to doubt whether the labouring classes of a peculiar description was produced here really suffer greater physical dis-by the hard fare of the year. Dead tress than the labouring classes of the bodies were found on the roads and in most flourishing countries of the Continent.

the fields. A single surgeon dissected six of these, and found the stomach shrunk, and filled with the unwholesome aliments which hunger had driven men to share with beasts. Such extremity of distress as this is never heard of in England, or even in Ireland. We are, on the whole, inclined to think, though we would speak with diffidence on a point on which it would be rash to pronounce a positive judgment with

gation than we have bestowed upon it, that the labouring classes of this island, though they have their grievances and distresses, some produced by their own improvidence, some by the errors of their rulers, are on the whole better off

It will scarcely be maintained that the lazzaroni who sleep under the porticoes of Naples, or the beggars who besiege the convents of Spain, are in a happier situation than the English commonalty. The distress which has lately been experienced in the northern part of Germany, one of the best governed and most prosperous regions of Europe, surpasses, if we have been correctly in-out a much longer and closer investiformed, any thing which has of late years been known among us. In Norway and Sweden the peasantry are constantly compelled to mix bark with their bread; and even this expedient has not always preserved whole families and neighbourhoods from perishing as to physical comforts than the intogether of famine. An experiment habitants of any equally extensive dishas lately been tried in the kingdom of trict of the old world. For this very the Netherlands, which has been cited reason, suffering is more acutely felt to prove the possibility of establishing and more loudly bewailed here than agricultural colonies on the waste lands elsewhere. We must take into the acof England, but which proves to our count the liberty of discussion, and the minds nothing so clearly as this, that strong interest which the opponents of the rate of subsistence to which the a ministry always have to exaggerate labouring classes are reduced in the the extent of the public disasters. Netherlands is miserably low, and very There are countries in which the peofar inferior to that of the English pau- ple quietly endure distress that here pers. No distress which the people would shake the foundations of the here have endured for centuries ap-state, countries in which the inhabitproaches to that which has been felt by ants of a whole province turn out to the French in our own time. The beginning of the year 1817 was a time of great distress in this island. But the state of the lowest classes here was luxury compared with that of the people of France. We find in Magendie's "Journal de Physiologie Expérimentale" a paper on a point of physiology connected with the distress of that season. It appears that the inhabitants of six departments, Aix, Jura, Doubs, Haute Saone, Vosges, and Saone-etLoire, were reduced first to oatmeal and potatoes, and at last to nettles, bean-stalks, and other kinds of herbage fit only for cattle; that when the next harvest enabled them to eat barleybread, many of them died from intemperate indulgence in what they thought an exquisite repast; and that a dropsy

eat grass with less clamour than one Spitalfields weaver would make here, if the overseers were to put him on barley-bread. In those new commonwealths in which a civilised population has at its command a boundless extent of the richest soil, the condition of the labourer is probably happier than in any society which has lasted for many centuries. But in the old world we must confess ourselves unable to find any satisfactory record of any great nation, past or present, in which the working classes have been in a more comfortable situation than in England during the last thirty years. When this island was thinly peopled, it was barbarous: there was little capital; and that little was insecure. It is now the richest and the most highly civilised

spot in the world; but the population | devour the weaker fish; and it is but too certain, that the poverty of one part of the people seems to increase in the same ratio as the riches of another. There are examples of this in history. In Portugal, from the conquests in Africa and the East, when the high tide of wealth flowed in the effect of that great influx was not more visible in the augmented splendour of the court, and the luxury of the higher ranks, than in the distress of the people."

on

is dense. Thus we have never known that golden age which the lower orders in the United States are now enjoying. We have never known an age of liberty, of order, and of education, an age in which the mechanical sciences were carried to a great height, yet in which the people were not sufficiently numerous to cultivate even the most fertile Mr. Southey's instance is not a very fortunate one. valleys. But, when we compare our The wealth which did own condition with that of our ancesso little for the Portuguese was not the tors, we think it clear that the advan. fruit either of manufactures or of comtages arising from the progress of merce carried on by private individuals. civilisation have far more than counIt was the wealth, not of the people, terbalanced the disadvantages arising but of the government and its creafrom the progress of population. While tures, of those who, as Mr. Southey our numbers have increased tenfold, thinks, can never be too rich. The our wealth has increased a hundred- fact is, that Mr. Southey's proposition fold. Though there are so many more is opposed to all history, and to the people to share the wealth now exist- phænomena which surround us ing in the country than there were in every side. England is the richest the sixteenth century, it seems certain country in Europe, the most commerthat a greater share falls to almost cial country, and the country in which manufactures flourish most. Russia every individual than fell to the share of any of the corresponding class in the and Poland are the poorest countries sixteenth century. The King keeps a in Europe. They have scarcely any more splendid court. The establish-trade, and none but the rudest manuments of the nobles are more magnifi-Russia and Poland than in England? cent. The esquires are richer; the merchants are richer; the shopkeepers are richer. The serving-man, the arti- Poland whose incomes are probably san, and the husbandman, have a more equal to those of our richest countrycopious and palatable supply of food, better clothing, and better furniture. This is no reason for tolerating abuses, or for neglecting any means of ameliorating the condition of our poorer countrymen. But it is a reason against telling them, as some of our philosophers are constantly telling them, that they are the most wretched people who

ever existed on the face of the earth.

We have already adverted to Mr. Southey's amusing doctrine about national wealth. A state, says he, cannot be too rich; but a people may be too rich. His reason for thinking this is extremely curious.

"A people may be too rich, because it is the tendency of the commercial, and more especially of the manufacturing system, to

collect wealth rather than to diffuse it. Where wealth is necessarily employed in any of the speculations of trade, its increase is in proportion to its amount. Great capitalists become like pikes in a fish-pond who

factures. Is wealth more diffused in

There are individuals in Russia and

men.

It may be doubted whether there are not, in those countries, as many fortunes of eighty thousand a year as here. But are there as many fortunes of two thousand a year, or of There are one thousand a year? parishes in England which contain more people of between three hundred and three thousand pounds a year than

could be found in all the dominions of

the Emperor Nicholas. The neat and

commodious houses which have been built in London and its vicinity, for people of this class, within the last thirty years, would of themselves form a city larger than the capitals of some European kingdoms. And this is the state of society in which the great proprietors have devoured a smaller!

The cure which Mr. Southey thinks that he has discovered is worthy of the sagacity which he has shown in detecting the evil. The calamities arising

from the collection of wealth in the hands of a few capitalists are to be remedied by collecting it in the hands of one great capitalist, who has no conceivable motive to use it better than other capitalists, the all-devouring

state.

History is full of the signs of this natural progress of society. We see in almost every part of the annals of mankind how the industry of individuals, struggling up against wars, taxes, famines, conflagrations, mischievous prohibitions, and more mischievous protections, creates faster than governments can squander, and repairs whatever invaders can destroy. We see the wealth of nations increasing, and all the arts of life approaching nearer and nearer to perfection, in spite of the grossest corruption and the wildest profusion on the part of rulers.

It is not strange that, differing so widely from Mr. Southey as to the past progress of society, we should differ from him also as to its probable destiny. He thinks, that to all outward appearance, the country is hastening to destruction; but he relies firmly on the goodness of God. We do not see either the piety or the rationality of The present moment is one of great thus confidently expecting that the distress. But how small will that disSupreme Being will interfere to disturb tress appear when we think over the the common succession of causes and history of the last forty years; a war, effects. We, too, rely on his goodness, compared with which all other wars on his goodness as manifested, not in sink into insignificance; taxation, such extraordinary interpositions, but in as the most heavily taxed people of those general laws which it has pleased former times could not have conceived; him to establish in the physical and in a debt larger than all the public debts the moral world. We rely on the that ever existed in the world added natural tendency of the human intellect together; the food of the people studito truth, and on the natural tendency ously rendered dear; the currency imof society to improvement. We know prudently debased, and imprudently no well authenticated instance of a restored. Yet is the country poorer people which has decidedly retrograded than in 1790? We firmly believe that, in civilisation and prosperity, except in spite of all the misgovernment of from the influence of violent and terri- her rulers, she has been almost conble calamities, such as those which laid stantly becoming richer and richer. the Roman empire in ruins, or those Now and then there has been a stopwhich, about the beginning of the six-page, now and then a short retrogresteenth century, desolated Italy. We sion; but as to the general tendency know of no country which, at the end there can be no doubt. A single of fifty years of peace and tolerably breaker may recede; but the tide is good government, has been less pros- evidently coming in. perous than at the beginning of that period. The political importance of a state may decline, as the balance of power is disturbed by the introduction of new forces. Thus the influence of Holland and of Spain is much diminished. But are Holland and Spain poorer than formerly? We doubt it. Other countries have outrun them. But we suspect that they have been positively, though not relatively, advancing. We suspect that Holland is richer than when she sent her navies up the Thames, that Spain is richer than when a French king was brought captive to the footstool of Charles the Fifth.

If we were to prophesy that in the year 1930 a population of fifty millions, better fed, clad, and lodged than the English of our time, will cover these islands, that Sussex and Huntingdonshire will be wealthier than the wealthiest parts of the West Riding of Yorkshire now are, that cultivation, rich as that of a flower-garden, will be carried up to the very tops of Ben Nevis and Helvellyn, that machines constructed on principles yet undiscovered will be in every house, that there will be no highways but railroads, no travelling but by steam, that our debt, vast as it seems to us, will appear to our greatgrandchildren a trifling encumbrance,

which might easily be paid off in a year | But so said all who came before us, and with just as much apparent reason. "A million a year will beggar us," said the patriots of 1640. "Two millions a year will grind the country to powder," was the cry in 1660. "Six millions a year, and a debt of fifty millions!" exclaimed Swift, "the high allies have been the ruin of us." "A hundred and forty millions of debt!" said Junius; "well may we say that we owe Lord Chatham more than we shall ever pay, if we owe

dred and forty millions of debt!” cried all the statesmen of 1783 in chorus; "what abilities, or what economy on the part of a minister, can save a country so burdened?" We know that if, since 1783, no fresh debt had been incurred, the increased resources of the country would have enabled us to defray that debt at which Pitt, Fox, and Burke stood aghast, nay, to defray it over and over again, and that with much lighter taxation than what we have actually borne. On what principle is it that, when we see nothing but improvement behind us, we are to expect nothing but deterioration before us?

or two, many people would think us insane. We prophesy nothing; but this we say: If any person had told the Parliament which met in perplexity and terror after the crash in 1720 that in 1830 the wealth of England would surpass all their wildest dreams, that the annual revenue would equal the principal of that debt which they considered as an intolerable burden, that for one man of ten thousand pounds then living there would be five men of fifty thou-him such a load as this." "Two hunsand pounds, that London would be twice as large and twice as populous, and that nevertheless the rate of mortality would have diminished to one half of what it then was, that the postoffice would bring more into the exchequer than the excise and customs had brought in together under Charles the Second, that stage-coaches would run from London to York in twentyfour hours, that men would be in the habit of sailing without wind, and would be beginning to ride without horses, our ancestors would have given as much credit to the prediction as they gave to Gulliver's Travels. Yet the prediction would have been true; and they would have perceived that it was not altogether absurd, if they had considered that the country was then raising every year a sum which would have purchased the fee-simple of the revenue of the Plantagenets, ten times what supported the government of Elizabeth, three times what, in the time of Oliver Cromwell, had been thought intolerably oppressive. To almost all men the state of things under which they have been used to live seems to be the necessary state of things. We have heard it said that five per cent. is the natural interest of money, that twelve is the natural number of a jury, that forty shillings is the natural qualification of a county voter. Hence it is that, though in every age everybody knows that up to his own time progressive improvement has been taking place, nobody seems to reckon on any improvement during the next generation. We cannot absolutely prove that those are in error who tell us that society has reached a turning point, that we have seen our best days.

It is not by the intermeddling of Mr. Southey's idol, the omniscient and omnipotent State, but by the prudence and energy of the people, that England has hitherto been carried forward in civilisation; and it is to the same prudence and the same energy that we now look with comfort and good hope. Our rulers will best promote the improvement of the nation by strictly confining themselves to their own legitimate duties, by leaving capital to find its most lucrative course, commodities their fair price, industry and intelligence their natural reward, idleness and folly their natural punishment, by maintaining peace, by defending property, by diminishing the price of law, and by observing strict economy in every department of the state. Let the Government do this: the People will assuredly do the rest.

MR. ROBERT MONTGOMERY.

(APRIL, 1830.)

of him who carried the dog, and bought it for a measure of rice and a pot of ghee, and offered it up to the gods, who, being wroth at this unclean sacrifice, smote him with a sore disease in all his joints.

drew near. "Let us ask this man," said the Brahmin, "what the creature is, and I will stand by what he shall say." To this the others agreed; and 1. The Omnipresence of the Deity: a Poem. the Brahmin called out, "Oh stranger, BY ROBERT MONTGOMERY. Eleventh Edition. London: 1830. what dost thou call this beast? 2. Satan: a Poem. By ROBERT MONT-"Surely, oh Brahmin," said the knave, GOMERY. Second Edition. London: 1830." it is a fine sheep." Then the BrahTHE wise men of antiquity loved to min said, "Surely the gods have taken convey instruction under the covering away my senses;" and he asked pardon of apologue; and though this practice is generally thought childish, we shall make no apology for adopting it on the present occasion. A generation which has bought eleven editions of a poem by Mr. Robert Montgomery may well condescend to listen to a fable of Pilpay. A pious Brahmin, it is written, made a vow that on a certain day he would sacrifice a sheep, and on the appointed morning he went forth to buy one. There lived in his neighbourhood three rogues who knew of his vow, and laid a scheme for profiting by it. The first met him and said, "Oh Brahmin, wilt thou buy a sheep? I have one fit for sacrifice." "It is for that very purpose," said the holy man, "that I came forth this day." Then the impostor opened a bag, and brought out of it an unclean beast, an ugly dog, lame and blind. Thereon the Brahmin cried out, 66 Wretch, who touchest things impure, and utterest things untrue, callest thou that cur a sheep?" Truly," answered the other, "it is a sheep of the finest fleece, and of the sweetest flesh. Oh Brahmin, it will be an offering most acceptable to the gods." Friend," said the Brahmin, "either thou or I must be blind."

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Thus, or nearly thus, if we remember rightly, runs the story of the Sanscrit Æsop. The moral, like the moral of every fable that is worth the telling, lies on the surface. The writer evidently means to caution us against the practices of puffers, a class of people who have more than once talked the public into the most absurd errors, but who surely never played a more curious or a more difficult trick than when they passed Mr. Robert Montgomery off upon the world as a great poet.

In an age in which there are so few readers that a writer cannot subsist on the sum arising from the sale of his works, no man who has not an independent fortune can devote himself to literary pursuits, unless he is assisted by patronage. In such an age, accordingly, men of letters too often pass their lives in dangling at the heels of the wealthy and powerful; and all the faults which dependence tends to proJust then one of the accomplices duce, pass into their character. They came up. "Praised be the gods," said become the parasites and slaves of the this second rogue, "that I have been great. It is melancholy to think how saved the trouble of going to the mar- many of the highest and most exquiket for a sheep! This is such a sheep sitely formed of human intellects have as I wanted. For how much wilt thou been condemned to the ignominious sell it?" When the Brahmin heard labour of disposing the commonplaces this, his mind waved to and fro, like of adulation in new forms and brightone swinging in the air at a holy fes-ening them into new splendour. Hotival. "Sir," said he to the new comer, race invoking Augustus in the most "take heed what thou dost; this is no enthusiastic language of religious venesheep, but an unclean cur." "Oh ration; Statius flattering a tyrant, and Brahmin," said the new comer, "thou the minion of a tyrant, for a morsel of art drunk or mad!" bread; Ariosto versifying the whole genealogy of a niggardly patron; Tasso

At this time the third confederate