the people, rightly or wrongly, conceive to be their interests, its sympathy with their mutable and violent passions, are merely the effects of the particular circumstances in which it is placed. As long as it depends for existence on the public favour, it will employ all the means in its power to conciliate that favour. While this is the case, defects in its constitution are of little consequence. But, as the close union of such a body with the nation is the effect of an identity of interests not essential but accidental, it is in some measure dissolved from the time at which the danger which produced it ceases to exist.

ried on against the Stuarts, it had only | ciples, cannot be popular long after it to check and complain. It has since ceases to be weak. Its zeal for what had to govern. As an attacking body, it could select its points of attack, and it naturally chose those on which it was likely to receive public support. As a ruling body, it has neither the same liberty of choice, nor the same motives to gratify the people. With the power of an executive government, it has drawn to itself some of the vices, and all the unpopularity of an exccutive government. On the House of Commons above all, possessed as it is of the public purse, and consequently of the public sword, the nation throws all the blame of an ill conducted war, of a blundering negotiation, of a disgraceful treaty, of an embarrassing commercial crisis. The delays of the Hence, before the Revolution, the Court of Chancery, the misconduct of question of Parliamentary reform was a judge at Van Diemen's Land, any of very little importance. The friends thing, in short, which in any part of of liberty had no very ardent wish for the administration any person feels as reform. The strongest Tories saw no a grievance, is attributed to the tyranny, objections to it. It is remarkable that or at least to the negligence, of that Clarendon loudly applauds the changes all-powerful body. Private individuals which Cromwell introduced, changes pester it with their wrongs and claims. far stronger than the Whigs of the A merchant appeals to it from the present day would in general approve. Courts of Rio Janeiro or St. Peters- There is no reason to think, however, burgh. A historical painter complains that the reform effected by Cromwell to it that his department of art finds made any great difference in the conno encouragement. Anciently the Par- duct of the Parliament. Indeed, if the liament resembled a member of oppo- House of Commons had, during the sition, from whom no places are ex- reign of Charles the Second, been pected, who is not expected to confer elected by universal suffrage, or if all favours and propose measures, but the seats had been put up to sale, as in merely to watch and censure, and who the French Parliaments, it would, we may, therefore, unless he is grossly in- suspect, have acted very much as it judicious, be popular with the great did. We know how strongly the Parbody of the community. The Parlia-liament of Paris exerted itself in favour ment now resembles the same person of the people on many important occaput into office, surrounded by petitioners whom twenty times his patronage would not satisfy, stunned with complaints, buried in memorials, compelled by the duties of his station to bring forward measures similar to those which he was formerly accustomed to observe and to check, and perpetually encountered by objections similar to those which it was formerly his business to raise.

Perhaps it may be laid down as a general rule that a legislative assembly, not constituted on democratical prin

sions; and the reason is evident. Though it did not emanate from the people, its whole consequence depended on the support of the people.

From the time of the Revolution the House of Commons has been gradually becoming what it now is, a great council of state, containing many members chosen freely by the people, and many others anxious to acquire the favour of the people; but, on the whole, aristocratical in its temper and interest. It is very far from being an illiberal and stupid oligarchy; but it is equally far

nnot be popular long

be weak. Its real in
rightly or wrongly, co
interests, its sympathy
-le and violent passi
Effects of the particul
in which it is placed.
pends for existence a
r, it will employ
power to conciliat
le this is the case,
tion are of little en
as the close uni
ith the nation is the
of interests not ess
it is in some meas
the time at which
produced it ceass

from being an express image of the | the natural aristocracy, the capitalists
general feeling. It is influenced by and the landowners, and by so widening
the opinion of the people, and influ- the base of the government as to in-
enced powerfully, but slowly and cir-
cuitously. Instead of outrunning the
public mind, as before the Revolution
it frequently did, it now follows with
slow steps and at a wide distance. It
is therefore necessarily unpopular; and
the more so because the good which it
produces is much less evident to com-
mon perception than the evil which it
inflicts. It bears the blame of all the
mischief which is done, or supposed to
be done, by its authority or by its con-
nivance. It does not get the credit, on
the other hand, of having prevented
those innumerable abuses which do not
exist solely because the House of Com-
mons exists.

terest in its defence the whole of the
middle class, that brave, honest, and
sound-hearted class, which is as anxious
for the maintenance of order and the
security of property, as it is hostile to
corruption and oppression, succeed in
averting a struggle to which no rational
friend of liberty or of law can look
forward without great apprehensions.
There are those who will be contented
with nothing but demolition; and there
are those who shrink from all repair.
There are innovators who long for a
President and a National Convention;
and there are bigots who, while cities
larger and richer than the capitals of
many great kingdoms are calling out
A large part of the nation is cer- for representatives to watch over their
tainly desirous of a reform in the repre- interests, select some hackneyed jobber
sentative system. How large that part in boroughs, some peer of the narrowest
may be, and how strong its desires on and smallest mind, as the fittest de-
the subject may be, it is difficult to say. positary of a forfeited franchise. Be-
It is only at intervals that the clamour tween these extremes there lies a more.
on the subject is loud and vehement. excellent way. Time is bringing round
But it seems to us that, during the re-another crisis analogous to that which
missions, the feeling gathers strength,
and that every successive burst is more
violent than that which preceded it.
The public attention may be for a time
diverted to the Catholic claims or the
Mercantile code; but it is probable
that at no very distant period, perhaps
in the lifetime of the present generation,
all other questions will merge in that
which is, in a certain degree, connected
with them all.

e the Revolution
iamentary reform
ortance. The f
very ardent wis
Ongest Tories S
It is remarkable:
applauds the cha
Introduced, ch
the Whigs of
in general a
to think, how
Fected by Crom
erence in the
nt. Indeed:

had, during
e Second
suffrage, or i
up to sale
ts, it wou
ery much

rongly the
itself in
mportant
n is er
nate from
ence depe
le
evoluti
en grab

great

and a

occurred in the seventeenth century. We stand in a situation similar to that in which our ancestors stood under the reign of James the First. It will soon again be necessary to reform that we may preserve, to save the fundamental principles of the Constitution by alterations in the subordinate parts. It will then be possible, as it was possible two hundred years ago, to protect vested rights, to secure every useful institution, every institution endeared by antiquity and noble associations, and, at the same time, to introduce into the system improvements harmonizing with the original plan. It remains to be seen whether two hundred years have made us wiser.

Already we seem to ourselves to perceive the signs of unquiet times, the vague presentiment of something great and strange which pervades the community, the restless and turbid hopes of those who have every thing to gain, the dimly hinted forebodings of those who have every thing to lose. Many We know of no great revolution indications might be mentioned, in which might not have been prevented themselves indeed as insignificant as by compromise early and graciously straws; but even the direction of a made. Firmness is a great virtue in straw, to borrow the illustration of Bacon, will show from what quarter the storm is setting in.

A great statesman might, by judicious and timely reformations, by reconciling the two great branches of

public affairs; but it has its proper sphere. Conspiracies and insurrections in which small minorities are engaged, the outbreakings of popular violence unconnected with any extensive project or any durable principle, are best

H

repressed by vigour and decision. To still the very alphabet to learn. He has shrink from them is to make them for- now, we think, done his worst. The midable. But no wise ruler will con- subject which he has at last underfound the pervading taint with the taken to treat is one which demands slight local irritation. No wise ruler all the highest intellectual and moral will treat the deeply seated discon- qualities of a philosophical statesman, tents of a great party, as he treats an understanding at once comprehenthe fury of a mob which destroys mills | sive and acute, a heart at once upright and power-looms. The neglect of this and charitable. Mr. Southey brings to distinction has been fatal even to go- the task two faculties which were never, vernments strong in the power of we believe, vouchsafed in measure so the sword. The present time is indeed copious to any human being, the faculty a time of peace and order. But it is of believing without a reason, and the at such a time that fools are most faculty of hating without a provocation. thoughtless and wise men most thought- It is, indeed, most extraordinary, ful. That the discontents which have that a mind like Mr. Southey's, a mind agitated the country during the late richly endowed in many respects by and the present reign, and which, nature, and highly cultivated by study, though not always noisy, are never a mind which has exercised considerwholly dormant, will again break forth able influence on the most enlightened with aggravated symptoms, is almost generation of the most enlightened as certain as that the tides and seasons people that ever existed, should be will follow their appointed course. utterly destitute of the power of disBut in all movements of the human cerning truth from falsehood. Yet mind which tend to great revolutions such is the fact. Government is to there is a crisis at which moderate con- Mr. Southey one of the fine arts. He cession may amend, conciliate, and judges of a theory, of a public meapreserve. Happy will it be for Eng- sure, of a religion or a political party. land if, at that crisis, her interests be of a peace or a war, as men judge of a confided to men for whom history has picture or a statue, by the effect pronot recorded the long series of human duced on his imagination. A chain of crimes and follies in vain. associations is to him what a chain of reasoning is to other men; and what he calls his opinions are in fact merely his tastes.

SOUTHEY'S COLLOQUIES.
(JAN. 1830.)

Sir Thomas More; or, Colloquies on the
Progress and Prospects of Society. By
ROBERT SOUTHEY, Esq. LL.D., Poet Lau-
reate. 2 vols. 8vo. London: 1829.

Ir would be scarcely possible for a
man of Mr. Southey's talents and ac-
quirements to write two volumes so
large as those before us, which should
be wholly destitute of information and
amusement. Yet we do not remember
to have read with so little satisfaction
any equal quantity of matter, written
by any man of real abilities. We have,
for some time past, observed with great
regret the strange infatuation which
leads the Poet Laureate to abandon
those departments of literature in
which he might excel, and to lecture
the public on sciences of which he has

Part of this description might perhaps apply to a much greater man, Mr. Burke. But Mr. Burke assuredly possessed an understanding admirably fitted for the investigation of truth, an understanding stronger than that of any statesman, active or speculative, of the eighteenth century, stronger than every thing, except his own fierce and ungovernable sensibility. Hence he generally chose his side like a fanatic, and defended it like a philosopher. His conduct on the most important occasions of his life, at the time of the impeachment of Hastings for example, and at the time of the French Revolution, seems to have been prompted by those feelings and motives which Mr. Coleridge has so happily described, "Stormy pity, and the cherish'd lure Of pomp, and proud precipitance of soul."

Hindostan, with its vast cities, its arguments himself. He never troubles gorgeous pagodas, its infinite swarms himself to answer the arguments of his of dusky population, its long-descended opponents. It has never occurred to dynasties, its stately etiquette, excited him, that a man ought to be able to in a mind so capacious, so imagina- give some better account of the way in tive, and so susceptible, the most in- which he has arrived at his opinions tense interest. The peculiarities of the than merely that it is his will and pleacostume, of the manners, and of the sure to hold them. It has never oclaws, the very mystery which hung curred to him that there is a difference over the language and origin of the between assertion and demonstration, people, seized his imagination. To that a rumour does not always prove a plead under the ancient arches of fact, that a single fact, when proved, is Westminster Hall, in the name of the hardly foundation enough for a theory, English people, at the bar of the that two contradictory propositions English nobles, for great nations and cannot be undeniable truths, that to kings separated from him by half the beg the question is not the way to settle world, seemed to him the height of it, or that when an objection is raised, human glory. Again, it is not diffi- it ought to be met with something cult to perceive that his hostility to more convincing than "scoundrel" and the French Revolution principally" blockhead." arose from the vexation which he felt It would be absurd to read the at having all his old political asso- works of such a writer for political inciations disturbed, at seeing the well struction. The utmost that can be known landmarks of states obliterated, expected from any system promulgated and the names and distinctions with by him is that it may be splendid and which the history of Europe had been affecting, that it may suggest sublime filled for ages at once swept away. He and pleasing images. His scheme of felt like an antiquary whose shield had philosophy is a mere day-dream, a been scoured, or a connoisseur who poetical creation, like the Domdaniel found his Titian retouched. But, how-cavern, the Swerga, or Padalon; and ever he came by an opinion, he had indeed it bears no inconsiderable reno sooner got it than he did his best semblance to those gorgeous visions. to make out a legitimate title to it. Like them, it has something of invenHis reason, like a spirit in the service tion, grandeur, and brilliancy. But, of an enchanter, though spell-bound, like them, it is grotesque and extrawas still mighty. It did whatever vagant, and perpetually violates even work his passions and his imagination that conventional probability which might impose. But it did that work, is essential to the effect of works of however arduous, with marvellous dex- art. terity and vigour. His course was not determined by argument; but he could defend the wildest course by arguments more plausible than those by which common men support opinions which they have adopted after the fullest deliberation. Reason has scarcely ever displayed, even in those well constituted minds of which she occupies the throne, so much power and energy as in the lowest offices of that imperial servitude.

Now in the mind of Mr. Southey reason has no place at all, as either leader or follower, as either sovereign or slave. He does not seem to know what an argument is. He never uses

The warmest admirers of Mr. Southey will scarcely, we think, deny that his success has almost always borne an inverse proportion to the degree in which his undertakings have required a logical head. His poems, taken in the mass, stand far higher than his prose works. His official Odes indeed, among which the Vision of Judgement must be classed, are, for the most part, worse than Pye's and as bad as Cibber's; nor do we think him generally happy in short pieces. But his longer poems, though full of faults, are nevertheless very extraordinary productions. We doubt greatly whether they will be read fifty years hence; but that, if they

are read, they will be admired, we have no doubt whatever.

But, though in general we prefer Mr. Southey's poetry to his prose, we must make one exception. The Life of Nelson is, beyond all doubt, the most perfect and the most delightful of his works. The fact is, as his poems most abundantly prove, that he is by no means so skilful in designing as in filling up. It was therefore an advantage to him to be furnished with an outline of characters and events, and to have no other task to perform than that of touching the cold sketch into life. No writer, perhaps, ever lived, whose talents so precisely qualified him to write the history of the great naval warrior. There were no fine riddles of the human heart to read, no theories to propound, no hidden causes to develope, no remote consequences to predict. The character of the hero lay on the surface. The exploits were brilliant and picturesque. The necessity of adhering to the real course of events saved Mr. Southey from those faults which deform the original plan of almost every one of his poems, and which even his innumerable beauties of detail scarcely redeem. The subject did not require the exercise of those reasoning powers the want of which is the blemish of his prose. It would not be easy to find, in all literary history, an instance of a more exact hit between wind and water. John Wesley and the Peninsular War were subjects of a very different kind, subjects which required all the qualities of a philosophic historian. In Mr. Southey's works on these subjects, he has, on the whole, failed. Yet there are charming specimens of the art of narration in both of them. The Life of Wesley will probably live. Defective as it is, it contains the only popular account of a most remarkable moral revolution, and of a man whose eloquence and logical acuteness might have made him eminent in literature, whose genius for government was not inferior to that of Richelieu, and who, whatever his errors may have been, devoted all his powers, in defiance of obloquy and derision, to what he sincerely considered as the highest good

of his species. The History of the Peninsular War is already dead; indeed, the second volume was deadborn. The glory of producing an imperishable record of that great conflict seems to be reserved for Colonel Napier.

The Book of the Church contains some stories very prettily told. The rest is mere rubbish. The adventure was manifestly one which could be achieved only by a profound thinker, and one in which even a profound thinker might have failed, unless his passions had been kept under strict control. But in all those works in which Mr. Southey has completely abandoned narration, and has undertaken to argue moral and political questions, his failure has been complete and ignominious. On such occasions his writings are rescued from utter contempt and derision solely by the beauty and purity of the English. We find, we confess, so great a charm in Mr. Southey's style that, even when he writes nonsense, we generally read it with pleasure, except indeed when he tries to be droll. A more insufferable jester never existed. often attempts to be humorous, and yet we do not remember a single occasion on which he has succeeded farther than to be quaintly and flippantly dull. In one of his works he tells us that Bishop Spratt was very properly so called, inasmuch as he was a very small poet. And in the book now before us he cannot quote Francis Bugg, the renegade Quaker, without a remark on his unsavoury name. wise man might talk folly like this by his own fireside; but that any human being, after having made such a joke, should write it down, and copy it out, and transmit it to the printer, and correct the proof-sheets, and send it forth into the world, is enough to make us ashamed of our species.

He very

A

The extraordinary bitterness of spirit which Mr. Southey manifests towards his opponents is, no doubt, in a great measure to be attributed to the manner in which he forms his opinions. Differences of taste, it has often been remarked, produce greater exasperation than differences on points of science.