holders, and the proprietors of every description. If the borough electors are to be swayed by nothing but their inclinations, independent of the sway of property, the great majority of them will return a revolutionary parliament as certainly as a stone will fall to the ground. The law of gravitation is not more fixed or universal than the democratic tendency of all such bodies of men.

It is in vain to say, that the interests of the electors will induce them to pause before they return a parliament inclined to support such extreme measures. Did not the elec tors of France, the moment they obtained vote by ballot and an extended representation, return the Convention which brought the king to the scaffold, consigned 200,000 captives to the revolutionary dungeons, and supported the unspeakable horrors of the Reign of Terror? Do not the American electors, who vote by ballot, return a set of men, so slavishly bound to their separate interests, that no man of independence or fortune will submit to the degradation; and that they are actually obliged to pay their Deputies at Congress a salary to enable them to bear their expenses? Have not the Americans, in consequence, been driven by separate interests into a set of illiberal commercial measures, utterly ruinous to the best interests of the state? And what do these examples prove, but that the lower orders, voting for themselves by secret ballot, are alternately swayed by their immediate interests and their sanguinary passions; destroying, at one time, their whole superiors to gratify their revenge or quiet their fears; and drying up, at another, the real sources of national prosperity to forward the local interests of the prevailing faction ?

If, therefore, the matter came to a choice of evils, it would be incomparably better to have corruption at elections, and preserve the Constitution, than to get quit of it by vote by ballot, and bring on a revolution. It is no doubt a degrading thing to see the people of a great town openly and avowedly swayed by mercenary motives; but it is a thousand times better than to see a whole nation overwhelmed by a democratic convulsion. If the passions of the peo

ple are to be the moving principle of Government, we would rather it was their passion for gold than their passion for blood. If a revolting spectacle must be exhibited, it is better to see drunken manufacturers spending their bribes at the alehouse, than millions of industrious men writhing under the agonies of famine, as they are now doing in Flanders, from the insane passions of demagogues.

But the truth is, that the vote by ballot would not extinguish corruption. Human ingenuity is too strong for any such precautions; the thirst for gold too powerful to be checked by any possible devices. In a country such as Britain, where such mighty interests are at stake in the Government, where men of fortune have such powerful motives for entering the Legislature, wealth will always be exerted to command a place, till it is utterly swept away by a revolution. In one obvious way bribery may be continued in spite of the ballot. A whole borough may be purchased, as the Prætorian Guards of old, by a promised gratuity to every man, in the event of a particular candidate being successful. One candidate lets it be understood that, in the event of his being returned, he will give L.20 to every elector; another goes as high as L.30. The electors lay their heads together, as the Roman prætorians, and see weighty and sufficient reasons for preferring the L.30 candidate. The election takes place by ballot-the L.30 candidate is elected-and each elector gets that sum. No money is paid till the return is made, and the election unchallengeable; the candidate incurs no expense till his object is gained, and every thing goes smoothly on. At a recent election in England, it is said, this plan was adopted, and that every elector pocketed L.13, 14s. on a subsequent division of the spoil. Against this species of bribery, the ballot is no sort of protection; and that it will be adopted, if that fatal measure is carried, is as certain as that the passion for gold will then actuate mankind, if not suspended by the passion for power.

Thus the introduction of vote by ballot will unnecessarily and gratuitously do mischief. The baser passions will love the shelter of a hidden act; multitudes, who are shamed into

an upright vote by the prospect of exposure, will yield to the unseen temptation of mending their fortune. Bribery will be applied to the whole mass of the citizens; and independence, unable to stem the torrent, and deprived of the public reward of virtue, will, in hopeless resignation, yield to the baser motive. Corruption will be increased, because the multitudes who share it will at once diminish responsibility, and extinguish shame; and the safeguards, both of private virtue and public security, irrecoverably destroyed, for no other purpose but to afford concealment to venality and accelerate the march of revolution.

As the Constitution now stands, every interest is substantially represented. The agricultural interest send forth the county members,-men, in general, of ancient and respectable descent,-whose personal or family influence goes much beyond the numerical strength of their votes. The manufacturers, besides the cities which they actually command, purchase numbers of the aristocratic boroughs; and the most strenuous supporters of their interests are to be found in the representatives of the Cornish and Scottish freeholders. Nobody can maintain that their interests, at least, are not fully attended to in Parliament. The aristocratic party are represented by such of the close boroughs as are not sold to the mercantile or manufacturing interest; the radicals, by the members for the populous cities. Young men of talent, from the bar, or connected with the old families, are selected to support the different parties in Parliament, and thus obtain an entrance into the Legislature, which they could not obtain under any other system. In this way the aristocratic, the commercial, and the democratic parties are blended to gether; and each body obtain, by the purchase of boroughs or the members returned in their interest, an adequate share in the Legislature.

Who can ensure that, under the reformed or more democratical constitution which is proposed, the same, or any balance at all, will be maintained? How are young men of talent, such as Mr Canning, Mr Brougham, Mr Sheridan, or Mr Pitt, to obtain seats under the new sys

tem? They will be entirely excluded; for talent, unless actuated by the basest motives, will never submit to the degradation necessarily imposed upon the candidates for favour from a corruptible mob. In America, they have long since been utterly excluded from Congress; and their debates are conducted by a mere band of pensioned delegates, compelled to maintain the separate and rival interests of the bodies by whom they have been elected.

No delusion can be more dangerous, than that reform may be safely conceded if it does not go too far. It might as well be said, that the outworks of a fortification might safely be abandoned if the rampart is maintained. The democratic party are insatiable. They never will be satisfied till republican institutions prevail; and how can they exist with a national debt of L.28,000,000 yearly, with great estates and a titled nobility? Let the example of Ireland prove a warning, where every concession has been immediately followed by increased demands; and the country never was so near revolt as after the great tranquillizing measure which was held out as the only means of pacifying it. Let the example of France prove a warning, where reform, amelioration, and concession, were the harbingers of revolution; where the nobility, after voluntarily surrendering all their privileges, were rewarded by confiscation, banishment, and proscription; and the King, whose whole life had been an incessant series of concessions, was at length brought to an ignominious death. It is the nature of sudden concession to produce such fatal effects, because it excites the passions and awakens the hopes of a revolution.

The early friends of reform, the greatest statesmen of England, checked the cry of innovation, when it was excited, not by the experienced wants of their country, but the influence of foreign example. Mr Burke and Mr Pitt, who both supported it in early life, became its strongest enemies when the French Revolution had proved its consequences and spread its contagion. Nothing can be so absurd, as to accuse them of inconsistency for so doing. Tempora mutantur, et nos mutamur in illis.

-The statesman must adapt his measures to the temper of the times, and not look for the sun all day in the east, because it once rose there in the morning.

Does the present state of society afford no reasons for similar caution? Is this the time to select for a sudden and portentous change in the Constitution, when the minds of men have been so strongly excited by the events in the neighbouring kingdom, where the revolutionary fever has again broke out, and the reckless and desperate in every country are roused from inactivity by the extraordinary success of the French convulsion? Changes which might be safely introduced in ordinary periods, become to the last degree perilous when following such an example.

Does the present state of France or Belgium afford any argument for an extension of the democratic spirit by enlarging the elective franchise in England? Look at the public securities of those countries. The French three per cents, which were at 87 in June, are now at 62. Two-thirds of the mercantile houses of Paris have become bankrupt; the misery pervading its dense population has been unequalled since the days of Robespierre. How are the government proposing to draw off the excited spirits, and employ the destitute workmen, of their country? By plunging in foreign wars, and leading the republican legions again into the career of European conquest. Such is the natural career of revolutions; convulsion produces misery, and misery goads on to war. War, in its turn, restores order, and liberty perishes in the conflagration she has raised. With this terrible prospect before our eyes, is there no warning to the legislators of Britain to beware; to leave any, even the smallest changes, to peaceable times, and cling the more steadily to the ark of the Constitution, that it is assailed by the winds and buffeted by the waves? The duty of the nobles and commons of England in this emergency is sufficiently evident. Let them firmly resist the clamour for innovation; let them disregard the threats of revolt; let them rally round the conservative party. A little longer,

VOL. XXIX. NO. CLXXVIII.

and it may be too late. One reforming measure carried, and the democratic party are intrenched in the Legislature, never again to be shaken. Their fortunes, their lives, the salvation of their country, are at stake. There is no evading the danger but by steady and determined resistance. But to be able to face it, the fatal divisions of former times must be forgotten. They have brought the country, by their disunion, to the brink of ruin. Every man must be at his post; unbroken union among the friends of the Constitution is indispensable to save it from farther inroads.

And steady and determined resistance will most certainly save the Constitution. The excitement of the moment must subside if it is not kept alive by the prospect of victory. With such a prospect it never will be extinguished. Yield any thing, and no eye can foresee a termination to the convulsion; hold by the Constitution, and their speedy termination is at hand. Let the House of Commons pass one decided vote on the question, and the danger is at an end.

Revolt is never dangerous in any country but when it is headed by a large portion of the higher ranks; least of all is such a catastrophe to be dreaded but from such a beginning in this country. There has never been a revolution in England which was not headed by the House of Commons s; never a formidable insurrection but such as was led by the nobility. Revolution will never begin but with measures adopted by the Legislature. The conflagrations of the peasantry are nowise formidable; mere physical strength, unsupported by moral influence, is speedily checked. It is the conflagration springing from rash measures of reform which is to be dreaded; it is the words spoken from authority that set the world on fire. Steadily resisting all such projects, let the British Legislature set themselves, not to "disturb the peace of all the world," but " to rule it when 'tis wildest;" let them attend only to the real evils of the country, and disregard the visionary projects for a novel distribution of its powers; let them investigate the condition of

2 F

its poor, soften the severity of its laws, widen the channels of its industry. By so doing, they may not gain the applause of the multitude; they may not be the idols of the populace one day, to become their victims the next; but they will command the esteem of the enlightened,

and secure the admiration of the good; and when the madness of the people has passed away, when the spectre of discord has sunk, they will be venerated by the reformers themselves, not less for what they have refused than for what they have bestowed.

MENENIUS sat in the lonely hut which had been appointed for his dwelling, and while the shadows of night fell like the darkening hues of time, as they come deeper and deeper upon the brightness of our youth, hope waxed faint in his heart, and dim despondency spread like twilight over his mind. Alone, in the midst of a wild and barbarous land, the depths of whose obscure forest were probably unknown even to the fierce monarch whose sway they owned, how could he, unfriended, unaided, dream that he would ever discover that lost jewel, which had been torn from the coronet of his happiness? Never! never! never! to behold her again! To journey through a weary life, and fall into the chill, solitary tomb, without the blessed light of those dear eyes which had been the starlike lamps of his existence-to dwell for ever in ignorance of her fate, while his fancy, like the damned in Hades, could find nothing but the bitter food of horror and despair-Such was his destiny.

"Attila the king!" exclaimed aloud voice, as he pondered, and Menenius stood face to face with the Monarch of the North, while the_light of the pinewood torch glared red upon the dark features of the Scythian, and gave to those grim and powerful lines a sterner character and fiercer shade. His voice was gentle, however; and, seating himself on the couch, he spoke with words which had in them the tone of unshared, undisputed, unlimited authority, but elevated by the consciousness of mental greatness, and tempered by admiration and esteem.

"Chief of Azimantium," said the Hun, "while the slaves of a vain

and treacherous king wait long ere they are permitted to breathe the same air with Attila, the king of nations disdains not to visit the leader of the brave. Mark me, thou chief of the last free sons of Greece! The sword of thy country is broken-the sceptre of thine emperors passed away. The seed is gathered which shall sow grass in the palaces of kings-the clouds are collected which shall water the harvest of desolation. Greek, I boast not of my victoriesit sufficeth Attila to conquer. But calmly, reasonably measure thy people against mine, and think whether the small band of Azimantians, were they all inspired by the God of battles with courage like thine own, could save the whole of degenerate Greece from the innumerable and warrior people of the north. What

what can Azimantium do, all unsupported, against a world?"

Each son of Azimantium," replied Menenius, can offer up a hecatomb of Scythian strangers, and give his soul to heaven upon the wings of victory. This will Azimantium-and then-perish Greece !" A shadow passed across the monarch's brow.

"Be not too proud," he said, "be not too proud! A better fate may yet befall thy city and thy land. So well does Attila love Azimantium, that he claims her as his own from the Greek emperor; and to win her citizens to willingness, he offers his daughter-his loved-his lovely daughter to her chief. Pause!" he added, seeing the quivering of Menenius' lip; "pause and think! Reply not! but remember that thus may Greece be saved-that the safety or destruction of thy land is upon thy tongue. Pause, and let the sun rise

twice upon answer.

the meditation of thine

Thus spoke the monarch, and in a moment after, the Azimantine chief was once more left to solitude. Deep and bitter was the smile of contempt that curled the lip of Menenius; for in the proud glory of his own heart, he forgot how low Greece had fallen amongst the people of the earth, and in the imperishable memory of his love, the mention of another bride was but as the raving of insanity. "I-I-Menenius of Azimantium -Iwed the daughter of the barbarian! I become a subject of the Hun! -I forget Honoria !"

Another day went down, and Menenius, with the Grecian ambassador, was seated in the halls of Attila, at the banquet which the proud monarch gave at once to the envoys of the Eastern and Western empire. On a raised platform in the midst of the hall was the couch and table of Attila, covered with fine linen and precious stuffs, while fifty small tables on either side were spread out for the guests invited to the royal feast. An open space was before the board of the monarch, and behind him the hall was filled with a dark fantastic crowd of guards, and attendants, and barbarian slaves. On the same couch with Attila sat his daughter Iërnë,-that beautiful daughter whom Menenius had beheld at the dwelling of Bleda's widow; and as the Azimantine chief passed by, and poured the required libation to "Attila the Brave," the maiden's eyes fixed motionless on the ground, and the blood rose fast into her cheek, like the red morning sun rising up into the pale twilight sky. Menenius passed on unchanged and cold, and took his place with Maximin, the ambassador of Theodosius.

The fare of Attila was plain and rude, but the tables of his guests were spread with all that the fearful luxury of Rome itself could have culled from earth and sea. Ere long the cupbearer filled the golden goblet, and the monarch, rising from his couch, drank to Berec, the bravest of the Huns. Again, after a pause, he rose, but the cup was given him by his daughter, and Attilă drank to Menenius, the bravest of the Greeks! Quick and sparkling flowed the mead, and then an old grey man poured to

the wild chords of a barbaric lyre, a song of triumph and of battles, while at every close he proclaimed Attila's bridal day. At length a bright troop of young and happy maidens led in, surrounded by their linked arms, three brighter than themselves, from whom the Monarch of the North was about to choose a new partner for his mighty throne. Their faces were veiled; but through the long white robes that clothed them shone out that radiant light of grace and beauty which nothing can conceal. Slowly, and as if reluctant, they were brought into the monarch's presence.

* *

Why quivered the lip of Menenius? Why strained his eye upon that first veiled figure? The veil is gone!-To him! To him she stretches forth her hands!-The table and banquet is dashed to atoms at his feet, and Honoria is in Menenius'

arms.

A thousand swords sprang from their sheaths-a thousand javelins quivered round the hall. Traitor! Madman! Sacrilegious slave! was shouted in a thousand fierce voices, and a thousand barbarous tongues. But unquailing in the midst stood the Azimantine chief-his left arm round the beating heart of his young bride-his right, armed with that sword which had bowed many a hero to the dust, raised appealing to the Scythian king. "Monarch of the Huns," he cried, "this is the captive I have come to seek. As you are a man-as you are a warrior-as you are a king! By your oath-by your honour-by your justice! yield her to me, her promised husband, and put us safely off your land. Then if of all these brave and mighty men," he added with a frown, "who draw the sword against a single Greek, there be but ten who will meet me brow to brow in the battle plain, I will write it in their blood that I am neither slave nor traitor, but a bold man, who dares to claim and to defend his own!"

Fierce wrath, stern revenge, majestic admiration, had swept over the countenance of Attila, like the broken masses of a rent thundercloud hurled over the sky by the succeeding blast. "Hold!" he cried; "Warriors! put up your swords. Chief of Azimantium! you rob me of a bride; but if this be the captive you have come to seek, Attila's word