sions thus acquired; and even upon the restoration of the Catholic nobility, in the time of Mary, it was found necessary to concede to their possessors the confiscated estates.

In like manner, when Neckar, the reforming minister of Louis XVI., was called, in 1789, to the reins of government, he immediately recommended the convocation of the States General, and, by a royal ordinance, doubled the numbers of the representatives of the Tiers Etat of France. This fatal edict, issued six months before the assembly of the States General, rendered the revolution inevitable; because it roused democratic ambition to the highest degree in every part of France, and inflamed the lower orders, by the immediate prospect of triumphing over their superiors. The people were not so dead to ambition as to refuse the gift of sovereignty thus presented to them; and thenceforward, the elections all ran in favour of such democratic representatives, that their ascendency in the States General was irresistible; and within a few months after they met, the king, after narrowly escaping death at the hands of his subjects, was led in melancholy state a prisoner to his own capital.

The case is the same now in this island. The lower orders, inflamed and directed by the democratic press, at once perceived, that by means of the L.10 householders, and the extinction of all the Tory boroughs, their ascendency would become complete. The sweets of popular sovereignty-the dazzling heights of power-the substantial advantages of liberation from tithes and taxesthe prospect, at no distant period, of a division of the estates of the nobility, danced before their eyes, and produced an universal intoxication. Under the influence of these highly wrought feelings, the elections took place, and every body knows the result.

All the established relations of life were set at nought-the ascendency of centuries was overturned-benefactions for ages were forgotten-the tenantry almost universally revolted against their landlords -the little urban freeholders followed in the career of the great democratic towns-antiquity of name, generosity of conduct, splendour of talent, fidelity of service, were alike set at nought, and nothing became a

passport to popular favour, but a direct pledge to secure for the populace the glittering prize thus placed within their reach.

The present House of Commons, therefore, is differently constituted from any which have preceded it since the foundation of the monarchy. It is no longer the mirror of the united wealth, intelligence, and numbers of the people. The Crown, the Peers, the landed proprietors, the merchants, the shipping interest, no longer find themselves fully represented-the majority has been returned by the populace, in defiance of all these interests, and for the express purpose of annihilating their influence in the Legislature. We do not say that the gentlemen returned are for the most part inclined to support such extreme measures-a large body, in despite of the public frenzy, have still been elected, steadily attached to the constitution; and even of the reformers, a large part, doubtless, are men of sense and information, who will strive to moderate the transports which have heaved them into power. But still the composition of the House is avowedly and undeniably different from what it ever was before: the number of the tribunes of the people is fearfully augmented: the influence of property has been destroyed: the ancient working and balance of the constitution is at an end.

In these circumstances, the strongest argument against a resolute stand by the Peers is removed. When that body, on former occasions, as on the Catholic relief question, threw out a bill which had passed the other branch of the Legislature, the objection to such a proceeding was, that the nobles were now twice exerci

sing their influence; once by means of their nominees in the Lower House, and again directly in their own branch of the Legislature. If a bill is sent up to the Peers, it was said, it is a proof that the sense of the nation is in its favour: an assembly composed of the representatives of all classes have passed it, and therefore it would be a dangerous stretch for the Peers to interpose their negative. But the case now is toto cælo different. The present House of Commons is avowedly returned, not by the Peers, but in spite of the Peers-not by intelligence, but in

spite of intelligence-not by property, but in spite of property. The indirect influence, therefore, can no longer be exercised; and unless rank, property, and education, are to be sacrificed at the shrine of popular ambition, they must look for their representation to the Upper House. The constitution no longer resembles the ancient and stable British government; it is more nearly akin to the Roman commonwealth-and if they would avert an Agrarian law, the patrician classes must oppose the firmness of the senate to the vehemence of the popular tribunes. In combating the Reform bill, therefore, the Peers are not vainly struggling for their own exclusive privileges against the united voice of the nation they are throwing their shield over all its best and dearest interests; they are protecting the education, thought, and intelligence of the kingdom from the fury of popular delusion; they are saving those qualified to govern from being subjugated by those fitted only to be governed. In such a contest the result cannot be doubtful, if property, education, and worth are sufficiently firm. By supporting the aristocracy, as they did in 1783, this second Whig invasion of the constitution will be defeated, as on that memorable occasion; the great bulk of mankind, who always incline to the side likely to prove victorious, will rally round their hereditary leaders; and the people, wakened from their delusion, will ultimately recognise their real friends, and coerce the populace who have usurped their name.

Look at other countries. What, in a similar crisis, has been the consequence of yielding to such ebullitions of popular ambition? Has it been to confirm the existence of the nobility--to secure the rights of the people to check the progress of anarchy to chain the demon of revolution? It has been, on the contrary, to fan the flame of popular discontent to rouse the fury of plebeian ambition-to superadd to the asperity of real grievance the passion for chimerical improvement.

The nobles and clergy of France, in 1789, tried to its utmost extent

* Segur, iii. 355.

the system of concession. For years previous to the assembling of the States-General, the younger part of the nobility had been extravagantly attached to the principles of freedom: they were flattered by the choice of the populace-they hoped to head the movement; they imagined, that, by yielding to the people, they would preserve their ascendency over them, and avert the disasters of popular commotion. "In 1789," says Segur, "no one in France dreamed of the revolution which was approaching; every one imagined, that the reforms which were commenced would terminate the embarrassment of the government, and establish the public felicity. It was the era of illusion-the king, the ministers, the parliament, the three orders, were all penetrated with the sincerest love of their country-it seemed as if they were swayed by deceitful dreams. All hoped, by a common effort, to widen the base of the monarchy-restore the credit of the finances-conform ancient institutions to modern improvementsefface all traces of pristine servitude, and by blending popular influence with monarchical power, establish, on an immovable basis, the public felicity." -" The great judicial bodies, the nobles, the clergy," said Lafayette, in 1790-" all those, in fine, who are now so vehement in condemning the revolution, have for a series of years attacked the measures of the crown with as much vehemence as the discourses of our tribune. They have, by common consent, appealed to the nation; but no sooner had the people answered the summons, than they saw their danger, and sought to impose silence upon its representatives." +

In pursuance of this delusion, the nobles and clergy of France, upon the meeting of the States-General, made the following submissions to the popular party.

First, when the great contest arose, in June 1789, between the three orders, as to whether the public deliberations should be conducted in one or separate chambers, forty-six of the peers, headed by the Duke of Orleans, Marquis Lafayette, the Duke

+ Ibid. iii. 453.

to the bill establishing triennial parliaments; they passed the bill of attainder against Strafford, although no grounds could be shewn to support the impeachment previously brought against him; they submitted to the impeachment of the bishops; they made no attempt to check the "Remonstrance" of the Commons. "So violent was the democratic spirit of the nation," says Hume," that a total confusion of all rank and order was justly to be apprehended; and the wonder was not that the majority of the nobles should seek shelter under the throne, but that any of them should venture to desert it. But the tide of popularity seized many, and carried them wide of the most established maxims of civil policy. Among the opponents of the King, were many of the most distinguished members of the peerage-these men, finding that their credit ran high with the nation, ventured to encourage those popular disorders, which they vainly imagined they possessed authority sufficient to regulate or control."*

In pursuance of the system of concession, the Lords next passed the famous bill, conferring on the Commons the whole power of the sword. By this bill, the lieutenants of the counties were intrusted with the power of raising an armed force; they were named by the Parliament, and declared accountable, not to the King, but to the House of Commons.t "Should I grant these demands," said the King, when pressed to interpose the royal assent to this bill, “ I may have my hand kissed; the title of majesty may be continued to me, and the King's authority signified by both Houses may still be the style of your commands. I may have swords and maces carried before me; though even these twigs would not long flourish, when the stock upon which it grew was dead; but as to true and real power, I should remain but the outside, but the picture, but the sign of a king." Yet even these demands were agreed to by the infatuated peers.

If the system of concession to popular demands were ever destined to be successful, here it was tried on

the greatest scale, and with the fairest prospects of success. What were its consequences? Did it temper the popular fury, place the peerage at the head of the movement, secure their honours or estates, save the throne from destruction? It did the reverse of all these things; it inflamed to madness the ambition of the Commons, roused up what Lord Clarendon calls "the Root and Branch men ;" and excited an universal frenzy throughout the nation. In return for such pliant submission, in reward for the eminent services of Essex, and many of the nobles, in the Parliamentary armies, the House of Peers was voted a nuisance and abolished; the nobles banished, their estates put under sequestration, and the King himself, as a return for so many concessions, brought to the block.

To those who lay all history and experience aside as an old almanack," who set at nought the lessons of the past, and are resolved at all hazards to pursue the system of inconsiderate innovation, these examples of course will have no weight. But to those who are of an opposite opinion, who speak of renovating, not rebuilding the constitution; who profess to be guided by a retrospect of the past in their measures for the future; who believe that the passions and ambition of men are the same in all ages, when excited by the same causes, we earnestly recommend their consideration. The more they are studied, the more extraordinary will appear their application to the present times.

It is not the mere force of human depravity, or the simple ingratitude of numerous bodies, which made the French and English nobles, and the French and English church, fall the first victims of the Revolution, which they had sought to appease by such abject submissions. These submissions themselves were the cause of their disasters; they excited a spirit which speedily became uncontrollable; they made the great bulk of the nation abandon a cause which had so evidently despaired of itself.

What, on the other hand, enabled the British aristocracy to suppress

Hume, vi. 394.

+ Ibid. vi. 424.

the fervour of revolution, which spread to this country by contagion in 1793? What brought the House of Peers triumphantly through the contest with the Whigs, the House of Commons, and the whole forces of the Coalition, in 1783? The same cause which made Rome triumphant over Hannibal, Napoleon victorious at Arcola, and Wellington at Waterloo. Unconquerable firmness-decision in presence of danger-the bravery which, by deserving the smiles of Fortune, speedily obtains them.

"Quid in rebus civilibus," says Bacon; "maxime prodest-Audacia; quid secundum, audacia; quid tersium, audacia.-Nihilominus fascinat et captivos ducet eos qui vel judicio infirmiores sunt, vel animo timidiores; tales autem sunt hominum pars maxima-id circo videmus audaciam in democratiis plurimum valuisse; apud senatores et principes certe minus.”* In these words is contained the secret of the success of the aristocracy on those memorable occasions, compared with the utter prostration which followed their submission in the others. It is the audacity of revolutionary leaders which so frequently gives them success; because the great bulk of mankind are always inclined to range themselves on the firmest side, and under the most intrepid leaders. Let the British aristocracy oppose to the vehemence of popular tribunes the firmness of the Roman senate, and they will speedily achieve as noble a triumph.

We have said that the time is gone by, when unqualified resistance to Reform could have been made: the divisions of the Tories have lost them that vantage ground: the rejection of the Reform Bill must be accompanied in one or other House by a more rational plan for remodelling the Constitution. In considering this subject, it is of the utmost moment to attend to what originally was the qualification of voters, and the changes which time has silently made in those who come up to the poll.

In the remotest ages all freemen

appear to have been admitted to vote. This was perfectly safe during the days of baronial power, when the nobles lived in armed state on their estates; when the poor were few and uninformed; when London contained 30,000 souls,+ and Lancashire was almost uninhabited; when manufactures and printing were unknown, and the greater part of the rural labourers were disqualified from being freeholders, by actual slavery. In the days of Gurth and Cedric, of Ivanhoe and Wamba, no peril from democratic power was to be apprehended.

In the progress of time the right of voting in the counties was restricted to forty shilling freeholders, the qualification which has ever since continued. This change took place in the time of Henry VI., by the 8th statute, c. 7 of that monarch. It is estimated by Sir James Macintosh, that, in the time of Henry VIII. L.30,000 was equivalent, taking the value of money and the price of articles, to L.1,000,000 of our money :‡ in other words, forty shillings was equal in that reign to above L.70 a-year of the present currency.

The progressive depression in the value of money, therefore, which has since taken place, has operated as a continual lowering of the elective franchise; and has brought it now to embrace properties amounting in value only to one thirty-third part of those originally admitted by the statute of Henry.

This is a most important consideration, which has never met with the attention it deserves. While the people have been constantly exclaiming against the encroachments on their power by the nobles, the silent changes of time, by incessantly lowering the elective franchise, have more than counterbalanced the influence of the higher classes. The discovery of the mines of Potosi, the progress of luxury, Mr Pitt's Bank Restriction act, have all added prodigiously to their power. The forty shilling freeholders who now come up to an English county election, no more resemble the military tenants who formerly returned the knights

History of England, ii. 54,