no longer look to the laws as their rule of conduct, but were obliged, like the cadis of Asiatic, or the pachas of European despots, to receive their instructions, not from the printed statute, but from the ministerial letter.

Such has been the gradually progressing result of principles which were in their origin just, and applied to just and valuable purposes, but which, not having been with sufficient accuracy defined at their commencement, or rather having been only fortified on one side, were kept in active operation long after their proper work was accomplished, and thus employed to overthrow that very constitution, the establishment of which had been the object of their introduction. It is true, that their first supporters, the old Whigs, marked the line which separated the legitimate application of these principles from their corruption and abuse, with a precision and care worthy of those great and good men; they even seemed to guard, with a species of prophetic spirit, against the use to be hereafter made of their name, by a set of weak, mongrel politicians, who as little resemble their sound wisdom and cautious moderation, as their pure Protestant spirit and fervent piety. They marked out the line, but they could do no more. Theory may define a principle, but experience, bitter experience, can alone raise the bulwark that is to keep that line inviolate. England had experienced the evils of despotism—she had felt the horrors of democracy-but she had not yet groaned under the tyranny of a House of Commons which, with the semblance of a monarchical government, set at defiance the moral power of the nation, and supported its own existence, and maintained its minions in office by courting and inflaming the vilest passions of the most worthless rabble.

We have already observed that no sudden revolution can effect a radical change in the minds and habits of society. It is necessary that principles should be generally known and appreciated that a succession of acts should be performed, under different circumstances and by various persons, which should be all unequivocally traced to those principles, and that time should be allowed to view them in all their

bearings and effects, ere they can with perfect safety be adopted, or be finally and irretrievably condemned.

Experience, and the whole character and circumstances of the age, precluded the idea of despotism-common sense forbid the notion of democracy; but the right medium, wherein the parts should be so balanced as to keep a permanent equipoise, was as yet a matter of theory unfortified by experience. England was to be the telegraph to communicate to the world the results of experimental discovery.

Let us return to history. As soon as the principles and theories we have described had become sufficiently ma tured and disseminated to enable them to maintain their hold so long as to render their overthrow a final and permanent lesson; but before they had produced such effects as to destroy the power which was to reduce them, we find a monarch placed on the British throne, whose leading characteristic was sound probity and undaunted firmness-a man in every way qualified by judgment to choose, and by sterling integrity to support able ministers. Had his talents been splendid, the result might have been attributed to them, and the lesson would have been left incomplete. Had his capacity been mean, he must have fallen a victim to the formidable array marshalled against him. As it was, that part of the preparation was complete; no man was ever more admirably calculated for the duty before him, and he was left long enough on the throne before the crisis came on, to enable him to know his ground, and to render his character intimately understood by his people. The accession of George the Third was the first symptom of preparation for the events of the present day. The successful revolt of America was the first signal of danger, and touched a chord that vibrated from one end of Europe to the other, and lighted the train that almost immediately exploded in the French revolution. Europe was prepared; and there was not a nation that was not charged with combustible material ready to communicate the flame. But never was the right arm of superior wisdom more clearly displayed than on this occasion. Abroad, the blaze was fanned by all the ablest, most literary, accom

plished and showy philosophers of that or, perhaps, any former age; at home, the most splendid eloquence, the most brilliant wit, the most ingenious argument, were enthusiastically exerted in its favour. The host marshalled to resist and overwhelm this so formidable foe, consisted of an old man and a boy! George the Third and William Pitt were the instruments raised by Providence. The nation was in a fever; a minister was required who should possess, not splendid eloquence, nor playful wit, but that sagacity, that patience, foresight, discrimination and steadiness which was not found in the people. There was enough of all these qualities in Great Britain to counterpoise all the feverish delirium under which she laboured. There was enough; but it was all placed in the breast of a youth just emerged from boyhood. When his opponents "turned them about and saw him, they disdained him, for he was but a youth;" and when he offered them battle, they "cursed him by their gods." It was necessary that the English nation should have been imbued with the disease, in order to render them an example of the cure, and it was also necessary that they should be restrained from action till they were restored to reason. In spite of the frantic exertions of his enemies, the sovereign still retained his minister, and the minister still retained his temper and his purpose, until he felt that he could safely rely on the recovered sanity of his patient. He did not ask what public opinion was; far less did he seek an answer to that question in the yells of a profligate and ferocious faction. He formed a cool, clear judgment of what public opinion ought to be; and what it ought to be, he soon taught it to become. When the ability and firmness of Pitt had enabled the nation to be inactive spectators of the fiendish effects of democracy in France, and thus restored sufficient health to public feeling, to make more active remedies safe, the Irish rebellion, by bringing the danger nearer, gave a fresh spur to their recovery, and the dangerous ambition of Napoleon compelled them to apply their utmost strength against that nation and those principles which but a few years before they were ready to have joined heart

and hand in the career of destruction.

The war with France, while it brought the aid of all their ancient national feelings to the revival of right principles in England, and effectually cut them off by a species of "cordon sanitaire" from the importation of any further corruption from the continent, contributed in a high degree, by its arduous and gallant struggles, and glorious feats of skill and courage, as well as by its decisive event, to place England in a station so exalted, that the attention of all the civilized globe was riveted on her future conduct as a rule by which to regulate their own Her literature and language also be came fashionable, and she was, at the end of the war, every way more qualified for the purposes of example.

Had the present state of things in England been contemporaneous with the French revolution, or had that revolution not taken place, and England had not purchased that great body of experience, the posture of affairs would be indeed hopeless, and the mass of reckless, unprincipled, and profligate radicalism which is now marshalled against the conservative force of the empire, would be the unopposed arbiter of the lives and fortunes of Englishmen. But the lesson then taught was not thrown away. The attachment to monarchy was restored, the feeling of religion had revived, and the nation had resumed its former love for what were emphatically called British principles.

Great, however, as was this reaction, it was not adequate to meet the danger. A powerful mass of the people remained possessed by false principles, and few, if any, remembered that a monarchy, injudiciously limited, is as mischievous as, and must end in, a democracy. The enemies of peace and order now adopted another system. They felt that it was impossible longer to advocate democracy with success. They took the only course which remained. Religion had revived, through the alarm which the approach of danger had spread among the clergy, and the exhibition of the tenets and fruits of French infidelity. They were, therefore, compelled to disguise democracy under the appearance of monarchy, and to sepa

rate polities from religion. This course was more effectual and more secure; it calmed the jealousies of the supporters of the constitution-it deprived monarchy of the powerful aid of religion-and it prepared the means by which religion itself might be ultimately destroyed. Having acknowledged the propriety of a monarchy, they applied themselves to reduce it to a shadow; having laid down the doctrine that religion had no relation to politics, they proceeded to draw a distinction between the theory of religion and its practice; and in lieu of the no longer palatable assaults on its doctrines, contented themselves with undermining the means of its support. The long peace under James the First, had given opportunity to the noxious humours of that age to mature and display their native venom; and the general calm spread over the face of Europe after the field of Waterloo, produced the same result. The reptiles who had shrunk into their congenial darkness, while the glorious contest was arousing the true British attachment to the constitution, now crept forth and renewed their poisonous labours. Experience had warned them of the dangers they must avoid; they learned that to undermine was more easy and more sure than to storm : they therefore talked of the beauty of the constitution, and of its liberal principles; they lamented that all did not equally enjoy its advantages; they proposed, not that the constitution should be changed, but that its blessings should be extended; they carefully confounded liberty and power; they studiously separated the parts of the constitution; they protested against making religious tenets the ground of political enactments; they asserted that a Papist would make as good a legislator as a Protestant; and they implied that an infidel was as well qualified for a minister as a Christian. They did not now uphold that the king was a public nuisance; but they maintained that the choice of his ministers, and the regulation of his acts, was vested in the House of Commons: they did not now avow that the people were absolved from obedience to any law they did not like; but they acted on the principle, that it was the duty of the execu

tive not to enforce any law which was displeasing to those against whom it was made: they no longer ventured to propose the total abolition of Christianity; but they invented the Jesuitical distinction of spiritualities and temporalities; and while they disclaimed all intention of interfering with the former, as indeed well they might-for how could they interfere with abstract doctrines ?-they directed their most desperate efforts to destroy the latter; for they felt that their infidel objects would be much more effectually answered by removing the means by which Christianity was supported and taught, than by a contest with its principles, in which they were certain of a defeat. They also formed the holy alliance of Infidels, Socinians, Dissenters and Papists. All these felt, that when the common enemy, the Church of England, was destroyed, they must fight for the spoil; but the two first knew that their objects would not interfere; the third were content with the gratification of present hatred, and the prospect of future anarchy; the Infidel, the Socinian, and the Dissenter, then stipulated for the enjoyment of the general ruin of all institutions, and the wreck of rights and property; while the Papist was to receive for his share the reversion of the nation to superstitious delusion and spiritual darkness. In any case where the allies should interfere, it was arranged that infidelity should have the men and superstition the women; and as a pattern for the details of this system, they referred to the United States of America.

The policy of this confederation was most judicious. They divided the empire into portions, in each of which they followed a different system for the same end, and employed the prejudices and ignorance of each against the rest; they laboured to establish, that Ireland ought to be governed by a different policy from England, and that the church should be separated from the state; they no longer openly advocated destruction; they were content to effect it under the name of reform and improvement.

This is the new danger the constitution has been exposed to-a danger the more imminent, as its progress is more slow, and its instruments more

plausible-but it was necessary to the stability of religion and liberty, that they should undergo this trial. While nations were illiterate and uncultivated it was sufficient for the well-being of society that a small portion of the people should be acquainted with, and interested in, the administration of affairs; but as the whole mass became cultivated, and each member of it possessed, at it were, of a more distinct personal identity, while the wants and designs of each were rapidly and easily communicated to the rest, the task of restraint as it became more necessary, was also more difficult. A tribe of savages are governed by a chief alone; -a despotic monarchy governs by the intervention of a body of officers; -a limited monarchy by the assistance of laws and magistrates: but all these can only effect their objects when the subjects are in a state of comparative ignorance and inactivity. When this is removed by the general diffusion of learning, arts, and sciences, a new kind of power is rendered necessary to the support of government,-the moral influence of property. By this power we mean, that active, energetic support given to government, in restraining vice and crime, by a body of men acting, if we may so express it, as moral magistrates; acquainted with the real principles of their national constitution-firmly bigoted to those principles-using the whole power of their wealth, property, and talents, to repress any dissent from those principles-viewing their political influence as a religious trust, and their religious duty as a political protection. No less power than this, called as a permanent ally to government, can ever be sufficient to restrain the evil dispositions, and protect the rights and liberties of an educated and civilised people. Such a power as this could only be created by a long course of experience so complete, and of dangers so various and individual, as would suffice to root out for ever the disposition to indolence which accompanies wealth, and to impress upon the landed proprietor that his is as much an active profession as that of the barrister or the clergyman.

It is obvious that for such a state of

things to continue, the government must be carried on upon certain immutable principles, and the sickly, bankrupt doctrine of temporary expediency for ever exploded. It would be impossible for each measure to be discussed with every individual, and therefore the necessity of a fixed constitution in religion and politics is manifest.

The length and circumstances of this great struggle have developed all the great enemies to the constitution, and in it, to the rights and liberties of the empire. We have seen that at the period of the French revolution the people of Great Britain were by no means qualified to avert the threatened ruin. Let us briefly recite the order of events which succeeded. At this time the advance of civilization and modern literature had just reached that point when nations begin to exercise a direct and moral influence upon each other; when the inhabitants of each are generally acquainted with the leading principles and nature of their own and foreign constitutions; and when the habit of reasoning in matters connected with government and social organization had become so familiar to their minds, as to enable them to make a valuable use of every experience presented to them. It was now, therefore, sufficient that one nation should undergo the process of experiment for the benefit of all. Great Britain then received the poisoned cup of revolutionary principles. We have seen how she was preserved from destruction. We now appeal to such of our readers as with us remember and have watched the slow progress of events from that to the present period for the justice of the assertion, that up to the era of the French revolution the clergy of the empire had been sinking alike in personal character and public estimation, and that from that time to the present they have been steadily and progressively improving; while as a necessary consequence, a strong feeling of religion has begun to find its way into all classes of society. About the space of one generation has passed away; those who were then too old to learn have disappeared from the stage, and are succeeded by those who had been

reared up in the school of experience. The nation was placed in the midst of the furnace, and the mind of Pitt was created to preserve it from consumption: a race of men were thus educated to support the more complicated and treacherous dangers which were to follow. Accordingly we now find them thrown on themselves for support, in a way that bids fair to call out every latent energy of the conservative body: they are at length learning their duty as landlords, as legislators, and as citizens. It is remarkable that the galaxy of talent which adorned this empire at the first period we speak of, has passed away: the conservative body, with a few exceptions, have been driven for defence to the mere strength of principle; and the mean capacity of their antagonists has exhibited at the same time the facility of doing evil, and the undisguised deformity of that evil: facts and actions are laid before the public, without the misleading decorations of wit or elegance?

The spectacle of the French revolution suddenly checked a sudden phrenzy-the experience of the last twenty years has by degrees cured a deeply rooted disease.

None of our readers can, we hope, believe us so Utopian as to suppose, that any train of events, any progress of knowledge, or even the highest earthly perfection of Christianity, can bring the whole body of the people of any country, or even the numerical majority of them, to the state of which we speak. We merely give our opinion that the state of things we describe is designed to produce this salutary effect upon those possessed of the moral and physical influence of wealth, property, and power; to cure the nation of extremes; to show it that in avoiding despotism and bigotry, it must as zealously shun democracy and latitudinarianism; to mark the difference between toleration and encouragement; between liberty and power; and, above all things, to establish the principle, that religion cannot be separated from politics; that proportionate to the diffusion of knowledge without religion, will be the increase of vice and crime; and that

according as civilization is advanced, information spread, and communication facilitated, it becomes more necessary that the principles of the constitution in religion and politics should be clearly ascertained, and firmly adhered to; that the laws should be strictly enforced; and religious education cultivated.

Theoretically, this state of things was acknowledged at one period of our history to be the safeguard of the empire. In the annals of Great Britain we find three remarkable periods; the first, after civilization had begun to spread, was the union of despotism and popery; the next, of democracy and puritanism; the last, of limited monarchy and the church of England. The two first were in many respects similar, distinguished merely by the number of tyrants in the state, and popes in the church. The last was that beautiful pattern of a constitution laid down by the old Whigs at the Revolution. Those great men felt the imperative necessity of uniting politics with religion: when they opposed, or advocated, a great public measure, it was difficult to say whether their motives were derived, and their arguments adduced, more from the religious duty, or the political principle. But, as in the beautiful manufacture of porcelain, the colours which they painted on the constitution were yet to be burned in by the furnace of experience. It was necessary that radicalism should be let loose; that dissenterism should receive political encouragement: and that both should unite to confer power upon popery, ere the people of Great Britain could be taught the principles and the value of their constitution.

It was natural that men who felt themselves incalculably superior to their ancestors in the discoveries of science should expect a proportionate superiority in ethical morality-this was, however, an error. The resources of nature, and the mutual relative powers of natural substances, are almost infinite; and the advance of science only serves to discover more new and wonderful causes and effects: but in morality and religion the case is otherwise. True it is, that the more we investigate the subject, the more