directly against them, which prevents all progress, and even drives them backwards. They grow ashamed and mortified in a situation which, by its vicin

ed and respectful propriety of mixing up the name of the youthful Queen with the election squabbles of her Minister) and her people! The same trick, as we learn from Bolingbroke, was practised by the Whigs of the last century. But our Whigs must be true patriots, notwithstanding their leaning to the Court, for we have seen them claim the most extravagant privileges for the House of Commons, and exercise the most arbitrary power in its name. How can these discrepancies be reconciled? Burke explained, 68 years ago, the whole philosophy of this union of arrogance with servility.

"Those who have been of the most known devotion to the will and pleasure of a Court, have at the same time been most forward in asserting a high authority in the House of Commons. When they knew who were to use that authority, aud how it was to be employed, they thought it never could be carried too far. It must always be the wish of an unconstitutional statesman, that a House of Commons, who are entirely dependent upon him, should have every right of the people entirely dependent upon their pleasure. It was soon discovered that the forms of a free and the deeds of an arbitrary government were things not altogether incompatible." -(Thoughts on the Cause of the present Discontents.)

The following picture, contained in the same treatise, though different in circumstance, will be found to present all the moral phenomena with which we have been of late familiarized :

"But while the ministers of the day appear in all the pride and pomp of power--while they have all their canvass spread out to the wind, and every sail filled with the fair and prosperous gale of royal favour, in a short time they find, they know not how, a current which sets

the more strongly of their insignifiecute the orders of their inferiors, or to cance. They are obliged either to exsee themselves opposed by the natural instruments of their office. With the loss of their dignity they lose their temper. In their turn they grow troublesome to that cabal, which, whether it supports or opposes, equally disgraces and equally betrays them. It is soon found necessary to get rid of the heads of administration; but it is of the heads members belonging to the best conneconly. As there are always many lotten tions, it is not hard to persuade several to continue in office without their leaders."

The world has not yet forgotten how Lord Grey appeared "in all the pomp and pride of power," remoulding (with the aid of "royal favour") the Constitution at pleasure, and showering upon his own friends and connections all the patronage of this mighty empire. It has not forgotten how he was thwarted by illicit obstacles, and by the dark undercurrent of intrigue in his own Cabinet, nor how, “in shame and mortification," he repeatedly sought release, seeing himself opposed by his Irish secretary, and the other "natural instruments of his office;" nor how, "disgraced and betrayed by a cabal," he was ultimately "got rid of" in 1834; the whigs completing, in his person, the process of "getting rid of the heads of Administration, but of the heads only"—that is of Stanley, of Graham, of every honoured, and every distinguished name:-nor how the inferior members of the party "continued in office without their leaders" and have in consequence fallen under the guidance of their enemies, and departed from every practice, and from every principle, by which British Statesmen have hitherto been directed.

OUR Gothic neighbors, cloud-canopied in tobacco-smoke, have divided all things into certain regions of art or of science. In this mapping out of the infinite world of fact or idea, not without a high-reaching endeavour after the All of Truth, whether much, or even any thing, in the progression of cycles of innumerable times, and the careful jotting down of every thing, whether valuable or else valueless, which either already exists, or else, by possibility or contingent access of circumstances, may be proved or even supposed likely to exist, shall be laid bare to the eyes of reading and remembering, not to say thinking and reflecting men, is yet dubious enough. This much, however, is certain, that what can be effected by intense smoking and a certain ballooninflation magnitude of style, where the expansivity and soaring heavenwardness of the gasses have full play (the ballast being generally thrown out on first leaving the ground), will be effected by some one or other, or standing in small bodies, and science-united societies, or else by the whole multitude of deep-musing German professors. For strange is it-nay, almost with some touch of awfulness-to reflect on what is every day achieved, or attempted to be achieved, in those dim chambers in high attics of learned Jena, and learned Heidelberg, and the rest, by those skin-dried anatomies who inhabit the same to outward appearance not without some vague resemblance to humanity, especially such of them as occasionally shave, but, in fact, not being men at all, except in their faint outline and similitude, but actually intellectual, or fullbrained spiders, weaving ingenious webs, intricate, almost invisible, in their separate lines, but forming altogether a reticulated mesh-work (say rather cloud-grating), through which but dim and indistinct glimpses can be caught by eyes of hieroglyphic-decyphering Champollions, but darker than mid

night Erebus to the great mass of mankind. What multitudes of wondrous thoughts must, amid this prodigious spreading out of nets, be caught: for in this respect the aforesaid professors differ from most other specimens of the articulate-speaking species man, that they spread out the above mentioned spider-webs, (thereby meaning in prose language, long dissertations), in order therein to envelop some idea that may happen in that portion of space to be floating by; whereas others, with a prodigality much to be wondered at, send forth their own ideas in such web or word-clothing as pleases God. Yet equally surprising is the thought, how the ideas, so caught by those professors, are cut in pieces, tortured, spun round upon pins, while the buzzing they produce sounds in the ear of the tormentor, nay, and of some bystanders also, as excellent music; for never was child-male sexed, as yet unbreeched-more cruel in his treatment of fly or butterfly-pulling off bright wings and destroying the lustrous featheriness-than those same idea-catching professors with their prey. Thus far in anger, mixed with unimaginable wailings of a love-sorrow, as of a mother over an unfortunate, say rather blameworthy, son-reflecting how useful an equal extent of labour would be in other departments of life; what barren plains might be made to sing for joy; what mountains might not be levelled; roads mended; nay, shoes made, and tattered habiliments repaired, by an equal intelligent body

or indeed the same-if, instead of poring over books, and waiting in a sort of busy idleness to catch the pretervolating ideas, each learned professor of Jena and Heidelberg, and the rest, were as assiduous with spade or pick-axe, or sharp-pointed awl, or sharper-pointed needle, as his natural tendency might indicate? this barren earth might become a paradise where. in no Adam should be idle, nor Eve unindustrious; and where the soil

would be beautified and hallowed also -for are not holiness and beauty twin sisters-with the footsteps of superior visitants, such as glorified the old time, ere book-idleness, or rather stagnant learning-pools, raised up mists that hid the face of heaven, and the type-inventor Guttemburg, more properly Gensfleish, ran a huge blot of his ink over God's creation, and created for himself (and for us also) a new world out of sheer prose-a bad world, a prose world, my masters; for what is prose but verdureless valleys, and hard, rugged, pointed mountains referred into their first elements, and found to consist of so many feet of loam overlying, or else underlying, so many feet of marl or lower green sand, presenting to the eye of science nothing but a succession of strata, one after the other, that may be dug up with shovels, and kept like pattern bricks of the world's building material, in separate drawers, under glass covers, and guarded from the acquisitive by lock and key? Not long will our loved adoptive fatherland, and its host of web-spreading professors, be without a world-building society, or creative art-union. If to be made of iron, the likelier to be patronised by Birmingham, which would undertake to cast a universe of best carron, at so much the square foot. But, after all, what is this universe of ours but a Brummagem universe already? For has not this learned gentleman found a flaw in the workmanship? and that other learned gentleman found fault with the material? and the whole been proved to us to be a counterfeit, a sham-not God's universe at all, but only an imitation? and all this from the web-spreading of Jena-or rather Freyberg professors? If at this quick march of the world we go on for fifty years what shall we not have done? We shall have made light of the old wish to have the wings of the dove to flee away and be at rest,-for shall we not have our steam-horse-say, rather, condensed hurricane-brought round to us, to be mounted at our doors; and by turning cock, or other simple mechanical process, give scope to its wild fury, and hurl onward in a speed - mantle of invisibleness; for who shall see the bodily presence of

a

sunbeam darting quicker than thought? Shall we not have subjected balloons to helm or rein, with crew,

whether of tame gentlemen or tamer tigers-and made visits to the moon? All these and thousands more will have happened; and Wonder, which is next of kin to Religion, if it be not Religion's self, will have expired-a prisoner, wracked, tormented, and finally disembowelled till it died-in the secret dungeons of that new Inquisition whose name is Demonstration. For as there are synthetical philosophers who put universes together, fitting in every nail, and oiling all the hinges-so are there also analytical philosophers who take the whole fabric to pieces, as if it were little else than a Nümberg time-piece, or simple Dutch clock. And not without professors are we in this true English land. Oxonian Buckland, with tub and drainer, therewith to submerge this poor earth of ours in perpetual deluge; Metropolitan Lyell, Hastings Fitton, and many more,each with tame earthquake to lift vast continents above the sea; which earthquake they keep docile and fit for work, by feeding him on fresh volcanoes; and move him hither and thi ther as ordinary carter cries hup! or gee! to mere terrestrial horse. Peace be to them and to their labours-for web-spreading is not confined to erudite spiders in learned Jena, learned Heidelberg, and the rest.

Since, then, the whole world is about to be disenchanted by the very universality of enchantment (as Fortunatus' cap would become mere felt-covered beaver in a nation where wishing caps were as numerous as wishing heads): since, we say, the grim giantmummy-hearted--spectacle-nosed-Demonstration, is about to cut up the separate limbs of beauty, and show us that the smile-dimpled cheek is but a collection of cutes and flesh; the eye

-- no

life-giving, soul-expressing, thing but various coloured globules of an indurated semi-transparent substance; since all things, we say, are to be laid open to the enquiring observation, not of web-spreading profes sors merely, but of all and everysoldier, dandy, and even book-devouring pedant; let due honour be given to those who, with fair-reaching effort, have already stript off the sophisticated concealments of truth, and have presented her to us in puris. Foremost among those stands one whom our soul honours, and whom

This will become more apparent when we relate the mode of our acquaintance with him, and such other particulars as we shall see fit to confide to the public.

Literature has not seldom, of late years, been made a topic of loud talk in the British House of Commons, and by sundry of those six hundred and fifty-eight Solons has it been dandled and nursed in such fashion as was Gulliver by the gigantic monkey in Brobdignag-only saved from its perilous condition by tender Glumdalclitch Talfourd, or tender Glumdalclitch Bulwer. In nothing has more stir been made than in what is called international copyright law. These words we can understand, but the comments made thereon, and side turns-reciprocal exchanges, counter guarantees, and the like-seeing we are but human beings and not altogether illumined, we have but feeble glimmerings of; yet have our active French neighbours, if not clearer heads, yet quicker eyes than ours and not few nor light. nor unexpensive in carriage are the book packages and paper rolls which have been sent over to us with letters (civil and complimentary, as is the nature of the Gaul,) requesting our assistance in securing, first, a large sale for the said books and papers, and secondly, all the profit resulting therefrom to the authors. Why they should fix on us we cannot guess, and modesty will not allow us to translate the expressions of our correspondents. Haply a knowledge of our access to the great Maga may have contributed to this peculiar effect; for with deference approaching somewhat too nearly to the sin of idolatry, do many of our applicants rave, encomiastic, say rhapsodical rather about Le Bon Kit, probably (as what little religion any of them may possess is Roman Catholic,) mistaking him for his namesake St. Christopher. But this matter we leave, and plunge at once into the middle of things. Count Hypolite writes to us in flowery French, which we will traduce into our own plain English, thus—

“You are a man of too wide-grasp ing an intellect and too well-strung nerves to be either startled or astonished at the title of my book. The

art of contracting Debts (L'art de faire des Dettes) has hitherto been practised in your country more extensively than in any other, yet ignorantly, fortuitously as it were, and with no touch of true philosophy. This want I am ambitious to supply, and direct myself to you, sir, whose wellknown," &c. &c. &c.

The book so sent to us is a small duodecimo, printed on dim mysterious looking paper, in types which to the soul of a Ballantyne would inflict worse than purgatorial pains; the price, two francs (which, at tenpence to the franc, seems a prodigious overcharge,) and altogether as poor looking a tome as is often to be seen. Yet may the shabbiest box hold gold-nay, diamonds-and from wooden platter may be supped green fat.

"Nor am I ignorant," continues the Count," that at the very announcement of my volume, small-souled men will look with eyes in which despair has taken the front parlours, at their day-books and ledgers; but the great of soul, the utilitarian, the sage, the philanthropist, will rejoice. The Time of great truths is come. As a writer, who has not more genius than I have (qui n'a pas plus de genie que moi) has said, The human race is in progress." *** Reasoning on individualities, or for individualities, is absurd-we must reason on the masses, or for the masses, if we wish to reason well. It is only when viewed in this way that the works of Nature herself are grand, harmonious, sublime. Separately considered, or reduced to their first principles, they are ludicrous, nor unfrequently disgusting. Piteous is it to behold, on fine holiday, a black cloud, rain pregnant, come to an untimely accouchement on the Clos Vougeot(say, for your English understanding of the illustration,) on June or JulyRegent Street, at four o'clock,—yet would you not have the heavens shut up, and earth cry aloud in the agonies of thirst, merely for the sake of the Clos Vougeot, or June and July-Regent Street. Eh bien!" exclaims the philosophic Hypolite, proud of this similitude, "petits esprits, cerveaux etroits, vues courtes! apprenez que l'art de faire des dettes et de ne point les payer, est l'un des elemens de