Forest of Arden, and a many merry men with him; and there they live like the old Robin Hood of England; they say many young gentlemen flock to him every day, and fleet the time carelessly, as they did in the golden world." The wide woods are full of deer, and in open places are feeding sheep. Yet in the brakes "hiss green and gilded snakes," whose bite is mortal; and "under the bush's shade a lioness with udders all drawn dry lies couching." Some may think "they have no business there." Yet give they not something of an imaginative" salvage" character-a dimness of peril and fear to the depths of the forest? But it hath, or is believed to have, other and mysterious dwellers. "Duke. Dost thou believe, Orlando,

that the boy

C

do all this that he has promised? Orl. I sometimes do believe, and sometimes not;

As those that fear they hope, and know they fear."

What is it? Why, don't you remember that when Orlando said to the Boy-Rosalind, "I can live no longer by thinking," what was her reply? Oliver was about to be married to Celia, and Orlando disconsolately and bitterly complained

"They shall be married to-morrow; and I will bid the Duke to the nuptial. But O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes! By so much the more shall I tomorrow be at the height of heart-heaviness, by how much I shall think my brother happy, in having what he wishes for.

years old, conversed with a magician, most profound in this art, and yet not damnable. If you do love Rosalind so near the heart as your gesture cries it out, when your brother marries Aliena, shall you marry her:-I know into what straits of fortune she is driven; and it is not impossible to me, if it appear not inconvenient to you, to set her before your eyes tomorrow, human as she is, and without any danger.

Ros. Why then, to-morrow I cannot serve your turn for Rosalind?

Orl. I can live no longer by thinking. Ros. I will weary you no longer then with idle talking. Know of me then, (for

now I speak to some purpose,) that I

know you are a gentleman of good conceit; I speak not this, that you should bear a good opinion of my knowledge, insomuch, I say, I know you are; &c. Believe then, if you please, that I can do strange things: I have, since I was three

Orl. Speakest thou in sober mean. ings?

Ros. By my life, I do; which I tender Therefore, put you in your best array, dearly, though I say I am a magician : bid your friends; for if you will be married to morrow, you shall; and to Rosalind, if you will."

The system of the Revolutionists, in whose steps the Whigs have for two years past been so invariably treading, is to yield every thing to the popular voice; and concede whatever is demanded by a numerical majority of the people. "Testimonia numeranda sunt, non ponderanda," is their principle of government: when once a thing is demanded by a large proportion of the nation, they hold, that it is not only impossible, but inexpedient to withhold it. The errors of policy, the injustice of nations, the tyranny of rulers, they maintain are all owing to the exclusion of the popular voice from the administration of affairs: when once the people have obtained, either directly or indirectly, a sufficient share in the conduct of government, it is impossible that any acts of injustice can be committed. Lord Palmerston openly avowed this doctrine in the House of Commons; for in vindication of the attack on Holland, and the union between France and England, he said, that the other nations of Europe had no

VOL. XXXIII. NO. ĈCVII.

The Conservatives, on the other hand, proceed on the principle that the art of government, like every other difficult or intricate art, is to be learned only by a great exertion of labour and perseverance; that men are not born legislators, any more than they are born lawyers, physicians, or painters, and that not less study and application is required to acquire skill in the one department than the other; that least of all are the great body of the people qualified to form a correct opinion on the subjects of legislation, because they require a minute and extensive acquaintance with many different branches of history, statistics, political economy, and other subjects of abstruse science, which are not to be mastered, even by the greatest intellects, in less than twenty years of unbroken study and industry, for which the mass of the people are totally unfitted; that the opinion of large bodies of mankind on such subjects, therefore, are either utterly crude and unfounded, or the mere echo of the doctrines of the demagogues or journalists, who, for sel

"

20

fish or ambitious purposes, will condescend to flatter their passions; that the influence of the people, or their direct representatives, invaluable as a check upon administration, and an element in the composition of government, is therefore utterly destructive as the ruling power, and as directing the initiative of laws and measures, and consequently that the first and noblest duty of the upright legislator, in periods of turbulence and excitement, is to set himself to counteract the prevailing danger, and, disregarding the obloquy and vehemence of the people, bravely pursue the course which is finally to bless them.

relaxed; impunity is expected for crime, from the aid which has been required from its perpetrators; the noisy supporters of Government at one time, cannot conceive that they are to become the objects of prosecution or punishment at another; and amidst the universal paralysis and anarchy, private offences multiply with frightful rapidity. By one course or another the nation is rapidly brought into the bloody path, which leads through anarchy to military despotism; and even the vehement supporters of popular rights, horrified at the excesses to which the country has become a prey, are compelled tacitly to abandon all their former principles, and, in the attempt to restore order, rivet round its neck chains infinitely more galling than those from which their foolish precipitance strove to set it free.

The career of those statesmen who act on Conservative principles is different. If the resistance which they make to the fervour of innovation, and the encroachments of democracy, is successful, they are overwhelmed for a time with popular odium. The world, it is said, has never beheld such tyrants. Nero and Caligula, Pitt or Castlereagh, are nothing to them; their tyranny has checked the growth of freedom, and established a slavery worse than that of Constantinople. This rhapsody lasts for a time, and for a few months, or even years, the Republican journals are filled with invectives against the bloody tyrants whose deeds have thrown all the efforts of former despotism into the shade. But amidst the fumes of democratic fervour, society regains its natural and orderly state-agitators decline, from the experienced impossibility of succeeding in their projects-capital, secure of protection, resumes its undertakings-industry flourishes under the shadow of a firm and resolute Government-the wicked and audacious, deprived of hope in their desperate career, are gradually either absorbed into the pacific and useful classes, or driven into exile-and amidst the universal clamour of the Revolutionists, prosperity, affluence, and tranquillity generally prevail. With the advent of such prosperous times, the necessity for rigour and sternness on the part of Government

As the first course is as flattering as the last is disagreeable to the ambition and vanity of the lower orders, it may readily be conceived that there is a prodigious difference between the reception in periods of excitement which the two parties receive. The Revolutionists, with their popular adulation, vulgar oratory, and mob excitement, are as popular as the Conservatives, with their caution, distrust, and reserve in regard to all measures of innovation and democracy, are hated. Hence the one is borne forward for a season on the gales of popular favour, and, when in possession of the helm, is for the time irresistible; the other, driven into obloquy and contempt, is anxious to regain the tranquillity of private life, and almost loathes a world, disfigured by so many follies, stained by so many crimes.

But the reign of passion is transient, that of virtue and reason is permanent. The laws of nature are more powerful than the arts of demagogues, or the enthusiasm of the people. After the fervour of democratic triumph is over; after their banners have been displayed in every village, and the light of illumination has shone in every city of the realm, come the sad, sad consequences of popular licentiousness; broken credit, diminished employment, wealth without security, industry without encouragement; a universal sense of danger and disquietude throughout the realm; a painful feeling of impending change or revolutionary convulsion suspending all the vital action of the heart of the empire. The bonds of authority are universally

ceases the precautions suited to the stormy days of democratic ambition, are gradually relaxed-public free dom steals on apace, like the lengthening day in spring, without any one being conscious of the transition -the obnoxious statutes are, one by one, either repealed, or allowed to drop into desuetude-and, before the generation whose vehement excesses had rendered the collision necessary, are all gathered to their fathers, the nation is basking in the full sunshine of secure and tranquil freedom-and the sullen agitators of former days, still rankling under their disappointed hopes, are regarded as political fanatics of the olden time, the fit subject of historical research, or romantic description.

England and France have each of them twice over, during the last forty years, exhibited instances of the truth of these principles. As if the great moral lesson could not be sufficiently impressed upon mankind, and the sophism should for ever be silenced, at least with all men of information, that they are not of universal application, but are true only of an enslaved and empassioned people, the governments of both nations have, within that short period, been twice conducted on directly opposite principles, and, on both occasions, the same truths have been written in indelible characters.

In 1789, France entered with ardent aspirations, amidst universal applause, and shouts of democratic exultation, into the boundless current of innovation. For two years, its leaders, Neckar and Lafayette, were the adored leaders of the multitude, and a long life of honoured power seemed the certain reward of their patriotic exertions. But amidst these democratic transports, soon succeeded the rueful consequences of popular licentiousness. Crime multiplied to such a degree, as almost to obtain impunity. The devastation of the chateaux-the ruin of the fields, drove all the nobles into exile. A body of fierce and insolent leaders were borne forward into the Legislature, on the shoulders of the populace-the monarchy was overthrown-the nobles decimated-the altar destroyed-and, amidst the wreck of society, arose the stern and relentless Committee of Public Safe

ty, by whose iron grasp order was restored, and a bloody yoke imposed upon the people. In four years after the Revolution had commenced, through the vast addition made by Neckar to the power of the Com mons, by the duplication of the Tiers Etat, a despotism the most absolute and relentless on record in modern times, was firmly established; and it continued without interruption through the tyrannical rule of the Directory, and the military sceptre of Napoleon, till the re-establishment of the Bourbons, and the capture of Paris.

England, during that critical time, was governed on different principles, and the result, both in the outset and the termination, was accordingly the very reverse of what had obtained on the other side of the Channel. There were giants then on the earth. Two men of vast capacity, prophetic wisdom, and indomitable resolution, then presided over her councils, who, alike undismayed by the threats, and unseduced by the flattery of the people, steadily pursued the great Conser vative principles, on which alone, in such a crisis, national security can be founded. Mr Pitt and Mr Burke stood forth alone to struggle with democracy where 'twas strongest, and they ruled it when 'twas wild

est.

On them, in consequence, the tempest of democratic ambition fell with almost demoniac fury; their tyranny was represented as more grie vous, their severity more unneces sary, than those of any despots who had ever disgraced the earth. But amidst the howlings of the tempest, they maintained their course unsha ken-the Legislature in the crisis was true to itself, and they held on their glorious way conquering and to con quer. And what was the result? The same which, in every free state and age of the world, has attended the coercion of democratic ambition, by the wisdom of political foresight

the gradual re-establishment of tranquillity and order-the calming of democratic ambition from the hopelessness of its struggles-the growth of industry-the security of capital internal strength-external respect. As the public security was gradually secured, the necessity for the coercive measures, which its interruption had rendered necessary, wäe