Such chastened feelings afford us a favourable occasion for the introduction of a just and pointed reproof, to an undue estimation of the advantages of birth.

"Sister! Sister!

She who derives her blood from princes, ought

To glorify her greatness by humility.'

Love's Melancholy. Act 1, sc. 2.

Ford must have entertained most exalted ideas of virtue, for on many occasions he strongly and beautifully appeals to its dignity and power.

Spinella-What friends have slept in your absence?'
Auria- Many:

Thy virtues are such friends they cannot fail thee;
Faith, purity of thoughts, and such a meekness,
As would force scandal to a blush.'

Octavian-*

Castamela

No more.

Lady's Trial. Act 1, sc. 1.

No worse you dare not to imagine,

Where such an awful innocency, as mine is,
Out-faces every wickedness your dotage
Has lull'd you in.'

The untainted purity of Castamela, is exquisitely illustrated in

her exclamation :

Is a rare juggler, and can cheat the eye,
But not corrupt the reason, in the throne
Of a pure soul.'

Lover's Melancholy. Act 5, sc. 1.

We must add one single extract more. It is a passage worthy of Dante, and of which any author might be justly proud:

Friar

'There is a place,

List, daughter! in a black and hollow vault,
Where day is never seen; there shines no sun,
But flaming horrors of consuming fires,
A lightless sulphur, choak'd with smoky fogs
Of an infected darkness: in this place
Dwell many thousand thousand sundry sorts
Of never-dying deaths: there damned souls
Roar without pity; there are gluttons fed
With toads and adders; there is burning oil
Pour'd down the drunkard's throat; the usurer
Is forced to sup whole draughts of molten gold;
There is the murderer for ever stabb'd,
Yet can he never die; there lies the wanton
On rocks of burning steel, whilst in his soul
He feels the torment of his raging lust.'

'Tis Pity, &c. Act 3, sc. 6.

508

ART. V. Lettres sur les Elections Anglaises, et sur la Situation de L'Irlande. I vol. 8vo. pp. 260. Paris: Sautelet. London: Treüttel & Wurtz.

1827.

WE have often been exceedingly provoked-sometimes we admit, amused-by those foreigners, who so mortally ill use us in their books of travels, as soon as they return home from a couple of months sojourn in one of the alleys that converge in Leicester Square. They have no bowels for England as a nation. They do not see the sin of caricaturing our "high life," on the authority of a bird's eye view of nobility, from the most eminent seat in the King's Theatre. It is a dangerous practice in such men to assume any longer, that the whole frame-work of British society may be inspected at their favourite restaurateurs in the Haymarket, and that the fifty-two counties of England and Wales may be viewed, and accurately described, from one of the most internal places of accommodation which the metropolis can afford.

But M. Duvergier de Hauranne, the writer before us, is a traveller of quite another stamp. In the early part of last summer, at the epoch of the commencement of the elections, he accompanied the Duke of Montebello, a French peer, in an excursion to this country. At the solicitation of a friend in Paris, who seems to have understood his talents, he was induced to promise an occasional letter on the state of England. But he soon began to despair of being able to redeem his pledge. By the aid of some twenty tomes, and the absence of all scruple about plagiarism, he might, to be sure, as he pleasantly observes, have furnished forth his "Tour;" but such an employment was contrary to his taste. Then he was neither painter, architect, nor antiquary, to dilate on those rare treasures of art of which England is the depositary and our theatres were in too degenerate a state, to attract him to the subject of the drama. 'I should, therefore,' says he, 'infallibly have been put to silence, were it not for an exhibition far more curious than any of those for which you pay money at the dooran exhibition in the open air, where the principal actors generally pay all the expense-in short, an exhibition in which, as in the romantic pieces, tragedy and comedy are constantly blended: I speak of the elections.'

This writer, and his noble friend, arrived in England, in sufficient time to be present, during a day or two, at all the more interesting contests to which the late dissolution of parliament gave rise. During this varied tour, he collected the materials for a series of letters which appeared, from time to time, in an excellent French literary Journal, the Globe. The travellers then proceeded to Ireland, where abundance of subjects presented themselves, worthy of the epistolary talents of M. de Hauranne. These letters collected together, form the interesting volume which is now before

us; and we do not hesitate to say, that they give about the very best, because the most animated and correct, pictures, which could be presented to a foreigner, of one of those extraordinary political paroxysms, which has its uses along with its mischiefs, to be rejoiced in and deplored, called, a contested election. All the leading features of the " exhibition" are seized by the author, and, with something like the skill of a poet, combined in the formation of a series of vivid and highly impressive scenes. Truth, however, is never sacrificed. If, indeed, there be any one quality for which we admire this writer above another, it is for the just and precise discernment, which he evinces of every thing that passes before him, notwithstanding the novelty of the spectacle, the necessary confusion that attends its progress, and all the difficulties which arise on account of difference of language and habits.

To this superior talent for description, the author adds a candid and commanding judgment, which enables him to trace and acknowledge, amid the Babel of the hustings, a source of national good. Some of the details of electioneering movements as they actually take place, are, doubtless, exceedingly ludicrous, even to those who understand their drift, and are accustomed to them by repetition. They lose none of their ridiculous traits beneath the pencil of M. de Hauranne.

But he is also astute enough to see, as well as sufficiently impartial to state, that there is a great deal of serious profit in this merriment, and much political wisdom in all this folly. The account which he gives of a canvass at which he attended, will fully demonstrate the justice of this compliment. It is merely necessary to premise, that the author being personally known to Sir Robert Wilson, received from that gallant member every facility which his curiosity could desire, to observe the proceedings of the Southwark election.

6

ડ

For about an hour and a half I accompanied Sir Robert on his canvass, which, perhaps, is the most curious part of the election. We went into every house, and every shop. There taking off his hat, and addressing the honourable elector, I trust sir,' would the candidate say, 'that my parliamentary conduct has been such as to deserve your support, and that you will do me the favour to give me your vote.' Sometimes the elector would reply yes,' and add two or three words of compliment. Another would probably hesitate a while, until a little more pressing was used. 'I must acknowledge,' says a third-a shoemaker I think it was- that I did not like this Catholic bill.' " Aye, but surely you would like to have cheap bread.' 6 By all means.' 'Well then, Mr. Polhill (an adverse candidate), will make you pay dear for it.' On some occasions we had refusals, but they were open and decided: and then a polite bow was given, instead of that cordial shake hands which always took place when we received a promise. Difference of opinion was, very fairly, alleged as the ground in the former case. However, we met with a ropemaker, who admitted, that in voting for Mr. Polhill he was governed by his interest, and not by his principles. A friend,' said he, recommended me to do so.' And there

was no persuading him to the contrary. Mr. Polhill is very rich, and Sir Robert cannot boast of a large fortune. Sometimes it happened that the husband was absent when we called-and then the wife was asked what were her husband's sentiments, and she was intreated to induce him to vote for the man of the people. We would then take our leave after giving her a card, with the words-Sir Robert Wilson for the cause of reform and liberty.' What appeared to me most striking throughout all this proceeding, was, the profound sense which all these mechanics had of their rights, and the exalted duty which they were exercising. Almost every one of them received the solicitation of the candidate with a serious and reserved air. Whether or not they had already made up their minds, they still would never interrupt the applicant: they seemed to enjoy the homage which was paid to them, and to be desirous of making the most of the occasion. Then, with a degree of dignity, and quite like a minister who was giving away some great favour, they would say, Well, sir, you shall have it.'Although this custom is very fatiguing to the candidate, yet it is one which should be sorry to see suppressed, for it begets between the representative and his constituents, a sort of personal relation: it accustoms them to the firm, and at the same time, courteous declaration of their opinions: in fine, it confers on the electors an importance which considerably enhances the utility of the elections. Independently of this, it must be productive of good, to compel the haughty aristocracy of England, to bend occasionally before the humbler classes; to make them feel, at least once in seven years, that they exist only by the latter; it is, in fact, the counterpoise to that alarming state of inequality amongst its inhabitants, which is the great bane of this country '-pp. 15, 16.

Descriptions like this must necessarily create much surprise in France, where the business of government proceeds with such a silent and methodical pace. But it is not without solid reason that our author gives the preference to the system which, accompanied with a great deal of disorder and individual inconvenience though it may be, possesses the advantages of publicity and great agitation. Nothing can be better calculated to make representatives and constituents what they ought to be, than that round of meetings, of canvassings, of speeches, professions of principles, and personal conflicts, which always attends the course of an election in this country. Whilst twenty thousand persons are hanging upon the accents of one of the candidates for Southwark, five thousand more are fixed by the eloquence of an electioneering orator in Guildhall, at the same moment. And all these, perhaps, may be only listening to different versions of the same interesting lesson, which Sir F. Burdett may be then addressing to some ten thousand of the electors of Westminister. When we remember, that those who compose the various assemblages will be the conductors, and, for all substantial purposes, the faithful conductors, of the information they have acquired, to a still greater number, we may be able to judge of the extent to which political knowledge must spread itself amongst the population.

Determined to see the national exhibiton of elections under all

its phases, our traveller next turned his attention to the north: and, directed by curiosity, it was impossible he should have preferred visiting any other interesting scene in that great quarter before the celebrated borough of Preston.

Now fancy yourself with me on the third day of the election, on the hustings in the mayor's box, where we can distinctly see and hear every thing. Each of the candidates has his booth separated from the others by means of strong barriers; and lest the electors should proceed to blows, they come to the hustings by different entrances. The area in front is filled with ragged mechanics, amongst whom are some women decorated in Cobbett's favours. The poll clerks are seated below the candidates; and Cobbett himself, standing on the barrier which separates his booth from that of captain Barrie, clings by one arm to the pillar of the hustings, whilst with the other he waves his hat and salutes the crowd. As soon as the mayor takes his place, Mr. Stanley addresses him, complaining violently of a handbill issued the evening before by Cobbett, whom he treats as a coward and a liar, and unworthy of further notice. Now look at Cobbett during this speech-he grows pale, his lips are contracted, and he who is so bold in attacking others, loses all his faculties when he is attacked himself. He replies in a tissue of absurdity and abuse-he stammers, clenches his fist at Stanley in the midst of the acclamations of the multitude, and uses expressions too disgusting to be repeated. This man was formerly a corporal, and is now a famous pamphleteer and radical-he is about sixty years of age-his hair is quite grey, and his complexion florid. Nothing can be more gross than his manners, or more vulgar than his tone of voice. Just to please the mob, he presents himself with his waiscoat open and his breast half exposed. If ever he smiles, his countenance assumes a sort of Satanic expression. In short, his countenance and manner indicate, at once, wickedness, pride and meanness. This portrait is not flattering, but I believe it is faithful.'—pp. 47, 48.

From Preston, the traveller proceeded to the neighbouring county of Westmoreland, then agitated by a popular struggle, which had for its object, to break the unconstitutional power of the Lowther party. The moral and political reflections, which result from contemplating this singular scene, are just and striking. But we infinitely prefer those local, or personal sketches, in which the writer appears to indulge only a natural inclination and facility. The portraits of the principal actors on the hustings at Appleby will be admitted, however happily and humorously coloured, to be drawn without exaggeration.

After his ale, an Englishman likes a speech best of any thing-and this sort of appetite was very strikingly displayed by the groups that surrounded the hustings at Appleby, yesterday.-Lord Lowther is a little man, who speaks like one that is destined to be the lord of a million a year his brother, the colonel, a little taller, is in every other respect exactly like him. You may judge how pleasantly these personages must feel in the presence of Henry Brougham. However, supported as they are by some zealous partizans, they contrive to stammer out some words, midst the jeers and hootings of the multitude. The people appear to