhurst in 1768. He was at -first on the side of ministry, but declared himself on the side of -opposition on the dispute with America. He became secretary for -foreign affairs in 1782, and again in 1806, when it was too late for -his country and himself. He died September, 1806. Of this great -man I shall speak more at large when I come to his later speeches. -The following boyish rhapsody, on a question relating to the Lowther -estate, is remarkable only for its contrast to the speeches which he -made afterwards—for its affectation and bluster and imbecility. It -may be easily believed, as is reported of him, that at the time he made -this and other speeches like it, he wore red heels and blue powder, -and was distinguished as the greatest coxcomb in Europe. He was -not then the same figure that I afterwards beheld in the Louvre, with -hairs grown grey in the service of the public, with a face pale and -furrowed with thought, doing honour to the English character as its -best representative, conciliating by his frank, simple, unaffected -manners, the affection and esteem of strangers, and wandering carelessly -and unconsciously among those courts and palaces, whose -<span class='pageno' id='Page_422'>422</span>profound policy and deep-laid machinations he alone, by his wisdom -and the generous openness of his nature, was able to resist. His first -acquaintance with Burke seems to have been the æra of his manhood; -or rather, it was then that he first learned to know himself, and found -his true level. A man in himself is always the same, though he may -not always appear to be so.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Sir W. Meredith.</span>—This speech discovers true zeal and earnestness. -It seems to belong to an earlier period of our history.</p> - -<p class='c010'>I have already said something in praise of his speeches. They -have in them what an old poet calls ‘veins of nature’—a heartfelt -simplicity, before which wit, and elegance, and acuteness, and the -pomp of words, sink into insignificance.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Mr. Sawbridge.</span>—Junius praises this city orator and patriot for his -republican firmness. If he is to be taken as a model of the republican -character, he does not, in my opinion, reflect much credit on it. In -the following speech there is all the impudence, indecency, grossness, -and vulgarity, of a factious demagogue. This character, I know not -how, unfortunately sprung up in the beginning of the present reign.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Colonel</span> (afterwards <span class='sc'>Gen.</span>) <span class='sc'>Burgoyne</span> was the natural son of lord -Bingley. His defeat and capture by general Gates determined the -issue of the contest with America. As a writer and a speaker, he -had more success, though he aimed at more than he effected. His -Heiress is a feeble, though a very elegant comedy; and in his speeches, -which are modelled according to the rules of Cicero, his own abilities -and his own modesty take up half of the paper, and the reader’s -attention is equally divided between the speaker and the subject. At -the same time, if they were a little less affected, they would not be -without merit.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Mr. Jenkinson.</span> (<em>The present Earl of Liverpool</em>).</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in18'>‘<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Servetur ad imum</span></div> - <div class='line'><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">‘Qualis ab incœptu processerit, & sibi constet.</span>’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Hon. Temple Luttrel.</span>—I have introduced the following Speech -as an exquisite specimen of unaccountably absurd affectation.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Mr. Wilkes</span>, (<em>the Lord Mayor</em>).—This celebrated man was born -in 1728. In 1761, he was elected member for Aylesbury, about -which time he excited the indignation of ministry by publishing a -periodical paper, called the North Briton, for the forty-fifth number -of which he was apprehended by a general warrant. He was however -liberated, and became the patriot of the day. He was soon -<span class='pageno' id='Page_423'>423</span>after expelled the house for his Essay on Woman. He was -repeatedly returned for Middlesex after this, but the election was -always declared void, till 1774, when he took his seat without -opposition. The following speech in his own defence contains the -clearest, most logical, and best argued case, that has been made out -on that side of the question. He takes the same ground, and often -uses the same words as Junius, but I think he establishes his point -more satisfactorily. He was a clear, correct, able, and eloquent -speaker. His conversational talents were very brilliant. He was a -very ugly and a very debauched man, but a great favourite with the -women, whom he accordingly satirized without mercy. He died -1797.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Mr. Dunning</span>, (<em>afterwards Lord Ashburton</em>,) was born at Ashburton, -in Devonshire, in 1731. After studying some time under his -father, who was an attorney, he entered at the Temple, and on being -called to the bar, soon rose to eminence in his profession: he obtained -a seat in parliament, and became one of the most distinguished -members of opposition at this period. He died 1782. The following -is the most brilliant display of his eloquence that I have met with; -which I was at some pains to pick out from among the shreds and -patches that remain of his speeches. In general, he was neither an -elegant nor an agreeable speaker. His style was dry, harsh, formal, -and pedantic. His legal knowledge is said to have been very great: -but as this is a subject which I do not<a id='t423'></a> understand, I must leave it -to the lawyers to pronounce his panegyric in ‘good set terms’ of -their own.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Thomas</span> (<span class='sc'>Lord</span>) <span class='sc'>Lyttleton</span> succeeded his father in 1773. He -was a young man of great talents, but very profligate in his manners. -He died in 1779, at the age of 35.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>William Pitt</span>, (<em>son of the late Earl of Chatham</em>,) was born in 1759. -He was educated at Cambridge. He entered at Lincoln’s-Inn, and -was called to the bar, where he had not much practice. He was -just returned to parliament for the borough of Appleby. The following -is the first speech he made in the house, on economical reform. -He became chancellor of the exchequer in 1783, which office he -continued till 1801. He then retired, but came in again in 1804, -and continued in that office till his death, January 1806.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Mr. Sheridan.</span>—Richard Brinsley Sheridan, one of the most -brilliant speakers that ever appeared in the house of commons, was -born in 1750. He was known to the public before he came into -parliament, as having written the best comedies of the age. He was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_424'>424</span>returned member for Stafford in 1780, which place he continued -to represent till the last election, in 1806, when he succeeded Fox as -member for Westminster. On Fox’s accession to office in the -beginning of the same year, he was appointed treasurer of the navy. -The following is his first speech in the house. He has said more -witty things than ever were said by any one man in the house of -commons: but at present one may say of him, ‘The wine of life is -drunk and but the lees remain.’</p> - -<p class='c010'>I have retained the compliment with which the following speech is -prefaced in the report from which it is taken, ‘that it was the most -brilliant reply that perhaps was ever made in the House of Commons,’ -because I am half inclined to be of the same opinion. The expression -<em>brilliant</em> belongs peculiarly to Sheridan’s style of eloquence. For -brilliant fancy, for vivacity of description, for animation, for acuteness, -for wit, for good sense and real discrimination, for seeing the question -at once just in the right point of view, being neither perplexed with -the sophisms of others, nor led away by the warmth of his own -imagination, he was (I do not say he is) equal to any of his competitors; -for he has got none left (except indeed Windham, who is -however as different a man as can be). I have made more <em>fuss</em> about -some other speakers, but to say the truth, he is about as good as the -best of them. He was undoubtedly the second public man after Fox, -both with respect to talents, and firmness to his principles.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Sir George Saville</span>, (<em>Member for Yorkshire</em>,) distinguished -himself by his opposition to the American war, and by bringing in -the bill for the repeal of the penal statutes against the Roman -Catholics. His speeches abound with real wit and humour. He -died 1784, at the age of 59.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Mr. Grattan.</span>—I do not, I confess, like this style, though it is -what many people call eloquent. There is a certain spirit and -animation in it, but it is over-run with affectation. It is at the same -time mechanical, uncouth, and extravagant. It is like a piece of -Gothic architecture, full of quaintness and formality. It is ‘all -horrid’ with climax and alliteration and epithet and personification. -‘From injuries to arms, and from arms to liberty: precedent and -principle, the Irish volunteers, and the Irish parliament.’ I am not -fond of these double facings, and splicings and clenches in style. They -too much resemble a garden laid out according to Pope’s description,</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Where each alley has a brother,</div> - <div class='line'>And half the platform just reflects the other.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c008'><span class='pageno' id='Page_425'>425</span><span class='sc'>Mr. Curran.</span>—This celebrated pleader has been called by some, -who probably intended it as a compliment, the Irish Erskine. I do -not know what the effect of their manner may be, having never heard -them; but this I know, that as to their <em>written</em> speeches, there is no -comparison either with respect to brilliancy or solidity between -Erskine’s speeches and those of Curran. The speeches of the latter -are also free from that affectation, or false glitter, which is the vice -of Irish eloquence. Every Irish orator thinks himself bound to be a -Burke. But according to the old axiom, no man is bound to do that -which he cannot.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Mr. Canning.</span>—This gentleman writes verses better than he makes -speeches. If he had as much understanding as he has wit, he would be -a great man: but that is not the case. <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Non omnia possumus omnes.</span></i> -However, there is a degree of elegance and brilliancy, and a certain -ambitious tip-toe elevation in his speeches. But they want manliness, -force, and dignity. His eloquence is something like a bright, sharp-pointed -sword, which, owing to its not being made of very stout -metal, bends and gives way, and seems ready to snap asunder at -every stroke; and he is perpetually in danger of having it wrested -out of his hands.</p> - -<p class='c008'><span class='sc'>Mr. Horne Tooke.</span>—I shall only say of the following speech that -it is worthy of the celebrated man by whom it was delivered.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_427'>427</span> - <h2 class='c005'>NOTES</h2> -</div> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_429'>429</span> - <h3 class='c003'>FREE THOUGHTS ON PUBLIC AFFAIRS</h3> -</div> - <dl class='dl_1 c002'> - <dt><span class='small'>PAGE</span></dt> - <dd> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_2'>2</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘There is wisdom,’ etc.</em> <cite>Proverbs</cite> xv. 22. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The late administration.</em> Pitt’s second ministry. Pitt died on Jan. 23, 1806, and - Fox became Foreign Secretary in the Ministry of ‘All the Talents.’ - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_3'>3</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Addington.</em> Henry Addington (1757–1844), created Viscount Sidmouth in 1805, - was Prime Minister and Chancellor of the Exchequer during the peace negotiations. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Came home to the bosoms, etc.</em> Bacon, Dedication to the Essays (1625). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_5'>5</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘The unconquerable will,’ etc.</em> <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span - class='fss'>I.</span> 106–9. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘The still small voice,’ etc.</em> <cite>1 Kings</cite> xix. 12. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_6'>6</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>It certainly had this good effect.</em> ‘The peace of Amiens,’ said Coleridge, - ‘deserved the name of peace, for it gave us unanimity at home, and reconciled Englishmen - with each other’ (<cite>The Friend</cite>, section <span class='fss'>I.</span> Essay 6). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_7'>7</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>The incautious surrender of Malta.</em> By the treaty of Amiens (1802) Malta was - restored to the Knights of St. John. By the first Peace of Paris (1814) it was given to - England. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>One to whose authority, etc.</em> Few people at the time recognised the importance of - Malta to Great Britain. Lord Nelson himself spoke slightingly of it, and so did Pitt. See - <cite>Parl. Hist.</cite> <span class='fss'>XXXVI.</span>, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">passim</span></i>, for the - discussions in Parliament. Coleridge, in <cite>The Friend</cite> (see especially Essays - 3, 4, 5, and 6 of ‘The Third Landing-Place’), while defending the retention of Malta, - admitted that Nelson was right in denying that Malta was the key of Egypt (Bohn’s ed., p. - 382). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_8'>8</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Against infection,’ etc.</em> <cite>Richard II.</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_10'>10</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>Another Iliad of woes.</em>’ Burke’s <cite>Regicide Peace</cite> (<cite>Select - Works</cite>, ed. Payne, p. 116). Cf. ‘From hence those tears, that Ilium of our woe.’ - Dryden’s <cite>The Medal</cite>, l. 67. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_12'>12</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>The partition of Poland.</em> In 1795. Suwarroff, the Russian general, stormed Ismael - on Dec. 11, 1790, and Warsaw on Nov. 4, 1794. ‘Thirty thousand persons, of whom one half - were inhabitants of the town, perished in the assault of Ismael’ (Alison, <cite>History - of Europe</cite>, <span class='fss'>X.</span> 455). At Warsaw ‘about twelve thousand - citizens, of every age and sex, were put to the sword’ (<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ib.</span></i>, <span - class='fss'>III.</span> 526). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_14'>14</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Had not Austria, etc.</em> Precipitated, he means, by the subsidising policy of Pitt. - The battle of Austerlitz (Dec. 2, 1805) completely crushed Austria. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The character of Mr. Pitt, etc.</em> Hazlitt repeated this ‘character’ down to ‘And - in its liquid texture,’ etc. (p. 18), in his <cite>Political Essays</cite> (see - <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, pp. 346–350) and in <cite>The Round Table</cite> (see Vol. <span - class='fss'>I.</span> pp. 125–128). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_15'>15</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>The fog and haze.</em> A phrase of Burke’s (<cite>Reflections on the Revolution in - France, Select Works</cite>, ed. Payne, <span class='fss'>II.</span> 55). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='pageno' id='Page_430'>430</span>Note. <em>When Mr. Fox last summer.</em> On June 21, 1805. See Hansard’s <cite>Parl. - Debates</cite>, <span class='fss'>V.</span> 542. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_16'>16</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Described by Hobbes.</em> <cite>Behemoth</cite> (<cite>Works</cite>, ed. Molesworth, - <span class='fss'>VI.</span> 240). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_18'>18</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Not matchless,’ etc.</em> <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span class='fss'>VI.</span> - 341–2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘And in its liquid texture,’ etc.</em> <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span - class='fss'>VI.</span> 348–9. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>Note. Hazlitt printed this essay of Coleridge’s in <cite>Political Essays</cite> (see - <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, pp. 350–356) under the title of ‘Pitt and Buonaparte.’ - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_20'>20</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Some happier island,’ etc.</em> Pope, <cite>Essay on Man</cite>, <span - class='fss'>I.</span> 106–8. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_21'>21</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Virtue is not their habit,’ etc.</em> Burke’s <cite>Regicide Peace</cite> (ed. - Payne, p. 105). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_22'>22</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Lay the fault upon themselves,’ etc.</em> Julius Cæsar, Act <span - class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Dull as her lakes,’ etc.</em> Goldsmith’s <cite>The Traveller</cite>, l. 312. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_23'>23</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘When, stript,’ etc.</em> Goldsmith’s <cite>The Traveller</cite>, ll. 355–60. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘They think there is nothing real,’ etc.</em> ‘They think there is nothing worth - pursuit, but that which they can handle; which they can measure with a two-foot rule; - which they can tell upon two fingers.’ Burke’s <cite>Regicide Peace</cite> (ed. Payne, p. - 105). - </dd> - </dl> - -<h3 class='c003'>POLITICAL ESSAYS</h3> - -<p class='c008'>The title-page contained a motto from <cite>Twelfth Night</cite> (Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 5): ‘Come, -draw the curtain, shew the picture,’</p> - - <dl class='dl_1'> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>29. John Hunt (1780?–1848), an elder brother of Leigh Hunt, was with him the joint - founder of <cite>The Examiner</cite> in 1808. The two brothers were at first joint - proprietors, John being printer and manager and Leigh Hunt editor. John Hunt was twice in - prison, for two years (1813–5) for a libel on the Prince Regent, and again for one year - (1821–2) for a libel on the House of Commons. For an account of his services to - journalism see Fox Bourne’s <cite>English Newspapers</cite> (<span class='fss'>I.</span> - 335–51). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_32'>32</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>In contempt of the choice of the people.</em>’ Burke’s <cite>Reflections on the - Revolution in France</cite> (<cite>Select Works</cite>, ed. Payne, <span - class='fss'>II.</span> 17). In his <cite>Appeal from the New to the Old Whigs</cite> - (1791) Burke defends and elaborates the constitutional doctrines of the - <cite>Reflections</cite>. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_33'>33</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>The envy of less happier lands.</em>’ <cite>Richard II.</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Sworn brother to the Pope.</em> Because the sworn enemy of Hazlitt’s hero, Napoleon, - who abolished the Inquisition in Spain in 1808. Ferdinand <span class='fss'>VII.</span> - restored it in 1814. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Arbuthnot.</em> John Arbuthnot (1667–1735), whose famous pamphlet <cite>The History - of John Bull</cite> (as it was afterwards called) appeared in 1712. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Flocci, etc.</span></i> These words are the beginning of a rule in the old Latin - grammars which brings together a number of words meaning ‘of no account.’ See - <cite>Letters of Charles Lamb</cite> (ed. Ainger), <span class='fss'>I.</span> 62. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_34'>34</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘One fate attends,’ etc.</em> Southey’s <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Carmen Nuptiale</span></i>, Stanza 51. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>At one fell swoop.</em>’ <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>IV.</span> - Scene 3. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘That painted sepulchre,’ etc.</em> ‘<em>Whited</em> sepulchres,’ etc. <cite>St. - Matthew</cite> xxiii. 27. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Bogs, dens,’ etc.</em> <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span class='fss'>II.</span> - 621–2. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_35'>35</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>Awhile they stood abashed.</em>’ -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in10'>‘abashed the Devil stood,</div> - <div class='line'>And felt how awful goodness is.’</div> - <div class='line in29'><cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span class='fss'>IV.</span> 846–7.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Never can true reconcilement,’ etc.</em> <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Ib.</span></i>, <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> 98. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_36'>36</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Lord Castlereagh.</em> Robert Stewart (1769–1822), who became Viscount Castlereagh in - 1796, and second Marquis of Londonderry in 1821, was Irish Chief <span class='pageno' id='Page_431'>431</span>Secretary - during the Rebellion and the passing of the Act of Union (1798–1801), War Secretary - (1807–1809), and Foreign Secretary from 1812 till his death. After the death of Pitt he - may be regarded as the chief representative of Great Britain in the struggle against - Napoleon. That accounts for Hazlitt’s hatred, but he was for many reasons (some of which - appear in the <cite>Political Essays</cite>) the best hated minister of his time. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Benjamin Constant</em> (1767–1830), the French Liberal politician, was banished from - France in 1802 for denouncing the despotic acts of Napoleon. He returned to France after - the restoration of the Bourbons and advocated constitutional freedom. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘That Harlot old,’ etc.</em> Southey’s <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Carmen Nuptiale</span></i>, Stanza 52. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Douce humanité.</span></i> A phrase used by Burke in speaking of the revolution party - in France. <cite>A Letter to a Noble Lord</cite> (<cite>Works</cite>, Bohn, <span - class='fss'>V.</span> 140). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_37'>37</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘At this day,’ etc.</em> Wordsworth’s <cite>The Excursion</cite>, Book <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Tickling commodities.</em>’ <cite>King John</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>II.</span> - Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The case of the Income-Tax.</em> The ministry’s five per cent property tax (as it was - called) was rejected by the House of Commons on March 19, 1816, by 238 votes to 201. See - Walpole’s <cite>History of England</cite>, <span class='fss'>I.</span> 408–10. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>A feeling disputation.</em>’ <cite>Henry IV.</cite>, Part I., Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_38'>38</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Robson brought forward, etc.</em> On March 4, 1802. The bill was for £19 odd. On - March 8, Addington admitted that it had not been paid. See <cite>Parl. Hist.</cite> <span - class='fss'>XXXVI.</span> 346–50. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The Great Vulgar and the Small.</em> Cowley, Horace, <cite>Odes</cite>, <span - class='fss'>III.</span> 1. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_39'>39</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Never is, etc.</em> Pope’s <cite>Essay on Man</cite>, <span class='fss'>I.</span> 93. - In Hazlitt’s composite portrait of ‘a Reformer,’ there seems to be a good deal of Godwin. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Place.</em> Francis Place (1771–1854), the radical tailor. John Cam Hobhouse - (1786–1869), Byron’s friend, was defeated at Westminster by George Lamb in February 1819. - For Place’s <cite>Report</cite> to the Westminster electors, presented to a public - meeting, Feb. 9, 1819, see Wallas, <cite>Life of Francis Place</cite>, 134–9. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_40'>40</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>One of these virtuosos.</em> The description seems to fit Hazlitt’s conception of - Godwin. See <cite>Spirit of the Age</cite>. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Nicolas Gimcracks of Reform.</em> See Hazlitt’s <cite>Table Talk</cite> (‘On will - making’), where the will of ‘a certain virtuoso,’ Nicholas Gimcrack, is quoted from - <cite>The Tatler</cite> (No. 216). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Pleased with a feather,’ etc.</em> Pope’s <cite>Essay on Man</cite>, <span - class='fss'>II.</span> 276. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>The giant-mass.</em>’ <cite>Troilus and Cressida</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 3. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Another, more bold, etc.</em> Cobbett, no doubt. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_41'>41</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Dance the hays.</em> <cite>Love’s Labour’s Lost</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>V.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Perpetual circle,’ etc.</em> -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in6'>‘——that in quaternion run</div> - <div class='line'>Perpetual circle, multiform, and mix</div> - <div class='line'>And nourish all things,’ etc.</div> - <div class='line in30'><cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span class='fss'>V.</span> 181–3.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Going with Sancho, etc.</em> <cite>Don Quixote</cite>, Second Part, Book <span - class='fss'>II.</span>, chaps, xx. and xxi. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>The best of kings.</em>’ See vol. <span class='fss'>I.</span>, note to p. 305. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>42. <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Epicuri de grege porcus.</span></i> Horace, <cite>Epistles</cite>, <span - class='fss'>I.</span> iv. 16. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘When a great wheel,’ etc.</em> <cite>King Lear</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>A Theophilanthropist.</em> The name of a sect established by Thomas Paine in Paris in - 1797. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Wiser in his generation,’ etc.</em> <cite>St. Luke</cite> xvi. 8. -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_432'>432</span></div> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_42'>42</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>Servile slaves.</em>’ <cite>The Faerie Queene</cite>, Book <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Canto vii. St. 33. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_43'>43</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Screw their courage,’ etc.</em> <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 7. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_44'>44</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Are subdued,’ etc.</em> <cite>Othello</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> Scene - 3. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Holland House.</em> Best described by Macaulay in the <cite>Edinburgh Review</cite> - (July 1841—<cite>Essays</cite>, Lord Holland). The third Lord Holland (1773–1840) was a - consistent champion of Buonaparte, which makes it strange that Hazlitt should have - written and republished this sneer at Holland House. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>My Lord Erskine.</em> Thomas Erskine (1750–1823), the great Whig advocate, Lord - Chancellor in the ‘Talents’ Ministry (1806–7). He had recently been decorated by the - Regent with the Knighthood of the Thistle. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Untaught knaves,’ etc.</em> <cite>Henry IV.</cite>, Part I. Act <span - class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 3. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Ultima ratio regum.</span></i> It was a maxim of Richelieu’s that ‘<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">le canon est - l’<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ultima ratio</span></i> des rois</span>.’ - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Strange that such difference,’ etc.</em> John Byrom, <em>On the Feuds between Handel - and Bononcini</em>. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Nearly are allied,’ etc.</em> Dryden’s <cite>Absalom and Achitophel</cite>, Part - <span class='fss'>I.</span> 163–4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The ********* and ********* Reviews.</em> The <cite>Edinburgh</cite> and - <cite>Quarterly Reviews</cite>. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_46'>46</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Letting I dare not,’ etc.</em> <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> - Scene 7. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘But ’tis the fall,’ etc.</em> Pope, <cite>Epilogue to the Satires</cite>, <span - class='fss'>I.</span> 143 <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">et seq.</span></i> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_47'>47</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘And such other gambol faculties,’ etc.</em> <cite>Henry IV.</cite>, Part II. Act - <span class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The Marquess Wellesley’s opening speech.</em> On April 9, 1813. Richard Colley - Wellesley (1760–1842), the eldest brother of the Duke of Wellington, created Marquess - Wellesley in 1799 for his services in India, had been Foreign Secretary from 1809 to - 1812, but had failed to form a ministry after the assassination of Percival, and was now - out of office. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘All hail him,’ etc.</em> Pope, <cite>The Dunciad</cite>, ii. 267–8. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>Note. The passage in the text is not quite accurately quoted from <cite>The Morning - Chronicle</cite> (April 14, 1813). John Wilson Croker (1780–1857) was Secretary to the - Admiralty for twenty-two years (1809–30). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Strange that such difference,’ etc.</em> See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, note to p. 44. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Fillip the ears,’ etc.</em> <cite>Henry IV.</cite>, Part II. Act <span - class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>48. <span class='sc'>Mr. Southey, Poet Laureat.</span> From <cite>The Morning - Chronicle</cite>, Sept. 18, 1813. See Lockhart’s <cite>Life of Scott</cite> (vol. <span - class='fss'>III.</span> p. 88) and Southey’s Preface to vol. <span - class='fss'>III.</span> of the collected edition of his Poems (1837) for particulars as - to Southey’s laureateship. He made it a condition of his acceptance of the post that he - should not be required to write the old formal odes, but that he should be free to choose - his own time for celebrating any great public event. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Croker, to whom, etc.</em> Southey’s <cite>Life of Nelson</cite>, dedicated to - Croker, was published in 1813, with a motto from Canning’s <cite>Ulm and Trafalgar</cite> - (1806). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Lord Liverpool.</em> Robert Banks Jenkinson (1770–1828), after 1796 known by courtesy - as Lord Hawkesbury, and raised to the peerage with that title in 1803, succeeded his - father as Earl of Liverpool in 1808, and was Prime Minister for fifteen years (1812–27). - The second Marquis of Hertford (1743–1822) was Lord Chamberlain from 1812 to 1821. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>49. <span class='sc'>Mr. Southey’s New-Year’s Ode.</span> This paper is reprinted from - <cite>The Morning Chronicle</cite>, Jan. 8, 1814. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Poets succeed best in fiction.</em>’ The reply of Edmund Waller to Charles <span - class='fss'>II.</span>, who had complained of the inferiority of the poet’s verses on the - Restoration as compared with his panegyric on Cromwell. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Duke’s Place.</em> Situated within the priory of Holy Trinity without Aldgate, - belonging to the Duke of Norfolk. ‘A new church in the priory precinct, dedicated to St. - James, was consecrated January 2, 1622–23, and became <span class='pageno' id='Page_433'>433</span>one of the most notorious - places in London for those irregular marriages which, under the name of Fleet marriages, - were the cause of so much scandal in the latter half of the seventeenth century, and - until they were put an end to by the Act of 1753,’ Wheatley and Cunningham’s <cite>London - Past and Present</cite>, i. 532. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Academy of compliments.</em> See note to vol. <span class='fss'>I.</span> p. 235. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_50'>50</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Age after age,’ etc.</em> Stanza 8. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><cite>The Lady’s Magazine.</cite> ‘The Lady’s Magazine or entertaining Companion for the - fair sex’ (1770–1818). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Open thy gates, O Hanover,’ etc.</em> Stanza 16. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_51'>51</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Like Virgil.</em> <cite>Georgics</cite>, i. 80. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘And France,’ etc.</em> Stanza 18. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Very nearly succeeded.</em> In <cite>The Morning Chronicle</cite> appeared the - following paragraph: ‘As Mr. Southey’s Ode by no means satisfied the poetical appetite - which it had excited in us, we turned after reading it, to Spenser’s fine Canto on - Mutability, and afterwards to some lines written by one who did not join the song of the - avengers <em>twice</em>. Mr. Southey, by the new form of publishing his Ode, having - prevented us from gratifying our readers with it as <em>a public entertainment</em>, we - shall try to make amends by these lines of Milton, which, we believe, have not yet been - quoted in The Times.’ [Here follow ll. 113–131 of <cite>Lycidas</cite>]. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>Dottrell-Catching.</span> From <cite>The Morning Chronicle</cite>, Jan. - 27, 1814. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Spunge, you are dry again.</em>’ <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>A celebrated writer.</em> This appears to have been Edward Sterling (Vetus). See p. - 99. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_52'>52</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Struldbruggs.</em> <cite>Gulliver’s Travels</cite> (Voyage to Laputa), Part III. - Chap. x. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Eiconoclastes Satyrane.</em> ‘Satyrane’s Letters’ was the name given to Coleridge’s - letters from Germany, published in <cite>The Friend</cite> in 1809, and republished in - <cite><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Biographia Literaria</span></cite>. Hazlitt concluded his letter to <cite>The - Morning Chronicle</cite> with a quotation from Wordsworth (<cite>Ode, Intimations of - Immortality</cite>, Stanza 10)— -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘What though the radiance which was once so bright,’ etc.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>The Bourbons and Bonaparte.</span> From <cite>The Morning - Chronicle</cite>, Dec. 6, 1813. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_53'>53</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>The virtuous Moreau.</em> Jean Victor Moreau (1761–1813), banished by Napoleon in - 1804, returned to Europe in 1813 and joined the allies. He died in Sept. 1813 of a wound - received from a French cannon-ball at the battle of Dresden. For Hazlitt’s opinion of - Moreau see his <cite>Life of Napoleon</cite>, chap. xlix. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_54'>54</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Bid him prepare,’ etc.</em> <cite>Henry V.</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>IV.</span> - Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Reverbs,’ etc.</em> <cite>King Lear</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Flows on to the Propontic,’ etc.</em> -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘——Like to the Pontic sea,</div> - <div class='line'>Whose icy current and compulsive course</div> - <div class='line'>Ne’er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on</div> - <div class='line'>To the Propontic and the Hellespont!’</div> - <div class='line in32'><cite>Othello</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 3.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>The deserter of Smorgonne.</em>’ At Smorgoni Buonaparte left his army on Dec. 5, - 1812, during the retreat from Moscow. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Sir Humphrey Davy.</em> Sir Humphry Davy (1778–1829), the great natural philosopher, - knighted in 1812. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_55'>55</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Like Hellenore, etc.</em> See <cite>The Faerie Queene</cite>, Book <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Cantos ix. and x. -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_434'>434</span></div> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_56'>56</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘This is the very coinage,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>No such army.</em> In <cite>The Morning Chronicle</cite> there is the following note - to this passage: ‘One is here reminded of the pathetic exhortation addressed to honest - <em>Sly</em>, in the <cite>Taming of the Shrew</cite> [Induction, Scene 2]:— -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Why, Sir, you know no house,</div> - <div class='line'>Nor no such men as you have reckon’d up,</div> - <div class='line'>As Stephen Sly, and Old John Naps of Greece,</div> - <div class='line'>And Peter Turf, and Henry Pimpernel,</div> - <div class='line'>And twenty more such names and men as these,</div> - <div class='line'>Which never were, nor no man ever saw.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>The difference in the two cases is, that poor <em>Sly</em> was persuaded out of his - senses by other people, and that our paragraph writer would persuade his readers out of - theirs.’ - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>To the very echo.</em>’ <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>V.</span> Scene - 3. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_57'>57</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Darkness that might be felt.</em> <cite>Exodus</cite>, x. 21. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Impaling fire.</em>’ ‘Impaled with circling fire.’ <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span - class='fss'>II.</span> 647. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>Vetus.</span> From <cite>The Morning Chronicle</cite>, Nov. 19, 1813. - ‘Vetus’ was the signature of Edward Sterling (1773–1847), who became a regular member of - <cite>The Times</cite> staff, and earned for it the nickname of ‘The Thunderer.’ Some of - the Letters of Vetus were republished in 1812. See Carlyle’s <cite>Life of John - Sterling</cite>, who was Edward Sterling’s son. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_58'>58</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘A cry of hell-hounds,’ etc.</em> <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span - class='fss'>II.</span> 654. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>On the Courier and Times newspapers.</span> From <cite>The Morning - Chronicle</cite>, Jan. 21, 1814. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_59'>59</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Formally signified from the throne.</em> See the Prince Regent’s speech on opening - Parliament Nov. 4, 1813, and Lord Liverpool’s speech on the Address - (<cite>Hansard</cite>, xxvii. 5, 22). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Lord Castlereagh.</em> Castlereagh represented England informally at the Congress of - Châtillon (February and March, 1814) where he opposed the restoration of the Bourbons by - the arms of the allies. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_60'>60</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>What, stab men in the dark.</em>’ ‘Kill men i’ the dark.’ <cite>Othello</cite>, Act - <span class='fss'>V.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The Editor of ‘The Times.’</em> Hazlitt’s brother-in-law, John (afterwards Sir John) - Stoddart (1773–1856) was editor from 1812 to 1817. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_61'>61</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Of heroic sentiment,’ etc.</em> Burke’s <cite>Reflections on the Revolution in - France</cite> (<cite>Select Works</cite>, ed. Payne, <span class='fss'>II.</span> 89). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The treaty of Pilnitz.</em> A declaration signed by the Emperor of Austria and the - King of Prussia in August, 1791, the object of which was to secure the safety of Louis - <span class='fss'>XVI.</span> after his imprisonment by the Revolution government. Fox - described the treaty, or rather the declaration, as ‘an act of hostile aggression,’ and - Hazlitt hated it because it ‘gave its sanction to the invasion of France, and commenced - the war of the Revolution (<cite>Life of Napoleon</cite>, Chap. v.). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The French ‘<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">petit maitre</span>.’</em> <cite>Roderick Random</cite>, Chap, xliii. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><cite>Don Quixote.</cite> Book <span class='fss'>III.</span> Chap. xv. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_62'>62</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘That we might spill our blood,’ etc.</em> ‘The blood of man should never be shed but - to redeem the blood of man. It is well shed for our family, for our friends, for our God, - for our country, for our kind.’ Burke’s <em>Regicide Peace</em> (<cite>Select - Works</cite>, ed. Payne, p. 67). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘The meanest peasant,’ etc.</em> A phrase of Vetus’s. See p. 75. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Carl John.</em> Jean Baptiste Jules Bernadotte (1764–1844), the son of a lawyer. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>He was elected heir to the crown of Sweden and succeeded to the throne as - <span class='pageno' id='Page_435'>435</span>Charles <span class='fss'>XIV.</span> in 1818. Hazlitt of course hated ‘this man’ - (as he contemptuously calls him) as a traitor to his idol Buonaparte. See <cite>Life of - Napoleon</cite> (Chap. xliii, especially). Bernadotte had married an early love of - Buonaparte’s, and ‘thy little son’ (Oscar) was the Emperor’s god-son. Sweden joined the - alliance against Napoleon in April, 1812. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Monarchize,’ etc.</em> <cite>Richard II.</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III</span>. - Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘The flame of sacred vehemence,’ etc.</em> <cite>Julius Caesar</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_63'>63</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>General Blucher’s manifesto.</em> Hazlitt probably refers to a manifesto addressed by - Blücher to the Army of Silesia on Jan. 3, 1814, in which he says, ‘Now you are going to - pass the Rhine to force peace from the enemy who cannot console himself for having lost, - in two campaigns, the conquest which he had made during nineteen years.’ - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Favourably interpreted.</em> In <cite>The Morning Chronicle</cite> the article - proceeded as follows:—‘The classical pen of <cite>The Courier</cite> not long ago charged - us with spoiling one of the finest passages in Shakespeare. We should be sorry if the - charge were true, because we have really more respect for this great English genius than - for a whole legion of “gentlemen and men of honour,” of the old or the new stamp, by - tradition or by patent. We have not indeed read the extracts in <cite>The Courier</cite> - from Mr. Coleridge’s Lectures at Bristol, and wanting that new light, may perhaps be - blind idolaters. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘There are, however, one or two passages in the play of <cite>Coriolanus</cite> besides - the fine one which we are said to have marred, which we thought conveyed a great deal of - meaning. The first is the speech of <em>Aufidius</em> [Act <span class='fss'>V.</span> - Scene 3], which seems to us a transcript of what must pass in Buonaparte’s mind, in - reading the hyperboles of <cite>The Times</cite> and <cite>The Courier</cite>— -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“I’m glad thou set’st thy mercy and thy honour</div> - <div class='line'>At difference in thee: out of this I’ll work</div> - <div class='line'>Myself a former fortune.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>The second [Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 2] we leave for their own application. -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Away, my disposition, and possess me</div> - <div class='line'>Some harlot’s spirit: the smiles of knaves</div> - <div class='line'>Tent in my cheeks, and school-boys’ tears take up</div> - <div class='line'>The glasses of my sight: a beggar’s tongue</div> - <div class='line'>Make motion through my lips.—I will not do it,</div> - <div class='line'>Lest I surcease to honour mine own truth,</div> - <div class='line'>And by my body’s action, teach my mind</div> - <div class='line'>A most inherent baseness.”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘It is said that there is no reason why we should not <em>propose</em> to the French - people (there was a time when we would not suffer them to chuse for themselves) the - restoration of the Bourbons. Why no, except that it is a great piece of impudence to hint - to them as a modest proposal, and in the way of free choice, what we have been - endeavouring to impose upon them so long as a matter of necessity. The question is, - whether we are to enforce the adoption of this free boon by the same process as before. - <cite>The Times</cite> say, “We have given a native Prince to Holland and to Spain. Why - then not to France?” Does the writer still persist that there is no difference between - the two cases? - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘We have made these remarks, not with a view to irritate or recriminate, but to resist - irritation and recrimination, by which we can at this moment gain nothing that we ought - to gain. There is one ground of peace, just, <span class='pageno' id='Page_436'>436</span>honourable, attainable, secure, - and permanent, which is laid down in the Declaration of the Allies, and by his Majesty’s - Ministers—there is another, recommended by <cite>The Times</cite> and - <cite>Courier</cite>, and pursued by the Cossacks, namely, the desolation and degradation - of France—which is neither safe, nor just, nor practicable, nor desirable. If the Allies, - for any contingent advantage, or to gratify any old grudge, for any fancies or for any - prejudices, throw away their present opportunities of making peace, and of making it - permanent by the very act of having made it in the spirit of moderation and justice—if - they forego their present imposing attitude, of having repelled invasion and maintained - their own independence, for the chance of retorting aggression on others, and insulting - that national independence which they profess to consider as inviolable, by dictating to - France her form of government under pretence of offering her peace, then we say, they - will richly deserve to reap all the natural consequences of their mistaken policy. On - their heads and on those of their advisers be the responsibility.’ - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>Illustrations of Vetus.</span> <cite>The Morning Chronicle</cite>, Dec. - 2, 1813. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Those nauseous harlequins,’ etc.</em> Dryden, Epilogue to Sir G. Etherege’s ‘The Man - of Mode, or Sir Fopling Flutter’ (1676). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_64'>64</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Don Adriano de Armado.</em> In <cite>Love’s Labour’s Lost</cite>. ‘Will you hear this - letter with attention? As we would hear an oracle.’ Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> Scene - 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>I am Sir Oracle.</em>’ <cite>Merchant of Venice</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The hero of Cervantes.</em> <cite>Don Quixote</cite>, Part I. Book <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Chap. xi. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>To ‘hitch it,’ etc.</em> -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Whoe’er offends at some unlucky time</div> - <div class='line'>Slides into verse, and hitches in a rhyme.’</div> - <div class='line in14'>Pope, <cite>Imitations of Horace</cite>, Satire I. Book <span class='fss'>II.</span></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>His last letter.</em> <cite>The Times</cite>, Nov. 23, 1813. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_65'>65</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Bobadil.</em> Ben Jonson’s <cite>Every Man in his Humour</cite> (first produced 1598). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>67. <span class='sc'>Illustrations of Vetus</span> (<em>continued</em>). <cite>The - Morning Chronicle</cite>, Dec. 10, 1813. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘He is indeed,’ etc.</em> <cite>The Man of Mode; or Sir Fopling Flutter</cite>, Act - <span class='fss'>I.</span> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Fools aspiring to be knaves.</em>’ Pope, Epilogue to the Satires, i. 165. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_70'>70</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Still true to the war—and himself.</em> In <cite>The Morning Chronicle</cite> Hazlitt - quotes, ‘Oh, no! it is an ever-fixed mark,’ etc., from Shakespeare’s Sonnets (No. 116). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_68'>68</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Peachum.</em> See <cite>The Beggar’s Opera</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> - Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_71'>71</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>The treaty of 1763.</em> The Peace of Paris, by which England kept her conquests in - America. France recognised the independence of the States in 1778. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘With centric,’ etc.</em> <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span class='fss'>VIII.</span> - 83. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_72'>72</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘I will have ransom,’ etc.</em> <cite>Henry V.</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>The fierce extremes.</em>’ <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span class='fss'>II.</span> - 599. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>73. <span class='sc'>Illustrations of Vetus</span> (<em>continued</em>). <cite>The - Morning Chronicle</cite>, Dec. 16, 1813. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Madmen’s epistles,’ etc.</em> <cite>Twelfth Night</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>V.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Events ... in Holland.</em>’ The Dutch had revolted from Napoleon, and declared for - the Prince of Orange, who landed in Holland (from England) on Nov. 27, 1813. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Spenser’s Allegory.</em> <cite>The Faerie Queene</cite>, Book <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Canto v. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Made of penetrable stuff.</em>’ <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Leer malign.</em>’ <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span class='fss'>IV.</span> 503. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_74'>74</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Vattel.</em> Eméric de Vattel (1714–1767), whose <cite><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Droits des Gens</span></cite> - was published in 1758, and was frequently translated. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Think, there’s livers out of England,’ etc.</em> <cite>Cymbeline</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Anacharsis Cloots.</em> For Jean Baptiste Cloots, who assumed the name of - <span class='pageno' id='Page_437'>437</span>Anacharsis, see Burke’s <cite>Regicide Peace</cite> (ed. Payne), pp. 296 <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">et - seq.</span></i> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>75. <cite>Lord Castlereagh’s Speech.</cite> On Nov. 17, 1813. See Hansard’s <cite>Parl. - Debates</cite>, <span class='fss'>XXVII.</span> 132 <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">et seq.</span></i> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Why so,’ etc.</em> <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>Note. <cite>Cursory Strictures on the Charge of Chief-Justice Eyre.</cite> See the essay - on Godwin in Hazlitt’s <cite>Spirit of the Age</cite>. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_76'>76</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>To knot and gender in.</em>’ <cite>Othello</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>IV.</span> - Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Mere midsummer madness.</em>’ <cite>Twelfth Night</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘For in this lowest deep,’ etc.</em> <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> 76. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The Sun and the Star.</em> ‘The Sun,’ a Tory evening paper founded in 1802 by George - Rose. ‘The Star,’ the first London evening paper, founded in 1788 by Peter Stuart. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_77'>77</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Political E. O. tables.</em> See vol. i., note to p. 145. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Struggled to get free.</em>’ <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> - Scene 3. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_78'>78</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Doctor Pedro Positive.</em> See <cite>Don Quixote</cite>, Part II. Book <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Chaps, xlvii. and xlix. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>But we deny.</em> The rest of the essay from this point appeared first in <cite>The - Morning Chronicle</cite> for Dec. 18, 1813. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_79'>79</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Like a devilish engine,’ etc.</em> <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> 17. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘So small a drop,’ etc.</em> <cite>Cymbeline</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>IV.</span> - Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_80'>80</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘The stone which the builders rejected,’ etc.</em> Psalms cxviii. 22. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_81'>81</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘This large discourse of reason,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_82'>82</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>The murdered D’Enghien.</em> The Duc d’Enghien, eldest son of the Prince de Condé, - was executed on March 21, 1804, to avenge Pichegru’s plot against the life of Buonaparte. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_85'>85</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘His yoke,’ etc.</em> <cite>St. Matthew</cite> xi. 30. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>Illustrations of Vetus.</span> From <cite>The Morning Chronicle</cite>, - Jan. 3, 1814. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Take him,’ etc.</em> <cite>Romeo and Juliet</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Our occupation,’ etc.</em> <cite>Othello</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> - Scene 3. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Aggravate his voice,’ etc.</em> <cite>Midsummer Night’s Dream</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>He is not the first enthusiast, etc.</em> Hazlitt refers to the well-known story of - Ixion. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_86'>86</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>That of Parolles.</em> In <cite>The Morning Chronicle</cite> Hazlitt appends a note - in which he applies the reference: ‘Vetus does not relish our quotations from the Poets. - The following is, however, so applicable, that we insert it: Parolles, “What the devil - should move me to the recovery of this drum, not being ignorant of the possibility. - Tongue, I will put you into a butter-woman’s mouth, and buy myself another of Bajazet’s - mule, if you prattle me into these perils.” <cite>All’s Well that Ends Well</cite>,’ Act - <span class='fss'>IV.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><cite>Dr. Parr’s Spital Sermon.</cite> Preached before the Lord Mayor on Easter Monday, - 1800, and published with notes in 1801. It consisted chiefly of an attack on Godwin’s - <cite>Political Justice</cite>. See the essay on Godwin in Hazlitt’s <cite>Spirit of the - Age</cite>, and, for Sir James Mackintosh’s <cite>Lectures</cite>, the essay on - Mackintosh. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘One of these patriots,’ etc.</em> These three paragraphs are far beside the mark if - they were aimed at Hazlitt, who cared little for Godwin’s social philosophy. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_87'>87</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>Scrub.</em>’ Farquhar’s <cite>The Beaux-Stratagem</cite>. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>Note. <em>‘In heaven,’ etc.</em> <cite>St. Matthew</cite>, xxii. 30. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_88'>88</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Confound the ignorant,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_89'>89</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘The latter end,’ etc.</em> ‘The latter end of his commonwealth forgets the - beginning.’ <cite>Tempest</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>90. <span class='sc'>Illustrations of Vetus</span> (<em>concluded</em>). From <cite>The - Morning Chronicle</cite>, Jan. 5, 1814. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘What do you read,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>II.</span> - Scene 2. -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_438'>438</span></div> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_90'>90</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Don Quixote’s books.</em> See <cite>Don Quixote</cite>, Book <span - class='fss'>I.</span> chap. i. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_91'>91</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Patriotism in modern times, etc.</em> This passage, down to ‘broad and firm basis,’ - had already been republished by Hazlitt. See vol. i. (<cite>Round Table</cite>) pp. 67–8. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_92'>92</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>It was said, etc.</em> By Rousseau, <cite>Emile</cite>, Liv. iv. p. 279 (<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">édit.</span> - Garnier). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘A painted sepulchre,’ etc.</em> See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, note to p. 34. - </dd> - <dt>Note <a href='#Page_2'>2</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Canning’s Jaggernaut Speech.</em> In the debate on Foreign Treaties, Nov. 17, 1813. - See Hansard’s <cite>Parl. Debates</cite>, <span class='fss'>XXVII.</span> 144–152. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>93. <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Tempora mollia fandi.</span></i> <cite>Æneid</cite>, iv. 293. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Smoothing,’ etc.</em> ‘Smoothing the raven down of darkness till it smiled.’ - <cite>Comus</cite>, 251–2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Airs from heaven,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> - Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Thrust us,’ etc.</em> <cite>Henry IV.</cite>, Part II. Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_95'>95</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>That profound politician.</em> Malthus. See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, pp. 356 <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">et - seq.</span></i> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_96'>96</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>What appetite he may.</em>’ <cite>Henry VIII.</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>On the late war.</span> Published in <cite>The Champion</cite>, April 3, - 1814. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_97'>97</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘The great statesman,’ etc.</em> Pitt. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Their pound of carrion-flesh,’ ‘’tis theirs,’ etc.</em> <cite>Merchant of - Venice</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>IV.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘’Tis an indifferent piece of work,’ etc.</em> <cite>Taming of the Shrew</cite>, Act - <span class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Fierce as a comet,’ etc.</em> <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span - class='fss'>II.</span> 708. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Bear fardels.</em>’ <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Was not,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_98'>98</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘The pilot,’ etc.</em> Canning’s verses, ‘The Pilot that weathered the storm,’ were - composed for the first (1802) of the birth-day dinners in honour of Pitt. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Our great war-minister.</em> He means Pitt. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>99. <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Odia in longum, etc.</span></i> Tacitus, <cite><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Agricola</span></cite>, <span - class='fss'>I.</span> 69. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>If Titus, etc.</em> See Suetonius, <span class='fss'>VIII.</span> 8. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Full circle home.</em>’ <cite>King Lear</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>V.</span> - Scene 3. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>The child and champion of Jacobinism.</em>’ This phrase occurred in Coleridge’s - report of Pitt’s speech of Feb. 17, 1800. See <cite>Essays on his own Times</cite> (<span - class='fss'>II</span>. 294). Mrs. Coleridge, the editor of that work, says in a note - (<span class='fss'>III.</span> 1010): ‘It is remarkable that the striking expression, - applied to Buonaparte—“the child and the champion of Jacobinism”—which was continually - repeated afterwards, does not occur in the speech as reported in <cite>The Times</cite>, - though it reappears in the later edition of it in the collection of Pitt’s speeches.’ The - words occur in Hansard. See <cite>Parl. Debates</cite>, <span class='fss'>XXXIV.</span> - 1443. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Whitebread.</em> Samuel Whitbread (1758–1815), the famous Whig member. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>101. <span class='sc'>Prince Maurice’s Parrot.</span> Published originally in <cite>The - Examiner</cite>, July 10, 1814, and later in <cite>The Champion</cite>, Sept. 18, 1814. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>Charles Maurice Talleyrand de Périgord, Prince of Benevento, was the representative of - France at the Congress of Vienna (1814). Castlereagh was the representative of England. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_102'>102</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘With so little web,’ etc.</em> <cite>Othello</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_103'>103</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>The Prince of Benevento.</em> Napoleon created Talleyrand a Prince of the Empire - under this title in 1806. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The ex-Bishop of Autun.</em> Talleyrand was appointed Bishop of Autun by Louis <span - class='fss'>XVI.</span> in 1789. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>His friend.</em> Croker. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>Whether the Friends</span>, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">etc.</span></i> From <cite>The - Champion</cite>, Oct. 23, 1814. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>An excellent article.</em> By Leigh Hunt in <cite>The Examiner</cite>, Oct. 16, 1814. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_105'>105</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Vows made in pain,’ etc.</em> <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> 97. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Why so,’ etc.</em> <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘The right divine,’ etc.</em> Pope’s <cite>Dunciad</cite>, <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> 188. -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_439'>439</span></div> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_106'>106</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘All power,’ etc.</em> <cite>St. Matthew</cite> xxviii. 18. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>The milk of human kindness.</em>’ <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 5. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The Crown Prince of Sweden.</em> Bernadotte. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>All hail hereafter.</em>’ <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I</span>. - Scene 5. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_108'>108</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>The dexterous prince, etc.</em> Talleyrand. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The act of Mr. Fox’s administration.</em> March 25, 1807. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_109'>109</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘A very currish performance,’ etc.</em> <cite>Two Gentlemen of Verona</cite>, Act - <span class='fss'>IV.</span> Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Pye’s.</em> Henry James Pye (1745–1813), Southey’s predecessor in the - laureateship. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_110'>110</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Croker was wrong, etc.</em> See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, p. 48. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Once a Jacobin, etc.</em> ‘This charitable adage was at one time fashionable in the - ministerial circles; and Mr. Pitt himself, in one of his most powerful speeches, gave it - every advantage, that is derivable from stately diction.’ Coleridge, <cite>Essays on his - own Times</cite>, <span class='fss'>II.</span> 542. Coleridge refers to Pitt’s speech of - Feb. 17, 1800. See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, note to p. 99. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Old Sarum.</em> See <em>post</em>, note to p. 157. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘The friendship,’ etc.</em> <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Carmen Nuptiale</span></i>, Proem, Stanza 9. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Glassy essence.</em>’ <cite>Measure for Measure</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_111'>111</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Joseph Fox or Joseph Lancaster.</em> Joseph Fox, a Quaker and trustee of the - Lancastrian Society. Southey was a vehement supporter of Lancaster’s rival, Bell. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Practice of Piety.</em>’ ‘The Practice of Piety, directing a Christian how to walk - that he may please God,’ by Lewis Bayly, Bishop of Bangor, was published early in the - seventeenth century, and became enormously popular. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_112'>112</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Geo. Fox.</em> George Fox (1624–1690), the founder of the Society of Friends. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Bear thou,’ etc.</em> <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Carmen Nuptiale</span></i>, The Dream, Stanza 50. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_113'>113</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Yea in this now,’ etc.</em> <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Ib.</span></i>, Proem, Stanzas 9 and 10. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>As to Spenser.</em> Spenser received a pension of £50 a year from the Crown in - 1590–1, but was not formally poet-laureate. William Whitehead (1715–1785) was laureate - from 1757. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_114'>114</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Look to thy sire,’ etc.</em> <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Carmen Nuptiale</span></i>, The Dream, Stanza 32. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>The Lay of the Laureate</span>, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">etc.</span></i> (concluded). From - <cite>The Examiner</cite>, July 14, 1816. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Hamlet, thou hast,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> - Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_115'>115</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Proudly I raised,’ etc.</em> <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Carmen Nuptiale</span></i>, Proem, Stanza 11. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘This lovely pair,’ etc.</em> <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Ib.</span></i>, The Dream, Stanzas 73–7. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_116'>116</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>Old, old Master Shallow.</em>’ <cite>Henry IV.</cite>, Part II., Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Snug’s the word.</em> <cite>Midsummer Night’s Dream</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘The wars,’ etc.</em> <cite>The Faerie Queene</cite>, Book <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Canto ix. Stanza 56. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_117'>117</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>Brunswick’s fated line.</em>’ <cite>Carmen Nuptiale</cite>, The Dream, Stanza 30. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Re-risen cause of evil.</em>’ <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Ib.</span></i>, Proem, Stanza 14. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Speed thou the work,’ etc.</em> <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Ib.</span></i>, The Dream, Stanza 81. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_118'>118</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>The massacres of Nismes.</em> In July 1815, after the restoration of the Bourbons. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_119'>119</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>Quite chopfallen.</em>’ <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>V.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>As Christopher Sly says.</em> <cite>Taming of the Shrew</cite>, Induction, Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The death of Porlier.</em> General Porlier revolted against Ferdinand of Spain, but, - being captured, was put to death in Nov. 1815. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_120'>120</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Que peut inspirer,’ etc.</em> <cite>Athalie</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 3. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>Note 1. See Vol. <span class='fss'>I.</span>, note to p. 214. - </dd> - <dt>Note <a href='#Page_2'>2</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>One of them</em>, Leigh Hunt. <em>The other</em>, Charles Lamb. ‘A celebrated - General,’ the Duke of Wellington. George Garrard (1760–1826) and Peter Turnerelli - (1774–1839) exhibited busts at the Royal Academy. -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_440'>440</span></div> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_121'>121</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>Two of the fearfullest wild-fowl living.</em>’ <cite>Midsummer Night’s Dream</cite>, - Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>A British Lion, etc.</em> <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Carmen Nuptiale</span></i>, The Dream, Stanza 19–21. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>A new View of Society</span>, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">etc.</span></i> <cite>The - Examiner</cite>, Literary Notices, No. 6., Aug. 4, 1816. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>For an account of Robert Owen (1771–1858) and his schemes see Leslie Stephen’s - <cite>English Utilitarians</cite>, <span class='fss'>II.</span> 119–124. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_122'>122</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Old, old,’ etc.</em> See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, note to p. 116. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>My Lord Shallow.</em> Lord Castlereagh, presumably. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Applaud him,’ etc.</em> <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>V.</span> Scene - 3. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Chaunting remnants,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>IV.</span> - Scene 3. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘No, no,’ etc.</em> <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Ib.</span></i> Act <span class='fss'>IV.</span> Scene 5. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Like a cloud over the Caspian.</em>’ <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span - class='fss'>II.</span> 714–716. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Thy bones,’ etc.</em> <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> Scene - 4. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_123'>123</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Lubber-land.</em> A name given in the 16th century to the imaginary Land of - Cockaigne. See Ellis, <cite>Specimens of the Early English Poets, <span - class='fss'>I.</span></cite> 95. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Durham’s golden stalls.</em>’ ‘Though placed in golden Durham’s second stall.’ - Cowper, <cite>Truth</cite>, 120. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>There was one head.</em> Hazlitt refers to George <span class='fss'>III.</span> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Thus repelled,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>II.</span> - Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_124'>124</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>An old saw.</em>’ <cite>As You Like It</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>II.</span> - Scene 7. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘If to do,’ etc.</em> <cite>Merchant of Venice</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Two of our most loyal booksellers.</em> John Murray (1778–1843), publisher of the - <cite>Quarterly</cite>, and John Hatchard (1769–1849) bookseller to the Queen. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Wilberforce.</em> For William Wilberforce (1759–1833) see Hazlitt’s <cite>Spirit - of the Age</cite>. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>To pull an old house about their ears.</em>’ Cf. ‘Let them pull all about mine - ears.’ <cite>Coriolanus</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_125'>125</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>The Lord-Chancellor.</em> Eldon. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_126'>126</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>The good and wise.</em>’ Southey’s <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Carmen Nuptiale</span></i>, Proem, Stanza 9. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Dr. Parr, etc.</em> See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, p. 86. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>In <cite>The Examiner</cite> for Sept. 1, 1816 (Literary Notices, No. 10) were published - two letters referring to this article of Hazlitt’s, one, signed ‘Z’ defending Owen, the - other, signed ‘A. C.,’ denying that the improvements claimed by Owen had actually taken - place at New Lanark. The letters are followed by two columns of editorial comment which - may or may not be the work of Hazlitt. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_127'>127</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>The Speech of Charles C. Western, etc.</em> <cite>The Examiner</cite>, Literary - Notices, No. 7. August 11, 1816. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>Charles Callis Western (1767–1844), an Essex landowner and member for the county. For his - long services in Parliament and as a pamphleteer on behalf of the agricultural interest - and of prison reform, he was raised to the peerage as Baron Western in 1833, after having - been defeated at the first election after the passing of the Reform Bill. Henry Peter - Brougham (1778–1868) was at this time (1816) member for Winchelsea. See Hazlitt’s sketch - of him in <cite>The Spirit of the Age</cite>, and the notes thereon. He was - Lord-Chancellor from 1830–1834. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The tale of Slaukenbergius.</em> <cite>Tristram Shandy</cite>, Vol. <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Aye, there’s the rub.</em>’ <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> - Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Lord Camden.</em> The son of Lord-Chancellor Camden. In 1780 he was appointed one of - the tellers of the exchequer, a post which he held for sixty years. In 1808 the - emoluments of the office amounted to £23,000 per <span class='pageno' id='Page_441'>441</span>annum. In 1812 Camden - relinquished the income, and so before his death in 1840 had sacrificed a quarter of a - million. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_128'>128</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Horner.</em> Francis Horner (1778–1817), one of the founders of the - <cite>Edinburgh Review</cite>, and one of the chief hopes of the Whigs in Parliament. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>130. Note. <cite>The Friend</cite>, Section 1. Essay 7, ‘On the vulgar Errors respecting - Taxes and Taxation.’ - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>131. Note. <em>‘The road had done,’ etc.</em> <cite>The Beggar’s Opera</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_132'>132</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Walcheren.</em> Seven thousand men died during the disastrous expedition to Walcheren. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>Speeches in Parliament</span>, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">etc.</span></i> (<em>concluded</em>). - <cite>The Examiner</cite>, Literary Notices, No. 8, Aug. 18, 1816. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Come, let us,’ etc.</em> Swift’s <cite>Polite Conversation</cite>, Dialogue 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Relieve the killing languor,’ etc.</em> Burke’s <cite>Reflections on the Revolution - in France</cite> (<cite>Select Works</cite>, ed. Payne, <span class='fss'>II</span> 120). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘If the poor,’ etc.</em> Burke, <cite>Thoughts and Details on Scarcity</cite> (1795), - <cite>Works</cite>, Bohn, <span class='fss'>V.</span> 84. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_133'>133</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Like the dagger.</em> Burke’s dagger scene occurred during a debate on the Alien - Bill, Dec. 28, 1792. See <cite>Parl. Hist.</cite>, <span class='fss'>XXX.</span> 189. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_134'>134</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>As the vapours, etc.</em> See p. 231. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_136'>136</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘They toil not,’ etc.</em> <cite>St. Matthew</cite>, vi. 28. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Like Lord Peter, in the ‘Tale of a Tub.’</em> See Section 4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>138. <span class='sc'>A Lay-Sermon</span>, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">etc.</span></i> <cite>The Examiner</cite>, - Literary Notices, No. 11, Sept. 8, 1816. Cf. Hazlitt’s sketch of Coleridge in <cite>The - Spirit of the Age</cite>. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Function,’ etc.</em> <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 3. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Or in Franciscan’ etc.</em> <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span - class='fss'>III.</span> 480. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Omne ignotum,’ etc.</em> Tacitus, <cite><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Agricola</span></cite>, Chap. <span - class='fss'>XXX.</span> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Cock-Lane Ghost.</em> For ‘the story of a Ghost in Cock-Lane, which, in the year - 1762, had gained very general credit in London,’ see Boswell’s <cite>Life of - Johnson</cite> (ed. G. B. Hill), <span class='fss'>I.</span> 406–8, and Lang’s - <cite>Cock-Lane and Common Sense</cite>. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>A penny for his thoughts.</em>’ An old saying embalmed in John Heywood’s - <cite>Proverbs</cite> and Swift’s <cite>Polite Conversation</cite> (Introduction). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_139'>139</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>Secret Tattle.</em>’ Congreve’s <cite>Love for Love</cite>. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Yet virgin of Proserpina from Jove</em>,’ <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span - class='fss'>IX.</span> 396. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The Friend, etc.</em> <cite>The Friend; a literary, moral, and political weekly - Paper, excluding personal and party politics and the events of the day</cite> - (1809–1810), was re-issued in one volume in 1812, and with additions and alterations - (rather a <i><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">rifacimento</span></i><a id='t441'></a> than a new edition), in 1818. The - articles in the <cite>Courier</cite> and the <cite>Watchman</cite> and the - <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Conciones ad Populum</span></i> were posthumously republished in <cite>Essays on his - own Times</cite> (3 vols. 1850), edited by his daughter Sara. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Barmecide.</em> <cite>Arabian Nights’ Entertainment</cite>, The Barber’s Story of his - Sixth Brother. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘He never is,’ etc.</em> Altered from Pope’s <cite>Essay on Man</cite>, <span - class='fss'>I.</span> 96. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Marplot.</em> Mrs. Centlivre’s (1667?–1723), <cite>Busy Body</cite> (1709). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Sublime piety’ of Jordano Bruno.</em> See <cite>The Friend</cite>, Essays - Introductory, Essay 16. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_140'>140</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Damns a tragedy, etc.</em> See <cite>Satyrane’s Letters</cite> (Biographia Literaria, - Bohn, p. 258). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The late Mr. Howard.</em> John Howard (1726–1790), the prison reformer. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Voltaire dull.</em> <cite>The Friend</cite>, The First Landing-Place, Essay 1. Cf. - <cite>The Round Table</cite>, Vol. <span class='fss'>I.</span> p. 116. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Ample scope’ etc.</em> Gray’s <cite>The Bard</cite>. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_141'>141</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘That wantons,’ etc.</em> <cite>Romeo and Juliet</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 6. -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_442'>442</span></div> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_141'>141</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Or like,’ etc.</em> Burns’s <cite>Tam O’ Shanter</cite>. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Like to a man,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> - Scene 3. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_142'>142</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Less than arch-angel’ etc.</em> <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span - class='fss'>I.</span> 593–4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The ——.</em> The poet-laureate (Southey) presumably. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘To stand himself’ etc.</em> <cite>The Beggar’s Opera</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>When his six Irish friends, etc.</em> See <cite>The Round Table</cite>, Vol. i. p. 54. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>143. <span class='sc'>The Statesman’s Manual</span>, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">etc.</span></i> <cite>The - Examiner</cite>, Literary Notices, No. 21, Dec. 29, 1816. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Here is the true Simon Pure.</em> Mrs. Centlivre’s <cite>A Bold Stroke for a - Wife</cite> (1718). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘And tis a kind of good deed,’ etc.</em> <cite>Henry VIII.</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_144'>144</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>Still harping on my daughter.</em>’ <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_146'>146</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>The impertinent barber, etc.</em> <cite>The Thousand and One Nights</cite>, The Story - told by the Tailor. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘And the time that Solomon reigned’ etc.</em> See <span class='fss'>I</span> - <em>Kings</em> xi. 42–3, and xii. 1–20. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>Note. In <cite>The Examiner</cite> this note continued: ‘Hypocrisy does not relate to the - degree of success with which a man imposes on himself, but on the motives which make him - attempt it. The greatest hypocrites are those who can impose most successfully on - themselves, that is, conceal from their own minds their sinister motives for judging, or - suppress their real, <em>under</em>-opinions. We think it a piece of hypocrisy for a man - to insinuate, after reading this part of the Bible, that that Manual of the Statesman is - favourable to the doctrine of Divine Right.’ - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_147'>147</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Imposture,’ etc.</em> Quoted from Coleridge’s <cite>Statesman’s Manual</cite>. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_148'>148</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Burs and kecksies.</em> <cite>Henry V.</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>V.</span> Scene - 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>A Colquhoun.</em> Patrick Colquhoun (1745–1820), London Police magistrate and social - reformer, author of <cite>A Treatise on the Police of the Metropolis</cite> (1795). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Oh thou particular fellow.</em>’ <cite>Henry VI.</cite>, Part II. Act <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Secret Tattle.</em>’ See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, note to p. 139. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_149'>149</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>We well remember, etc.</em> See Hazlitt’s Essay, ‘My First Acquaintance with Poets,’ - from which it appears that it was Coleridge himself who made the remark about Thomson. - The ‘solitary ale-house’ was at the Valley of Rocks near Lynton. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Southey’s ‘Tract on the Madras System.’</em> An article of Southey’s in the - <cite>Quarterly Review</cite> for October 1811, reprinted as ‘Origin, Nature, and Object - of the New System of Education.’ Hazlitt has in mind a note of Coleridge’s in the - <cite>Lay Sermon</cite> (Bell’s edition, p. 328), where he says, ‘See Mr. Southey’s tract - on the new or Madras system of education: especially towards the conclusion, where with - exquisite humour as well as with his usual poignancy of wit he has detailed Joseph - Lancaster’s disciplinarian inventions,’ etc. For an account of the Madras system of - education and of the warfare between Joseph Lancaster (1770–1838) and Andrew Bell - (1753–1832), and between their respective followers, see Leslie Stephen’s <cite>The - English Utilitarians</cite>, <span class='fss'>II.</span> 17 <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">et seq.</span></i> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The late African expedition.</em> Lord Exmouth’s successful bombardment of Algiers in - August 1816. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>152. <span class='sc'>Mr. Coleridge’s Lay-Sermon.</span> This letter is the germ of the - well-known essay entitled ‘My First Acquaintance with Poets,’ which Hazlitt afterwards - contributed to the third number of Leigh Hunt’s short-lived review <cite>The Liberal: - Verse and Prose from the South</cite>. The present letter (except the two last - paragraphs) was repeated in the essay which was first republished in <cite>Literary - Remains</cite> (1836). -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_443'>443</span></div> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_152'>152</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Il y a des impressions,’ etc.</em> A favourite quotation from Rousseau’s - <cite>Confessions</cite>. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>His text.</em> <cite>St. John</cite> vi. 15. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Rose like a steam,’ etc.</em> <cite>Comus</cite>, l. 556. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Of one crying,’ etc.</em> <cite>St. Matthew</cite> iii. 3–4. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_153'>153</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Such were the notes,’ etc.</em> Pope’s <cite>Epistle to Robert, Earl of - Oxford</cite>, l. 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Like to that sanguine flower,’ etc.</em> <cite>Lycidas</cite>, l. 106. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Like Timon.</em> <cite>Timon of Athens</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> - Scene 6. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>Note.—‘The Correspondent; consisting of letters, moral, political, and literary, between - eminent writers in France and England.’ The English articles were arranged by Dr. - Stoddart. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_154'>154</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Bonaparte and Müller.</em> This fragment appeared in <cite>The Examiner</cite> on - Dec. 15, 1816. Johannes von Müller (1752–1809) was introduced to Napoleon after the - battle of Jena (1806). His collected works appeared in 27 vols. (1800–1817). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>155. <span class='sc'>Illustrations of the Times Newspaper.</span> <cite>The - Examiner</cite>, Literary Notices, No. 19, Dec. 15, 1816. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Out of these convertites,’ etc.</em> <cite>As You Like It</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>V.</span> Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>All honourable men.</em>’ <cite>Julius Caesar</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘But all is conscience,’ etc.</em> Chaucer, <cite>Prologue</cite>, 150. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_156'>156</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>The Recruiting Officer.</em> Farquhar’s <cite>The Recruiting Officer</cite>, Act - <span class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Miss Lucy Lockitt.</em> <cite>The Beggar’s Opera</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_157'>157</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Here comes one of them.</em> Wordsworth. Hazlitt perhaps refers to a conversation - with Wordsworth at Alfoxden, though that must have been in 1798, not 1800. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><cite>A Sonnet to the King.</cite> The Sonnet (entitled ‘November 1813’) beginning ‘Now - that all hearts are glad,’ etc. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Such recantation,’ etc.</em> <cite>The Excursion</cite>, Book <span - class='fss'>III.</span> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Proud Glaramara,’ etc.</em> Wordsworth, <cite>To Joanna</cite>. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Sir Robert Wilson’s gallant conduct.</em> In assisting Lavalette to escape from Paris - on Jan. 10, 1816. Wilson and two others, Captain Hutchinson and Mr. Bruce, were tried in - Paris and sentenced to three months’ imprisonment. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><cite>Joan of Arc.</cite> Published in 1796. The first edition contained in Book <span - class='fss'>II</span>. some lines by Coleridge which were afterwards published, with - additions, as <cite>The Destiny of Nations</cite> in <cite>Sibylline Leaves</cite> - (1817). Southey refers to the poem (Preface, 1837) as ‘crudely conceived, rashly - prefaced, and prematurely hurried into the world.’ <cite>The Examiner</cite> in 1816 - published a selection of ‘Specimens of Early Jacobin Poetry,’ entitled ‘Acanthologia.’ - One of these (Aug. 25, 1816) was the ‘Inscription for a Monument at Old Sarum,’ with a - motto from the <cite>Quarterly Review</cite>, ‘A Reformer is worse than a housebreaker.’ - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><cite>Fire, Famine and Slaughter.</cite> First published in <cite>The Morning Post</cite> - (Jan. 8, 1798) and republished in <cite>Sibylline Leaves</cite> (1817) with an apologetic - preface. Gale and Fenner, publishers of the <cite>Statesman’s Manual</cite>, carried on - business in Paternoster Row. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Whose grief,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>V.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_158'>158</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>The editor of ‘The Times.’</em> Dr. Stoddart. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>King Cambyses’ vein.</em> <cite>Henry IV.</cite>, Part I. Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Horrors on horror’s head accumulating.</em>’ <cite>Othello</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 3. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Koenig’s new press.</em> The steam printing-press of Frederick Koenig was adopted - by <cite>The Times</cite> in 1814, the number for Nov. 29 containing the announcement - that ‘our journal of this day presents to the public the practical result of the greatest - improvement connected with printing since <span class='pageno' id='Page_444'>444</span>the discovery of the art itself,’ See - Fox Bourne’s <cite>English Newspapers</cite>, <span class='fss'>I.</span> 356. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_158'>158</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Dr. Slop’s curse.</em> This name was frequently applied to Stoddart after he had - become editor of <cite>The New Times</cite>. In 1820 William Hone published a burlesque - on <cite>The New Times</cite>, entitled ‘A Slap at Slop.’ - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The roasting of Protestants.</em> At Nismes. See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, p. 118. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><cite>Lord Castlereagh’s Letter to Mon Prince.</cite> A letter from Castlereagh, dated - Vienna, 11th October 1814, addressed to Prince Hardenberg, the representative of Prussia - at the Vienna Congress, in which Castlereagh states that he can raise no objection to the - incorporation of Saxony with the Prussian monarchy. The letter provoked much comment in - the press during the following year and was referred to in the House of Commons (April - 10, 1815). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_159'>159</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Like Perillus’s bull.</em> The bronze bull made for Phalaris by Perillus, who was - himself its first victim:— -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Thus Phalaris Perillus taught to low,</div> - <div class='line'>And made him season first the brazen cow.</div> - <div class='line'>A rightful doom, the laws of nature cry,</div> - <div class='line'>’Tis, the artificers of death should die.’</div> - <div class='line in20'>Dryden, Ovid’s <cite>Art of Love</cite>, <span class='fss'>I.</span> 737–40.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>His most sweet voice.</em>’ <cite>Coriolanus</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 3. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Walter.</em> John Walter the Second (1776–1847), son of the founder of <cite>The - Times</cite>, who died in 1812. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Thy stone,’ etc.</em> Pope, <cite>Ode on St. Cecilia’s Day</cite>, 66–7. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Once a Jacobin always a Jacobin.</em>’ Coleridge contributed an article under this - heading to <cite>The Morning Post</cite> (<cite>Essays on his own Times</cite>, <span - class='fss'>II.</span> 542), in which he stated that Pitt in one of his most powerful - speeches (Feb. 17, 1800) had given the adage ‘every advantage that is derivable from - stately diction.’ According to Coleridge’s own report (<cite>Essay on his own - Times</cite>, <span class='fss'>II.</span> 295) Pitt said: ‘The mind once tainted with - Jacobinism can never be wholly free from the taint; I know no means of purification; when - it does not break out on the surface, it still lurks in the vitals; no antidote can - approach the subtlety of the venom, no length of quarantine secure us against the - obstinacy of the pestilence.’ See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, note to p. 110. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_160'>160</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>What’s Hecuba to him or he to Hecuba.</em>’ For this and the two succeeding - quotations see <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>That unfortunate Miss Bailey.</em> George Colman the Younger’s <cite>Love Laughs at - Locksmiths</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>II.</span> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Society became,’ etc.</em> Wordsworth, <cite>The Excursion</cite>, Book <span - class='fss'>III.</span> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_161'>161</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Proof against conviction.</em> In <cite>The Examiner</cite> this paragraph was - succeeded by the following passage:—‘What a pity he is not a poet or a man of genius! - (Your dull fellows ought to be honest; for every body ought to be something.) He might - then instead of wholesome truths have given us agreeable lies; for plain facts, pompous - fictions; he might have strewed the flowers of poetry on the rotten carcase of - corruption, and have made the ugly face of war look amiable at a distance. He might have - trumped up a romantic episode about the Duchess d’Angouleme,<a id='r68' /><a href='#f68' - class='c011'><sup>[68]</sup></a> as Mr. Burke did about her wretched - mother, or have seen visions on the mountain tops like Mr. Wordsworth, or have dreamt a - dream more in the manner of Spenser than The Laureat’s Lay. There might then have been - something like an <span class='pageno' id='Page_445'>445</span>observation, a thought, a trope, a jest, a lucky epithet, a - well written sentence, in all the long, dreary, heavy columns of <cite>The Times</cite> - newspaper. But as our author cannot soar, he grovels; and no one ever sunk so low. He is - a perfect Grub-street. His want of eloquence renders him abusive; he has no power over - <em>words</em>, or he would not call <em>names</em> at the rate he does. He throws dirt - and rubbish at the heads of his adversaries, because he can get nothing else to throw. Do - you think he would go on for ever with that round of slang-phrases, dreadful to the ear, - and petrific even to behold; monstrous, prodigious, unutterable, without argument, - without sense or decency, calculated only to stupify or disgust, with which he piles up - the columns of <cite>The Times</cite> newspaper, if he had any resources either of - imagination or understanding? It is the want of power equal to his will, that inflames - his malice and inflates his style; he makes up for what he wants in strength, by - coarseness; for what he wants in variety, by repetition; for what he wants in sallies of - wit, by systematic dulness; for what he wants in reason, by brutal outrage. And then, did - any mortal ever read such a style? The flowers of Billingsgate, arranged according to the - rules of Lindley Murray’s English Exercises, with all the ridiculous pedantry of - subjunctive moods and adverbial expletives: -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“In many a winding bout</div> - <div class='line'>Of linked dulness long drawn-out.”<a id='r69' /><a href='#f69' class='c011'><sup>[69]</sup></a></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>It is as if the celebrated pastry-cook in Cornhill<a id='r70' /><a href='#f70' - class='c011'><sup>[70]</sup></a> should get cart-loads of mud to do up - in twelfth cakes, with cuts of kings, queens, and bishops, for his Christmas customers. - All that is low in understanding, vulgar and sordid in principle in city politics, is - seen exuding from the formal jaws of <cite>The Times</cite> newspaper, as we see the - filth, and slime, and garbage, and offal of this great city pouring into the Thames, from - the sewers and conduit-pipes of the scavenger’s company. It is a patent water-closet for - the dirty uses of legitimacy: a leaden cistern for obsolete prejudices and upstart - sophistry “to knot and gender in.”<a id='r71' /><a href='#f71' style='text-decoration: - none; '><sup>[71]</sup></a> Is this an exaggerated account? No. We have not words to do - justice to the subject. <cite>The Times</cite> newspaper is a phenomenon without any - parallel in history: it is the triumph of the reign of George <span - class='fss'>III.</span> It is supposed to be the organ of the Stock Exchange politics; - and, to be sure, there is a wonderful sympathy between them. Neither Burke nor Junius - would have done so well. There is nothing in the pages of <cite>The Times</cite> that can - lose in loftiness or elegance by repetition in the money-market, or draw off the - attention of the bulls and bears from their ledgers, or their soups and venison. The - vulgarity of the Editor’s style might even receive a romantic tincture from the Hebraism - of its pronunciation, and its monotony would be agreeably relieved by the discordant - gabble of that disinterested congregation of stock-jobbing Jews and Gentiles. The secret - of the composition of <cite>The Times</cite> is this. The city wants a bugbear to suit - their interest, and the Editor of the city paper creates a bugbear out of his malice. He - nicknames this bugbear, but as he does not believe in it, he repeats his nickname ten or - a dozen times every day, till by so doing he begins to believe it. They begin to believe - it too; and the echo and buz of the Stock Exchange gives him courage to go on. He then - tries other and more odious nicknames, which he and others believe, not <span class='pageno' id='Page_446'>446</span>because - they are true, but because they are odious, and gratify the malice of the writer, and - answer the readers’ ends. Thus the city and the city Editor go on hand in hand, creating - a bugbear out of nothing, and swelling it into a monster, heaping all sorts of vices and - deformities upon it, and believing them all, in proportion as they are incredible and - contradictory—if they are disproved, repeating them the louder—making the disgust, fear - and hatred, which their bugbear inspires, a proof of its existence, and determined more - and more to indulge their disgust, fear and hatred, in proportion as their passions and - prejudices have no other foundation than their own spite and credulity—drowning reason in - passion—overcoming common sense, by shocking common decency—believing in the chimeras of - their own brain, from their very hideousness, as children put faith in apparitions, in - proportion to their dread of them—ringing everlastingly in each other’s ears, what they - each wish to believe; and believing that there is some reason for the everlasting din and - noise they make, because they make it—creating a war-bugbear, because they wanted - something to go to war with, requiring the same wanton and unprincipled sacrifices of the - blood and treasure of their country to be made to this phantom of their own making, as to - the direst necessity; and persisting in the justice and wisdom of their measures, from - the very miseries which these helpmates of the Bourbons have brought upon the world—to - gratify the mercantile avarice of the Stock Exchange and the literary vanity of its tool, - the Editor of <cite>The Times</cite>. The interest of the Stock Exchange, and the - philosophy of the Editor of <cite>The Times</cite>, no longer, however, draw the same way - and we suspect they will soon dissolve partnership. Such writers do their country best - service in the end; “kept like an apple in the jaw of an ape, first mouthed, and last - swallowed: it is but squeezing them, and spunge, you shall be dry again.”<a id='r72' /><a - href='#f72' class='c011'><sup>[72]</sup></a> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>161. <span class='sc'>Illustrations</span>, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">etc.</span></i> <span class='sc'>On Modern - Lawyers and Poets.</span> <cite>The Examiner</cite>, Literary Notices, No. 20, Dec. 22, - 1816. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Facilis, etc.</span></i> <cite>Æneid</cite>, <span class='fss'>VI.</span> 126 - <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">et seq.</span></i> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Let no man,’ etc.</em> <cite>Merchant of Venice</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 9. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>162 <em>Sam Sharpset.</em> In Thomas Morton’s (1764?–1838) <cite>The Slave</cite>, acted - at Covent Garden, Nov. 12, 1816. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘The Devil,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Britain’s warriors,’ etc.</em> -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Of Britain’s Court ... a proud assemblage there,</div> - <div class='line'>Her Statesmen, and her Warriors, and her Fair.’</div> - <div class='line in12'>Southey, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Carmen Nuptiale</span></i>, The Dream, Stanza 16.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_163'>163</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Ours is an honest employment,’ etc.</em> <cite>Beggar’s Opera</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>If he finds it in his retainer.</em> In <cite>The Examiner</cite> Hazlitt adds in a - parenthesis, ‘See the State Trials for 1794.’ Edward Law (1750–1818), created Lord - Ellenborough and Lord Chief Justice of England in 1802, was one of the counsel for the - Crown against Hardy and Horne Tooke in 1794. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Look on both indifferently.</em>’ Julius Caesar, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> - Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_164'>164</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Garrow.</em> See note to Vol. <span class='fss'>II.</span> p. 186. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_165'>165</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>The lodged hatred.</em>’ <cite>Merchant of Venice</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Marshal Ney.</em> Ney was shot on Dec. 7, 1815. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The declaration of the 25th of March.</em> Hazlitt refers to the Declaration of the - Allied Powers (Vienna, 13th March, 1815) which proclaimed that <span class='pageno' id='Page_447'>447</span>Buonaparte by - returning from Elba, had ‘placed himself without the pale of civil and social relations.’ - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_165'>165</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘With famine,’ etc.</em> <cite>Henry V.</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> - Chorus. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_166'>166</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘My soul,’ etc.</em> Goldsmith, <cite>The Traveller</cite>, 165. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Carnage was the daughter of Humanity.</em>’ See note to Vol. <span - class='fss'>I.</span> 214. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Pantisocracy’s equal hills.</em> Pantisocracy, defined by Southey as ‘the equal - government of all,’ was to have been carried into practice in America by Southey, and - Coleridge, and others, but Southey abandoned the scheme. See Mrs. Sandford’s <em>Thomas - Poole and his Friends</em>. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The spirit of poetry, etc.</em> Hazlitt published this paragraph in <cite>The Round - Table</cite>. See Vol. <span class='fss'>I.</span> pp. 151–3, and notes. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Constrained by mastery.</em>’ -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘That Love will not submit to be controlled</div> - <div class='line'>By mastery.’</div> - <div class='line in18'>Wordsworth, <cite>The Excursion</cite>, Book <span class='fss'>VI.</span></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Heaven’s own tinct.</em>’ <cite>Cymbeline</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>II.</span> - Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Being so majestical,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> - Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_168'>168</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>No figures nor no fantasies.</em>’ <cite>Julius Caesar</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>No trivial fond records.</em>’ <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> - Scene 5. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘The bare earth,’ etc.</em> -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘To the bare trees, and mountains bare,</div> - <div class='line'>And grass in the green field.’</div> - <div class='line in22'>Wordsworth, <cite>To my Sister</cite>.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>169. <span class='sc'>‘The Times’ Newspaper</span>, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">etc.</span></i> <cite>The - Examiner</cite>, Literary Notices, No. 22, Jan. 12. 1817. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Doubtless the pleasure,’ etc.</em> Butler’s <cite>Hudibras</cite>, Canto iii. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>We some time ago, etc.</em> See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, pp. 121–7. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>What we said about Coriolanus.</em> Hazlitt refers to a theatrical criticism of his - own which appeared in <cite>The Examiner</cite> on Dec. 15, 1816, and was reprinted in - <cite>A View of the English Stage</cite>, and also (with a few variations) in - <cite>Characters of Shakespeare’s Plays</cite>. See Vol. <span class='fss'>I.</span> of - the present edition, pp. 214 <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">et seq.</span></i> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Bore through its castle walls.</em>’ <cite>Richard II.</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>In the year 1792.</em> Burke’s pensions were granted in 1794. Paine’s trial took - place in Dec. 1792, after he had escaped to Paris. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_170'>170</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Oh, name him not,’ etc.</em> <cite>Julius Caesar</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_171'>171</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>Empty praise or solid pudding.</em>’ Pope’s <cite>Dunciad</cite>, <span - class='fss'>I.</span> 52. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Companions of Ulysses.</em> ‘He [Buonaparte] dispersed the <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Compagnons du - Lys</span></i>, as Ulysses slew the suitors.’ Hazlitt’s <cite>Life of Napoleon</cite>, Chap. - liii. - </dd> - <dt>172. Note <a href='#Page_1'>1</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>James Madison.</em> President of the United States during the war with England, - 1812–1814. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><cite>Tom Jones.</cite> Book <span class='fss'>I.</span> Chaps, x.–xiii. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>175. <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Omne tulit punctum.</span></i> Horace, <cite><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Ars Poetica</span></cite>, 343. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The last of these props, etc.</em> Stoddart left <cite>The Times</cite> at the - beginning of 1817. The following passage in <cite>The Examiner</cite> is omitted from the - essay as republished: ‘It was to force this living image of kingly power, this wretched - mockery of divine right, this spurious offspring of the foul blatant Beast, back on the - French that has been the cause, the end and origin, of all this mischief: and it was for - having kept it in check for so many years by his valour and genius, for having put a hook - in its nostrils, and made it lower its grisly crest, and cease its horrid roar, and - retire to its obscure, obscene den, that Buonaparte was nicknamed by the two celebrated - persons above-mentioned ‘the enemy of the human race’; and if instead of packing off - <span class='pageno' id='Page_448'>448</span>Louis the Desired from Hartwell, we had sent over that idol of eastern temples the - <em>Boa Constrictor</em> from Piccadilly, on the same proud errand, decorated with the - symbols of the Universe and of Ancient Wisdom, instead of Lilies and San Benitos, we can - see no possible reason why John Bull and the French people might not have been equally - satisfied: nor what should have hindered Mr. Southey from adapting one of Wesley’s hymns - to the occasion, or Mr. Wordsworth from mouthing out some deep no-meaning about “royal - fortitude,” and “time-hallowed laws,” or Mr. Coleridge from proving that the Serpent was - the more ancient and sacred symbol of the two.’ - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>In contempt of the will of the people.</em>’ Burke, <cite>Reflections on the - Revolution in France</cite> (<cite>Select Works</cite>, ed. Payne, <span - class='fss'>II.</span> 17). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>176. <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Odia in longum, etc.</span></i> Tacitus, <cite>Annals</cite>, <span - class='fss'>I.</span> 69. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Three poets.</em> Wordsworth, Southey, and Coleridge. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>177. <span class='sc'>Interesting Facts</span>, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">etc.</span></i> <cite>The - Examiner</cite>, Literary Notices, No. 23, Feb. 2, 1817. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Come draw the curtain,’ etc.</em> <cite>Twelfth Night</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 5. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>The dark blanket.</em>’ <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> Scene - 5. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Pah! and smells so.</em>’ <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>V.</span> Scene - 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘That harlot old,’ etc.</em> See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, note to p. 36. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Sweet thunder.</em>’ <cite>Midsummer Night’s Dream</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_178'>178</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘She has changed,’ etc.</em> <cite>Henry VI.</cite>, Part II., Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Dressed in a robe,’ etc.</em> ‘A fair hot wench in flame-coloured taffeta.’ - <cite>Henry IV.</cite>, Part I., Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Stand now,’ etc.</em> Hazlitt quotes sundry scriptural denunciations of Babylon. See - <cite>Isaiah</cite>, chap, xlvii., and <cite>Revelations</cite>, chap. xvii. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>The uses of legitimacy.</em>’ Cf. ‘Sweet are the uses of adversity.’ <cite>As You - Like It</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_179'>179</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Lord William Bentinck.</em> Lord William Cavendish Bentinck (1774–1839), afterwards - Governor-General of India, went in 1811 to Sicily as envoy and commander-in-chief of the - British forces. In 1814 he commanded an expedition against Genoa. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_180'>180</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Sir Robert Wilson.</em> Sir Robert Thomas Wilson (1777–1849), who, after a stormy - life, was appointed Governor of Gibraltar, was at this time with the Austrian army in - Italy. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘How little knew’st thou,’ etc.</em> Rowe’s <cite>The Fair Penitent</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘You have in part redeemed your errors,’ etc.</em> The reference is probably to - Wilson’s share in the escape of Lavalette. See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, p. 157. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The immortal Congress.</em> Bentinck had issued a declaration at Genoa promising - independence to that city and the support of England in effecting the unity of Italy, but - the declaration was disavowed by Castlereagh at the Vienna Congress. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_181'>181</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>The Duke of Levis.</em> François, Duc de Levis (1720–87), created Marshal of France - in 1783 and Duc in 1784, fought against England in the American War. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>183. <span class='sc'>Interesting Facts</span>, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">etc.</span></i> (concluded). <cite>The - Examiner</cite>, Literary Notices, No. 24, Feb. 9, 1817. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_186'>186</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>We are glad the Duke is not an Englishman.</em> In <cite>The Examiner</cite> Hazlitt - wrote, ‘Is not the Duke an Irishman?’ - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_192'>192</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>The fool in Lear.</em> See Act <span class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Berthier.</em> Louis Alexandre Berthier (1753–1815), one of Napoleon’s marshals, who - committed suicide or was murdered at Bamberg, in Bavaria, on June 1, 1815. -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_449'>449</span></div> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_192'>192</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>A master-leaver, and a fugitive.</em>’ <cite>Antony and Cleopatra</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> Scene 9. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>Wat Tyler; a Dramatic Poem</span>, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">etc.</span></i> <cite>The - Examiner</cite>, Literary Notices, No. 25, March 9, 1817. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><cite>Wat Tyler; a Drama</cite>, which Southey had written ‘in the course of three - mornings in 1794,’ was surreptitiously published in 1817, with a Preface suitable to - recent circumstances, and an injunction to restrain the publication was refused by Lord - Eldon on the ground of the mischievous tendency of the work. Southey defended himself - from the charge of inconsistency in <cite>A Letter to William Smith, M.P.</cite> See - <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, pp. 210–232. He himself published the Drama in the 1837 edition of his - Poems, in order, as he says, ‘that it may not be supposed I think it any reproach to have - written it, or that I am more ashamed of having been a republican, than of having been a - boy.’ - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘So was it,’ etc.</em> Wordsworth’s ‘<em>My heart leaps up.</em>’ - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>193. <cite>The Article on Parliamentary Reform.</cite> Republished in <cite>Essays, Moral - and Political</cite>, <span class='fss'>I.</span> 327 <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">et seq.</span></i> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Fierce extremes.</em>’ <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span class='fss'>II.</span> 599. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Present ignorant thought.</em>’ Cf.— -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Thy letters have transported me beyond</div> - <div class='line'>This ignorant present.’</div> - <div class='line in22'><cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 5.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Discourse of reason,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> - Scene 2 and Act <span class='fss'>IV.</span> Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The woman that deliberates is lost.</em> Addison’s <cite>Cato</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘His poor virtue,’ etc.</em> <cite>Henry IV.</cite>, Part II., Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_194'>194</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>John Ball.</em> John Ball, the preacher of social equality, was executed in 1381 for - his share in Tyler’s rebellion. See Burke’s account of ‘that reverend patriarch of - sedition’ in <cite>An Appeal from the New to the Old Whigs</cite> (<cite>Works</cite>, - Bohn, <span class='fss'>III.</span> 88), and William Morris’s <cite>A Dream of John - Ball</cite> (1888) for the view of a modern disciple. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>A sort of squint.</em>’ Cf. <cite>A Letter to William Gifford</cite>, vol. <span - class='fss'>I.</span> p. 379. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Morceau I.</em> <cite>Wat Tyler</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Privileg’d r——s.</em>’ ‘Ruffians’ in the 1837 edition. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_195'>195</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Morceau II.</em> Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_196'>196</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Morceau III.</em> Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Morceau IV.</em> Act <span class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘When Adam delv’d,’ etc.</em> The text of John Ball’s famous sermon. ‘Of this sapient - maxim, however,’ says Burke, ‘I do not give him for the inventor. It seems to have been - handed down by tradition, and had certainly become proverbial.’ - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_197'>197</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Morceau V.</em> Act <span class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_198'>198</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Morceau VI.</em> Act <span class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 3. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_199'>199</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Morceau VII.</em> Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_200'>200</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Morceau the Last.</em> Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>The Courier, etc.</span> From <cite>The Examiner</cite>, March 30, 1817. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Doth not the appetite alter,’ etc.</em> <cite>Much Ado about Nothing</cite>, Act - <span class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 3. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>In the Courier.</em> Coleridge wrote two letters in <cite>The Courier</cite> (March - 17, 18, 1817) and two letters for the <cite>Westminster Review</cite> (which were not - printed there) vindicating Southey from the charge of apostacy. All these letters were - reprinted in <cite>Essays on his own Times</cite>, pp. 939–962. See J. D. Campbell’s - <cite>Samuel Taylor Coleridge</cite>, p. 230. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_201'>201</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>Somewhat smacks.</em>’ <cite>Merchant of Venice</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The Editor of this Paper.</em> Leigh Hunt. -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_450'>450</span></div> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_203'>203</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>The Man of Humanity.</em>’ The reference is to Canning’s and Frere’s well-known - parody of Southey, ‘The Friend of Humanity and the Knife-Grinder.’ - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘This, this,’ etc.</em> <cite>Julius Caesar</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> - Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘That the law,’ etc.</em> Wordsworth, <cite>The Excursion</cite>, Book <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_204'>204</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>His Irish pension.</em> Southey was for a short time (1800–1) private secretary to - Isaac Corry, the Chancellor of the Irish Exchequer. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_205'>205</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>His Joan of Arc.</em> <cite>Joan of Arc</cite> was published in 1796, the Sonnets, - etc., in 1797 and 1801, <cite>Letters written during a short residence in Spain and - Portugal</cite> in 1797, the <cite>Annual Anthology</cite> in 1799–1800. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The Fall of Robespierre.</em> <cite>The Fall of Robespierre: An Historic - Drama.</cite> <em>By S. T. Coleridge, of Jesus College, Cambridge.</em> Published at - Cambridge in 1794. Southey wrote Acts <span class='fss'>II.</span> and <span - class='fss'>III.</span> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>All that Mr. Coleridge ever did in poetry.</em> <cite>The Ancient Mariner</cite> - appeared in <cite>Lyrical Ballads</cite> (1798); <cite>Christabel</cite>, written at - various times between 1797 and 1800, was not published till 1816, though Wordsworth had - at first intended to include it in the <cite>Lyrical Ballads</cite> of 1800; <cite>The - Three Graves</cite>, written between 1797 and 1809, was published in <cite>Sibylline - Leaves</cite> (1817); a volume of <cite>Poems</cite> appeared in 1796 (2nd edit. 1797); - and <cite>Remorse, A Tragedy in Five Acts</cite>, written in 1797, was published in 1813. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_206'>206</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>With a single exception.</em> Hazlitt presumably refers to Scott. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Their lofty,’ etc.</em> Coleridge, <cite>Essays on his own Times</cite>, iii. 948. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Left behind by him,’ etc.</em> <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Ib.</span></i> p. 945. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Tuning his mystic harp,’ etc.</em> -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Coleridge and Southey, Lloyd and Lamb and Co.,</div> - <div class='line'>Tune all your mystic harps to praise Lepaux.’</div> - <div class='line in12'>Canning’s <cite>The New Morality</cite> in <cite>The Anti-Jacobin</cite>.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Quiring to the young-eyed cherubins.</em>’ <cite>Merchant of Venice</cite>, Act - <span class='fss'>V.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_207'>207</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Every moment brings,’ etc.</em> <cite>Wat Tyler</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_208'>208</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Is not poetry, etc.</em> <cite>As You Like It</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 3. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Constant chastity,’ etc.</em> Spenser, <cite>Epithalamion</cite>, 191–3. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_209'>209</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Through the allegiance,’ etc.</em> Spenser, <cite>The Faerie Queene</cite>, Book - <span class='fss'>I.</span> Canto iii. St. 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Rapes and ravishments.</em>’ <cite>All’s Well that Ends Well</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> Scene 3. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Exaggerated evils.</em>’ Coleridge says that the speeches in <cite>Wat Tyler</cite> - were intended ‘as exaggerated truths characteristic of heated minds.’ - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Horrible shadows,’ etc.</em> <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> - Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Within the book,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> - Scene 5. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Herodias’s daughter.</em> <cite>St. Matthew</cite> xiv. 6–8. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘No speculation,’ etc.</em> <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> - Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_210'>210</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>Come, let me clutch thee.</em>’ <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Ib.</span></i> Act <span class='fss'>II.</span> - Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Tickling commodity.</em>’ ‘That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling Commodity. - <cite>King John</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘The chief dread,’ etc.</em> This phrase is from the second of Coleridge’s - <cite>Courier</cite> articles on <cite>Wat Tyler</cite>. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>A Letter to William Smith, etc.</span> <cite>The Examiner</cite>, - Literary Notices, No. 27, May 4, 1817. Southey’s Letter was included in his <cite>Essays - Moral and Political</cite> (vol. <span class='fss'>II.</span> pp. 3–31), to which - reference should be made. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Burke’s celebrated ‘Letter,’ etc.</em> ‘A letter from the Right Hon. Edmund - Burke, to a noble Lord on the attacks made upon him and his pension, in the House of - Lords, by the Duke of Bedford and the Earl of Lauderdale, early in the present session of - Parliament. 1796.’ (<cite>Works</cite>, Bohn, <span class='fss'>V.</span> 110–151.) -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_451'>451</span></div> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_210'>210</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>The Abbé Sieyes’s pigeon-holes.</em> Burke’s <cite>Letter</cite>, p. 142. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_211'>211</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>A swan-like end.</em>’ <cite>Merchant of Venice</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘The ruling passion,’ etc.</em> Varied from Pope’s <cite>Moral Essays</cite>, i. - 178–9. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘There is,’ etc.</em> <cite>St. Matthew</cite> v. 48. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_212'>212</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘As fortune,’ etc.</em> <cite>Measure for Measure</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘I, Robert Shallow,’ etc.</em> ‘He shall not abuse Robert Shallow, esquire.’ - <cite>The Merry Wives of Windsor</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Spencean.</em> The ‘Spencean Philanthropists,’ who took their name from Thomas Spence - (1750–1814), advocated a form of land-nationalisation, and included among them the - Spa-fields rioters. See Harriet Martineau’s <cite>History of the Peace</cite> (Bell), - <span class='fss'>I.</span> 81–88. ‘Ex-Spencean’ appears to be a pun of Sir Francis - Burdett’s. The word was applied by him to the ministers ‘who had got possession of the - purse of the people.’ Debate in the House of Commons, Feb. 24, 1817. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘To know my deed,’ etc.</em> <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>II.</span> - Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Blind with the pin and web.</em>’ <cite>Winter’s Tale</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_213'>213</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Dost thou think,’ etc.</em> <cite>Twelfth Night</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 3. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Alderman Smith.</em> Mr. Alderman Joshua Jonathan Smith, when sitting in Quarter - Sessions to hear an application for a licence to hold meetings, said: ‘The object of the - Act is to put down all political debate whatever.’ See <cite>The Examiner</cite>, April - 27, 1817. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Wynne</em>. Charles Watkin Williams Wynn (1775–1850), who allowed Southey £160 - per annum from 1796 to 1807. He sat for Montgomeryshire from 1799 till his death, and - successively held sundry subordinate offices. His elder brother and he were known as - Bubble and Squeak, and when he was proposed for the Speakership in 1817, Canning feared - that members might be tempted to call him ‘Mr. Squeaker.’ - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Canning’s want of regularity.</em> During the Debate on the Address, Jan. 29, - 1817. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_214'>214</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘In the third tier,’ etc.</em> See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, p. 150. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The person who published ‘Wat Tyler.’</em> The publishers were Sherwood, Neely and - Jones. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_215'>215</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Upon his brow,’ etc.</em> <cite>Romeo and Juliet</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_217'>217</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Found him poor,’ etc.</em> Goldsmith’s <cite>Deserted Village</cite>, l. 414. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Be to her faults,’ etc.</em> Prior’s <cite>An English Padlock</cite>. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_218'>218</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘What’s here,’ etc.</em> <cite>Timon of Athens</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> Scene 3. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>A Letter to William Smith, Esq.</span>, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">etc.</span></i> - (<em>continued</em>). <cite>The Examiner</cite>, Literary Notices, No. 27, May 11, 1817. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘What word,’ etc.</em> <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span class='fss'>IX.</span> 1144. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Mark you his absolute John.</em>’ ‘Mark you his absolute “shall”?’ - <cite>Coriolanus</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The Commander-in-Chief.</em> The Duke of York retired in 1809 in consequence of the - disclosures made in the House of Commons. Mrs. Clarke made use of her influence with the - Duke to obtain promotion for officers who paid her for her assistance. The Duke was - re-instated in 1811. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>The reading rabble.</em>’ Hazlitt is probably referring to Coleridge’s contemptuous - passage on ‘The Reading Public.’ See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, pp. 149–150. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><cite>Roderic Random.</cite> See Chap. xxxiv. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>An exalted Personage.</em> The Prince Regent. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_219'>219</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>As pure as sin with baptism.</em>’ <cite>Henry V.</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘The collusion,’ etc.</em> <cite>Love’s Labour’s Lost</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Gifford.</em> See Vol. <span class='fss'>I.</span> p. 456. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘The lovely Marcia,’ etc.</em> Addison’s <cite>Cato</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 4. -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_452'>452</span></div> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_220'>220</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>The Inscription at Chepstow Castle.</em> This Inscription of Southey’s in honour of - the regicide Henry Martin was parodied by Canning and Frere in the - <cite>Anti-Jacobin</cite> in the famous ‘Inscription for the door of the cell at Newgate, - where Mrs. Brownrigg, the ‘Prentice-cide was confined previous to her execution.’ - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_221'>221</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Irritabile <span lang="la" xml:lang="la">genus vatum</span>.</em> Horace, <cite>Epistles</cite>, ii. 2, 102. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The last Quarterly.</em> See Southey’s <cite>Essays, Moral and Political</cite>, - Essay <span class='fss'>VII.</span> He defines Sir Richard Phillips as ‘Knight and - Ex-Sheriff, Buonapartist, Member of the Society for Abolishing War, Pythagorean, and - Spencean Philanthropist.’ - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Why man,’ etc.</em> <cite>Julius Caesar</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> - Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Has overlaid the posthumous birth of the young Shiloh.</em> The reference is to - Joanna Southcott. See <em>post</em>, note to p. 297. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_224'>224</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Like Mr. Cobbett.</em> Cobbett had been in Newgate for two years (1810–1812) and - fined £1000 for an article on military flogging, and had recently (March, 1817) been - obliged to leave England from the fear of a second imprisonment. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>A Letter to William Smith, Esq.</span>, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">etc.</span></i> - (<em>concluded</em>). <cite>The Examiner</cite>, Literary Notices, No. 28, May 18, 1817. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>225. <cite>The Monthly.</cite> Established in 1796 by Richard (afterwards Sir Richard) - Phillips, the vegetarian publisher. See Vol. <span class='fss'>II.</span> p. 177. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘The hour when I escap’d,’ etc.</em> Beattie, <cite>The Minstrel</cite>, Stanza 40. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Doctors Price and Priestley.</em> Richard Price (1723–1791), whose sermon on Nov. 4, - 1789 is so violently attacked by Burke in his <cite>Reflections on the Revolution in - France</cite>, and Joseph Priestley (1733–1804) were Unitarians, ‘hot men’ as Burke - called them. They figure together in a note of Boswell’s (<cite>Life of Johnson</cite>, - ed. G. B. Hill, <span class='fss'>IV.</span> 238). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>226. <cite>Don Giovanni.</cite> <cite>Don Juan</cite> had been given at the King’s - Theatre on April 12, 1817. See Hazlitt’s <cite>Dramatic Essays</cite>. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Damn you,’ etc.</em> <cite>The Rivals</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>II.</span> Scene - 1. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_227'>227</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘For a man,’ etc.</em> This line from <cite>Hamlet</cite> (Act <span - class='fss'>V.</span> Scene 2) formed the motto to <cite>The Spirit of the Age</cite>. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Children and champions,’ etc.</em> See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, p. 99. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘A consummation,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> - Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>O fool, fool, fool.</em>’ <cite>Twelfth Night</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_228'>228</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Half Luddite.</em> The Luddites, bands of workmen who destroyed machinery, chiefly in - the Midlands, had shown their greatest activity in the preceding year, 1816. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_229'>229</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>In his speech from the Throne.</em> On Jan. 28, 1817, Regent said that the Estimates - ‘had been formed upon a full consideration of all the present circumstances of the - country, with an anxious desire to make every reduction in our Establishments which the - safety of the Empire and sound policy allow.’ A disorderly crowd attended him back to St. - James’s Palace after the opening of Parliament, and the windows of his carriage were - broken. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_231'>231</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘O what delicate wooden spoons,’ etc.</em> <cite>Don Quixote</cite>, Part <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Chap, lxvii. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>But Lord Castlereagh, etc.</em> Croker’s salary was raised from £3000 to £4000 in - March 1816, the vote being passed by a majority of only 29 (March 20). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Flocci, etc.</span></i> See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, note to p. 33. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_232'>232</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘The high leaves,’ etc.</em> See Southey’s <cite>The Holly Tree</cite>, Stanza 5. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Some evenings ago.</em> June 23, 1817, when Castlereagh proposed the first reading of - a Bill for further suspending the Habeas Corpus Act. -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_453'>453</span></div> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_232'>232</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Castles and Oliver.</em> Violent debates took place in Parliament during 1817 and - 1818 in connection with the employment of Castle and Oliver by the Government. See - Hansard, <cite>Parl. Debates</cite>, <span class='fss'>XXXVI.</span> and <span - class='fss'>XXXVIII.</span>, and Walpole’s <cite>History of England</cite>, <span - class='fss'>I.</span> Chap. v. Castle was the chief witness against the Spa-Fields - rioters. Oliver supplied continuous reports of the progress of insurrection in the two - following years, 1817 and 1818. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_233'>233</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Lingo in the play.</em> O’Keefe’s <cite>Agreeable Surprise</cite> (1798). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Wynne.</em> See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, note to p. 213. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Lord Lascelles’s hat.</em> Henry Lascelles (1767–1841), a Yorkshire member, succeeded - to the Earldom of Harewood in 1820. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>That <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">preux chevalier</span>.</em> Dr. Stoddart left <cite>The Times</cite> early in - 1817 and entered into an arrangement with the proprietor of <cite>The Day</cite>, in - accordance with which that paper became known as <cite>The Day and New Times</cite>. See - Fox Bourne’s <cite>English Newspapers</cite>, <span class='fss'>I.</span> 359–60. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘The age of chivalry,’ etc.</em> Burke’s <cite>Reflections on the Revolution in - France</cite> (<cite>Select Works</cite>, ed. Payne, <span class='fss'>II.</span> 89). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_234'>234</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>There is no imputation, etc.</em> This was a remark of Mr. Lee Keck in course of the - debate. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Fielding’s hero.</em> See <cite>Jonathan Wild</cite>, chap. xiii. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>On the Spy-System</span> (<em>continued</em>). From <cite>The Morning - Chronicle</cite>, July 15, 1817. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The debate.</em> On July 11, 1817. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Genoa.</em> It was part of Brougham’s charge against the Government that they had - taken no effective steps on behalf of British merchants of Genoa, who were treated by the - Chamber of Commerce at Genoa with every species of oppression and violence, and in - particular had been assessed for the professed purpose of buying a frigate for the King - of Sardinia. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_235'>235</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>Petty tyrant.</em>’ Cf. ‘The little tyrant of his fields withstood.’ Gray’s - <cite>Elegy</cite>, l. 58. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Spanish America.</em> Brougham accused ministers of failing to observe neutrality ‘in - the great and interesting struggle of the people of South America to rescue themselves - from the most odious tyranny that ever disgraced the history of the world.’ - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_237'>237</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Finnerty.</em> Peter Finnerty (1766?–1822) was imprisoned for two years from Oct. - 1797 for his account of the trial and execution of William Orr. He afterwards became - parliamentary reporter on <cite>The Morning Chronicle</cite>. In Feb. 1811 he was - imprisoned for eighteen months for a libel charging Castlereagh with cruelty in Ireland. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Judkin Fitzgerald.</em> For a sketch of Thomas Judkin Fitzgerald, High Sheriff of - Tipperary, see Lecky’s <cite>History of Ireland</cite> (Cabinet edition, <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> 277 <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">et seq.</span></i>). A verdict against him of £500 damages - for illegal acts committed in order to suppress the rebellion in Ireland led to the case - being brought before Parliament and to the passing of a wider Act of Indemnity. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘And struts,’ etc.</em> ‘Will sneaks a scriv’ner, an exceeding knave.’ Pope, - <cite>Moral Essays</cite>, <span class='fss'>I.</span> 154. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Innocent of the knowledge,’ etc.</em> <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>238. <span class='sc'>On the Treatment of State Prisoners.</span> From <cite>The Morning - Chronicle</cite>, July 17, 1817. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Hiley Addington.</em> See the debate in the House of Commons on July 2, 1817. - Hiley Addington was a brother of Lord Sidmouth, of whom it was said, -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘When his periods hobble vilely</div> - <div class='line'>What “hear hims” burst from brother Hiley!’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_454'>454</span></div> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_238'>238</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Thomas Evans</em>, imprisoned on suspicion under the Habeas Corpus Suspension Act, - was Librarian to the Society of Spencean Philanthropists. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>Note. <em>Mother Brownrigg.</em> Elizabeth Brownrigg, a midwife, who was executed in 1767 - for the murder of her apprentice, Mary Clifford. See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, note to p. 220. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>Note. ‘<em>Comfit-makers wives’ oaths</em>’ <cite>Henry IV.</cite>, Part I., Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_239'>239</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘As a lamb’ etc.</em> <cite>Isaiah</cite> liii. 7. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Poor, poor dumb mouths.</em>’ <cite>Julius Caesar</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Camels in their war,’ etc.</em> <cite>Coriolanus</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Sir Robert Filmer.</em> Sir Robert Filmer (d. 1653), the absolutist, whose - ‘Patriarcha, or the Natural Power of Kings asserted,’ was published in 1680. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_240'>240</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Where is the madman,’ etc.</em> See <em>post</em>, p. 285, where much of this matter - is repeated. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The Opposition and the Courier.</em> From <cite>The Morning Chronicle</cite>, July - 19, 1817. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘To acquaint us,’ etc.</em> <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> - Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_241'>241</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>As Mr. Canning formerly thought.</em> Canning resigned from the Duke of Portland’s - ministry in 1809, and did not join Lord Liverpool’s ministry till 1816. The Foreign - Office was offered to him in 1812, but he refused to take it with the condition that - Castlereagh should lead the House of Commons. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>England in 1798</span>, <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">etc.</span></i> From <cite>The Morning - Chronicle</cite>, Aug. 2, 1817. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>243. <span class='sc'>On the Effects of War and Taxes.</span> From <cite>The Morning - Chronicle</cite>, Aug. 13, 1817. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Great princes,’ etc.</em> Cowper’s <cite>The Task</cite>, Book <span - class='fss'>V.</span> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Not even the Finance Committee.</em> The Government had recently appointed a Select - Committee to consider the receipts and expenditure for 1817, 1818, and 1819, and to - report from time to time what reductions might be made in the expenditure. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>244. Note. <em>‘And ever,’ etc.</em> <cite><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">L’Allegro</span></cite>, l. 136. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_246'>246</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>The Pavilion at Brighton.</em> Begun by the Prince of Wales in 1784. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Minions of the moon,’ etc.</em> <cite>Henry IV.</cite>, Part I., Act <span - class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_247'>247</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘If we made,’ etc.</em> <cite>Henry IV.</cite>, Part II., Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘The gout,’ etc.</em> <cite>Measure for Measure</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_249'>249</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>A writer, whose own fault, etc.</em> Coleridge. See his Essay ‘On the Vulgar Errors - respecting Taxes and Taxation.’ <cite>The Friend</cite> (Section I., Essay 7). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Southey in his late pamphlet.</em> <cite>The Letter to William Smith.</cite> See - <cite>Essays, Moral and Political</cite>, <span class='fss'>II.</span> 28. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>250. <span class='sc'>Character of Mr. Burke.</span> Copied in <cite>The Champion</cite>, - Oct. 5, 1817, from an article by Hazlitt in the <cite>Edinburgh Review</cite>, Vol. <span - class='fss'>XXVIII.</span> pp. 503–7, Aug. 1817, on ‘Coleridge’s <cite>Literary - Life</cite>.’ - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_252'>252</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>The word ‘abdication.’</em> <cite>Reflections on the Revolution in France</cite> - (<cite>Select Works</cite>, ed. Payne, <span class='fss'>II.</span> 31–2). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_253'>253</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Never so sure,’ etc.</em> Pope, <cite>Moral Essays</cite>, <span - class='fss'>II.</span> 51–2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>254. <span class='sc'>On Court Influence.</span> From No. 1 (Jan. 3, 1818) of <cite>The - Yellow Dwarf</cite>, ‘a Weekly Miscellany’ founded by John Hunt, and continued to No. 21 - (May 23, 1818). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘To be honest,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>II.</span> Scene - 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘But still the world,’ etc.</em> Thomson, <cite>The Seasons</cite> (Autumn, l. 233). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_255'>255</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Doctors Parr and Burney.</em> See Vol. <span class='fss'>I.</span>, note to p. 64. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_256'>256</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>A certificate of merit.</em>’ ‘At every step of my progress in life, (for in every - step was I traversed and opposed), and at every turnpike I met, I was obliged to show my - passport.’ <cite>A Letter to a Noble Lord</cite> (<cite>Works</cite>, Bohn, <span - class='fss'>V.</span> 125). -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_455'>455</span></div> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_256'>256</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Thou hast it now,’ etc.</em> <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> - Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Swept and garnished.</em>’ <cite>St. Luke</cite> xi. 25. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>257. <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Indignatio facit versus.</span></i> Juvenal, <cite>Satires</cite>, i. 79. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>William Burke.</em> A kinsman, not the brother of Edmund. For his letters to James - Barry, the painter, see Barry’s <cite>Works</cite> (1809). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘And with it,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> Scene - 1. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_258'>258</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Escap’d,’ etc.</em> See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, note to p. 225. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Britain’s warriors,’ etc.</em> See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, note to p. 162. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_259'>259</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Not ‘gain but glory.’</em> ‘For gain, not glory winged his roving flight.’ Pope, - <cite>Satires</cite>, <span class='fss'>V.</span> 71. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘In their Livery,’ etc.</em> <cite>Antony and Cleopatra</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>V.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>That sweet smile, etc.</em> <cite>Henry VIII.</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>On Court Influence</span> (<em>concluded</em>). From No. 2 (Jan. 10, - 1818) of <cite>The Yellow Dwarf</cite>. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_260'>260</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Pierces through,’ etc.</em> <cite>As You Like It</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Whosoever shall stumble,’ etc.</em> <cite>St. Matthew</cite>, xxi. 44. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>For ‘scorn to point,’ etc.</em> <cite>Othello</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_261'>261</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘A consummation,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> - Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>A certain distinguished character.</em> Castlereagh, who was regarded as mainly - responsible for the disastrous Walcheren expedition in 1809. For his vindication of the - Government spies, see <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i> pp. 232–8. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Reynolds.</em> Thomas Reynolds (1771–1836) had long been notorious as an informer in - the Irish rebellion. His name appeared on the grand jury which returned a true bill - against Wilson and others for high treason in connection with the Spa Field riots, and - the Government felt obliged to send him out of England on the Consular service. See - Lecky’s <cite>History of Ireland</cite>, Chap. <span class='fss'>X.</span> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The Attorney-General.</em> Sir Samuel Shepherd (1760–1840) succeeded Garrow in 1817. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Coleridge.</em> Coleridge’s <cite><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Biographia Literaria</span></cite> was published - in 1817. For the passage referred to on Anti-Jacobin slanders, see note at the end of - Chap. iii. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_262'>262</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>His present friend and associate.</em> Gifford. See Hazlitt’s <cite>Letter to William - Gifford</cite> (vol. <span class='fss'>I.</span> p. 401). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘The cynosure,’ etc.</em> <cite><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">L’Allegro</span></cite>, l. 80. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_263'>263</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Have lately made an attempt, etc.</em> Hazlitt seems to refer to an article of - Southey’s republished (<cite>Essays, Moral and Political</cite>, <span - class='fss'>II.</span> 35–107) under the title ‘On the Rise and Progress of Popular - Disaffection,’ and to Coleridge’s <cite>Statesman’s Manual</cite>. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>In discharge of an old debt.</em> See note to the Essay ‘On the Tendency of Sects’ in - <cite>The Round Table</cite> (vol. <span class='fss'>I.</span> p. 51) where, after - showing in the Essay that ‘there is a natural tendency in sects to narrow the mind,’ he - says, ‘we shall some time or other give the reverse of the picture.’ - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_264'>264</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Or if severe,’ etc.</em> -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘—— or, if severe in aught,</div> - <div class='line'>The love he bore to learning was in fault.’</div> - <div class='line in14'>Goldsmith, <cite>The Deserted Village</cite>, ll. 205–6.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Dissenters are the safest partisans, etc.</em> This passage is repeated from the last - paragraph of the Essay ‘On the Tendency of Sects.’ - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The ‘<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">hortus siccus</span>’ of dissent.</em> Burke, <cite>Reflections on the Revolution - in France</cite> (<cite>Select Works</cite>, ed. Payne, <span class='fss'>II.</span> 14). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Non ex quovis, etc.</span></i> Erasmus, <cite>Adagiorum Chiliades</cite>, ‘<span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Munus - aptum</span>.’ -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_456'>456</span></div> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_265'>265</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>But we have known some such, etc.</em> Hazlitt seems to have had his father in his - mind when he wrote this description. Cf. <cite>The Round Table</cite> (On Pedantry), vol. - <span class='fss'>I.</span> p. 82. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><cite>The Book of Martyrs.</cite> The name by which from the date (1563) of its - publication John Foxe’s (1516–1587) <cite>Actes and Monuments</cite> was known. The - martyrdoms of John Huss (1415) and Jerome of Prague (1416) are narrated therein. John - Ziska, leader of the extreme Hussite party. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Neale’s History of the Puritans.</em> Daniel Neal’s (1648–1743) <cite>History of the - Puritans</cite> (1732–8). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Calamy’s Account, etc.</em> Edmund Calamy’s (1671–1732) <cite>Account of the - Ministers, Lecturers, Masters and Fellows of Colleges and Schoolmasters who were Ejected - or Silenced after the Restoration in 1660</cite>, originally part of his ‘Abridgment’ - (1702) of Richard Baxter’s posthumous ‘Narrative, etc. of his Life and Times,’ was - separately published in the second edition of the ‘Abridgment’ (1713). The number of ‘two - thousand’ ejected (given by Hazlitt) appeared on the title-page in Samuel Palmer’s - edition of Calamy (1802). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_266'>266</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Silver-tongued Bates.</em> William Bates (1625–1699) and John Howe (1630–1705), two - of the ejected divines. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><cite>Lardner’s Credibility of the Gospel History.</cite> By Nathaniel Lardner - (1684–1768), published 1727–1757. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The Fratres Poloni.</em> See vol. <span class='fss'>II.</span>, note to p. 165. This - work and probably the others referred to in this Essay formed part of the Library of - Hazlitt’s father. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Glory to God,’ etc.</em> <cite>St. Luke</cite> ii. 14. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Time-rent.</em>’ Coleridge’s Sonnet to Schiller. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>In <cite>The Yellow Dwarf</cite> Hazlitt concluded as follows:—‘Happy are they, who live - in the dream of their own existence, and see all things by the light of their own minds: - who walk by faith and hope, not by knowledge; to whom the guiding star of their youth - still shines from afar, and into whom the spirit of the world has not entered! They have - not been ‘hurt by the archers,’<a id='r73' /><a href='#f73' style='text-decoration: none; - '><sup>[73]</sup></a> nor has the iron entered into their souls. They live in the midst - of arrows and of death, unconscious of harm. The evil thing comes not nigh them. The - shafts of ridicule pass unheeded by, and malice loses its sting. The example of vice does - not rankle in their breasts, like the poisoned shirt of Nessus. Evil impressions fall off - from them, like drops of water. The yoke of life is to them light and supportable. The - world has no hold on them. They are in it, not of it; and a dream and a glory is ever - about them.’ Cf. Hazlitt’s <cite>Reply to Malthus</cite>, vol. <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> p. 104. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>On the Clerical Character.</span> From No. 4 (Jan. 24, 1818) of - <cite>The Yellow Dwarf</cite>. This and the two following essays may be taken as a - further attempt to discharge the ‘old debt’ referred to on p. 263. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Now mark,’ etc.</em> Cowper, <cite>The Task</cite>, <span class='fss'>I.</span> 725. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘And in Franciscan,’ etc.</em> <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span - class='fss'>III.</span> 480. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_268'>268</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘To counterfeiten chere,’ etc.</em> Chaucer, <cite>Canterbury Tales</cite>, The - Prologue, ll. 139–141. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_269'>269</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘The collusion,’ etc.</em> <cite>Love’s Labour’s Lost</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_270'>270</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Eremites and friars,’ etc.</em> <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span - class='fss'>III.</span> 474–5. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>271. <span class='sc'>On the Clerical Character</span> (<em>continued</em>). From No. 5 - (Jan. 31, 1818) of <cite>The Yellow Dwarf</cite>. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_272'>272</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>It is better to marry than burn.</em> ‘But if they cannot contain, let them marry: - for it is better to marry than to burn.’ <cite>1 Corinthians</cite> vii. 9. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Continents,’ says Hobbes, etc.</em> <cite>Human Nature</cite>, (<cite>Works</cite>, - ed. Molesworth, <span class='fss'>IV.</span> 50). -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_457'>457</span></div> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_273'>273</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Where’s that palace,’ etc.</em> <cite>Othello</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 3. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Pure in the last recesses of the mind.</em>’ This line, which is perhaps quoted by - Hazlitt more frequently than any other, is from Dryden’s translation from the Second - Satire of Persius, l. 133. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘While they,’ etc.</em> <cite>Othello</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> Scene - 3. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The Society for the Suppression of Vice.</em> See <cite>The Round Table</cite>, vol. - p. 1. 60. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_275'>275</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘To be conformed,’ etc.</em> <cite>Romans</cite> xii. 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Like little wanton boys,’ etc.</em> <cite>Henry VIII.</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Glimpses,’ etc.</em> Wordsworth’s Sonnet, ‘The world is too much with us.’ - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_276'>276</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Who far,’ etc.</em> Dryden’s <cite>The Hind and the Panther</cite>, i. 312–3. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><cite>Bishop Watson’s Life.</cite> Richard Watson (1737–1816), Professor of Chemistry at - Cambridge, and afterwards Bishop of Llandaff. His life, written by himself, was published - by his son in 1817. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>Mosheim’s <cite><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Institutiones Historiæ Ecclesiasticæ</span></cite> was published in 1726 - (Eng. trans. 1765–8), Anthony Wood’s <cite><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Athenæ Oxonienses</span></cite> in 1691–2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>277. <span class='sc'>On the Clerical Character</span> (<em>concluded</em>). From No. 6 - (Feb. 7, 1818) of <cite>The Yellow Dwarf</cite>. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘One fate,’ etc.</em> For this and the two following quotations from Southey, see his - <cite>Lay of the Laureate</cite>, and <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, pp. 109 <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">et seq.</span></i> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_278'>278</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Launce.</em> <cite>Two Gentlemen of Verona</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>IV.</span> - Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_279'>279</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Sir John Oldcastle.</em> ‘The good Lord Cobham,’ the original of Shakespeare’s - Falstaff. He was hanged as a heretic in 1417. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Blind with double darkness.</em>’ Hazlitt elsewhere quotes, ‘with double darkness - bound,’ and possibly recalls a line (593) in <cite>Samson Agonistes</cite>, ‘But yield to - double darkness nigh at hand.’ - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_280'>280</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Brandreth.</em> Jeremiah Brandreth executed on Nov. 7, 1817 for an attempt at - insurrection into which he had been trapped by Oliver the spy. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘They will have them to shew,’ etc.</em> Burke, <cite>Reflections on the Revolution - in France</cite> (<cite>Select Works</cite>, ed. Payne, <span class='fss'>II.</span> 121). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>An eminent poet.</em> Probably Southey, who in his letter to <em>William Smith, Esq., - M.P.</em> said that the Government ‘must curb the seditious press, and keep it curbed. - For this purpose, if the laws are not at present effectual, they should be made so.’ - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_281'>281</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Deprecated by Mr. Burke.</em> <cite>Reflections on the Revolution in France</cite> - (<cite>Select Works</cite>, ed. Payne, <span class='fss'>II.</span> 104–105), and - <cite>Thoughts on French Affairs</cite> (<cite>Works</cite>, Bohn, <span - class='fss'>III.</span> 353). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘At this day,’ etc.</em> Wordsworth, <cite>The Excursion</cite>, Book <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_282'>282</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>By ‘the sufferance of supernal power.’</em> <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span - class='fss'>I.</span> 241. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>What is the People?</span> From No. 10 (March 7, 1818) of <cite>The - Yellow Dwarf</cite>. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>A vile jelly.</em>’ <cite>King Lear</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> Scene - 7. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_284'>284</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>The unbought grace of life.</em>’ Burke’s <cite>Reflections on the Revolution in - France</cite> (<cite>Select Works</cite>, ed. Payne, <span class='fss'>II.</span> 89). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>Note. Cf. <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, pp. 174–175. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_285'>285</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Latter Lammas.</em> <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">I.e.</span></i>, never. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Miraturque,’ etc.</em> Virgil, <cite>Georgics</cite>, <span class='fss'>II.</span> - 82. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Coke</em> was Thomas William Coke (1752–1842), member for Norfolk (except for one - short interval) from 1776 to 1832, and well-known for his zeal in the reform of - agriculture. He was created Earl of Leicester of Holkham in 1837. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>Note. Lord Balmerino was executed in 1746, and the famous Simon Fraser, Lord Lovat, in - 1747, for participation in the Jacobite Rebellion of 1745. -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_458'>458</span></div> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_287'>287</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Gods to punish,’ etc.</em> <cite>Coriolanus</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Why, what a fool,’ etc.</em> <cite>The Tempest</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_288'>288</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Because men,’ etc.</em> Cowper, <cite>The Task</cite>, <span class='fss'>V.</span> - 192. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Cribbed,’ etc.</em> <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘The right divine,’ etc.</em> Pope’s <cite>Dunciad</cite>, <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> 188. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Broad and casing,’ etc.</em> <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> - Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_289'>289</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Like the rainbow’s,’ etc.</em> Burns, <cite>Tam O’ Shanter</cite>. Hazlitt changes - the order of the lines. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Enthroned in the hearts of Kings.</em>’ <cite>Merchant of Venice</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘And levy,’ etc.</em> <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span class='fss'>II.</span> - 501–502. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Steeped in poverty,’ etc.</em> <cite>Othello</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>290. Note. Captain James Burney’s (1750–1821) <cite>Buccaneers of America</cite>, a part - of his <cite>Chronological History of the Discoveries in the South Sea or Pacific - Ocean</cite>, was published in 1816. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_291'>291</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Mr. C—— or Lord C——.</em> Canning and Castlereagh. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Any faction,’ etc.</em> Cf. <cite>An Appeal from the New to the Old Whigs</cite> - (<cite>Works</cite>, Bohn, <span class='fss'>III.</span> 45). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>292. <span class='sc'>What is the People?</span> (<em>concluded</em>). From No. <span - class='fss'>II</span> (March 14, 1818) of <cite>The Yellow Dwarf</cite>. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_293'>293</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘If they had not ploughed,’ etc.</em> <cite>Judges</cite>, xiv. 18. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_295'>295</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>When Mr. John Gifford, etc.</em> John Gifford or John Richards Green (1758–1818) was - editor of <cite>The Anti-Jacobin Review and Magazine</cite> which succeeded the famous - <cite>Anti-Jacobin or Weekly Examiner</cite> in 1798. The denunciation of Coleridge and - his friends referred to in the text was made in a note to the poem of <cite>The New - Morality</cite> in <cite>The Beauties of the Anti-Jacobin</cite> (1799). See Vol. <span - class='fss'>I.</span> note to p. 401, and the <cite>Athenaeum</cite>, May 31, 1900. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Make him a willow-cabin,’ etc.</em> <cite>Twelfth Night</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 5. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>He indeed assures us, etc.</em> Southey’s <cite>Essays, Moral and Political</cite>, - <span class='fss'>I.</span> 420–421. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_296'>296</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Locke has observed.</em> <cite>An Essay concerning Human Understanding</cite>, - Book <span class='fss'>IV.</span> Chap. xx. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_297'>297</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Like Orlando’s brother.</em> <cite>As You Like It</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Stying us.</em>’ ‘<em>And here you sty me in this hard rock.</em>’ <cite>The - Tempest</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Joanna Southcott.</em> Joanna Southcott (1750–1814) had recently caused an - extraordinary amount of excitement in the country by her promise to bring forth into the - world the second Christ. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>When the sky falls.</em>’ ‘<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Si les nues tomboyent, esperoyt prendre les - alouettes.</span>’ <cite>Rabelais</cite>, Book <span class='fss'>I.</span> Chap. xi. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_298'>298</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Hold a barren sceptre,’ etc.</em> <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘For the Son to tread,’ etc.</em> -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Look to thy sire, and in his steady way,</div> - <div class='line'>As in his Father’s he, learn thou to tread.’</div> - <div class='line in10'>Southey’s <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Carmen Nuptiale</span></i>, The Dream, Stanza 32.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The two Ferdinands.</em> Ferdinand <span class='fss'>I.</span> of Naples and - Ferdinand <span class='fss'>VII.</span> of Spain. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_299'>299</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Poor Evans.</em> See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, p. 238. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_300'>300</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Cobbett himself, etc.</em> See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, p. 224. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_301'>301</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>His Lisbon Job.</em> Canning had gone to Lisbon in 1814, and had been appointed - ambassador extraordinary, at a salary of £14,000, to receive the King of Portugal on his - return from Brazil. The king did not return after all, and Canning’s appointment was - represented by the Opposition as a job. A vote of censure was moved in the House of - Commons on May 6, 1817, and defeated by a majority of 174. -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_459'>459</span></div> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_301'>301</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Duller,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 5. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘The dim suffusion,’ etc.</em> -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line in26'>‘But thou</div> - <div class='line'>Revisit’st not these eyes, that roll in vain</div> - <div class='line'>To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn;</div> - <div class='line'>So thick a drop serene hath quenched their orbs,</div> - <div class='line'>Or dim suffusion veiled.’</div> - <div class='line in28'><cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span class='fss'>III.</span> 22–26.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Making Ossa,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>V.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_302'>302</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘As gross,’ etc.</em> <cite>Othello</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 3. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_303'>303</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘A necessity,’ etc.</em> Burke, <cite>Reflections on the Revolution in France</cite>. - (<cite>Select Works</cite>, ed. Payne, <span class='fss'>II.</span> 114). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Too foolish fond and pitiful.</em>’ Hazlitt seems to refer to Lear’s words to - Cordelia (Act <em>IV.</em> Scene 7), ‘I am a very foolish fond old man.’ - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Did never wrong,’ etc.</em> Hazlitt seems to have in mind the words, ‘Know, Caesar - doth not wrong, nor without cause will he be satisfied.’ <cite>Julius Caesar</cite>, Act - <span class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>304. <cite>Exit by Mistake.</cite> Produced at the Haymarket in July, 1816. See Hazlitt’s - Dramatic Essays. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>305. <span class='sc'>On the Royal Character.</span> From No. 20 (May 16, 1818) of - <cite>The Yellow Dwarf</cite>. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_306'>306</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘There’s a divinity,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>IV.</span> - Scene 5. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_307'>307</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Coates.</em> Francis Cotes (1725–1770). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_310'>310</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>One Englishman.</em> He means Burke. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Master of Hoyle.</em> Edmond Hoyle’s (1672–1769) <em>Short Treatise on the Game of - Whist</em> was published in 1742. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The Jockey club.</em> Founded in the middle of the eighteenth century. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_311'>311</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Cibber tells us.</em> Apology for the <cite>Life of Mr. Colley Cibber</cite>, Chap. - ii. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Jefferies.</em> Jeffreys was appointed Lord Chief Justice in 1683, and is perhaps - chiefly remembered for his famous circuit in the west of England in 1685 after the - accession of James <span class='fss'>II.</span>, who made him Lord Chancellor. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>The Fudge Family in Paris.</span> From No. 17 (April 25, 1818) of - <cite>The Yellow Dwarf</cite>. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Set it down, my tables.</em>’ <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> - Scene 5. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>A full solempne man.</em>’ Chaucer, <cite>The Canterbury Tales</cite>, Prologue, l. - 209. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_312'>312</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>A merry Andrew.</em> Gifford perhaps. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The more pitiful Jack-Pudding.</em> It is plain from a note in <cite>The Yellow - Dwarf</cite> that Hazlitt refers to Canning. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Immortal verse.</em>’ <cite><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">L’Allegro</span></cite>, 137. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Tam knew,’ etc.</em> Burns’s <cite>Tam O’ Shanter</cite>. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>A late celebrated wit and orator.</em> Probably Curran, who died in October 1817. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>A certain little gentleman.</em>’ Moore’s description of himself in the Preface to - <cite>The Fudge Family in Paris</cite>. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>Note. <em>‘I look down,’ etc.</em> <cite>Othello</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>V.</span> - Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_313'>313</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>In the ‘Vicar of Wakefield.’</em> Chapter xi. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>The damnable face-making.</em>’ <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘The <span lang="la" xml:lang="la">flocci-nauci</span>,’ etc.</em> See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, note to p. 33. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Dr. S——.</em> Dr. Stoddart. See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, note to p. 153. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>And ‘find no dawn,’ etc.</em> <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span - class='fss'>III.</span> 24. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Blind mouth.</em>’ <cite>Lycidas</cite>, 119. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>His sweet voice.</em>’ <cite>Coriolanus</cite>, Act <em>II.</em> Scene 3. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_314'>314</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Billingsgate slang.</em> Billingsgate was notorious for its coarse language as - early <span class='pageno' id='Page_460'>460</span>as Fuller. See Wheatley and Cunningham, <cite>London Past and - Present</cite>, <span class='fss'>I.</span> 183. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_314'>314</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘With shame,’ etc.</em> <cite>Richard II.</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>II.</span> - Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Like a rebel’s whore.’</em> <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> - Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Brangle, etc.</em> Cf. -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘And Noise and Norton, Brangling and Breval,</div> - <div class='line'>Dennis and Dissonance, and captious Art.’</div> - <div class='line in26'>Pope, <cite>The Dunciad</cite>, <span class='fss'>II.</span> 238–9.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘The pillar’d firmament,’ etc.</em> <cite>Comus</cite>, ll. 598–9. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_315'>315</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘The sad historian,’ etc.</em> ‘The sad historian of the pensive plain.’ Goldsmith, - <cite>The Deserted Village</cite>, l. 136. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘As precious,’ etc.</em> <cite>Julius Caesar</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>II.</span> - Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Return,’ etc.</em> Letter <span class='fss'>IV.</span> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>E******.</em> E—gl—d in the original. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>317. <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Indignatio facit versus.</span></i> See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, note to p. 257. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_318'>318</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Yes—’twas a cause,’ etc.</em> Letter <span class='fss'>XI.</span> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_319'>319</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘By the bye though,’ etc.</em> Letter <span class='fss'>I.</span> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Good Viscount S—dm—th,’ etc.</em> Letter <span class='fss'>IX.</span> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_321'>321</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘They do not cut up,’ etc.</em> Burke, <cite>Letter to a Noble Lord</cite> - (<cite>Works</cite>, Bohn, <span class='fss'>V.</span> 145). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>Character of Lord Chatham.</span> First published as one of the critical - notices in <cite>The Eloquence of the British Senate</cite>. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>A flame of sacred vehemence.</em>’ <cite>Comus</cite>, l. 795. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_323'>323</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Flew an eagle flight,’ etc.</em> <cite>Timon of Athens</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Sailing with,’ etc.</em> Gray, <cite>The Progress of Poesy</cite>, ll. 116–7. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Both end and use.</em>’ Cf. ‘His actions’, passions’, being’s use and end.’ Pope, - <cite>Essay on Man</cite>, <span class='fss'>I.</span> 66. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Laps it,’ etc.</em> <cite>Comus</cite>, l. 257. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>325. <span class='sc'>Character of Mr. Burke.</span> First published in <cite>The - Eloquence of the British Senate</cite>. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The following speech.</em> On presenting to the House of Commons (on the 11th - February 1780) a plan for the better security of the independence of Parliament, and the - economical reformation of the civil and other establishments (<cite>Works</cite>, Bohn, - <span class='fss'>II.</span> 55). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_326'>326</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘The elephant,’ etc.</em> <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span class='fss'>IV.</span> - 345–7. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Native and endued,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>IV.</span> - Scene 7. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>328. Note. In <cite>The Eloquence of the British Senate</cite> this note proceeded: ‘and - he produced less effect on the mob that compose the English Public than Paine or Joel - Barlow, at least at the time.’ Joel Barlow (1755–1812), the American poet, was, like - Paine, an active sympathiser with the French Revolution. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_329'>329</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>Alas! Leviathan was not so tamed.</em>’ Cowper, <cite>The Task</cite>, <span - class='fss'>II.</span> 322. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The corner stone, etc.</em> <cite>Psalms</cite>, cxviii. 22. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>To the Jews, etc.</em> <cite>1 Corinthians</cite> i. 23. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_333'>333</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘How charming,’ etc.</em> <cite>Comus</cite>, l. 476. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_336'>336</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Dr. Johnson observed.</em> See his <cite>Life of Pope</cite> (<cite>Works</cite>, - Oxford, 1825), <span class='fss'>VIII.</span> 329. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>Note. ‘<em>Proud keep of Windsor.</em>’ <cite>A letter to a Noble Lord</cite> - (<cite>Works</cite>, Bohn, <span class='fss'>V.</span> 137). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_337'>337</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>A person.</em> Hazlitt’s early friend, Joseph Fawcett, perhaps. See <cite>Table - Talk</cite>, On Criticism. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>Character of Mr. Fox.</span> From <cite>The Eloquence of the British - Senate</cite>, where the ‘Character’ begins: ‘I have hitherto deferred giving any opinion - on the talents of eminent speakers, till I could present the reader with something - <span class='pageno' id='Page_461'>461</span>that might justify the encomiums passed upon them; as the following is one of the - most memorable of Mr. Fox’s speeches, I shall prefix to it a sort of character, the best - I can give, of this celebrated man.’ The speech referred to was on the War with France, - delivered in 1794. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>Note. ‘<em>Craftily qualified.</em>’ <cite>Othello</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>II.</span> Scene 3. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_339'>339</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Whose sound,’ etc.</em> <cite>King Lear</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> - Scene 1. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>That is an automaton.</em> In <cite>The Eloquence of the British Senate</cite> - Hazlitt has the following note to this passage: ‘I ought to beg pardon of the polite - reader for thus rudely contrasting these two celebrated men and leaders of parties - together. It has of late become more fashionable to consider them in the light of the - United Friends. But as I am no sign-painter, I hope I may be excused for not adhering - exactly to the <em>costume</em> of the times. This agreeable idea might however, if - skilfully executed, be improved into a very appropriate sign for the tap-room of the - house of commons. My Lord Howick the other day drew a pleasing picture of them - <em>shaking hands in Elysium</em>. It must be owned that this is pretty and poetical. - Happy, well assorted pair! Methinks I see you, bowing to one another, with repeated - assurances of friendship and esteem, but half believed, just like—lord Grenville and lord - Howick in the park! This was probably what his lordship had in his mind at the time: but - as our <em>young</em> orators generally love to shew that they have <em>read</em> the - classics, so perhaps his lordship was willing to shew that he had not <em>forgot</em> - them. It is pleasing to see great men sweetening the cares of state with the flowers of - poetical allusion; condescending to turn with a benign countenance from the serious - realities of life, to the lighter scenes of fable and romance; still wandering, (as in - their boyish days) with Dido and Æneas, and taking an imaginary trip from Downing Street - to the Elysian Fields, and from the Elysian Fields back again! After all, I do not know - that it would be any disgrace to Mr. Fox to associate with Mr. Pitt in the other world, - if we recollect the company he kept in this. Lord H—— I believe, on the same occasion, - quoted Dryden, and compared the late duke of Brunswick to Darius. Really, his lordship’s - researches in poetry are astonishing; they are almost as extensive and profound as his - knowledge of the affairs of Europe, or of the fate of battles! There is some excuse, - however, for this last mentioned quotation, as though the passage quoted was by no means - new in itself, yet the particular application of it must certainly have been very new to - his lordship’s mind, and one which the public might not have been disposed to give him - credit for without some positive evidence. To complete the solemnity of the scene, - nothing more was wanting but for the whole house to have joined chorus in this affecting - and well known specimen of elegiac sadness, particularly as it had been already set to - music, one would suppose for this very purpose.’ - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>Note 1. Hazlitt refers to an article on Fox by William Godwin published in <cite>The - Morning Chronicle</cite>, Nov. 22, 1806. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>Note 2. John Upton published an edition of <cite>The Faerie Queen</cite> in 1758. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_340'>340</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Lord Lansdown.</em> Lord Shelburne, created Marquis of Lansdowne in 1784. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_342'>342</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Jutting frieze,’ etc.</em> <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> - Scene 6. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_344'>344</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘With mighty wings,’ etc.</em> <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span - class='fss'>I.</span> 20–2. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_345'>345</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>The dazzling fence of argument.</em>’ Cf. -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric,</div> - <div class='line'>That hath so well been taught her dazzling fence.’</div> - <div class='line in46'><cite>Comus</cite>, ll. 790–1.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_462'>462</span></div> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_345'>345</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>An honest man’s the noblest work of God.</em>’ Pope’s <cite>Essay on Man</cite>, - <span class='fss'>IV.</span> 248. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_346'>346</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>What Burke said of him.</em> In a speech on the Army Estimates (Feb. 9, 1790), in - which he replied to Fox’s eulogy of the French Revolution. See <cite>Works</cite>, Bohn, - <span class='fss'>III.</span> 273–4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>Character of Mr. Pitt</span>, 1806. See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, pp. 14 - <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">et seq.</span></i> and notes. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>349. Note. The passage referred to is from Pitt’s Speech on the Regency, delivered on - January 16, 1789. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>350. <span class='sc'>Pitt and Buonaparte.</span> This essay by Coleridge is reprinted in - <cite>Essays on His Own Times</cite>, vol. <span class='fss'>II.</span> pp. 319–329. The - editor (Coleridge’s daughter Sara, the wife of Henry Nelson Coleridge), referring to the - essay, says (<span class='fss'>I.</span> lxxxv. note), ‘“The character of Pitt” is given - to my Father on the repeated testimony of Mr. Stuart, which indeed was scarcely needed to - confirm the strong internal evidence of both style and matter.’ See J. D. Campbell’s - <cite>Samuel Taylor Coleridge</cite>, p. 108. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>356. <span class='sc'>An Examination of Mr. Malthus’s Doctrines.</span> From No. 14 - (April 4, 1818) of <cite>The Yellow Dwarf</cite>. In these concluding papers Hazlitt - repeats the substance of the more elaborate criticism which he had already published in - 1807, under the title of <cite>A Reply to Malthus</cite>. See that work and Hazlitt’s - sketch of Malthus in <cite>The Spirit of the Age</cite> (vol. <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> of the present edition). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_359'>359</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Major Torrens.</em> Robert Torrens (1780–1864), who, after serving in the Royal - Marines, retired on half-pay, and devoted himself to economical study. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_361'>361</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>This will never do.</em> Perhaps this is a reference to the famous opening words of - the <cite>Edinburgh Review</cite> article on Wordsworth’s <cite>Excursion</cite> (xxiv. - p. 1). The <cite>Edinburgh</cite> had defended Malthus. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><span class='sc'>On the Originality of Mr. Malthus’s Essay.</span> This essay does not - seem to have been published in <cite>The Yellow Dwarf</cite>. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>367. <span class='sc'>On the Principle of Population, etc.</span> From Hazlitt’s - <cite>Reply to Malthus</cite>, Letter III. See vol. <span class='fss'>IV.</span> of the - present edition. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_371'>371</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘What conjuration,’ etc.</em> <cite>Othello</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> - Scene 3. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_373'>373</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘These three bear record,’ etc.</em> Cf. <cite>1 John</cite> v. 7. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘’Tis as easy as lying,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span - class='fss'>III.</span> Scene 2. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_374'>374</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘To this end,’ etc.</em> Malthus’s <cite>Essay, etc.</cite> (2nd Ed. 1803), pp. - 538–540. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_375'>375</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Well answered by Mr. Cobbett.</em> Cobbett addressed a letter ‘To Parson Malthus’ - (<cite>Political Register</cite>, May 1819) beginning abruptly ‘Parson.’ ‘No assemblage - of words,’ he says, ‘can give an appropriate designation of you; and therefore, as being - the single word which best suits the character of such a man, I call you - <em>Parson</em>,’ <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">etc.</span></i> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_376'>376</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>In a separate work.</em> See his <em>Reply to Malthus</em> in vol. <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> of the present edition. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>381. <span class='sc'>Queries relating to the Essay on Population.</span> No. 23 of - <cite>The Round Table</cite> series in <cite>The Examiner</cite> (Oct. 29, 1815), which - is in the form of a letter addressed to the President of the Round Table, and begins as - follows:—‘Sir,—You some time ago inserted in your Paper [Round Table, No. 26, Feb. 15, - 1815] a letter from <cite>A Mechanic</cite>, who seemed strangely puzzled by a learned - friend of his, who thwarts him in all his notions, political, moral, domestic and - economical, by interrogatories put to him out of Mr. Malthus’s <cite>Essay on - Population</cite>. I do not know whether your Correspondent has got rid of his - troublesome acquaintance; but if he has not, I think he will be able to do it by putting - to him the following questions as to the merits of Mr. Malthus and his work, which I met - with in the course of my reading this morning, and which it appears to me to be incumbent - on the admirers of that gentleman to answer, Aye or No.’ - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_383'>383</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Sicklied over,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>II.</span> - Scene 1. -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_463'>463</span></div> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_385'>385</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Neither married,’ etc.</em> <cite>St. Matthew</cite> xxii. 30. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Beware therefore,’ etc.</em> Chaucer, <cite>The Canterbury Tales</cite>, The - Somnour’s Tale, ll. 2074 <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">et seq.</span></i> - </dd> - </dl> - -<h3 class='c003'>ADVERTISEMENT, ETC., FROM ‘THE ELOQUENCE OF THE BRITISH SENATE’</h3> - -<p class='c008'>All the biographical and critical notes, introductory to the selected Speeches, are -here reproduced, except (1) a few which consist merely of dates, and (2) the ‘characters’ -of Chatham, Burke, Fox and Pitt. These were republished by Hazlitt in -<cite>Political Essays</cite>, and will be found in the present reprint of that work (see <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, -pp. 321–350). Where there are two notes on the same speaker, they have been -printed together under the same heading. In cases where Hazlitt specially mentions -a particular speech, a reference to that speech is given below. Hazlitt himself, -in the Table of Contents, described the following as the ‘principal biographical -notices,’ viz., in vol. <span class='fss'>I.</span>, Cromwell, Whitlocke, Lord Belhaven, Mr. Pulteney, Lord -Chesterfield, Sir John St. Aubin, and Sir Robert Walpole; and, in vol. <span class='fss'>II.</span>, Lord -Chatham, Lord Mansfield, Lord Camden, Mr. Burke, Mr. Fox, and Mr. Pitt.</p> - - <dl class='dl_1'> - <dt><a href='#Page_389'>389</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Who strut and fret,’ etc.</em> <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>V.</span> - Scene 5. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_390'>390</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Wherein I saw them,’ etc.</em> <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> - Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Set the imprisoned wranglers free again.</em>’ Cowper, <cite>The Task</cite>, Book - <span class='fss'>IV.</span> 34. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_391'>391</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘The things themselves,’ etc.</em>, -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘The things we know are neither rich nor rare.’</div> - <div class='line in20'>Pope, <cite>Prologue to the Satires</cite>, 171.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_393'>393</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Sir Edward Coke.</em> The speech selected by Hazlitt was delivered on a Motion for - Supply, Aug. 5, 1625 (<cite>Parl. Hist.</cite> <span class='fss'>II.</span> 11.). On a - phrase of Coke’s ‘to petition the King rather for a <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">logique</span></i> than a - <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">rhetorique</span></i> hand,’ Hazlitt has the following note: ‘This mode of expression - seems natural enough to any one who was familiar with Cicero’s description of the - difference between logic and rhetoric, and who knew that most of his hearers either were, - or would be thought, equally learned. It was a convenient short-hand language to those - who were hardly ever accustomed to think or speak but in classical allusions, and which - no one could affect to misunderstand without first exposing his own ignorance:—it was a - sort of <em>word to the wise</em>. So that its being abrupt and far-fetched would be a - recommendation of it, and would even give it an air of simplicity with men of deep - learning, as being more in the way of their habitual and favourite train of ideas. But - this stile, which may be called the abstruse or pedantic, is soon exploded when knowledge - becomes more generally diffused, and the pretension to it universal: when there are few - persons who profess to be very learned, and none are contented to be thought entirely - ignorant; when every one who can read is a critic; when the reputation of taste and good - sense is not confined to an acquaintance with the Greek and Latin authors, and it is not - thought necessary to a man’s understanding an eloquent discourse, or even to his making - one, that he should ever have read a definition either of logic or rhetoric.’ - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_393'>393</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Burke’s famous Bill.</em> For the better security of the independence of - Parliament and the economical reformation of the civil and other establishments. Hazlitt - included in his selections Burke’s great speech (Feb. 11, 1780) introducing the Bill. -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_464'>464</span></div> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_393'>393</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Sir Robert Cotton.</em> The speech was delivered on Aug. 6, 1825 (<cite>Parl. - Hist.</cite>, <span class='fss'>II.</span> 14). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_394'>394</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Dr. John Williams.</em> Speech on opening Parliament, Feb. 26, 1626 (<cite>Parl. - Hist.</cite>, <span class='fss'>II.</span> 39). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Sir Heneage Finch.</em> Speech on Feb. 6, 1626 (<cite>Parl. Hist.</cite>, <span - class='fss'>II.</span> 41). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Sir Dudley Carleton.</em> Speech on May 12, 1626 (<cite>Parl. Hist.</cite>, <span - class='fss'>II.</span> 120). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_395'>395</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Creskeld.</em> Speech on the Detention of some Members of the House, March 25, - 1627 (<cite>Parl. Hist.</cite>, <span class='fss'>II.</span> 240). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Sir Francis Rouse.</em> Speech on June 3, 1628 (<cite>Parl. Hist.</cite>, <span - class='fss'>II.</span> 377). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Sir John Elliott.</em> Speech on Public Affairs, June 3, 1628 (<cite>Parl. - Hist.</cite>, <span class='fss'>II.</span> 380). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>A certain political writer.</em> Cobbett presumably. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Sir Benjamin Rudyard.</em> Speech on the State of Religion, June 3, 1628 (<cite>Parl. - Hist.</cite>, <span class='fss'>II.</span> 385). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Edmund Waller.</em> The speech referred to in the first paragraph was a speech on the - Supply, April 22, 1640 (<cite>Parl. Hist.</cite>, <span class='fss'>II.</span> 555); that - referred to in the second paragraph a speech praying for a mitigation of the sentence - passed upon him by Parliament, July 4, 1643 (<cite>Parl. Hist.</cite>, <span - class='fss'>III.</span> 140). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_397'>397</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Dr. Joseph Hall.</em> The speech which shews that ‘passion makes men eloquent’ was a - speech in defence of the Church and Clergy, 1641 (<cite>Parl. Hist.</cite>, <span - class='fss'>II.</span> 987). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Bulstrode Whitlocke.</em> The speech referred to in the second paragraph was a speech - on changing the old Law style, Feb. 1641 (<cite>Parl. Hist.</cite>, <span - class='fss'>II.</span> 1078). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_398'>398</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>William Lenthall.</em> Speech on Nov. 13, 1646 (<cite>Parl. Hist.</cite>, <span - class='fss'>III.</span> 530). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Oliver Cromwell.</em> Hazlitt gave the brief speech in the House of Commons on Dec. - 9, 1644, another small fragment, and Cromwell’s speech dissolving the second Protectorate - Parliament (Feb. 4, 1658). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>John Thurloe.</em> Speech in vindication of the Bill to tax Royalists (1656). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_399'>399</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Richard Cromwell.</em> Speech on the Meeting of Parliament (1658). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Charles II.</em> Speech on the second Meeting of Parliament, May 8, 1661 (<cite>Parl. - Hist.</cite>, <span class='fss'>IV.</span> 178). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Lord Bristol.</em> Speech on the Test Act, March 15, 1672 (<cite>Parl. Hist.</cite>, - <span class='fss'>IV.</span> 564). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_400'>400</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Earl of Caernarvon.</em> Speech on the impeachment of Lord Danby, Dec. 23, 1678 - (<cite>Parl. Hist.</cite>, <span class='fss'>IV.</span> 1074). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Henry Booth.</em> Speech on putting certain Justices out of commission (1681). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_401'>401</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>John, Lord Somers.</em> Hazlitt gives the speeches of Somers, Lord Nottingham, Sir - George Treby and Sir Robert Howard on the Abdication of James <span - class='fss'>II.</span> (1688). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>In contempt of the people</em>.’ See <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">ante</span></i>, note to p. 175. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_402'>402</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Sir John Knight.</em> Speech against the proposal for naturalising foreign - protestants, March 1694 (<cite>Parl. Hist.</cite>, <span class='fss'>V.</span> 851). - Knight concluded his speech with the motion ‘that the serjeant be commanded to open the - doors, and let us first kick this Bill out of the house, and then foreigners out of the - kingdom.’ Knight was member for Bristol 1692–1695, plotted for the restoration of James - and died in obscurity in 1718. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_403'>403</a>.</dt> - <dd>‘<em>Metaphysical aid.</em>’ <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> Scene - 5. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Non bene,’ etc.</em> Ovid, <cite>Metamorphoses</cite>, <span class='fss'>II.</span> - 846. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Reason panders will.</em>’ <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> - Scene 4. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘The downright violence,’ etc.</em> ‘My downright violence and storm of fortunes.’ - <cite>Othello</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>I.</span> Scene 3. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Lord Belhaven.</em> Speech in the Scottish Convention, against the Union, printed in - Appendix to Vol. <span class='fss'>VI.</span> of <cite>Parl. Hist.</cite>, p. cxlii. -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_465'>465</span></div> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_404'>404</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘The melancholy madness,’ etc.</em> Junius, Letter <span class='fss'>VII.</span> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_405'>405</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>George I.</em> Speech on his accession. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Sir Thomas Hanmer.</em> The first speech referred to was the Speaker’s address to the - Throne (1715), the second a speech on the Reduction of the Army (1717). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘Threads’ etc.</em> Cowper, <cite>The Task</cite>, <span class='fss'>III.</span> 147. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Sir Richard Steele.</em> Speech on annual parliaments (1716). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_406'>406</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>The following speech.</em> Speech on the Triennial Bill, March 13, 1734 (<cite>Parl. - Hist.</cite>, <span class='fss'>IX.</span> 471). Walpole having referred to some - inconveniences of the democratical form of government, Hazlitt makes the following - remarks in a note:— - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘Sir Robert here, by entirely leaving out the consideration of the other parts of our - constitution which are intended to operate as checks and correctives of the democratic - part, very ingeniously models the house of commons according to his own wishes, and at - the same time in such a manner as to answer the purposes of all the other parts, and in - fact to render them unnecessary. It has always been pretended that the house of commons - was but one branch of the legislative—the representative of the people; and that an - antidote to any evils that might arise from this part of the system was wisely provided - in the other branches, which were to represent property and power; but care has been - taken to make sure of the remedy in the first instance, namely by inoculating the patient - before the disease was caught, and making the house of commons itself never anything more - than the representative of property and power.’ - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘The popular harangue,’ etc.</em> Cowper, <cite>The Task</cite>, <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> 31–32. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_408'>408</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>A niche in one of his satires.</em> <cite>Moral Essays</cite>, <span - class='fss'>I.</span> 174–209. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_409'>409</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Earl of Strafford.</em> Speech on the Mutiny Bill, Feb. 22, 1732 (<cite>Parl. - Hist.</cite>, <span class='fss'>VIII.</span> 1008). Thomas Wentworth, third Earl of - Strafford, ambassador extraordinary at the Hague during the critical years 1711–1714 (see - Swift’s <cite>History of the last four years of Queen Anne</cite>) was a great-nephew of - ‘the great lord Strafford.’ - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘The worse appear,’ etc.</em> <cite>Paradise Lost</cite>, <span - class='fss'>II.</span> 113–114. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>410. To Heathcote’s speech, which was on the Establishment of Excise Officers, Hazlitt - has the following note: ‘The introduction of the excise laws excited an immense ferment - through the kingdom about this time. It was called by Pulteney, ‘that monster, the - Excise.’ And Walpole had more difficulty in weathering the storm of opposition that rose - on this occasion, than on any other. How tame are we grown! How familiar with that - slavery and ruin, threatened us by so many succeeding prophets and politicians! We play - with the bugbears, and handle them, and do not find that they hurt us. We look back and - smile at the disproportionate resistance of our inexperienced forefathers to petty - vexations and imaginary grievances, and are like the old horse in the fable, who wondered - at the folly of the young horse, who refused even to be saddled, while he crouched - patiently under the heaviest burthens.’ - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_411'>411</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Campbell.</em> Speech against a bill to prevent officers of Government from - sitting in Parliament, commonly called the Place Bill, Feb. 26, 1734 (<cite>Parl. - Hist.</cite>, <span class='fss'>IX.</span> 367). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>‘’Twas mine,’ etc.</em> <cite>Othello</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>III.</span> Scene - 3. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Samuel Sandys.</em> Speech in reply to Campbell. Sandys’s ‘principles’ consisted of - hostility to Walpole, after whose fall he became Chancellor of the Exchequer and Lord - Sandys. In 1742 he opposed the introduction of his own Place Bill. -<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_466'>466</span></div> - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_412'>412</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>See his speech on the theatres.</em> Hazlitt included Chesterfield’s speech on the - Play-house Bill (1737—<cite>Parl. Hist.</cite>, <span class='fss'>X.</span> 319) among - his selections. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_413'>413</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Sir John St. Aubin.</em> Speech on the Triennial Bill, March 13, 1734 (<cite>Parl. - Hist.</cite>, <span class='fss'>IX.</span> 400). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Sir Watkin William Wynne.</em> Speech on the same. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_414'>414</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>The following Speech on abolishing, etc.</em> April, 1747. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_415'>415</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Honourable Edward Coke.</em> Speech on the Address, Dec. 1, 1743 (<cite>Parl. - Hist.</cite>, <span class='fss'>XIII.</span> 135). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Sir Dudley Rider.</em> Speech on the Attainder Bill, May 3, 1744 (<cite>Parl. - Hist.</cite>, <span class='fss'>XIII.</span> 859). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_416'>416</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Grenville.</em> Speech on the Stamp Act, January 1766 (<cite>Parl. Hist.</cite>, - <span class='fss'>XVI.</span> 101). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_418'>418</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘As dry,’ etc.</em> <cite>As You Like It</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>II.</span> - Scene 7. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_419'>419</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Junius says.</em> Letter <span class='fss'>LIX.</span> Isaac Barré (1726–1802), son - of a French refugee, served under Wolfe at Quebec and sat in Parliament under Lord - Shelburne’s patronage from 1761 to 1790. He is one of the many to whom the authorship of - Junius has been attributed. He was author of the phrase ‘sons of liberty’ applied to the - American colonists. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Garrit aniles.</span></i> Horace, <cite>Satires</cite>, <span class='fss'>II.</span> 6. - 77–8. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Courteney.</em> Hazlitt seems to refer to Boswell’s friend, John Courtenay - (1741–1816), member for Tamworth (1780–1796), who is described by Wraxall - (<cite>Posthumous Memoirs</cite>, <span class='fss'>V.</span> 4) as ‘eccentric, fearless, - sarcastic, highly informed, always present to himself, dealing his blows on every side - regardless on whom they fell.’ - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_420'>420</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>The Barrés, etc.</em> In the <cite>Dictionary of National Biography</cite>, the - latest of the ‘motley lists of fame,’ Hazlitt would have found not only the Dyches, the - Fennings, the Lillys, and the Laxtons, but also ‘characters on whom a dazzling splendour - has been shed.’ - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The following masterly character.</em> Burke, <cite>Letter to a Noble Lord</cite> - (<cite>Works</cite>, Bohn, <span class='fss'>V.</span> 117). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The following speech.</em> On the Bill for doubling the Militia, June 22, 1779 - (<cite>Parl. Hist.</cite>, <span class='fss'>XX.</span> 947). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>Hazlitt has the two following notes on Burke’s speech on American Taxation (April 19, - 1774—<cite>Works</cite>, Bohn, <span class='fss'>I.</span> 383 <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">et seq.</span></i>):— - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘The following arguments towards the conclusion of this speech are so sensible, so - moderate, so wise and beautiful, that I cannot resist the temptation of copying them out, - though I did not at first intend it. Burke’s speeches are to me, in this my parliamentary - progress, what the Duke’s castle was to Sancho: I could be content to stay there longer - than I am able. I have no inclination to leave the stately palaces, the verdant lawns, - the sumptuous entertainments, the grave discourse, and pleasing sounds of music, to sally - forth in search of bad roads, meagre fare, and barren adventures. Charles Fox is indeed - to come; but he is but the Knight of the Green Surtout. Pitt is the brazen head, that - delivers mysterious answers; and Sheridan, Master Peter with his puppet-show. - <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Mais allons.</span></i>’ - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘Thus was this great man, merely for disclaiming metaphysical distinctions and shewing - their inapplicability to practical questions, considered as an unintelligible reasoner; - as if you were chargeable with the very folly of which you convict others. Burke - understood metaphysics, and knew their true boundaries: when he saw others venturing - blindly upon this treacherous ground, and called out to them to stop, shewing them where - they were, they said, this man is a metaphysician. General unqualified assertions, - universal axioms, and abstract rules serve to embody our prejudices; they <span class='pageno' id='Page_467'>467</span>are - the watch-words of party, the strong-holds of the passions. It is therefore dangerous to - meddle with them. Solid reason means nothing more than being carried away by our - passions, and solid sense is that which requires no reflection to understand it.’ - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_421'>421</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>The following boyish rhapsody.</em> For an account of this matter see Trevelyan’s - <cite>Early History of Charles James Fox</cite>, pp. 414 <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">et seq.</span></i> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>In the Louvre.</em> In 1802. See <cite>Memoirs of William Hazlitt</cite>, <span - class='fss'>I.</span> 91. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_422'>422</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Sir W. Meredith.</em> Speech on the Lord Mayor and Oliver being committed to the - Tower. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Junius praises.</em> Letter <span class='fss'>LIX.</span> - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Servetur ad imum, etc.</span></i> Horace, <cite><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Ars Poetica</span></cite>, 126–7. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Hon. Temple Luttrell.</em> Speech on Mr. Buller’s Motion that 2000 additional seamen - be employed for the year 1775, to enforce the measures of Government in America, Feb. 13, - 1775 (<cite>Parl. Hist.</cite>, <span class='fss'>XVIII.</span> 308). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Wilkes.</em> Speech on the Motion for expunging the Resolution respecting his - Expulsion, Feb. 22, 1775 (<cite>Parl. Hist.</cite>, <span class='fss'>XVIII.</span> 358). - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_423'>423</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Dunning.</em> Speech on the Bill for punishing Persons suspected of being - Pirates, Feb. 7, 1777 (<cite>Parl. Hist.</cite>, <span class='fss'>XIX.</span> 24). - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd>‘<em>Good set terms.</em>’ <cite>As You Like It</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>II.</span> - Scene 7. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>William Pitt.</em> It is strange that Hazlitt mentions only Pitt’s office of - Chancellor of the Exchequer, and not the fact that he was Prime Minister from 1783 to - 1801, and from 1804 till his death in 1806. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_424'>424</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘The wine of life,’ etc.</em> <cite>Macbeth</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>II.</span> - Scene 3. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>The following speech.</em> Sheridan’s speech in reply to Lord Mornington on the war - with France, Jan. 21, 1794. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Grattan.</em> Speech on moving an Address to the Throne, containing a Declaration - of Rights, April 16, 1782. - </dd> - <dt><a href='#Page_425'>425</a>.</dt> - <dd><em>‘Where each alley,’ etc.</em> Pope, <cite>Moral Essays</cite>, <span - class='fss'>IV.</span> 117–8. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Non omnia possumus omnes.</span></i> Virgil, <cite>Eclogues</cite>, <span - class='fss'>VIII.</span> 63. - </dd> - <dt> </dt> - <dd><em>Mr. Horne Tooke.</em> Speech on the eligibility of clergymen to sit in Parliament - (1801). - </dd> - </dl> - -<hr class='c023' /> -<div class='footnote' id='f1'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r1'>1</a>. As to the <em>real</em> grounds and views on which the former coalitions were begun -and carried on, see Burke’s Regicide Peace, Second Part.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f2'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r2'>2</a>. One instance may serve as an example for all the rest:—When Mr. Fox last -summer predicted the failure of the new confederacy against France, from a -consideration of the circumstances and relative situation of both parties, that is, -from an exact knowledge of the actual state of the case, Mr. Pitt contented -himself with answering—and, as in the blindness of his infatuation he seemed to -think quite satisfactorily,—‘That he could not assent to the honourable gentleman’s -reasoning, for that it went to this, that we were never to attempt to mend the -situation of our affairs, because in so doing we might possibly make them worse.’ -No; it was not on account of this abstract possibility in human affairs, or because -we were not absolutely sure of succeeding (for that any child might know), but -because it was in the highest degree probable, or <em>morally</em> certain that the scheme -would fail, and leave us in a worse situation than we were before, that Mr. Fox -disapproved of the attempt. There is in this a degree of weakness and imbecility, -a defect of understanding bordering on idiotism, a fundamental ignorance of the -first principles of human reason and prudence, that in a great minister is utterly -astonishing, and almost incredible. Nothing could ever drive him out of his dull -forms, and naked generalities; which as they are susceptible neither of degree nor -variation, are therefore equally applicable to every emergency that can happen: -and in the most critical aspect of affairs he saw nothing but the same flimsy web -of remote possibilities and metaphysical uncertainty. In his mind the wholesome -pulp of practical wisdom and salutary advice was immediately converted into the -dry chaff and husks of a miserable logic.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f3'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r3'>3</a>. I would recommend to the reader a masterly and unanswerable essay on this -subject in the Morning Post, by Mr. Coleridge, in February 1800, from which, and -the conversation of the author, most of the above remarks are taken. I will only -add, that it is the property of true genius to force the admiration even of enemies. -No one was ever hated or envied for his powers of mind, if others were convinced -of their real excellence. The jealousy and uneasiness produced in the mind by the -display of superior talents almost always arises from a suspicion that there is some -trick or deception in the case, and that we are imposed on by an appearance of -what is not really there. True warmth and vigour communicate warmth and -vigour; and we are no longer inclined to dispute the inspiration of the oracle, -when we feel the ‘presens Divus’ in our own bosoms. But when, without -gaining any new light or heat, we only find our ideas thrown into perplexity and -confusion by an art that we cannot comprehend, this is a kind of superiority which -must always be painful, and can never be cordially admitted. For this reason the -extraordinary talents of Mr. Pitt were always viewed, except by those of his own -party, with a sort of jealousy, and <em>grudgingly</em> acknowledged; while those of his -rivals were admitted by all parties in the most unreserved manner, and carried by -acclamation.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f4'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r4'>4</a>. Mr. Burke pretends in this Jesuitical Appeal, that a nation has a right to -insist upon and revert to old establishments and prescriptive privileges, but not to -lay claim to new ones; in a word, to change its governors, if refractory, but not -its form of government, however bad. Thus he says we had a right to cashier -James <span class='fss'>II.</span>, because he wished to alter the laws and religion as they were then -established. By what right did we emancipate ourselves from popery and -arbitrary power a century before? He defends his consistency in advocating the -American Revolution, though the rebels, in getting rid of the reigning branch of -the Royal Family, did not send for the next of kin to rule over them ‘in contempt -of their choice,’ but prevented all such equivocations by passing at once from a -viceroyalty to a republic. He also extols the Polish Revolution as a monument of -wisdom and virtue (I suppose because it had not succeeded), though this also was a -total and absolute change in the frame and principles of the government, to which -the people were in this case bound by no feudal tenure or divine right. But he -insists that the French Revolution was stark-naught, because the people here did -the same thing, passed from slavery to liberty, from an arbitrary to a constitutional -government, to which they had, it seems, no prescriptive right, and therefore, -according to the appellant, no right at all. Oh nice professor of humanity! We -had a right to turn off James <span class='fss'>II.</span> because he broke a compact with the people. -The French had no right to turn off Louis <span class='fss'>XVI.</span> because he broke no compact -with them, for he had none to break; in other words, because he was an arbitrary -despot, tied to no laws, and they a herd of slaves, and therefore they were bound, -by every law divine and human, always to remain so, in perpetuity and by the -grace of God! Oh unanswerable logician!</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f5'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r5'>5</a>. There is none of this perplexity and jarring of different objects in the tools -of power. Their jealousies, heart-burnings, love of precedence, or scruples of -conscience, are made subservient to the great cause in which they are embarked; -they leave the amicable division of the spoil to the powers that be; all angry -disputes are hushed in the presence of the throne, and the corrosive, fretful particles -of human nature fly off, and are softened by the influence of a court atmosphere. -Courtiers hang together like a swarm of bees about a honeycomb. Not so the -Reformers; for they have no honeycomb to attract them. It has been said that -Reformers are often indifferent characters. The reason is, that the ties which bind -most men to their duties—habit, example, regard to appearances—are relaxed in -them; and other and better principles are, as yet, weak and unconfirmed.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f6'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r6'>6</a>. The above criticism first appeared in the <cite>Courier</cite> newspaper, and was copied -the next day in the <cite>Chronicle</cite> with the following remarks:—‘The treasury journals -complain of the harsh treatment shewn to ministers,—let us see how they treat -their opponents. If the following does not come from the poetical pen of the -Admiralty <em>Croaker</em>, it is a close imitation of his style.’</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘Strange that such difference should be</div> - <div class='line'>’Twixt Tweedledum and Tweedledee!’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>Whether it was from the fear of this supposed formidable critic, the noble -Marquis ceased from this time nightly to ‘fillip the ears of his auditors with a -three-man beetle!‘</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f7'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r7'>7</a>. As he is fond of the good old times before the Revolution, the writer might -go still farther back to that magnanimous undertaking, concerted and executed by -the same persons of honour, the partition of Poland.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f8'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r8'>8</a>. See remarks on Judge Eyre’s Charge to the Jury, 1794, by W. Godwin.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f9'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r9'>9</a>. Observe that these critically destructive terms of peace are not strictly called -for by Bonaparte’s persevering and atrocious outrages, but are at all times rendered -necessary by the everlasting enmity of France.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f10'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r10'>10</a>. ‘In heaven they neither marry nor are given in marriage.’ There is nothing -so provoking as these matter-of-fact Utopia-mongers.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f11'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r11'>11</a>. The style of Vetus bears the same relation to eloquence that gilded lead does -to gold;—it glitters, and is heavy.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f12'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r12'>12</a>. He who speaks two languages has no country. The French, when they made -their language the common language of the courts of Europe, gained more than by -all their other conquests put together.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f13'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r13'>13</a>. See Mr. Canning’s speech on the Jaggernaut.—They manage these things -better in the East (it is to be hoped we shall do so in time here); otherwise, if -there had been any occasion, what pretty Anti-Jacobin sonnets might not Mr. -Canning have written in praise of this Jaggernaut? Or Mr. Southey, after in vain -attempting its overthrow, might have ‘spun his brains’ into a <span class='sc'>Carmen Annuum</span> to -celebrate his own defeat. Or Vetus might play off his discovery of the identity of -the strumpet and the goddess Reason, against any disposition to disarm its power -or arrest its progress.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f14'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r14'>14</a>. Of the facility of realising this devout aspiration of the writer in <cite>The Times</cite>, -we have no exact means of judging by his own statements, for he one day tells -us that ‘there is <em>nothing</em> to hinder Lord Wellington from marching to Paris, and -bringing the Usurper to the block,’ and the next endeavours to excite the panic -fears of his readers, by telling them, in a tone of equal horror and dismay, ‘That -the <em>monster</em> wields at will the force of forty millions of men.’ The assertions of -these writers have no connection with the real state of things, but depend entirely -on their variable passions, and the purpose they have in view.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f15'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r15'>15</a>. We only wish to add one thing, which is, to protest against the self-importance -of such expressions as the following, which occur often in Vetus’s letters:—‘<em>The -men I speak of were</em>’ those, &c. ‘This sentiment never prevailed with <em>the better -sort</em>.’ This is an affectation of the worst part of Burke’s style, his assumption of a -parliamentary tone, and of the representation of the voice of some corporate body. -It was bad enough in him; in Vetus it is intolerable.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f16'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r16'>16</a>. Written originally for the Morning Chronicle.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f17'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r17'>17</a>. The ignorant will suppose that these are two proper names.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f18'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r18'>18</a>. ‘Carnage is her daughter.’—<cite>Mr. Wordsworth’s Thanksgiving Ode.</cite></p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f19'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r19'>19</a>. This article falls somewhat short of its original destination, by our having -been forced to omit two topics, the praise of Bonaparte, and the abuse of -poetry. The former we leave to history: the latter we have been induced to -omit from our regard to two poets of our acquaintance. We must say they -have spoiled sport. One of them has tropical blood in his veins, which gives -a gay, cordial, vinous spirit to his whole character. The other is a mad wag,—who -ought to have lived at the Court of Horwendillus, with Yorick and -Hamlet,—equally desperate in his mirth and his gravity, who would laugh at a -funeral and weep at a wedding, who talks nonsense to prevent the headache, -who would wag his finger at a skeleton, whose jests scald like tears, who makes -a joke of a great man, and a hero of a cat’s paw. The last is more than Mr. -Garrard or Mr. Turnerelli can do. The busts which these gentlemen have made -of a celebrated General are very bad. His head is worth nothing unless it is put -on his men’s shoulders.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f20'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r20'>20</a>. See an article on this subject in Mr. Coleridge’s <em>Friend</em>.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f21'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r21'>21</a>. We are somewhat in the situation of <em>Captain Macheath</em> in the ‘Beggar’s Opera.’ -‘The road had done the Captain justice, but the gaming-table had been his ruin.’ -We have been pretty successful on the high seas; but the Bank have swallowed it -all up. The taxes have outlived the war, trade, and commerce. <em>They</em> are the soul, -the immortal part of the Pitt system.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f22'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r22'>22</a>. It may be proper to notice, that this article was written before the Discourse -which it professes to criticise had appeared in print, or probably existed any where, -but in repeated newspaper advertisements.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f23'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r23'>23</a>. This work is so obscure, that it has been supposed to be written in cypher, and -that it is necessary to read it upwards and downwards, or backwards and forwards, -as it happens, to make head or tail of it. The effect is exceedingly like the qualms -produced by the heaving of a ship becalmed at sea; the motion is so tedious, -improgressive, and sickening.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f24'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r24'>24</a>. Does this verse come under Mr. C.’s version of <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Jus Divinum</span></i>?</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f25'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r25'>25</a>. That is, in a sense not used and without any intelligible meaning.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f26'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r26'>26</a>. If these are the worst passions, there is plenty of them in this Lay-Sermon.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f27'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r27'>27</a>. A paper set up at this time by Dr. Stoddart.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f28'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r28'>28</a>. When this work was first published, the King had copies of it bound in -Morocco, and gave them away to his favourite courtiers, saying, ‘It was a book -which every gentleman ought to read.’</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f29'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r29'>29</a>. Our loyal Editor used to bluster a great deal some time ago about putting -down James Madison, and ‘the last example of democratic rebellion in America.’ -In this he was consistent and logical. Could he not, however, find out another -example of this same principle, by going a little farther back in history, and -coming a little nearer home? If he has forgotten this chapter in our history, -others who have profited more by it have not. He may understand what we -mean, by turning to the story of the two elder Blifils in <cite>Tom Jones</cite>.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f30'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r30'>30</a>. <cite>Simon Lee, the old Huntsman</cite>, a tale by Mr. Wordsworth, of which he himself -says,</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘It is no tale, but if you think,</div> - <div class='line'>Perhaps a tale you’ll make it.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c010'>In this view it is a tale indeed, not ‘of other times,’ but of these.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f31'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r31'>31</a>. During the retreat, the king was ever seen where the danger was greatest. -Foremost in the ranks, he continually charged the Austrians in person. When -his affairs grew desperate, it became evident that he sought for death in the field. -At the head of a few of his cavalry, whom he constantly preceded, he often -charged the enemy to their very cannons’ mouth. How he escaped amidst so -many dangers appears miraculous. He might well say that ‘he had sought death, -but had not been able to find it.’</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f32'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r32'>32</a>. Let no country go about to enslave another with impunity. For out of the -very dregs of rottenness and debasement will arise a low creeping fog of servility, -a stench of corruption to choak the life of liberty, wherever it comes—a race of -fortune-hunting, dastard, busy, hungry, heartless slaves and blood-suckers, eager to -fawn upon power and trample upon weakness, with no other pretensions than want -of principle, and a hatred of those who possess what they want. Ireland has given -us Castlereagh, Wellington, Burke. Is she not even with us? Let her smile now -from her hundred hills, let her shake with laughter through her thousand bogs! -Ireland, last of the nations, repose in peace upon thy green western wave! Thou -and the world are quits.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f33'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r33'>33</a>. Here the reader may, if he pleases, read over again the last note.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f34'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r34'>34</a>. <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Encore un coup.</span></i> This Duke is an Irishman. Pray, suppose the Allies were -to declare the Protestant succession illegitimate, and the King of Sardinia, not the -Prince Regent, the hereditary proprietor of the English throne and people in -perpetuity and in a right line, would this annul the validity of his Grace’s grants?</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f35'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r35'>35</a>. Of the three persons that Mr. Coleridge, by a most preposterous anachronism, -has selected to compose his asinine auditory, Mr. Hunt was at the time in question -a boy at school, not <em>a stripling bard</em> of nineteen or nine and twenty, but a real -school-boy ‘declaiming on the patriotism of Brutus.’ As to Mr. Cobbett, he would -at that time, had they come in his way, with one kick of his hard hoofs, have -made a terrible crash among ‘the green corn’ of Mr. Southey’s Jacobin Pan’s-pipe, -and gone near to knock out the musician’s brains into the bargain. The second -person in this absurd trinity, who certainly thinks it ‘a robbery to be made equal -to the other two,’ was the only hearer present at the rehearsal of Mr. Southey’s -overtures to Liberty and Equality, and to that ‘long-continued asinine bravura,’ -which rings in Mr. Coleridge’s ears, but which certainly was not unaccompanied, -for he himself was present; and those who know this gentleman, know that on -these occasions he plays the part of a whole chorus.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f36'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r36'>36</a>. A sarcastic writer, like Mr. Southey, might here ask, whether it was a disappointment -in sharing the estate of some rich landed proprietor that made -Mr. Southey turn short round to a defence of sinecures and pensions? We do not -know, but here follows a passage, which ‘some skulking scoundrel’ in the -<cite>Quarterly Review</cite> appears to have aimed at Mr. Southey’s early opinions and -character:—‘As long as the smatterer in philosophy confines himself to private -practice, the mischief does not extend beyond his private circle—his neighbour’s -wife may be in some danger, and his neighbour’s property also; if the distinctions -between <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">meum</span></i> and <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">tuum</span></i> should be practically inconvenient to the man of free -opinions. But when he commences professor of moral and political philosophy -for the benefit of the public—the fables of old credulity are then verified, his very -breath becomes venomous, and every page which he sends abroad carries with it -poison to the unsuspicious reader.’ Such is the interpretation given by the -anonymous writer to the motives of smatterers in philosophy; this writer could -not be Mr. Southey, for ‘<em>he</em> never imputes evil motives to men merely for holding -the opinions he formerly held,’ such as the evils of the inequality of property, &c.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f37'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r37'>37</a>. Not the Editor of this Paper, but the writer of this Article.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f38'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r38'>38</a>. Perhaps Mr. Southey will inform us some time or other, whether in Italy also -it is the people, and not the Pope, who wants reforming.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f39'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r39'>39</a>. <em>Dues</em> of Office, we suppose.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f40'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r40'>40</a>. It is the making light of the distresses and complaints of our victims, because -we have them in our power, that is the principle of all cruelty and tyranny. -Our pride takes a pleasure in the sufferings our malice has inflicted; every -aggravation of their case is a provocation to new injuries and insults; and their -pretensions to justice or mercy become ridiculous in proportion to their hopelessness -of redress. It was thus that Mother Brownrigg whipped her prentices to -death; and in the same manner our facetious Editor would work himself up to -apply the thumb-screw to any one who was unable to resist the application, with a -few ‘forsooths,’ and other such ‘comfit-makers wives’ oaths.’</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f41'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r41'>41</a>. That he might be deemed so no longer, Mr. <span class='sc'>Coleridge</span> soon after became -<em>passionate for war</em> himself; and ‘swell’d the war-whoop’ in the Morning Post. ‘I -am not indeed silly enough,’ he says, ‘to take as any thing more than a violent -hyperbole of party debate, Mr. <span class='sc'>Fox</span>‘s assertion that <em>the late war</em> (1802) <em>was a war -produced by the</em> <span class='sc'>Morning Post</span>; or I should be proud to have the words inscribed -on my tomb.’—<cite><span lang="es" xml:lang="es">Biographia Literaria</span></cite>, vol. i. p. 212.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f42'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r42'>42</a>. We never knew but one instance to contradict this opinion. A person who -had only fourpence left in the world, which his wife had put by to pay for the -baking of some meat and a pudding, went and laid it out in purchasing a new -string for a guitar. Some on this occasion quoted the lines,</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c012'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘And ever against <em>eating</em> cares,</div> - <div class='line'>Wrap me in soft Lydian airs.’</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f43'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r43'>43</a>. We hope Mr. Southey has not found the truth of the latter part of the passage. -‘Rich gifts wax poor, when givers prove unkind.’</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f44'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r44'>44</a>. ‘And for the Bishops (in Edward <span class='fss'>VI.</span>‘s days), they were so far from any such -worthy attempts, as that they suffered themselves to be the common stales to -countenance, with their prostituted gravities, every politick fetch that was then on -foot, as oft as the potent Statists pleased to employ them. Never do we read -that they made use of their authority, and high place of access, to bring the -jarring nobility to Christian peace, or to withstand their disloyal projects: but -if a toleration for Mass were to be begged of the King for his sister Mary, lest -Charles the Fifth should be angry, who but the grave prelates, <em>Cranmer</em> and <em>Ridley</em>, -must be sent to extort it from the young King! But out of the mouth of that -godly and royal child, Christ himself returned such an awful repulse to those -halting and time-serving Prelates, that, after much importunity they went their -way, not without shame and tears.’—<em>Milton</em>—<cite>Of Reformation in England, and the -Causes that have hitherto hindered it.</cite></p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f45'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r45'>45</a>. This passage is nearly a repetition of what was said before; but as it contains -the sum and substance of all I have ever said on such subjects, I have let it -stand.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f46'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r46'>46</a>. What is the amount of this right of Mr. Coke’s? It is not greater than that -of the Lords Balmerino and Lovatt to their estates in Scotland, or to the heads -upon their shoulders, the one of which however were forfeited, and the other stuck -upon Temple Bar, for maintaining, in theory and practice, that James <span class='fss'>II.</span> had the -same right to the throne of these realms, independently of his merits or conduct, -that Mr. Coke has to his estate at Holkham. So thought they. So did not -think George <span class='fss'>II.</span></p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f47'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r47'>47</a>. See the description of Gargantua in Rabelais.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f48'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r48'>48</a>. The Government of Ovando, a Spanish Grandee and Knight of Alcantara, -who had been sent over to Mexico soon after its conquest, exceeded in treachery, -cruelty, wanton bloodshed, and deliberate extortion, that of all those who had -preceded him; and the complaints became so loud, that Queen Isabel on her -death-bed requested that he might be recalled; but Ferdinand found that Ovando -had sent home <em>much gold</em>, and he retained him in his situation.—<em>See Capt. Burney’s -History of the Buccaneers.</em></p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f49'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r49'>49</a>. See Coleridge’s ‘Friend,’ No. 15.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f50'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r50'>50</a>. .sp 1</p> -<div class='lg-container-b c024'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>‘I look down towards his feet;</div> - <div class='line'>But that’s a fable.’—<span class='sc'>Othello.</span></div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f51'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r51'>51</a>. ‘I have thought it prudent to omit some parts of Mr. Phelim Connor’s letter. -He is evidently an intemperate young man, and has associated with his cousins, -the Fudges, to very little purpose.’</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f52'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r52'>52</a>. ‘Somebody (Fontenelle, I believe) has said, that if he had his hand full of -truths, he would open but one finger at a time; and I find it necessary to use the -same sort of reserve with respect to Mr. Phelim Connor’s very plain-spoken -letters. The remainder of this Epistle is so full of unsafe matter of fact, that it -must, for the present at least, be withheld from the public.’</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f53'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r53'>53</a>. ‘To commemorate the landing of Louis le Desiré from England, the impression -of his foot is marked out upon the pier at Calais, and a pillar with an -inscription raised opposite to the spot.’</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f54'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r54'>54</a>. This character was written in a fit of extravagant candour, at a time when I -thought I could do justice, or more than justice, to an enemy, without betraying a -cause.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f55'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r55'>55</a>. For instance: he produced less effect on the mob that compose the English -House of Commons than Chatham or Fox, or even Pitt.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f56'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r56'>56</a>. As in the comparison of the British Constitution to the ‘proud keep of -Windsor,’ &c. the most splendid passage in his works.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f57'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r57'>57</a>. If I had to write a character of Mr. Fox at present, the praise here bestowed on -him would be ‘craftily qualified.’ His life was deficient in the three principal -points, the beginning, the middle, and the end. He began a violent Tory, and -became a flaming patriot out of private <span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">picque</span>; he afterwards coalesced with Lord -North, and died an accomplice with Lord Grenville. But—<em>what I have written, I -have written</em>. So let it pass.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f58'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r58'>58</a>. See an excellent character of Fox by a celebrated and admirable writer, which -appeared in the <cite>Morning Chronicle</cite>, November, 1806, from which this passage is -taken as nearly as I could recollect it.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f59'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r59'>59</a>. There is an admirable, judicious, and truly useful remark in the preface to -Spenser (not by Dr. Johnson, for he left Spenser out of his poets, but by <em>one</em> -Upton,) that the question was not whether a better poem might not have been -written on a different plan, but whether Spenser would have written a better one -on a different plan. I wish to apply this to Fox’s <em>ungainly</em> manner. I do not -mean to say, that his manner was the best possible, (for that would be to say that -he was the greatest man conceivable), but that it was the best for him.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f60'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r60'>60</a>. This may seem to contradict what I have before said of Chatham—that he -spoke like a man who was discharging a duty, &c. but I there spoke of the tone -he assumed, or his immediate feelings at the time, rather than of the real motives -by which he was actuated.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f61'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r61'>61</a>. To this character none of those who could be compared with him in -talents had the least pretensions, as Chatham, Burke, Pitt, &c. They would -<em>blackguard</em> and bully any man upon the slightest provocation, or difference -of opinion.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f62'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r62'>62</a>. One instance may serve as an example for all the rest:—When Mr. Fox last -summer (1805) predicted the failure of the new confederacy against France, from -a consideration of the circumstances and relative situation of both parties, that is, -from an exact knowledge of the actual state of things, Mr. Pitt contented himself -with answering—and, as in the blindness of his infatuation, he seemed to think -quite satisfactorily,—‘That he could not assent to the honourable gentleman’s -reasoning, for that it went to this, that we were never to attempt to mend the -situation of our affairs, because in so doing we might possibly make them worse.’ -No; it was not on account of this abstract possibility in human affairs, or because -we were not absolutely sure of succeeding (for that any child might know), but -because it was in the highest degree probable, or <em>morally</em> certain, that the scheme -would fail, and leave us in a worse situation than we were before, that Mr. Fox -disapproved of the attempt. There is in this a degree of weakness and imbecility, -a defect of understanding bordering on idiotism, a fundamental ignorance of the -first principles of human reason and prudence, that in a great minister is utterly -astonishing, and almost incredible. Nothing could ever drive him out of his dull -forms, and naked generalities; which, as they are susceptible neither of degree nor -variation, are therefore equally applicable to every emergency that can happen: -and in the most critical aspect of affairs, he saw nothing but the same flimsy web -of remote possibilities and metaphysical uncertainty. In his mind the wholesome -pulp of practical wisdom and salutary advice was immediately converted into the -dry chaff and husks of a miserable logic.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f63'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r63'>63</a>. I do remember one passage which has some meaning in it. At the time of -the Regency Bill, speaking of the proposal to take the King’s servants from him, -he says, ‘What must that great personage feel when he waked from the trance of -his faculties, and asked for his attendants, if he were told that his subjects had -taken advantage of his momentary absence of mind, and stripped him of the -symbols of his personal elevation.’ There is some grandeur in this. His admirers -should have it inscribed in letters of gold; for they will not find another instance -of the same kind.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f64'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r64'>64</a>. I would recommend to the reader a masterly and unanswerable essay on the -subject, in the Morning Post, by Mr. Coleridge, (see above) from which most of -the above remarks are taken. See also Dr. Beddoes’s Letter on the public merits -of Mr. Pitt. I will only add, that it is the property of true genius, to force -the admiration even of enemies. No one was ever hated or envied for his powers -of mind, if others were convinced of their real excellence. The jealousy and uneasiness -produced in the mind by the display of superior talents almost always arises -from a suspicion that there is some trick or deception in the case, and that we are -imposed on by an appearance of what is not really there. True warmth and vigour -communicate warmth and vigour; and we are no longer inclined to dispute the -inspiration of the oracle, when we feel the ‘<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">presens Divus</span></i>’ in our own bosoms. -But when, without gaining any new light or heat, we only find our ideas thrown -into perplexity and confusion by an art that we cannot comprehend, this is a kind -of superiority which must always be painful, and can never be cordially admitted. -For this reason the extraordinary talents of Mr. Pitt were always viewed, except -by those of his own party, with a sort of jealousy, and <em>grudgingly</em> acknowledged; -while those of his rivals were admitted by all parties in the most unreserved manner, -and carried by acclamation.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f65'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r65'>65</a>. The prevalence of this check may be estimated <em>by the general proportion</em> of -virtue and happiness in the world, for if there were no such check, there could be -nothing but vice and misery.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f66'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r66'>66</a>. Written in 1807, at a time when Mr. Whitbread’s scheme was in agitation in -the House of Commons, and Mr. Malthus used to wait in the lobbies with his -essay in his hand, for the instruction and compliments of Honourable Members. -The above article is taken from a Reply to Mr. Malthus, one of my very early -Essays, the style of which is, I confess, a little exuberant, but of the arguments I -see no reason to be ashamed.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f67'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r67'>67</a>. Altered in the last edition, to ‘suffer.’</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f68'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r68'>68</a>. Daughter of Marie Antoinette. Burke’s ‘romantic episode’ is in ‘Reflections on the -Revolution in France’ (<cite>Select Works</cite>, ed. Payne, <span class='fss'>II.</span> 89).</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f69'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r69'>69</a>. From <cite><span lang="it" xml:lang="it">L’Allegro</span></cite>, 139.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f70'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r70'>70</a>. Birch’s, No. 15 Cornhill. Samuel Birch (1757–1841), the proprietor, was Lord Mayor -1814–15. The shop (now famous for turtle soup) still retains some old features.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f71'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r71'>71</a>. <cite>Othello.</cite> Act <span class='fss'>IV.</span> Scene 2.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f72'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r72'>72</a>. <cite>Hamlet</cite>, Act <span class='fss'>IV.</span> Scene 2.</p> -</div> -<div class='footnote' id='f73'> -<p class='c010'><a href='#r73'>73</a>. Cowper, <cite>The Task</cite> <span class='fss'>III.</span> 113.</p> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c0'> -<div class='nf-center c002'> - <div>Printed by T. and A. <span class='sc'>Constable</span>, (late) Printers to Her Majesty at the Edinburgh University Press</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c004' /> -</div> -<div class='tnotes'> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</h2> -</div> - <ol class='ol_1 c002'> - <li>P. <a href='#t423'>423</a>, changed “as this is a subject which I do not not understand, I must - leave it to the lawyers” to “as this is a subject which I do not understand, I must leave - it to the lawyers”. - - </li> - <li>P. <a href='#t441'>441</a>, changed “rifacciamento” to “<span lang="it" xml:lang="it">rifacimento</span>”. - - </li> - <li>Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling. - - </li> - <li>Retained anachronistic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed. - - </li> - <li>Footnotes have been re-indexed using numbers and collected together at the end of the - last chapter. - </li> - </ol> - -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The collected works of William -Hazlitt, Vol. 03 of 12, by William Hazlitt - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF WILLIAM HAZLITT, VOL 3 *** - -***** This file should be named 60286-h.htm or 60286-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/2/8/60286/ - -Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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