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HINTS TO THE ARISTOCRACY.

A RETROSPECT OF FORTY YEARS, FROM THE 1st January, 1834.

It was not without reason that Bacon asserted that time was the greatest of all innovators; and the maxim is not so trite, but that its truth and importance are continually brought back to the observation of the most inconsiderate observer of public events. Forty years have now elapsed since we began to take an interest in the observation of human affairs, and we have never ceased to keep our eyes upon their changes down to the present time. Nevertheless, the difference between the commencement, the middle, and the end of this period, brief as it is, when compared to the lifetime of nations, is so prodigious, that it looks as if our infancy had been passed in one age, our manhood in a second, and our old age in a third.

In January, 1794, Great Britain was beholding, with nearly unanimous horror and detestation, the first fruits of popular usurpation, in the Reign of Terror, and the government of Robespierre. The dreadful spectacle of blood streaming in tor rents from the scaffold, of religion overturned, and the Goddess of Reason in her place-of a Monarch butchered, and a nation decimated -revolted all the best feelings of the English character, and in all, save a few callous and insensible Republicans, whose hearts were as hard as the nether millstone, produced a powerful reaction against the principles of democracy. At that time the British nation cordially and generally supported the principles of Mr Pitt's government; the House of Commons, in general, divided 260 to 40; the House of Lords 80 to 7, in his favour; and even Mr Burke, whose prophetic eye and ardent temperament led him rather to exaggerate than undervalue the public danger, only estimated the hardened irreclaimable Jacobins in Great Britain at 80,000 persons.* The aristocracy boldly led the van, and the people cordially followed their ban

ners, having abated nothing of their love of freedom, but learned nothing of the desire for revolution.

Ten years elapsed, and what was the next aspect which the island exhibited? It was completely filled with volunteers; patriotic spirit, martial zeal, burned deep and strong through its millions; twelve hundred thousand men were in arms, watching with anxious eyes the forces of Napoleon, arrayed on the heights of Boulogne, and preparing to follow the footsteps of Cæsar in the invasion of Britain. The heartburnings which had arisen at the commencement of the war, the Gallican spirit which had at the outset detached a small portion of our people from their country, the divisions which had existed as to the policy of continuing the contest, had almost disappeared. The enormity of the danger, the intensity of the enmity of Napoleon at this country, the evident hopelessness of concluding a lasting peace with so inveterate a foe, had united all classes in a cordial and generous love of their country. Then were developed those elevated feelings and noble determinations which made the nation disdain to submit-which prompted even Mr Fox to nail her colours to the mast, and preserved the British empire, brave and dauntless, amidst the wreck of surrounding states, and the crash of the greatest empires in Europe.

Ten additional years rolled on, and another generation had risen to the direction of public affairs. Still more exhilarating was the prospect which then appeared. The crisis of Europe was over; the Imperial Legions whitened with their bones the fields of Spain, or lay stiff and unburied amidst the snows of Russia-Eflavit Deus et dissipantur. The navy of France had long since ceased to disquiet England; it had disappeared from the ocean since the thunderbolt of Trafalgar, and the impotent rage of the imperial despot had

* Burke's Works, vii. 47.

hurled his forces against the barriers of nature, and struck himself to the earth in the recoil. The conflagration of Moscow had hardly ceased to redden the eastern sky, and the civilized world yet resounded with the cannonade of Leipsic; the alliances of fear, the submission of necessity had disappeared; from the east and the west, from the north and the south, the crusading warriors came forth to the fight; and at the very hour when the joyous inhabitants of Albion were celebrating the close of a year of unexampled glory, the Rhine was covered by innumerable boats conveying to the Gallic shore the avengers of European freedom.* Another period went round, and the world exhibited a very different aspect. In January, 1824, a profound peace had subsisted for nine years, and the nation was enjoying in fancied security the fruits of its labours. Commercial wealth had spread to an unexampled extent; private opulence seemed unbounded; our manufacturing cities resounded with the din of busy workmen; our harbours were crowded with the masts of mercantile enterprise; the ocean was whitened by the sails of our fleets; the rich were affluent and prosperous-the_poor industrious and contented. Every city was teeming with inhabitants, and resplendent with the animating progress of architectural decoration. Every waste was waving with corn, or dotted by innumerable flocks; financial difficulties seemed to have disappeared; every returning session of the legislature brought with it the alluring prospect of a reduction of taxation, and an increase of income; the strongest heads were swept away by the unparalleled flood of prosperity, and the Chancellor of the Exchequer declared in his place in Parliament, that "human imagination itself could affix no limits to the progress of British prosperity, opulence, and power." The administration was the most popular that ever existed; the opposition had disappeared or were blended with the ministerial party; and the British youth, issuing from this prosperous island, overspread

the continental states, eager in the pursuit of pleasure, of knowledge, or of taste.

But it is not without reason that the National Church of Scotland has begun one of its anthems with the words:

"Few are thy days and full of woe,
Oh man of woman born!"
In what state does the fifth period
of ten years open to the British em-
pire? Alas! scarce were the joyous
accents fled-hardly had the voice
of ministerial congratulation ceased

when swift, and unerring, the De stroyer came. The terrible catastrophe of December, 1825, arrived; mercantile credit received an unparalleled shock-distress, anxiety, and suspense, prevailed through the land; and, in the midst of public suffering, Faction reared again its hydra head, and pursued with increased zeal its destructive course. One after another, all the bulwarks of the constitution were surrendered to procure a temporary respite from the anarchical party. The Protestant constitution, the Test and Corporation Acts, were successively abandoned; and, at length, a desperate and reckless faction got possession of the helm, and, wielding the whole force of the prerogative to support the advances of revolution, succeeded in overturning the constitution. In what a state has the British empire been ever since that disastrous epoch; and what are the prospects which, on the 1st of January, 1834, open upon her people? Distrust and anxiety universally diffused-every profession and occupation suffering, and preparing to suffer the lower orders roused into general and fearful activity—the higher lulled into a desponding and hopeless calm-the bulwarks of the constitution, the securities against spoliation, completely swept awayand all the mighty interests of the empire laid open to the caprice and the invasion of a reckless revolutionary faction, driving before them a weak and vacillating administration. Such is the sad termination, so far as time has yet advanced, of this glorious and animated era, and

* Blucher and Schwartzenberg crossed the Rhine at midnight, Dec. 31, 1813.

such the prospects which that generation have to leave to their children, who received from their fathers the sacred deposit of the British Constitution!

The worst feature of the times is not their danger-enormous as that is compared to any which has yet preceded them in the history of England. It is the public despondency which is the most alarming circumstance; the absence of one cheering ray in any quarter of the heavens; the sullen apathy with which all the better classes now abandon any interference in public affairs, and resign themselves to a fate which, how calamitous soever, they seem to regard as inevitable. When we contrast this universal and desperate apathy, with the vigorous and united efforts which the holders of property all made to resist the approaches of anarchy at the commencement of the French Revolution, and the heroic struggle which they maintained against the imperial despot who wielded its power, we are tempted to ask, Are the present generation of Englishmen the same race as their fathers?-do we live in the same age of the world?— -or have we been transported from the era of Scipio and Fabius to that of Marius and Cæsar?

If this extraordinary coexistence of the greatest apprehension, with the most invincible apathy, is traced to its source, it will be found to arise entirely from the belief generally diffused among all persons of reflection or information, that supreme power has now passed into other hands, whose incompetence to exercise it is only equalled by the tenacity with which they will retain it. It is the general, the melancholy belief, in this lamentable change, which paralyses every attempt at exertion, and depresses every effort of patriotic feeling. The prostration of the better classes of all possess ed either of knowledge or property, is now forcibly brought before their eyes, not only in great political struggles, but the most trivial and ordinary concerns of life. The great wave of democracy has not only broken down the barrier of the constitution, but it has rushed into every corner and crevice of the state. Every thing is apparently yielding to

its fury; every office, every situation, every power, has become, or is becoming, the object of low intrigue and democratic contention; and it is not difficult to foresee that ere long all the institutions of learning, charity, authority, and religion, will be prostrated before the ambition of an insatiable revolutionary faction, wielding the energies of a misguided and infatuated people.

The

In

It is in vain to say, that these bad effects are owing merely to the late changes in the Constitution. Revolution of 1832 was itself the result of many concurring causes. It is not to be regarded so much as the origin of evil, as the effect of evil already existing; not so much as the beginning of malady, as the symptom of a constitution already diseased from previous causes. sane as was the conduct, reckless the ambition, unpardonable the violence of the Whigs in urging on that great convulsion, the seeds of disorder which they sowed with so unsparing a hand, could not have come to maturity, if the soil had not been prepared for their reception. In any former period of English history since the Revolution, an administration, which should have ventured to bring forward such a measure, would have been instantly hurled from the helm, amidst the general applause of the nation.

In investigating the causes which had previously prepared the nation for the prodigious change which our rulers have effected, there is one which strikes us as peculiarly prominent, and to which sufficient attention has not hitherto been paid in any discussions on the subject; and that is the separation which had insensibly grown up during the last thirty years between the higher orders of the Aristocracy, and the middling ranks by whom they were surrounded. If the knowledge of the causes of a complaint is the first step towards its cure, the consideration of this subject must appear to be a matter of vital importance at this time, in order to unfold the means of stemming, if any thing human can indeed stem the farther progress of disaster.

That the higher ranks-understanding by that term the class of considerable proprietors, of whatever

political opinions or party-cannot of themselves, without external aid, resist the attacks of their inferiors, is evident from the consideration, that they are not one in a hundred amongst them. How then has it happened, that they have so long, and in so many countries, succeeded in maintaining the ascendency due to property in every well-regulated state, notwithstanding all the jealousy which the prospect of their opulence must have occasioned? Simply by awakening the affections and supporting the interests of their inferiors: by mingling with their amusements, and taking a share in their desires, and sympathizing with their wishes; by throwing down the unseen but hateful barrier which separates the noblesse from the tiers état, and making the people feel that they would lose not merely their superiors, but their protectors and friends, if the Aristocracy were destroyed.

Even as late as 1784, this hereditary and inherent character remained unimpaired; the good sense and natural sagacity of the English people triumphed over the efforts of faction striving to seduce them; and when the Whigs, prostituting the names of liberty and freedom, sought to enchain the Crown and the nation in the fetters of Oriental servitude, the nation, upon an appeal from the sovereign, indignantly chased them from the helm.

It is in vain to conceal, however, that times in this respect are now essentially changed. The present convulsion is less directed against the Crown than the Aristocracy: what is complained of, is not the weight of the prerogative, but the usurpation of an Oligarchy. No man is now foolish enough to assert, that the influence of the Crown" has increased, is increasing, and ought to be diminished;" the popular outcry which carried through the Revolution of 1832, is that "the influence of the Peers has increased, is increasing, and ought to be diminished." The character of the public discontents has entirely changed within the last forty years: the people now regard the Aristocracy, not as their friends, but their enemies, not their protectors, but oppressors; and accept a portion of them as their leaders only so long as with insane blindness they stand up against the interests of " their order," and lend the sanction of their name, and the weight of their talents, to principles tending to sweep away all the distinctions of society, and all the bulwarks of freedom. This is by far the worst symptom of the times; it is a feature unknown in the former history of England, save during the frenzy of Wat Tyler and Jack Cade; it is a proof that the genuine democratic poison is at work amongst us, and that our people have tasted of the fruits, not merely of British freedom, but French equality.

The English have, in every age, as Mr Burke observes, been remarkable for their love of freedom, but never till recently actuated by the passion for equality: they were extremely solicitous that the public liberties should be maintained, but they had no wish that the order of society should be subverted in the struggle, or the privates elevated to the rank of officers, in combating the common enemy. They went forth to resist the encroachments of the Crown, in the natural order of society, headed by their landlords, their magistrates, or their leading citizens, and when the victory was gained, fell back to the same state of established and wellregulated organization. Even during the democratic fervour of the great Rebellion, the same order was preserved: the popular orators in the House of Commons, were the great landed proprietors in the counties; the popular leaders in the cities, the most wealthy and respected of the burghers. In the Revolution of 1688, the Aristocracy and the Church took the lead; the public ferment began when the seven Bishops were taken to the Tower, and the settlement of the Crown was effected, not by a popular tumult, but both Houses of Parliament, debating with becoming deliberation, and for fourteen days together, a great public innovation.

Numerous are the causes which. have conspired to bring about this alarming change. The vast increase of our manufacturing towns, whose wealth and population have more than tripled in the last forty years; the natural progress of opulence, which has increased the desire for political power among the middling

ranks; the spread of education, which has exposed a multitude, tenfold increased, to the influence of political passion and misrepresentation, have all contributed to produce the lamentable result. But powerful as has been the influence of these causes, it is more than doubtful whether they would have been adequate to overturn the English Constitution, if they had not found a ready cooperator in the conduct of the Aristocracy itself; if the nobility and great landed proprietors, when standing on the brink of a precipice, had not acted with a degree of blindness which doubled the strength of their adversaries, and confounded the efforts of their friends.

"Great as were the evils, crying the abuses of France," says a Royalist writer, whose works Mr Burke said posterity will class with the Annals of Tacitus," it was not they which brought about the Revolution. Insult is more keenly resented than injury: it was neither the Taille nor the Vingtièmes, nor the Corvées, nor the Lettres de Cachet, nor the Tithes, nor the Feudal Services, which occasioned the convulsion: the prestige of the nobility alone had this effect."* The same cause, we grieve to say, has had too much influence in producing the discontents of the present time; in inducing the impatience of superiority, which forms so leading a feature in the social convulsion in the midst of which we are now placed; in substituting for the old English love of freedom the modern French passion for equality. And it has unfortunately happened, that at the very period when the changes of time were shaking the foundations of aristocratic influence, their own conduct and manners have contributed not a little to widen the breach, and throw the weight which should have supported, into the ranks which are to destroy them.

It is observed in one of the recent fashionable novels, which, like straws, shew how the wind sets, that the institution of Almacks has had more influence than is generally supposed in bringing about the Reform Bill. The observation is perfectly

just, though perhaps not exactly in the sense which the aristocratic novelist intended. In truth, the exclusive system, which, emanating from that centre, has now, like a leprosy, overspread the land, is one of the chief causes of that profound hatred at the Aristocracy, which distinguishes the present from any other popular convulsion in English history. It is in vain to say that the line drawn by the Exclusives is attended with no practical or substantial grievance; that all offices are open to talent; that a Chancellor, raised from the middling or lower orders, is constantly placed at the head of the British Peerage; and that, having conceded so much to the interests and ambition of their inferiors, they may be allowed to select their companions and their society for themselves. All that is perfectly true; but it is as nothing, as long as Mordecai the Jew sits at the King's gate. The exclusive system is felt as an insult, if not as an injury: human weakness proves that it is no answer to conscious worth, talent, and elegance in the middling orders, to say that every office is open to their ambition, if they are excluded from a society to which they are attached both by principle and inclination. Men of fortune, talent, and information, in the class of gentlemen, feel the injustice of that invidious line, which the exclusive system has drawn between them and their superiors in rank, but their equals in birth, and their inferiors, possibly, in every elegant or useful acquirement. They will not submit to it in silence: they resent it as a slight on themselves, their character, their station, and their families, and fall, in consequence, an easy prey to the ambitious leaders, or factious demagogues, who represent the very existence of the Aristocracy as a social grievance, and combination against their power as the first of political duties.

The exclusive system would have been no inconsiderable evil, if it had been confined to London; but spreading as it has done through every county in the kingdom, it has contributed materially to weaken the

* Rivarol.

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