prize of her citizens, afford scope for improvement, to which it would be presumptuous to set almost any limit. Having made these observations on the subject of the national distress, we come to those equally unwelcome reflections inspired by its action upon the public mind. Yet, though this has certainly been powerful, it were too much to ascribe to it alone that blaze of popular discontent, which has been so remarkable during these recent years. It was prepared at least by some more secret principles in the structure of society. There is a flux and reflux in human affairs and feelings. Frail mortals, once involved in the political vortex, seem unable to take any steady or moderate view of a subject, and are perpetually tossed between opposite extremes. That blind and daring spirit of innovation, which was generated by the first spread of the revolutionary system, gradually gave place to the reign of anti-jacobinism; a system of bigotry hostile alike to the freedom of thought and action; which treated as sedition every doubt as to the expediency of every measure of the existing administration, and which sought to give to the established church an almost popish sway over the consciences of men. Men gradually grew sick of this, and events occurred which obtained for the proscribed name of liberty a reception even in courtly circles. The undisguised despotism established in France, the combined independence and loyalty in the efforts of the Spanish people, had equally this tendency. So far all was well; but it had been too much to hope, that men should stop here. The tide, once set in on the popular side, flowed with a continually increasing current, till at length all the landmarks of reason and experience began to give way. Other circumstances, almost new in the history of the world, gave it ad

ditional force. The habits of reading, and the productions of the press, have been diffused in an unprecedented degree among all classes; while the extended facilities of travelling and communication have conveyed the habits of metropolitan society to the remotest districts. Noble causes! from which, we fear, some unhappy effects have arisen. The first and favourite use which the multitude have made of these benefits, consists in the habit of inquiring after news, and of reasoning and judging on public concerns. This is a natural habit, and which we should be slow to condemn. The human mind justly seeks to extend its sphere of existence beyond those narrow local limits which originally enclose it. The man, who feels sympathy and interest in the welfare of a large portion of his species, is a being of a higher order, than he who is wholly absorbed in his private concerns and connections. Yet it so happens, that even in minds not wholly uncultivated, we do not always observe what is called politics to have the most improving effects on the temper and disposition. Too often does it appear rather as an arena for the display of all the most furious and malignant passions which can agitate human nature. If these are its effects, even on not uninformed minds; with the vulgar, politics are little more than a continued system of abuse and invective against those who happen to be the objects of their enmity.

A democratic body forms perhaps a necessary, and even, within certain limits, not a hurtful element in a mixed constitution. Ever since the origin of popular government in England, a number of persons may be observed, eager for change, and not scrupulous as to the means of effecting it. Hitherto, however, unless upon extraordinary occasions, this body remained drawn up behind the regular parlia

of others of more congenial character. This state of affairs was soon espied by some who had eagerly driven the trade of anti-jacobinism while it continued profitable, but who now, seeing the best customers gone to the other side, resolved to go along with them. It is a mistake to suppose that there is any serious danger attendant on such a transition. The multitude, always wholly engrossed with the present object of their enthusiasm, forget and forgive all things to those who will humour them in it. The experi ment, therefore, was completely successful; and its proceeds were such as soon to call up rivals, who vied with each other in that coarse ribaldry, exaggerated invective, and extravagant promises from a total change of all things, which were calculated to recommend their lucubrations to the reading multitude. The vastly angmented number of political students afforded an ample and immediate reward to popularity, and under this impulse there was certainly produced no inconsiderable portion of that homely and declamatory eloquence, which suited the object and the readers. In running the race of popularity, it was soon found the most expedient course to proceed the utmost length which was consistent with keeping on the outside of a prison wall. It is true, that in performing their rounds continually so close to these ever patent gates, it was not always possible to avoid being attracted inwards. An extensive circulation, however, could pay for a fine and a few months imprisonment, not to mention the increase of popularity derived from this temporary martyrdom. Works conducted on such principles, and becoming the popular creed in every part of the kingdom, could not fail to produce a spirit which, when inflamed by public distress, must be dangerous to the public tranquillity.

mentary whigs, aiding, by its impulse, to push them forward, while they in return modified and repressed those irregular movements to which it was prone. If ever any of those troops made too rash an advance, the whig chiefs employed themselves in a friend ly manner, first in recalling them to their natural place, and then in throw ing a protecting shield over any excesses into which they might have been hurried. This alliance, after having subsisted so long with the greatest mutual benefit, was suddenly dissolved. The event took place unexpectedly, and during a period of the greatest seeming prosperity. We allude to the apparently secure, though really so short, possession of power by the Whig party after the demise of Mr Pitt. It was alleged that they had shewn a very peculiar alacrity in tasting the sweets of office; that in seeking to satisfy their numerous retainers, they had adopted measures savouring still less of economy than those which they had so loudly reprobated in their predecessors; finally, that of all these mighty changes which, with or without reason, their popular adherents had confidently anticipated, scarcely one had been even mentioned. So long, however, as Fox survived, his amenity, address, and long established influence, warded off an open rupture. After him, the supremacy came into the hands of Lords Grey and Grenville, men of aristocratic habits, of high and proud honour, and wholly incapable of brook ing the coarse reproaches with which they were assailed by this class of quondam associates. The popular chiefs at length declared open war against every thing that bore the name of Whig, and loudly avowed a predilection for ministers themselves, as open enemies, rather than for these false and treacherous friends. The people, having thus quitted the guides in whom they had long trusted, were open to the action

The democratic spirit which has for some time past been so strong in this country, though probably a revival of that excited during the early periods of the French revolution, does not present itself altogether under the same features. It is of a ruder character, and not illumined by those lights of fancy and philosophy, which threw a lustre over those daring chimeras. In return, its pretensions are not carried quite to so extravagant a length. Those early apostles treated with disdain the panegyrics lavished for so many ages upon the British constitution, as the most perfect instrument by which any society had yet been governed. They demanded that it, equally with every other, should be thrown aside, and be succeeded by an ideal system, founded on the supposed inherent "Rights of Man." The events of the last twenty years have broken the spell of these visionary systems. The British constitution also having become more than ever, and to all the nations of Europe, the object of enthusiastic admiration, and of eagerly practised or desired imitation, it seemed scarcely possible to deny that it possessed some kind of excellence. It was only contended, that this was past; that from the glorious liberty enjoyed by our ancestors, we had sunk into the most cruel and shameful bondage; that all the rights for which they bled, had been successively wrested from us; that the legislative assemblies were become mere tools of the crown; and that to restore that, which could justly be called the British constitution, would require a change nearly as total as the ideal one proposed by the early revolutionists. This system of opinion is deserving of the greater consideration, since the general principle, that the crown has gained and is gaining, is very generally held even by moderate whigs, and not unfrequently admitted by moderate tories. Hume, who ranks pretty

high in this latter list, does not hesitate to express his belief of a change in favour of the crown. Yet, after bestowing a good deal of consideration upon this question, we hesitate not to assert, that the influence of the crown has diminished, is diminishing, and (we do not say ought to be increased, but) certainly stands in no need of any artificial means to effect its farther diminution.

In the frequent references made to rights once enjoyed by Britons, and now wrested from them, it is extremely difficult to determine what is the golden era alluded to. No one assu redly, who has the least tincture of history, can look back for it to the feudal ages, when the body of the people, as in Russia at present, were bondsmen attached to the glebe, and sold on the ground like cattle; when there was not a House of Commons in existence; and when the barons, who alone enjoyed independence, were more disposed to carry on discussions with their sovereign, sword in hand at the head of their vassals, than to confine his power within legal or parliamentary limits;-or under the Tudors, the most popular, but at the same time the most arbitary monarchs that ever swayed the English sceptre ; and who scarcely viewed parliament otherwise than as a council, whose advice they were bound to follow only in so far as to themselves appeared perfectly agreeable. The Tudors broke the powers of the nobles; so far they did well, and, quite unconsciously to themselves, laid the foundation for the future rise of the popular power; but the efforts which that branch faintly and timidly made to rear its head, were resented and crushed as acts of unheard-of audacity. As little will this bright era be sought under the first Stuarts, when the claim of divine right and unlimited power in the sovereign, now carried higher than ever, came into

open collision with the matured energies of the Commons. The former, however, unless by short intervals, kept the field, till the long pent-up stream of popular power burst its barriers, and swept all before it. After sweeping away the crown, it was itself carried down in the tide of its own raising; and all the consitutional members of the state were sunk for a time beneath the waves of military despotism. Still less will any Whig refer to the second Stuarts, whose sway was marked by so many outrages on the rights and lives of the subject, and whose career of arbitrary power was only interrupted by some transient paroxysm of popular frenzy. The only period then, upon which any rational man can fix as the golden age of England's liberty, is that which elapsed from the Revolution to the commencement of the reign of George II., or rather of the ministry of Sir Robert Walpole. If then it can be proved that the British constitution, during that very era, was not so free as at this moment, the age of lost liberty, so continually invoked, will plainly prove to be a perfect chimera. We shall not enter into any abstruse reasonings upon the subject, but shall merely state a few plain facts, drawn from no very recondite sources, which must, we think, convince every one who is not predetermined to believe otherwise.

Of all the exercises of power by which Parliament can display its independence and supremacy, the highest seems to be,that of compelling the crown to change its ministers; and any period in which this power has been most frequently exercised, bears, beyond any other, the stamp of liberty. Now, the fact is, that no one instance occurred, from the Revolution, till the case of Sir Robert Walpole the very man under whom the constitution is asserted to have first declined from its original purity. Prior to this time, there was not

even the idea of such a power as appertaining to parliament. King Wil liam, indeed, sometimes made partial changes, with the view of conciliating that assembly, and smoothing the way to his grand system of continental war; but however odious some of his counsellors might be, no attempts were made by Parliament to effect their dismissal. Towards the end of the reign of Queen Anne, although the whig ministry became very unpopular by continuing the war after all its objects were attained, they were removed, not by any interference of parliament, but solely through the Duchess of Marlborough being supplanted by Mrs Masham in the favour of the Queen. Two years after, George I. succeeded, when the whigs were restored to power, in consequence of the sole determination of the king. Presently Oxford and Bolingbroke, who just before commanded great majorities, and held their adversaries close shut up in the Tower, were obliged to fly the kingdom, in order to save their heads. It was to George I.'s mistresses, and George II's queen, not to parliament, that statesmen looked for promotion. After the memorable example of Walpole, this high controul of royal prerogative remained dormant for thirty years, when it was again exercised against Lord North; and these two formed the only decided instance of its exercise during the century. Now, in the course of the last twenty years, parliament have dismissed one whole ministry, (the Adding tons)-one half ministry, (for we cannot consider Lord Melville as holding less than that proportion)-and they have half-impeached a prince of the blood; and all this in the heart of a war, represented as tending to carry the royal influence to the most alarming height. It does not seem extravagant to say, that these stretches of parliamentary power, fairly equal all those put together made from the Revolu

tion, down to the commencement of a war represented as involving the downfall of British liberty.

At the Revolution, we find the crown in full possession of that Veto which the constitution professes to bestow; it was exercised by William on several most important occasions. This prerogative is annihilated. The royal as sent is universally regarded as a mere form, which must be affixed to any bill that has passed the ordeal of the two Houses. Under George I. it was understood that the bulk of the nation, and particularly of the landed interest, were tories; not such tories as we now see, but old genuine tories-inveterate sticklers to the doctrines of divine right, passive obedience, and non-resistance-doctrines which, during the height of the reign of antijacobinism, a faint attempt was made to revive, but which seem now consigned for ever to oblivion. In our days, the loyalty even of the most loyal, is a very cool and deliberate sentiment. The high tory by principle, is merely a great lover of peace and good order; an instinctive foe to all tumult and disturbance; one who wishes to enjoy tranquilly the good things of this life; and who dreads, in every innovation, a tendency to subvert the established order of good things. These are cold sentiments, compared to the emotions of enthusiastic loyalty with which our fathers were animated; and being opposed to the greatly increased force of the popular spirit, must necessarily produce a state of the public mind unfavourable to the increase, or even maintenance of the monarchical power. The action of this spirit seems,

notwithstanding all the clamours to the contrary, to be exemplified in the comparative amount of the civil list; which, doubtless, must always have been a favourite object with the prince. In the reign of William, it was fixed by parliament at 700,000l., a sum which would be rated very low by considering it equal to two millions of our present money. The present civil list is only 1,028,0001., a nominal increase so small, as to be a great virtual diminution. The salary of the office of king has, therefore, not been augmented in proportion to almost any other salary, much less to the remarkable increase both in the landed and monied incomes throughout the nation.

In proportion to the decline of the ancient veneration for the person and authority of the sovereign, has been the increase of tenderness and regard for the people, of the want of which they complain so bitterly. It appears almost miraculous, when we consider the immense amount of taxes imposed under the Pitt administration, how very few affect the necessaries of life. Even these few were taxed previous to the late war; and the most important one, that on salt, existed already in the reign of King William. Holland, formerly indeed reckoned the most heavily burdened country in Europe, but which has now fully yielded to us that sad preeminence, though a republic, had taxes imposed on bread and on butcher meat, the two first necessaries of life. How would the honest labourer of the present day relish the revival of the taxes imposed in 1695, for the support of King William's wars? At that time, all who received wages of from four to