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terials for conversation. The House at Uxbridge, where the treaty was held during Charles the First's time; the beautiful and undulating grounds of Bulstrode, formerly the residence of Chancellor Jeffeties; and Waller's tomb in Beconsfield church. yard, which, before we went home, we visited, and whose character, as a gentleman, a poet, and an orator, he shortly delineated, but with exquisite felicity of genius, altogether gave an uncommon interest to his eloquence; and, although one-andtwenty years have now passed since that day, I retain the most vivid and pleasing recollection of it. He reviewed the characters of many statesmen.— Lord Bath's, whom, I think, he personally knew, and that of Sir Robert Walpole, which he pour. trayed in nearly the same words which he used with regard to that eminent man, in his appeal from the Old Whigs to the New. . He talked much of the great Lord Chatham; and, amidst a variety of particulars concerning him and his family, stated, that his sister, Mrs. K. Pitt, used often, in her altercations with him, to say, ‘That he knew nothing whatever except Spenser's Fairy Queen.” “And,' continued Mr. Burke, “no matter how that was said; but whoever relishes, and reads Spenser as he ought to be read, will have a strong hold of the English language.' These were his exact words. Of Mrs. Anne Pitt he said, that she had the most agreeable and uncommon talents, and was, beyond all comparison, the most perfectly eloquent F. be ever heard speak. He always, as he said, amented that he did not put on paper a conversation he had once with her; on what subject I forget. The richness, variety, and solidity of her discourse, absolutely astonished him."
Certainly no nation ever obtained such a deliverance by such an instrument, and hurt itself so little by the use of it; and, if the Irish Revolution of 1782 shows, that power and intimidation may be lawfully employed to enforce rights which have been refused to supplication and reason, it shows also the extreme danger of this method of redress, and the necessity there is for resorting to every
recaution in those cases where it has become indispensable. Ireland was now saved from all the horrors of a civil war, only by two circumstances;–the first, that the great military force which accomplished the redress of her grievances, had not been originally raised or organised with any view to such an interference; and was chiefly guided, therefore, by men of loyal and moderate characters, who had taken up arms for no other purpose but the defence of their country against foreign invasion :-The other, that the just and reasonable demands to which these leaders ultimately limited their pretensions, were addressed to a liberal and enlightened administration, —too just to withhold, when in power, what they had laboured to procure when in opposition,-and too magnanimous to dread the effect of conceding, even to armed petitioners, what was clearly and indisputably their due.
It was the moderation of their first demands, and the generous frankness with which they were so promptly granted, that saved Ireland
* I here omit the long abstract which originally followed, of the Irish parliament and public history, from 1750 to the period of the Union, together with all the details of the great Volunteer Association in 1780, and its fortunate dissolution in 1782—to which remarkable event the paragraph which now follows in the text refers.
in this crisis. The volunteers were: resistible, while they asked only for their country what all the world saw she was entitled to: But they became impotent the moment they demanded more. They were deserted, at that moment, by all the talent and the respect. ability which had given them, for a time, the absolute dominion of the country. The concession of their just rights operated like a talisman in separating the patriotic from the factious: And when the latter afterwards attempted to invade the lofty regions of legitimate government, they were smitten with instantaneous discord and confusion, and speedily dispersed and annihilated from the face of the land. These events are big with instruc. tion to the times that have come after; and read an impressive lesson to those who have now to deal with discontents and conventions in the same country. But if it be certain that the salvation of Ireland was then owing to the mild, liberal, and enlightened councils of the Rockingham administration as a body, it is j. to see, in some of the private letters which Mr. Hardy has printed in the volume before us, how cordially the sentiments professed by this ministry were adopted by the eminent men who presided over its formation. There are letters to Lord Charlemont, both from Lord Rocking: ham himself, and from Mr. Fox, which would almost reconcile one to a belief in the possibility of ministerial fairness and sincerity. We should like to give the whole of them here; but as our limits will not admit of that we must content ourselves with some extracts from Mr. Fox's first letter after the new ministry was formed,—for the tone and style of which, we fear, few precedents have been left in the office of the Secretary of State. “My dear Lord, If I had had occasion to write to you a month ago, I should have written with great confidence that you would believe me persectly sincere, and would receive anything that came from me with the partiality of an old acquaintance, and one who o upon the same political principles. I hope you will now consider me in the same light; but I own I write with much more diffidence, as I am much more sure of your kindness to me personally, than of your inclination to listen with fa. vour to any thing that comes from a Secretary 0 State. The principal business of this letter is to inform you, that the Duke of Portland is appointed Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and Colonel Fitzpatrick his secretary; and, when I have said this, I need not add that I feel myself, on every private as wel as public account, most peculiarly interested in the success of their administration. That their persons and characters are not disagreeable to your Lord. ship, I may venture to assure myself, without being too sanguine; and I think myself equally certain, that there are not in the world two men whose general way of thinking upon political subjects is more exactly consonant to your own. It is not, therefore, too much to desire and hope, that you will at least look upon the administration of su men with rather a more favourable eye, and incline to trust them rather more than you could do most of those who have been their predecessors."“The particular time of year at which this change happens, is productive of many greatinconveniences especially as it will be very difficult for the Duke of Portland to be at Dublin before your Parliament meets; but I cannot help hoping that all reasonal"
men will concur in removing some of these diffi
ruliiea, and that a ghort adjournment will not be denied, it ¡iski'il. I do not throw out this ne knowing from any authority that it will be proposed, but as an idea that suggests itseli to me; and in order tu show that 1 wish to talk with you, and consult wi'h you in the same frank manner in which I should have done belore I was in this situation, so very new to me. I have been used to think ill of all the ministers whom I did know, and to su.spect those whom I did not, that when I am obliged to call myself a minister, I feel as if I put myself into a very suspicious character; but I do assure you I am the very same man, in all respects, that I was when you knew me, and honoured me with some share in your esteem—that I maintain the same opinions, and act with the same people.
"Pray make my best compliments to Mr. Grattait, and tell him, that the Duke of Portland and Fitzpatrick are ihuroughly impressed with the importance of his approbation, and will do all they can to deserve it. 1 do most sincerely hope, that he may hit upon some line that may be drawn honourably and advantageously for both countries; and thai, » lien that is done, he will show the world that there may be a government in Ireland, of which he is not ashamed to make a part. That country can in-ver prosper, where, what should be the ambition of men of honour, id considered as a disgrace."
The following letter from Mr. Burke in the end of 1789, will be read with more interest, when it is recollected that he published his celebrated Reflections on the French Revolution, but a few months after.
"My dearest Lord,—I think your Lordship has acted with your usual zeal and judgment in establishing a Whig club in Dublin. These meetings prevent the evaporation of principle in individuals, and give them joint force, and enliven their exertions by emulation. You see the matter in its true li^ht; and with your usual discernment. Party is absolutely necessary at this time. 1 thought it always so in this country, ever since I have had anything to do in public business; and I rather fear, that there is not virtue enough in this period to support parly, than that party should become necessary, on account of the want of virtue to support itself by individual exertions. As to us here, our thoughts ot every thing at home are suspended by our astonishment at the wonderful spectacle which is exhibited in a neighbouring and rival country. What spectators, and what actors! England gazing with astonishment at a French struggle for liberty, and not knowing whether to blame, or to applaud. The thing, indeed, though I thought I saw something like it in progress for several years, has still somewhat in it paradoxical and mysterious. The spirit it is impossible not to admire; but the old Parisian ferocity has broken out in a shocking manner. It is true, that this may be no more than a sudden explosion; if so, no indication can be taken from it; but if it should be character, rather than accident, then that people are not fit for liberty—and must have a strong hand, like that of their former masters, to coerce them. Men must have a certain fund of natural moderation to qualify them for freedom; else it becomes noxious to themselves, and a perfect nuisance to every body else. What will be the event, it is hard, I think, still to say. To form a solid constitution, requires wisdom as well as «pint; and whether the French have wise heads among them, or, if they possess such, whether they have authority equal to their wisdom, is yet to be seen, in the mean time, the progress of mis whole »flair is one of the most curious matters of speculation that ever was exhibited."—pp. 321, 322.
We should now take our leave of Mr. Hardy; —and yet it would not be fair to dismiss him from the scene entirely, without giving our
readers one or two specimens of his gift of drawing characters; in the exercise of which he generally rises to a sort of quaint and brilliant conciseness, and displays a degree of aculeness and tine observation that are not to be found in the other parts of his writing. His greatest fault is, that he does not abuse any body,—even where the dignity of history, and of virtue, call loudly for such an infliction. Yet there is something in the tone of all his delineations, that satisfies us that there is nothing worse than extreme good nature at the bottom of his forbearance. Of Philip Tisdal, who was Attorney-general when Lord Chailemont first came into Parliament, ho says:—
"He had an admirable and most superior understanding; an understanding matured by years—by long experience—by habits, \\ith the besi company from his youth—with the bar, with Parliament, with the State. To this strength of intellect was added a constitutional philosophy, or apathy, which never suffered him to be carried away bv attachment to any party, even his own. lie saw men and things so clearly; he understood so «til tlie whole farce and lallacy ot life, that it. pnsscd before him like a scenic representation; ai'd, (ill almost the close of his days, he went through the world with a constant sunshine of soul, and un inexorable gravily of feature. His countenance was never gny, and Ins mind was never gloomy. Ho «as an able speaker, аз well at the bar as in the House ol Commons, though his diction was very indifferent. He did not speak so much at length us many of his parliamentary coadjutors, though he knew ihe whole of the subject much better than they did. He was not only a good speaker in Parliament, but an excellent manager of the House ot Commons. He never said too much: and he had grea: merit in what he did not say; for Government was never committed by him. lie plunged into no difficulty; nor did he ever suffer bis antagonist to escupe hum one."—pp. 78, 79.
Of Hussey Burgh, afterwards Lord Chief Baron, he observes:—
"To those who never heard him, as the fashion of this world in eloquence as in all things soon passes away, it may be no easy matter to convey a just idea of his style of speaking. It was .sustained by great ingenuity, great rapidity of intellect, luminoue and piercing satire ; in refinement abundant, in simplicity sterile. The classical allusions of this orator, for he was most truly one, were so apposite, they followed each other in such bright and varied succession, and, at times, spread such an unexpected and triumphant blaze around his subject, that all persons who were in the least tinged with literature, could never be tired of listening to him; and when in Ihe splendid days of the Volunteer Association, alluding to some coercive English laws, and to that institution, then in its proudest array, he said, in the House of Commons, 'That such laws were sown like dragons' teeth,—nnd sprunff up in armed men,' the applause which followed, and the glow of enthusiasm which he kindled in every mind, far exceed my powers oí desctiption." —pp. 140, 141.
Of Gerard Hamilton, he gives is the following characferistic anecdotes.
"The uncommon splendour of his eloquence, which was succeeded by euch inflexible taciturnity in St. Stephen's Chapel, became the subject, in might be supposed, of much, and idle- speculation. The truth is, that all his speeches, whether delivered in London or Dublin, were not only prepared, but studied, with a minuteness and exactitude, of which those *lio are only used to the carelessness of modern debating, can scarcely form any idea. Lord Charlemont, who had been lung and intimately acquainted with him, previous to hie contint; to Ireland, often mentioned that he was the only speaker, among the many he had heard, of whom he could say, with certainty, that all his speeches, however long, were leruten ami got bytieart. Л gentleman, well known to his Lordship and Hamilton, assured him. tlia' he heard Hamilton repeat, no less thnn three times, an oration, which he afterwards spoke in i he House of Commons, and which lasted almost three hours. As a debater, therefore, he became as useless 10 his political patrons as Addition was to Lord Sunderland; and, if possible, he was more •crapulous in composition than even that eminent man. Addison would stop the press to correct the inost trivial error in a large publication; and Hamilton, as 1 can assert on indubitable authority, would recall the tootman, if, on recollection, any word, in his opinion, was misplaced or improper, in the slightest note to a familiar acquaintance."
pp. 60, 61.
No name is mentioned in these pages with higher or more uniform applause, than that of Henry Grattan. But that distinguished person still lives: and Mr. Hardy's delicacy bas prevented him from attempting any delineation, either of his character or his eloquence. We respect his forbearance, and shall follow his example :—Yet we cannot deny ourselves the gratification of extracting one sentence from a letter of Lord Charle
mont. in relation to that parliamentary gram, by which an honour was conferred on an individual patriot, without place or official «it'jation of anv kind, and merely for his per-oi.al merits anil exertions, which has in other case« been held to be the particular and appropriate reward of triumphant generals and commarriers. When the mild and equable temperament of Lord Charlemont's mind is recollected, as well as the caution with which a.l his opinions were expressed, we do noi know that a wise ambition would wish for a prouder or more honourable testimony than is contained in the following short sentences.
"Respecting the grant, I know with гегмтту that Granan, though he felt himself flattered 'r the intention, looked upon the act with the cUrpts! concern, and did ell in his power to depreca'e h. As it was found impossible to defeat the design. iD his friends, and I among other.«, were emp'ovrti -o lessen the sum. It was accordingly derrta.-fd It one half, and that principally by his ромитс- der!»ration, through us, that, if the whole wert- insisted on, he would refuse all but a few hundred«, which he would retain as an honourable mark of the rôtinées of his country. By some, who look only rala themselves for information concerning human nature, this conduct will probably be construed into hypocrisy. To such, the excellence and pre-fminency of virtue, and the character of Granan. ire as invisible and incomprehensibe, as the brightness of the sun to a man born blind."—p. 237.
An Inquiry whether Crime and Misery are produced err prevented by our present System of Prison Discipline. Illustrated by Descriptions of the Borough Compter, Tothill Fields Prison, ¡u Jail at St. Albans, the Jail at Guildford, the Jail at Bristol, the Jails at Bury and Ilcktsttr, the Maison de Force at Ghent, the Philadelphia Prison, the Penitentiary at Afillbant, ai.d tkt Proceedings of the Ladies' Committee at Newgate. By Thomas Powell Вихтох. 8vo. p 171. London: 1818.
There are two classes of subjects which naturally engage the attention of public men, and divide the interest which society takes in their proceedings. The one may, in a wide sense, be called Party Politics—the other Civil or Domestic Administration. To the former belong all questions touching political rights and franchisee—the principles of the Constitution—the fitness or unfitness of ministers, and the interest and honour of the country, as it ma)1 be affected by its conduct and relations to foreign powers, either in peace or war. The latter comprehends most of the branches of political economy and statistics, and all the ordinary legislation of internal police and regulation; and, besides the two great heads of Trade and Taxation, embraces the improvements of the civil Code—the care of the Poor—the interests of Education, Religion, and Morality—and the protection of Prisoners, Lunatics, and others who cannot claim protection for themselves. This distinction, we confess, is but coarsely drawn —since every one of the things we have last enumerated may, in certain circumstance», be made an occasion of party contention.
But what we mean is, that they are not its natural occasions, and do not belonji to tbo-e topics, or refer to those principles, in relation to which the great Parties of a free соаглгт necessarily arise. One great part of а яа!е*matrs business may thus be considered as Polemic—and another as Deliberative: t» main object in the first being to discomlit and expose his opponents—and. in the s*>comi.'" discover the best means of carrying into effect ends which all agree to be desirable.
Judging à priori of the relative importa«» or agreeableness of these two occupations, we should certainly be apt to think thai the latter \vas by far the most attractive and confortable in itself, as well as the most likely to be popular with the community. The ¡act. however, happens to be otherwise: For such is the excitement of a public contest for influence and power, and so great the prize to b* won in those honourable liste, that the highest talents are all put in requisition for that department, and all their force and splemlour reserved for the struggle: And indeed, when we consider that the object of this «trudle is nothing less than to put the whole power of
administration into the hands of the victors, and thus to enable them not only to engross the credit of carrying through all those bénéficiai arrangements that may be called for by the voice of the country, but to carry them through in their own way. we ought not perhaps to wonder, that in the eagerness of this pursuit, which is truly that of the means to all ends, some of the ends themselves should, when separately presented, appear of inferior moment, and excite far less interest or concern.
But, though this apology may be available in some degree to the actors, it still leaves us at a loss to account for the corresponding sentiments that are found in the body of the people, who are but lookers on for the most part m this great scene of contention—and can scarcely fail to perceive, one would imagine, that their immediate interests were often postponed to the mere gladiatorship of the parties, and their actual service neglected, while this fierce strife was maintained as to who should be allowed to serve them. In such circumstances, we should naturally expect to find, that the popular favourites would not be the leaders of the opposite political parties, but those who, without regard to party, came forward to suggest and promote measures of admitted utility—and laboured directly to enlarge the enjoyments and advantages of the people, or to alleviate the pressure of their necessary sufferings. That it is not so in fact and reality, must be ascribed, we think, partly to the sympathy which, in a country .like this, men of all conditions take in the party feelings of their political favourite», and the sense they have of the great importance of their success, and the general prevalence of their principles; and partly, no doubt, and in a greater decree, to that less justifiable but very familiar principle of our nature, by which we are led, on so many other occasions;<to prefer splendid accomplishments to useful qualities, and to take a much greater interest in those perilous and eventful encounters, where the prowess of the champions is almost all that is to be proved by the result, than in those humbler labours of love or wisdom, by which the enjoyments of the whole society are multiplied or secured.
There is a reason, no doubt, for this also— and a wise one—as for every other general law to which its great Author has subjected our being: But it is not the less true, that it often operates irregularly, and beyond its province,—as may be seen in the familiar instance of the excessive and pernicious admiration which follows all great achievements in War, anil makes Military fame so dangerously seducing, both to those who give and to those who receive it. It is undeniably true, as Swift said long ago, that he who made two blades of grass to grow where one only grew before, was a greater benefactor to his country than all the heroes and conquerors with whom its annals are emblazed; and yet it would be ludicrous to compare the fame of the most successful improver in agriculture with that of the most inconsiderable soldier who ever •ignalised his courage in an unsuccessful cam
paign. The in renters of the steam-engine and the spinning-machine have, beyond all question, done much more in our own times, not only to increase the comforts and wealth of their country, but to multiply its resource» and enlarge its power, than all the Statesmen and Warriors who have affected during the same period, to direct its destiny; and yet, while the incense of public acclamation ha» been lavished upon the latter—while wealth and honours, and hereditary distinctions, have been heaped upon them in their lives, and monumental glories been devised to perpetuate the remembrance of their services, the former have been left undistinguished in the crowd of ordinary citizens, and permitted to close their days, unvisited by any ray of public favour or national gratitude,—for no other reason that can possibly be suggested, than that their invaluable services were performed without noise or contention, in the studious privacy of benevolent meditation, and without any of those tumultuous accompaniments that excite the imagination, or inflame the passions of observant multitudes.
The case, however, is precisely the | same with the different classes of those who occupy themselves with public interests. He who thunders in popular assemblies, and consumes his antagonists in the blaze of his patriotic eloquence, or withers them with the liash of his resistless sarcasm, immediately becomes, not merely a leader in the senate, but an idol in the country at large ;—while he who by his sagacity discovers, by hie eloquence recommends, and by his laborious perseverance ultimately effects, some great improvement in the condition of large classes of the community, is rated, by that ungrateful community, as a far inferior personage; and obtains, for his nights and days of successful toil, a far less share even of the cheap reward of popular applause than is earned by the other, merely in following the impulses of his own ambitious nature. No man in this country ever rose to a high political station, or even obtained any great personal power and influence in society, merely by originating in Parliament measures of internal regulation, or conducting with judgment and success improvements, however extensive, that did not affect the interests of one or other of the two great parties in the state. Mr. Wilberforce may perhaps be mentioned as an exception; and certainly the greatness, the long endurance, and the difficulty of the struggle, which he at last conducted to so glorious a termination, have given him a fame and popularity which may be compared, in some respects, with that of a party leader. But even Mr. Wilberforce would be at once demolished in a contest with the leaders of party ; and could do nothing, out of floors, by his own individua, exertions; while it is quite manifest, that the greatest and roost meritorious exertions to ex tend the reign of Justice by the correction of our civil code—to ameliorate the condition of the Poor—to alleviate the sufferings of the Prisoner,—or, finally, to regenerate the minds of the whole people by an improved system of Education, will never give a man half the power or celebrity that may be secured, at any time, by a brilliant speech on a motion of censure, or a flaming harangue on the boundlessness of our resources, and the glories of our arms.
It may be conjectured already, that with all due sense of the value of party distinctions, and all possible veneration for the talents which they call most prominently into action, we are inclined to think, that this estimate of public services might be advantageously corrected; and that the objects which would exclusively occupy our statesmen if they were all of one mind upon constitutional questions, ought more frequently to take precedence of the contentions to which those questions give rise. We think there is, of late, a tendency to such a change in public opinion. The nation, at least, seems at length heartily pick of those heroic vapourings about our efforts for the salvation of Europe,—which seem to have ended in the restoration of old abuses abroad, and the imposition of new taxes at home ;— and about the vigour which was required for the maintenance of our glorious constitution, which has most conspicuously displayed itself in the suspension of its best bulwarks, and the organisation of spy systems and vindictive persecutions, after the worst fashion of arbitrary governments;—and seems disposed to require, at the hands of its representatives, some substantial pledge of their concern for the general welfare, by an active and zealous cooperation in the correction of admitted abuses, and the redress of confessed wrongs.
It is mortifying to the pride of human wisdom, to consider how much evil has resulted from the best and least exceptionable of its boasted institutions—and how those establishments that have been most carefully devised for the répression of guilt, or the relief of misery, have become themselves the fruitful and pestilent sources both of guilt and misery, in a frightful and disgusting degree. Laws, without which society could not exist, become, by their very multiplication and refinement, a snare and a burden to those they were intended to protect, and let in upon us the hateful and most intolerable plagues, of pettifogging, chicanery, and legal persecution. Institutions for the ri-lief and prevention of Poverty have the effect of multiplying it tenfold—hospitals for the cure of Diseases become centres of infection. The very Police, which is necessary to make our cities habitable, give birth to the odious vermin of informers, thief-catchers, and suborners of treachery; — and our Prisons, which are meant chiefly to reform the guilty and secure the suspected, are converted into schools of the most atrocious corruption, and dens of the most inhuman torture.
Those, evils and abuses, thus arising out of intended benefits and remedies, are the last to which the attention of ordinary men ie directed—because they ariee in such unexpected quarters, and are apt to be regarded as the unavoidable accompaniments of indispensable institution». There is a selfish delicacy which makes us at all times averse to enter mto de
tails of a painful and offensive nature : anH an indolent sort of optimism, by which we natorally seek to excuse our want of activity. Ьт charitably presuming that things are as wt'i as they can easily be made, anil that il ,« inconceivable that any very ßazrant abuse* should be permitted by the worthy and humane people who are more immediately p :.¡ cerned in their prevention. To this is ad•:•••: a fear of giving offence to those same worth'. i visitors and superintendants—arid a still mn-e ! potent fear of giving oflence to his Majo?!\ » ¡Government;—for though no administrativ ! can really have any interest in the existe.-r.of such abuses, or can be suspected of w:*1.ing to perpetuate them from any lore fortbrm or their authors, yet it is but too true that nxxt : long-established administrations have locA»ii with an evil eye upon the detectors ami :•• dressors of all sorts of abuses, however liltir connected with politics or political persons— firft, because they feel that their long and undisturbed continuance is a tacit reproach on their negligence and inactivity, in pot barir« made use of their great opportunities to i «cover and correct them — fecondlt/. berat*all such corrections are innovations upon ol! usages and establishments, and practica! admissions of the flagrant imperfection of ihw boasted institutions, towards which it is ;hr: interest to maintain a blind and indiscrimina'' veneration in the body of the people—and. thirdly, because, if general abuses anVo'.ir? large classes of the community are allowed :o be exposed and reformed in any one itéraiment, the people might tret accaetomed to tank for the redress of all similar abuses in oib•• departments,—and reform would cease tnt-fi word of terror and alarm (as most min.fir:? think it ought to be) to all loyal subject*.
These, no doubt, are formidable obstar!" and therefore it is, that gross abuse* h;-*> been allowed to subsist so lone. But thfyarso far from being insurmountable, that we v perfectly persuaded that nothing more i»r>cessary to insure the effectual correction, or mitigation at least, of all ihe evils to which v ! have alluded, than to satisfy the public. W \ of their existence and extent—and. Sdly. "f i there being means for their effectual reare«» | and prevention. Evils that are directly iv nected with the power of the existirá aHm ••i istration—abuses of which they are thcm1 selves the authors or abettors, or of which tb i ! have the benefit, can only be correctr i • 'their removal from office—and are sub»:? tially irremediable, however enormen«, wíi •• I they continue in power. All question athem, therefore, belong to the departmi-i' party politics, and fall within the provincf ! the polemical statesman. But with rppav 'all other plain violations of reason, jarticf- <* humanity, it is comfortable to think tba: ••'••• live in such a stage of society as to mak? ^ , impossible that thev should Ы- allowed tn «¡-i> \ sist many years, after their mischief arai ,-v quity have been made manifest to the sci.« I of the country at large. Public opinion, whirh I is still potent and formidable even toMiniH"rial corruption, is omnipotent against all mfr