but even in some degree bound by patriotism, to criticise and censure. The first effect of a study of ethical sciences had a concurrent tendency with that we have noticed. Inquiries into the rights of man, the foundation of government, and the authority of laws, naturally induce the feeling of a right to judge, and therefore to condemn, the acts of government, and a supposition that to the acts so condemned it is not a duty to submit, while a compulsory submission produces a disapprobation of the nature of the government. The first system to incur this disapprobation, as it is the most active to enforce, and the most efficient to restrain, is monarchy. The reformation in religion lent its aid to produce these effects, by destroying the habit of implicit obedience to mere antiquity, and by demonstrating that revelation itself appealed to reason for its confirmation, and as the test of its reality. Its principles were directly opposed to despotism in religion, and indirectly, therefore, to despotism in politics; while those who made those principles a pretext to encourage insubordination studiously closed their eyes against the fact that the reformation was, if rightly understood, at least as decidedly opposed to latitudinarianism or democracy, and that the doctrines which destroyed the authority of the papal see could not with any justice be wrested to divide that authority, as the spoils of a conquered enemy, among all the schismatics of Christendom, in shares proportioned to the extravagance of their tenets and the violence of their zeal.

All these causes, with many others similar and cotemporaneous, tended to diffuse over the world a disposition to inquire into first principles; the very novelty of which study, while it added to the zeal for its pursuit, encouraged a secret presumption that the result of the examination would be unfavourable to the merits of the government which restrained each man more or less from the full exercise of his will and pleasure.

But these effects, though the necessary, were not, at least to any violent extent, the immediate results of the revival of learning, which followed the discovery of the art of printing. The absurd disputations of

the schools, while they distorted and confounded the minds of men, diverted them from any practical application of their studies; and the constant wars which soon after harassed Europe turned aside attention from theories, and at the same time made men more sensible of the necessity of discipline and subordination. The events which chiefly attracted the attention of Europe at the first revival of learning, tended on the whole to repress the effects which would be naturally expected to result from the reformation and the other excitements to change which we have noticed. True it is, that Holland had rivetted the anxious and admiring gaze of Europe on its heroic and long-protracted struggle for civil and religious liberty, and had identified purity of worship with freedom of government; but at nearly the same period Europe presented a constellation of despotic monarchs as remarkable for illustrious qualities as for power. The splendid victories and consummate abilities of Charles the Fifth had almost reconciled mankind to the spectacle of the free and brave Spaniards, but lately formed into a nation, now reduced by the Inquisition to the most abject and hopeless slavery; while those who were revolted at his falsehood and disingenuity were captivated by the chivalrous heroism of his rival Francis, or awed into admiration by the wisdom, learning, and firmness of Elizabeth; and those who were tired of the warlike glory of these princes were charmed by the peaceful and literary character of James. The slight difference between the periods at which these monarchs attracted the gaze of Europe contributed, perhaps, more strongly, because for a longer period, to produce this effect. There was fresh in the recollection of each man an example of a monarch suited to his ideas of perfection; and the high fame, virtues, and influence of the house of Orange prevented even Holland from being commonly looked on as a republic. The cause of monarchy had also received a great addition of strength and glory from the recent consolidations of the empires of Europe. France had exhibited successive reunions to the crown of provinces which had long been independent. Arragon and Castile had been united by marriage, and Gra

nada recovered by conquest, to the Spanish monarchy; and the Scotch and English crowns were placed by descent upon the same head. While all these changes, being rather revivals of ancient, than creations of new empires, were especially calculated to increase the reverence of men for a system of government which appeared to be so favoured by Providence. Europe had, moreover, scarcely recovered from the terrors of a Saracenic invasion, of which former experience had taught it to appreciate the frightful consequences; and of all the supporters of despotic power, none is equal in efficiency to the apprehension of external danger.

All these causes united, about the period of the first century of the restoration of learning, to throw a brilliancy on the character of European despotism, which even the cold-hearted barbarities of the double-dyed tyrant Philip, and the ferocious fanaticism of his bloody wife, were not able wholly to darken, and which contributed, more perhaps than any other cause, to retard the progress of revolution.

But though these causes might delay, they could not prevent the natural effects of the great change wrought in the minds of men by the general diffusion of learning and the establishment of religious liberty.

That revolution was in many respects necessary, the most cursory view of the state of Europe at that period will suffice to demonstrate. That revolution was in many instances ill-judged in its commencement, ill managed in its progress, disgraced by the means adopted to promote it, and rendered infamous by the ends to which it was perverted, is not more certain, as an historical fact, than natural as a moral consequence of entrusting power to the hands of those active demons who rise to the surface of public commotion. But it was not the less trua that the governments which then ruled the nations of Europe were not in their structure or their principles calculated to improve, or competent to direct, a population on which the progress of individual improvement was rapidly performing, if we may be al lowed the phrase, the process of granulation, and converting a dull and shapeless mass into an aggregate of

integral units. The reformation in religion had taken away the false and unsound foundation of tradition and human authority, on which popery had laboured to support Christianity; had replaced it on the rock of rational demonstration, and had established the great principle, that while the precepts of revelation are imperatively binding, the reality of that revelation is to be proved by reason. Religion and politics cannot and ought not to be separated; and if the authority of revelation submitted itself to be tried by reason, how much more necessary was it that earthly governments should be, in their foundations and principles, consistent with that test. The first consequence of the application of this test produced the destruction of despotism. The natural alternative was democracy. It required experience to show that this evil was greater than the former; but when this became, as it soon did, an admitted fact, men reverted to monarchy, which they attempted to limit so as to prevent the recurrence of former evils. This succession of experiments we find in the reigns of Charles the First and Second of England, and of Louis the Sixteenth and Eighteenth of France. In this, as in most other points, England led the way. It did not, however, rest here. In both countries an attempt was made by the succeeding sovereigns to regain lost authority. This was resisted, and another branch of the family placed on the abdicated throne. Here, however, an important distinction is to be observed In England all these events were brought about slowly. There was no capital city to dictate to the provinces: a much greater mass was to be moved: the interwoven interests of all ranks precluded that violence exhibited in France on the sudden removal of the superincumbent weight of royal autho rity which kept together classes of men united by no other bond. The result was such as might have been expected from the character and circumstances of the two nations. In both the monarchy had suffered a heavy blow; but in France it was the act of a sudden frenzy; the majority of the nation were astonished spectators of the extravagances of the capital; the minority thus excited were with

comparative ease reduced after the second revolution to nearly the same state which had succeeded the first; Louis Philippe, King of the French, was vested with a power tenfold more arbitrary than ever belonged to Charles the Tenth, King of France, and the only effect of revolution has been to make slavery the only means of peace. But in this country the change, its principles, its details, and its results, were all deliberate, all wise, moderate, and complete. Here, then, the monarchy was limited by fixed principles: it seemed, indeed, to be almost reduced to a shadow, and the events which signalized the close of the last century in France and in America were, to all appearance, calculated and designed to effect its final overthrow. That such was not, however, their result is now happily a matter of history; but ere we proceed to examine the causes to which this is to be attributed, we must mention a few general principles on which we found the view we are about to take of the present state of this empire.

Every one who has, even in the most hasty manner, reviewed the general history of Europe, must admit that England has been a singularly favoured country; that she has, in a wonderful manner, escaped most of the misfortunes which have harassed other nations; while her laws, institutions, and great principles of social order and government, are so numerous, so interwoven, and were so gradually formed and matured, that it is not only beyond the reach of the noblest human intellect to devise such a system from theory, but that it is scarcely possible by the study of a whole life to acquire a perfect knowledge of the mutual bearings, relations, and effects of all the parts of that great system, even when exhibited to our view in daily operation. In fact, the constitution of Great Britain is as visibly the work of a superior wisdom as her victories or her religion, and has been equally adapted to draw towards her as an example the attention of the civilized world. But her situation, the nature of her empire, and the scattered position of her colonies, have been all eminently calculated to render her the schoolmistress of the world. Her immense maritime power not only enVOL. VI.

abled her to spread her language, religion, manners, and laws, but actually rendered it necessary for the support of this power that she should plant colonies of various sizes in every part of the globe, most of which, while contributing to increase the power of the parent empire, were themselves preparing to become the centres of new empires, spreading still further the example they had received; for that this will be the final action of America, Australia, and our other chief colonies, no one can doubt who views the progress the former is already making towards a monarchical constitution. The cool, reserved, and deliberative character of the people gives a weight in the eyes of other nations to the political movements of England, which renders her still more eminently fitted to be the commodore of the nations of Europe. French vanity arrogated to itself this office, for which there probably does not exist a nation more essentially incompetent. The acts by which it sought and failed to establish this claim are sufficiently notorious. But we shall, in the course of our progress, find stronger reasons for the position we now wish to lay down as the basis of our opinions; viz. that as far as reason and history enable us to judge, Great Britain has been singularly marked out, prepared and destined by Providence to be, as it were, the monitor of the class of civilized nations, and to afford the first example of a government uniting popularity with strength, and founding the sovereignty of the laws upon the active not passive submission of the people. That no government essentially combining these qualities has hitherto existed on a large scale may be questioned; perhaps we are arrived at a period in the history of mankind when none other can be

but not the sole object to be attained in removing a despotism, is to substitute a rational monarchy in its place. This can only be effected by causes which reduce the power of the sovereign by slow degrees, or by several successive stages. Thus we see the monarchy in England, when restored after the successful rebellion against Charles the First, was devoid of many of those powers which it had formerly possessed; and the subsequent abdication of James, the want of issue of Mary and of Anne, rendered it necessary at different times for the nation to iuterfere in confirming the royal dignity. These changes were so temperate and so wise, they left no room for reaction. The first object was now attained; the power of the sovereign was reduced to the proper level, and by such means as left no pretext for any future attempt to raise it again. The second object was yet, however, to be accomplished, and the causes which had effected this great change were to be restrained from further operation, when they had gone sufficiently far. In the mean time, space and opportunity were to be allowed for the rest of Europe to observe and follow the example placed before it. The form of government in England consequently remained, to all appearance, precisely the same for above a century; during which period literature was becoming more generally diffused, science more philosophically pursued, and information more rapidly conveyed throughout Europe. At length France made an attempt to imitate England; for there can be little doubt, that those who gave the first impulse to the French revolution were actuated by that design. But reason or moderation were not component parts of the French character; with them "sentiment," or a diseased delirium of the imagination, supplied the place of any other motive.

As a

nation they stand acquitted of bad designs, for they stand acquitted of acting from any design whatever. Their mo tive for war, or their inducement to peace-their reason for the establishment of a constitution, or their justification of the murder of a king, was simply, that the words made use of in proposing the act, had formed a highsounding and rhapsodical sentence.

They were, morcover, under the in

fluence of infidelity, a demon which added the blood-thirsty ferocity of the tiger to the sacrilegious appetite of the hyena, which united fever to mortification, and presented a compound of fanaticism without the excuse of zeal, and credulity devoid of the merit of belief. The French revolution, accordingly, instead of advancing the cause of liberty, afforded an appalling warning to Europe, that the sternest despotism of a Peter the Great was liberty itself when compared with the tender mercies of the hydra-headed Caligulas of a democracy.

The frenzy of French fanaticism was, however, in itself, of a contagious nature, and European society had now reached that degree of civilization which was requisite to enable the events of one country to influence the inhabitants of another. It is not, therefore, a matter of surprise that the youth, and even the grey heads of Great Britain and the continent, prepared by the hollow sophisms and specious doctrines of the French infidel literature, should bave been for a while so possessed by Utopian theories of government and chimerical fancies of the natural equality of mankind, that even the early horrors and crimes of the revolution were not able to awake them to a state of reason or reflection. These principles, if we can apply such a name to ravings incompetent to bear one hour's cool argu ment or rational investigation, had pervaded almost the whole of the continent. Here, however, as often before, England was destined to take the helm; and the victories of France, while they diffused her principles into every country over which she planted her ensigns, only rendered it necessary for her rival to follow her as far by land as she had formerly done by sea, and to resist alike her moral influence and her physical power. But how did England herself escape, or shake off the baneful infection? The answer to this question is of the greatest importance, and affords, perhaps, the strongest confirmation of the view we have taken of English history; for there can be little doubt that, if she had then followed the example of France, the cause of European liberty would have been crushed, at least for a time, perhaps for ever.

We have observed that monarchical power and principles in Great Britain had, for more than a century previous to that era, been on the decline. The natural tendency of the authority of the House of Commons was to increase; and while that body were moderate in their use of power, it was vain for the King or the Lords to offer any permanent resistance to their gradual encroachments. Nothing could restore the balance of the constitution, but such acts, on the part of the commons, as would disgrace themselves and separate the democracy from the people, and array the latter on the side of the king and the nobility. The levelling, or, as they were erroneously called, liberal doctrines which had crept into these countries, had found their way into the the most intimate bonds of social organization and moral principles. Their most visible effects were, perhaps, the least dangerous, as they were the most likely to carry with them their own refutation. Men began to converse on theories of government, and they found that, in an intellectual sense, they were, as individuals, aiming at a higher rank; they found that this rank was in every man's power to attain, and therefore became disposed to contrast it with the rank conferred by the constitution-first, to consider the latter inferior in value, and then to meditate on its total abolition. Had mankind been mere intellectual beings, this would have produced no harm, as, although they might have fancied the difference of ranks in the state useless, they could not have persuaded themselves that it was injurious, and would therefore have been contented to leave things as they were. Being, however, creatures replete with passions of every kind, strongly imbued with pride, envy, and that impatience of superiority which designated the distinguished personage whom Johnson denominated "the first Whig," they directly turned their new doctrines to the gratification and excuse of their favourite passion. The reverence for monarchy totteredthe respect for religion was undermined -the sages of an age were ridiculed by the witlings of an hour-filial piety itself declined, and was observed by Watts, the venerable bard of infant devotion, to be in his time greatly injured, and, as he prophesied, about to

be more nearly destroyed. As the evil spread, its effects became more complicated. The clergy were ashamed of piety, and affected to be sportsmen, farmers, nay, even libertines; the laity, while they professed one creed, prided themselves in denying it by practice, and fancied that they displayed a philosophical enlargement of mind by asserting that all creeds were much alike, that one was as good as another, and that, in fact, their religion, if they professed any, was the result, not of rational conviction, but of birth or accident. But, while they attacked the authority of others, they laboured vigorously to uphold their own, and promulgated the spurious principle that the authority of the prince is derived from, and therefore subject to, the subject. The same doctrine was soon extended to the laws, and the powers and offices of the great members of the government became confounded. The executive power fancied itself authorised to modulate the interpreta tion or suspend the execution of the law, by what it imagined an equitable jurisdiction; and the legislative body returned the compliment by conceiving itself entitled to interfere in the mode in which the former exercised this imaginary right. The consequences were such as might have been expected. Laws were more hastily framed when it was supposed that they need not be literally or strictly enforced; they became engines to be exerted only against those obnoxious to the party forming the ministry of the day, while, by a species of judicial retribution, the power which the executive had thus arrogated to itself became the means of rendering it more completely the slave of the House of Commons, who, of course, took upon themselves the right of calling the executive to account, either for executing or not executing the laws. The rights of the subject were prostratedthe reverence for the laws was destroyed-crime multiplied and flourished when punishment became arbitrary and uncertain-associations of unauthorized individuals assumed to themselves the functions of government-and the barriers of the constitution and the liberties of the people were reduced to the state of an uninclosed common; the magistrates could