an equal to Lagrange. Impartial judges (bowing to me) will agree, that in the most profound and abstract of human sciences, the people whom you treat as frivolous and superficial, have gone far beyond you. Your mathematicians of Oxford and Cambridge, are not even acquainted with that form of the calculus which we use for our investigations. If we excel you in abstract knowledge, there is still less doubt that we are superior in practical happiness. For happiness consists in nothing so much as in a temper of mind fitted for pleasure, or, to use a chemical phrase, in having a capacity for enjoyment. A man may satisfy himself of this, by travelling the same road when he is gay, and when he is gloomy. In the first case, the country will appear to him smiling, beautiful, or sublime; in the second, it will seem tame, dull, or savage. Now the disposition of a Frenchman, is to see every thing en beau. I remember being in a wretched prison guarded by Spaniards, who any day in the week, might have taken a fancy to cut our throats; yet we laughed all day and acted plays in the evening. Englishmen would have cut holes in the wall, and have been shot in the attempt to escape. If we know how to bear adversity, we also know how to enjoy prosperity. What in the world so good as the restaurateurs and the theatres of Paris? What country can compare with France for wines, for dress, for dancing, and for plays?

"You will affirm that these sensual, and marketable enjoyments destroy the taste for domestic happiness; but it is not so: no people are more attached than the French to their near relations; and England cannot easily produce a mother more attached than Madame de Sevigné. It is the same with all the domestic relations; and it is sufficient to go to the cimetière of Pere la Chaise, to be convinced how true the affection which the mothers, and sons, and sisters of France have for each other. How simple, and yet how tender the inscriptions upon the tombs! There the sister goes to renew the tender recollection of her sister, and a son to place a garland over the grave of his mother. With you, the dead are never mentioned, never visited, and, I believe, seldom remembered. With the kindest feelings to their relations, the French, it is true, do not think it inconsistent to mix the sociability of a larger circle; and they endeavour to be happy through the short

period of existence allotted them; whilst the English lose half their lives in becoming acquainted with those who are jumbled into the same half-century as themselves."

AN AGREEABLE MAN.

What is meant by an agreeable man? In Spain an agreeable man is he who is possessed of a good person, and an incessant flow of talk. The science of conversation is there in its infancy, and no distinction is made between him who talks much and him who talks well. The leading topic of a bel esprit is women; and the language itself is so formed as to confine praise or blame entirely to their bodily qualities. Es buena moza, literally "she is a good girl," means she is a pretty girl. Tiene merito, "she has merit," means she has some good points in her face or figure. Besides being able to decide the proper degree of merit which every woman possesses, the Spanish agreeable man is able to cover obscenity with the veil which is just thick enough to make it admissible in good company, though even that is sometimes thrown aside like those which are worn on the Alameda. From this source he derives the principal fund of his conversation, and makes amends for a total ignorance on every kind of lite rature and politics. But then, he also knows the plays which are to be acted for the next month, and can tell to a tittle, if a single indecent posture has been omitted in the fandango.

The agreeable man in Germany is quite a different sort of person. He is a gentleman who endeavours to make wit and gallantry after the most approved models of the age of Louis XIV. But his specific gravity being much greater than that of the French nation, he is, in fact, as little like M. de Coulanges or St. Evremont as can well be imagined. His little anecdotes are drawn from the Rcman history, or, at best, from the even Years' War: his remarks and observations are conscientiously sincere, but insufferably dull; and his wit always disposes to melancholy.

In Italy, an agreeable man is a much pleasanter person; his manners are particularly civil; he often has a good taste in the fine arts and in polite literature, and, perhaps, an agreeable talent for music; but there is a feebleness and effeminacy in his tone of thinking, which finally wearies; and his conversation is the pace of a manege horse, trained till he has lost all freedom of action.

If we go from Italy to England, we shall find that the agreeable man gets more reputation, more eating, and more drinking, in return for his talk than anywhere else. He is perpetually invited to dinner, where from ten to five-andtwenty people are invited expressly to meet him; and after all, it often happens that he is sullen or unwell, and will not speak a word from beginning of dinner till the end. But if he should happen to be in spirits, he often talks so loud, or so disputatiously, that you are forced to bow to his opinions till after coffee. But if a rival wit has been asked to meet him, there generally arises a furious contest for superiority; each tries to gain a hearing for himself only, and each attacks his opponent with arguments too important for the hour of digestion.

France, perhaps, affords the best models of an agreeable man, In them we see the most refined politeness towards each other, mixed with a most perfect confidence in themselves-a sprightliness which enlivens all around, and produces as much light by reflection as by radiation-a skill in placing every topic in the situation which alone can make it amusing in conversation a grace in treating the most frivolous matters, a lightness in touching the most serious, and a quickness in passing from one to the other, which to all other Europeans must seem quité unattainable. They console themselves by saying the French are frivolous, by which they mean that they interest themselves in little frivolous concerns; but they forget to mention that they are the same people who marched into Lisbon and Moscow, and perfected the discoveries of Newton.

LONDON MANNERS.

To

The first inconvenience of a London life, is the late hour of dinner. pass the day impransus, and then to sit down to a great dinner at eight o'clock, is entirely against the first dictates of common sense, and common stomachs. Some learned persons, indeed, endeavour to support this practice by precedent, and quote the Roman supper; but those suppers were at three o'clock in the afternoon, and ought to be a subject of contempt, instead of imitation, in Grosvenor Square. Women, however, are not so irrational as men, in London, and generally sit down to a substantial luncheon, at three or four; if men would do the same, the meal at eight might be lightened of many of its weighty dishes, and conversation

would be no loser; for it is not to be concealed, that conversation suffers great interruption from the manner in which English dinners are managed; first the host and hostess (or her unfor tunate co-adjutor) are employed during three parts of dinner, in doing the work of the servants, helping fish, or carving large pieces of venison to twenty hungry souls, to the total loss of the host's powers of amusement, and the entire disfigurement of the fair hostess's face. Much time is also lost by the attention every one is obliged to pay, in order to find out (which he can never do if he is short-sighted) what dishes are at the other end of the table; and if a guest wishes for a glass of wine, he must peep through the Apollos and Cupids of the plateau, in order to find some one to drink with him; otherwise he must wait till some one asks him, which will probably happen in succession, so that after having had no wine for half an hour, he will have to drink five glasses in five minutes. Convenience teaches that the best manner of enjoying society at dinner, is to leave every thing to servants that servants can do; so that you may have no farther trouble than to accept of the dishes that are offered to you, and to drink at your own time, of the wines which are handed round. An English dinner, on hand on the silence, dulness, and stuthe contrary, seems to presume beforepidity of the guests, and to have provided little interruptions, like the jerks which the chaplain gives to the Archbishop, to prevent his going to sleep during sermon.

Some time after dinner comes the time of going to a ball or a rout; but this is sooner said than done: it often requires as much time to go from St. James's Square to Cleveland Row, as to go from London to Hounslow. It would require volumes to describe the disappointment which occurs on arriving in the brilliant mob of a ball-room. Sometimes, as it has been before said, a friend is seen squeezed like yourself, at another end of the room, without a possibility of your communicating except by signs; and as the whole arrangement of the society is regulated by mechanical pressure, you may happen to be pushed against those to whom you do not wish to speak, whether bores, slight acquaintances, or determined enemies. Confined by the crowd, and stifled by the heat, and dazzled by the light, all powers of intellect are

lost;

lost; wit loses its point, and sagacity its observation; indeed, the limbs are so crushed, and the tongue so parched, that, except particularly well-drest ladies, all are in the case of the traveller, Dr. Clarke, when he says in the plains of Syria, that some might blame him for not making moral reflections on the state of the country; but that he must own the heat quite deprived him of all power of thought.

Hence it is, that the conversation you hear around you, is generally nothing more than "Have you been here long?" -"Have you been at Mrs. Hotroom's?"

"Are you going to Lady Deathsqueeze's?" Hence, too, Madame de Stael said, very justly, to an Englishman, "Dans vos routs le corps fait plus de frias que l'esprit." But even if there are persons of a constitution robust enough to talk, they yet do not dare to do so, as twenty heads are forced into the compass of one square foot; and even when, to your great delight, you see a person to whom you have much to say, and, by fair means or foul, elbows and toes, knees and shoulders, have got near them, they often dismiss you with shaking you by the hand, and saying " My dear Mr. how do you do?" and then continue a conversation with a person whose ear is three inches nearer. At one o'clock, however, the crowd diminishes; and if you are not tired by the five or six hours of playing at company, which you have already had, you may be very comfortable for the rest of the evening.

THE ENGLISH CONSTITUTION.

There is nothing in human councils, or human institutions which stands still. The letter of law is changed to suit the occasion of the day, and the spirit of a government varies with the disposition of the rulers who govern, and the state of the people who are governed. It behoves us, then, as members of a free community, priding ourselves upon our. liberty, and enjoying, (still enjoying) the benefits of a more unrestrained, more immediate, and more general discussion of all our interests, than any nation ever before possessed, to examine from time to time the condition of our state vessel, to overhaul her rigging, and to see that she has not sprung a-leak upon the stormy voyages she has undergone. But if any moment is more peculiarly fit for such an enquiry, it is when a long and eventful reign has come to its melancholy termination; and when a

prince ascends the throne, under the auspices of new laws, which we are assured are better calculated to protect legal and orderly freedom, than the old and venerable barriers called Magna Charta, and the Bill of Rights, which they are intended to modify and supplant.

In reckoning up what the crown has gained upon liberty during this reign, we must take into account its two wars, American and French, and the increase of public debt and establishments. In estimating, on the other hand, what new securities liberty has gained, we must put into the balance Mr. Fox's law of libel, the resolution against general warrants, and the vast increased weight of public opinion; and this again leads us to the alarms and restrictive measures.

Whatever may have been the reasons, good or bad, which induced the government of this country to under take a war against the insurgent colonies of America, and whatever may have been the policy, or even the neces sity of entering into a contest with the French republic, it cannot be denied that the object of both these wars was to oppose popular revolution, and that their spirit was contrary to popular principles. It may be said, indeed, that both of these wars were supported by the full concurrence of the people of this country. But this objection takes away nothing from the weight of the observation which I wish to make. It must be recollected, that a high-spirited nation is easily incited to take arms; and, whether they do so, in a cause congenial to freedom, depends entirely upon the occasion which presents itself, and the use which is made of it by those whose talents qualify them to direct public opinion. Now the occasions upon which both of the wars before alluded to, arose, were the resistance of a people to its government: and the arguments adopted to induce this country to declare war, were chiefly an appeal to its insulted dignity, and to its feelings of loyalty and piety. The example of the French Revolution, however, has had an influence still more direct on the progress of our affairs: the French Revolution is ascribed to every thing, and every thing is ascribed to the French Revolution. If a book is written containing new opinions on subjects of philosophy and literature, we are told to avoid them, for to Voltaire and to Rousseau is to be ascribed the French · Revolution.

Revolution. If an ignorant cobler ha rangues a ragged mob in Smithfield, we are told that the state is in danger, for the fury of a mob was the beginning of the French Revolution. If there is discontent in the manufacturing towns, we are told that the discontent of the manufacturing towns in France was the great cause of the French Revolution. Nay; even if it is proposed to allow a proprietor of land to shoot partridges and hares on his own ground, we are told this would be to admit the doctrine of natural rights, the source of all the evils of the French Revolution.

It is in vain that these absurd clamours are repeatedly refuted; it is in vain that it is shown that the French Revolution arose from one simple cause, the discordance of a brave and enlightened people, with a corrupt, bigoted, and despotic government; it is in vain that the atrocities of the revolution are shown to have been owing partly to the cruel character of the people, and partly to the alarm excited by foreign interference.

Whilst the power of the crown has been thus increased by the doctrines, it has been no less augmented by the burdens of the war. After the peace of 1763, the interest of the debt was about 4,600,0001.: it is now 31,440,0001. exclusive of the sinking fund. The whole sum raised by taxes and loans did not then exceed 14,000,0001.: the whole sum now raised yearly in taxes alone, is between 54 and 55,000,0001. this sum is great, not only in comparison of all which has preceded, but also with reference to the entire wealth

But

of the country. The income-tax of ten per cent. produced more than 14,000,0001, Now it is easy to conceive how great a weight must be added to government by the immense sum thus collected from the people. This great revenue is divided into three portions, each adding in its vocation to the influence of the crown. The first is the debt; the second establishment; and the third office. With respect to the influence of the debt, it is greater than could at first sight be supposed: a fundholder is entitled to his dividend, it may be said, and has no obligation to any one: but this rule does not hold in practice. The large fundholder imagines, that it will be of advantage to him to be a friend of government in any business that may take place with respect to the financial measures of the year, and even though the minister

should discourage such an expectation, it is impossible to avoid a certain degree of coquetry.

The second application of the taxes is to establishment. An establishment which in 1790 cost four millions and a half, now costs upwards of eighteen; our troops are augmented with the increase of our colonies; and our forts and governments are multiplied in every part of the globe.

The third direction of the public money is to maintain offices, and allowing that many reductions have been made, there still remains enough to create and support an independent, unpopular, incapable administration. It has been said, that the reduction of establishment and offices diminishes the influence of the crown. Supposing that at the moment it does so; yet an establishment once reduced, is on the contrary a source of increased influence; for persons who have served will be much more anxious to be appointed to a vacancy, than those who have not already devoted themselves to a profession. It is wonderful to observe, too, with how much eagerness parents seek to employ their sons in a situation of perpetual dependence; 10,0001. a year may be made by physic; 14,0001. a year by surgery; 18,0001. a year by the property of a newspaper; 17,0001. a year by pulling out teeth; but rather than all these, a prudent, steady man, will make his first-born a clerk in a government office, where, if he surpasses his fellows both in merit and favour, he may, in time, receive 20001. a year at the will of a minister.

The produce of the taxes descends in fertilising showers upon the proprietors, the agents, and the members of boroughs. For them there is a state lottery which is all prizes; the beautiful gradation of ranks is observed there, in all its harmonious proportions. The elector of a borough, or a person he recommends, obtains a situation in the customs; the attorney who acts for the borough, disposes of a commission in the navy: the member of parliament obtains a place in the Mediterranean for a near relation; the proprietor of two boroughs obtains a peerage in perspective; and the larger proprietor, followed by his attendant members, shines in the summer of royal favour, with a garter, a regiment, an earldom, or a marquisate.

To all this we must add the old inevitable influence of the crown, in the profession,

professions of the church and the law. How few men there are who can go through life in utter contempt of the rewards, which are the proper objects of their ambition! How few who, contenting themselves with deserving to be Bishops and Chancellors, by their talents and industry, do not also endeavour to become so by their servility!

Let us now examine the opposite scale. Some improvements in constitutional law have been made during the late reign. The chief of these is undoubtedly the libel law of Mr. Fox, to which the whole security of the free press is owing: another is the declaration of the illegality of general warrants; and a great step was made by placing the civil list more entirely under the controul of parliament, first at the beginning of the reign, and then by Mr. Burke's bill. The act by which George III. at his accession, restrained his successor from removing the judges, is also a benefit; but so slight a one as to be hardly worth mentioning.

The publication of the debates in parliament, and the general diffusion of political knowledge, is on the other hand, a most important change. The censor of the Roman republic, however austere in the exercise of his functions, could never equal in minuteness of enquiry, or severity of rebuke, the unseen and irresponsible public of the British Empire. What statesman can hear with unskaken nerves, that voice, which, beginning in the whispers of the metropolis, rises into the loud tone of defiance, within the walls of parliament, and is then prolonged by means of the hundred mouths of the press, till its innumerable echoes rebound from the shores of Cornwall, and the moun

tains of Inverness?

It must be owned, certainly, that the severity of public criticism checks some of those unprincipled bargains and sudden turns which used formerly to prevail among political parties. Upon the whole, however, the political review tends greatly to the advantage of the court. Not only are its enemies divided and dispirited by the shackles that are thrown upon them, but ministers and courtiers are at the same time mainly free from this restraint. Those who coalesce with the men in power, those who are converts to the treasury, find in the rewards of office a solid compensation for any hooting they may undergo. Whilst their adversaries are obliged to suspend their attention to

public affairs, in order to reconcile some discrepancy which appears between their opinions on reform, at an interval of twenty years, they who limit their humble ambition to office, change their whole dress, and appear with the greatest self-applause in an entire new suit of principles, opinions, sentiments, and votes. The criticism of the public, in the meantime, does not stop at individuals; party itself is the object of attack, and a regular committee is formed in the capital, more completely organized than any party ever was, for the purpose of preaching against political union. Nothing, of course, can be more agreeable to the court party, with whom, indeed, this language originated. If they could once divide their opponents, and bring a third of them to oppose rashly and inopportunely, and another third to oppose weakly and seldom, the court battle would be half gained. The only solid hope of having any government carried on would then rest on the ministry, and however ingenious the objections that might be made to their measures, no man could safely say that he preferred the public views of opposition to those of the ministry. The tools of administration are, therefore, most ready to join in decrying party. They are still more pleased when the selfstyled reformers go a step farther, and reprobate that very party which is opposed to the Court. "Down with the whigs!" cries a trading politician of St. Stephens; "Down with the whigs!" echoes a political tradesman from Charing Cross. Thus it is that the ministers of the king, and the preceptors of the multitude, unite in philippics against that party to which the house of Brunswick owes its crown, and the people its Bill of Rights.

With respect to the fate of the constitution, it is somewhat difficult to say what it will be. The progress which we have described above, certainly tends directly to the euthanasia of Mr.Hume; but there are two circumstances of no slight magnitude, which will obstruct the final dissolution of our liberties. Both of these have been described as forwarding the growth of arbitrary power; but they will both impede its complete triumph.

How

The first is the national debt. ever well inclined the people may be to pay enormous sums in taxes, for a government in which they take a share, and to support wars of their own choice,

they