FOURTH, VOLUME II (OF 2)***


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                            SECRET HISTORY

                                OF THE

                         =Court of England=,

            FROM THE ACCESSION OF GEORGE THE THIRD TO THE
                     DEATH OF GEORGE THE FOURTH;

              INCLUDING, AMONG OTHER IMPORTANT MATTERS,

               FULL PARTICULARS OF THE MYSTERIOUS DEATH

                                OF THE

                         PRINCESS CHARLOTTE.


              BY THE RIGHT HONORABLE LADY ANNE HAMILTON,

    _Sister of His Grace the present Duke of Hamilton and Brandon;
                   and of the Countess of Dunmore._


     "OF MEANER VICE AND VILLAINS, SING NO MORE,
      BUT MONSTERS CROWN'D, AND CRIME ENROBED WITH POWER!
      AT VICE'S HIGH IMPERIAL THRONE BEGIN,
      AND BOLDLY BRAND SUCH PRODIGIES OF SIN;
      WITH PREGNANT PHRASE, AND STRONG IMPARTIAL VERSE,
      THE CRIMES OF LORDS AND CRIMES OF KINGS REHEARSE!"


                               VOL II.


                               LONDON:
                PUBLISHED BY WILLIAM HENRY STEVENSON,
                    13, WELLINGTON STREET, STRAND.
                                1832.




SECRET HISTORY,

_&c. &c._


The coronation of George the Fourth, which had been postponed from time
to time, at length took place on the 19th of July. We think, situated as
her majesty then was, she ought to have been attended to the Abbey by
all the noblemen and gentlemen whose courage and honour had permitted
them to espouse and support her cause; and, with such a phalanx, could
she have been refused admittance? Instead of such arrangement, however,
her majesty went at an early hour, accompanied by two ladies and one
gentleman!--was refused admittance at the first door, and sought for
entrance at another, with the same ill success. It was true, her majesty
had not an imperative right to be _crowned_, though she had an undoubted
title to be present at the ceremony of her husband's coronation. Nay,
claiming her right of admission in the character of cousin to his
majesty, ought to have entitled her to very different treatment. Her
majesty would not have encroached upon another's privileges, by entering
Westminster Hall, because that might be considered the king's dining
room; and the queen was too well informed to pass the boundary of
privilege.

On the evening of the 18th of July, Lord and Lady Hood slept at
Cambridge House, and, after retiring for the night, they were disturbed
by the announcement that a messenger waited from Mr. Brougham to see
Lord Hood. His lordship saw the messenger, whose business was to say,
"If Lord Hood wanted any tickets for the coronation, he might have as
many as he pleased." Lord Hood said, "I have _my own_, and that is quite
enough; I need no more." It becomes a wise general to provide against
the inroad of an enemy, and Lord Hood _ought_, and was in duty bound, to
have accepted Mr. Brougham's offer of tickets, though that offer was
made so SECRETLY, and at _such a late hour_. Lord Hood was either not
sufficiently _firm_ in the interest of her majesty, or else some
previous understanding had existed upon the subject of these tendered
tickets; for all well-dressed ladies were admitted upon the presentation
of a ticket, and the name never required. There cannot be a doubt that
the king had positive fears of the arrival of her majesty, because his
carriage was kept in waiting to convey him to Carlton House, should the
queen be announced. Well might he say to the bearers of his train, "Hold
it wider." Yes, indeed, he required room to breathe, for CONSCIENCE is
an obtrusive monitor, as well as a privileged guest, in all companies.

In addition to the negligence of the _professed friends_ of the queen,
we are sorry to say, that the ministers had prepared means, very
demeaning, as well as perfectly _unconstitutional_. A covered boat was
in waiting at the back of the hall, on the Thames, to convey the queen
(if deemed needful) to the Tower; but, some persons of principle and
property being aware of this abuse of power, many boats were upon the
river, to render assistance, if required, to an insulted queen. Eight
regiments of soldiers were in and near London, FIVE of which were THE
DETERMINED FRIENDS OF THE QUEEN! Was it not rather a peculiar
circumstance that Alderman Wood (who was in the procession of the lord
mayor) was the loudest in his applause to the king? But, before we
conclude this work, our readers will have no reason to be surprised at
this conduct of the inconsistent and interested alderman. It was
likewise very strange, that Lord Liverpool, the then first lord of the
Treasury, was NOT PRESENT AT THE CORONATION! From whence was this
unusual non-attendance upon the monarch to be attributed? Because Lord
Liverpool, seeing the danger likely to result from the refusal of her
majesty to the coronation, had advised the king to receive his consort.
At first, his majesty consented, but shortly afterwards retracted his
promise. Lord Liverpool, however, had caused this permission of his
majesty for the queen's presence at the coronation to be made known to
her, and a plan of the interior of the Abbey was enclosed at the same
time, in which a seat was expressly ordered to be prepared for her
majesty. We can positively assure our readers of the truth of this; for,
two evenings previous to the coronation, we were sitting with one of
her majesty's private friends, when the servant brought in a note, which
that friend read with the greatest vivacity. It contained an assurance,
that the king had consented to her majesty's being received at the
banquet, and a plan was produced, exhibiting a seat, in which the queen
and her attendants were to sit. Her majesty's impression was, we can
confidently say, "That the Earl of Liverpool had advised the king to
permit her to be received, in order to prevent ill consequences; for
that, in case any riot should take place during the procession, the king
_might have been smothered in the crowd_!" The Earl of Liverpool,
however, had disobliged his majesty in the November previous, by
abandoning the Bill of Pains and Penalties; but what else could he have
done? If sentence had been passed against her, the mighty rush of public
opinion would have probably overwhelmed the whole regal circle.
Doubtless, Earl Lauderdale had given his royal master another version of
the matter, as, from _his representation_, the king _again refused_ to
see his consort; in consequence of which, the most arbitrary measures
were taken to prevent the appearance of the queen at the coronation. We
must also place upon record that, on the 24th of the same month, Lord
Lauderdale's honours (_extra_ knight of the thistle, &c.) appeared in
the Gazette, which were, no doubt, bestowed upon him for his avowed
enmity to the queen.

We are sorry that Lord Hood, her majesty's only _male_ attendant to the
coronation, did not act a little more as became his duty to his royal
mistress on this trying occasion. His lordship offered neither
resistance nor remonstrance to the insult of refusing her majesty an
admittance to the Abbey; but tamely, not to say _cowardly_, submitted to
it, as he immediately led the queen to her carriage! Yet Lord Hood was a
peer! but, gentle reader, he was also a--PENSIONER! We put the question
to every honest-hearted Englishman, what force would have dared to
oppose the queen's entry into the Abbey, if she had been properly
surrounded and attended by her legal advisers and friends? Had such been
the case, the "accomplished gentleman" would have met his injured,
basely-treated wife, whose gaze must have brought a blush upon his
guilty cheek. Such an unexpected visit had been contrary to his
royally-fixed determination, as he then _would_ have "met her in
public."

The English character has ever been proverbial for morality, gallantry,
justice, and humanity; though we cannot help thinking it suffered a
little degradation when the queen was refused admittance to the scene of
her husband's coronation. This, indeed, is a blot upon the annals of our
country, which the stream of time will never be able to wash away.
History cannot forget the conduct of the sovereign in this instance,
who, when about to enter into a solemn compact with his people, and
while calling THE OMNIPOTENT GOD to witness his faith and sincerity,
"that he will most truly deal out justice, and love mercy, in his
kingly station," at the same moment _refused_ BOTH to his own wife! Let
not such vindictive and disgraceful conduct be forgotten, when the
_taste_ and _elegant manners_ of George the Fourth are extolled!

Amongst the gay throng of fawning courtiers that attended this ceremony
was the Marquis of Londonderry, whose glittering appendages and costly
array were of an unusual quality. Yet, gorgeous as was the sight, the
absence of the queen rendered the coronation pomp an uninteresting scene
of solemn mockery in its character, and an insulting imposition to the
nation, who, while hearing the royal engagements made to them,
nationally and individually, saw the first law of nature inverted by the
very personage for whom this "mighty show" was designed. But are we not
justified in supposing that George the Fourth possessed but a weak
understanding, a frail heart, and strong prejudices, and that his
judgment was perverted by bad counsel? Had his majesty been a sensible
man, he would have perceived that all the advantages of his rank and
station were conferred upon him by his fellow-men, and would not have
squandered the national wealth upon unworthy characters. The title of
king carries no such charm with it as to exempt its possessor from any
of those infirmities which are incidental to his species; but he is
doomed to drag about with him a frail tenement of clay, sometimes well
and sometimes ill shaped, and liable every moment to be dissolved, and
reduced to a state of putrefaction, in common with all those who
contribute, by their labour, to its support. But how differently did
George the Fourth consider his title and power at this period of his
vanity! He concealed, as much as possible, the defects of his nature
from "vulgar eyes," by exhibiting himself on a public stage, in borrowed
plumes, like the jackdaw in the fable, who astonished his fellow-daws by
assuming the gaudy plumage of the peacock. Thousands of weak mortals
flocked about the royal actor, and expressed such extreme delight at the
pageant scene, that we could hardly wonder to find him and his created
nobles so inflated with pride as to consider themselves of a superior
nature to the rest of mankind, and to believe that those who so much
admired their external appendages were born to be their slaves. We
deprecate such grovelling servility in the people as much as we pity the
pride of the nobles. As well might a worm or a grub, when decorated with
the ephemeral wings of a butterfly, look contemptuously on the crawling
snail!

But a few years before the insult was offered to the queen at the
coronation, her brother, the Duke of Brunswick, had fallen in the field
of battle, while bravely fighting against Napoleon at Waterloo. Her
majesty was now, therefore, bereft of every natural connexion, save her
vindictive and cruel husband; and history hardly presents a more trying
situation than that in which the persecuted and shamefully-treated Queen
of England was placed.

The Duke of Newcastle, who _distinguished_ himself upon the queen's
trial, by pronouncing judgment against her majesty without hearing the
evidence in her favour, was the boroughmonger selected to bear the
"sword of mercy" before the king at the coronation! We ought not,
probably, to find fault with the choice of George the Fourth in this
instance; as the duke's subsequent acts have proved him so _worthy_ of
being the bearer of such an emblem,--to which the people of _Newark_ can
fully testify!

Upon her majesty's arrival at Brandenburgh House, after being refused
admittance to the coronation, she took a cup of tea, and then retired to
her room for nearly four hours. In this interval, the queen resolved to
visit Scotland; she wrote to Lord Liverpool upon the subject, and
requested his lordship to apprize the king of her intention. This letter
was received by his lordship, and answered in the usual strain, "that he
(Lord Liverpool) had laid her majesty's letter before the king, but had
not received his majesty's commands thereon." In the intermediate time,
it was announced, the king would visit Ireland; and his majesty left
Carlton House at half-past eleven o'clock, on the 31st of July, on his
way to Portsmouth for Dublin.

On the 30th of July, the evening previous to the king's departure, her
majesty visited the theatre, and was much indisposed, but would not be
persuaded to retire before the performance was concluded; indeed, it was
the queen's usual line of conduct not to disturb any public assembly by
retiring earlier than was positively needful. Before her majesty went
to the theatre, she felt indisposed, but declined remaining at home, for
fear of disappointing the people. When her majesty returned from the
theatre, she was very sick, and had much pain in her bowels the next
day. In the afternoon of this day, Dr. Holland called, apparently by
chance, and, on feeling her pulse, said she must have further advice.
She objected, as having most confidence in him, who had travelled with
her; but to satisfy his mind, her majesty said he might bring whom he
liked. Next day (Wednesday) he brought Dr. Ainslie, who desired to have
more assistance called in; and on Thursday morning, Dr. Warren
accompanied the other two, both _king's physicians_, according to
_etiquette_, we believe. _Previous to this_, she seemed much surprised
herself at her illness, and said to Dr. Holland, "DO YOU THINK I AM
POISONED?" This day she was told, they hoped things would end well; but
if she had any papers of consequence, she had better dispose of them,
as, in the event of her decease, every thing must go to the king, or the
ministers,--we forget which. At this, she astonished them all by her
greatness of mind; for her majesty did not betray the slightest
agitation, but immediately and coolly answered--"O yes, I understand
you; it shall be done." She sat up almost the whole of that night with
her maid Brunette only, burning letters, papers, and MS. books. She then
called Hyronemus (her maître d'hôtel) and made him swear to burn every
thing she gave, him in the kitchen fire. More letters, papers, and MS.
books were then given him, besides a large folio book, full, or nearly
so, of her own writing. It was about two feet long, and five or six
inches thick, and bound. This book she always said contained the whole
history of her life ever since she came to this country, together with
the characters of the different persons she had been intimate with.
Besides papers, she sorted all her little trinkets, wrapped them in
separate papers, and wrote herself the names of all her different
friends who were to have them, charging Brunette to dispose of them
after her death according to the directions; but these presents _never
reached their destination_.

From Thursday, her majesty seemed regularly to get worse, and the
inquiries after her health by the people at large were equal to the
interest she had raised in the country. It was pretty generally said
that her majesty's danger arose from a stoppage in the bowels. Various
were the remedies prescribed; and, among innumerable others, a bottle of
_Croton Oil_, with the following kind letter, was sent to an individual
of her majesty's household:

     "SIR,

     "I am aware that nothing but the great, the very great, danger
     her majesty is in would excuse this unauthorised intrusion;
     but, learning from the papers the nature of her majesty's
     complaint, I have taken the liberty to forward to you, with
     the view of having it handed to Doctor Maton, or Dr. Warren, a
     medicine of strong aperient properties, called "Croton Oil,"
     one drop of which is a dose. There is no doubt but it is known
     to some of her majesty's medical advisers. It is but lately
     known in this country. It may be proper to observe that Doctor
     Pemberton has _himself_ taken it. I have given it to more than
     one person; its operation is quick and safe. Two drops, when
     made into pills with bread, usually produce alvine evacuations
     in half or three quarters of an hour. It has struck me that
     this medicine may be administered with success to her majesty.
     At all events, I can have done no harm in taking the liberty
     to suggest it. Fearful of appearing anxious to make myself
     obtrusive, I have declined giving my name.

                                       "Your's respectfully,
                                                     "A CHEMIST."

     "Some suspicion may, perhaps, be attached to the circumstance
     of this letter being anonymous. I can only answer, that Dr.
     Warren or Dr. Maton will know the medicine to be what it is
     represented; if not, the chemist at Hammersmith may be
     referred to.

     "GOD SAVE THE QUEEN!"

Both the medicine and the letter were referred to Dr. Pemberton, of
Great George-street, Hanover-square, who used to attend her majesty, but
had been obliged to give up practice from suffering with the "tic
douloureux." The poor old man came, though bent double with pain, saw
the remedy, and gave it as his decided opinion, "that, if a passage
cannot be obtained in any other way, I certainly would try this, which
is _sure_ to have EFFECT, as without it her majesty must die; I have,
indeed, taken two drops of it myself, therefore the queen might very
safely take one."

When the king's physicians were told Dr. Pemberton's opinion, they still
persisted that _they could not take it upon themselves to give her
majesty the medicine_!

No one was suffered to approach the queen but the king's physicians,
_except in their presence_, though her majesty most anxiously asked for
William Austin, saying, "How odd it is that he never comes near me;" in
the meanwhile, he was weeping bitterly outside the door, but was always
told, either "the queen is asleep," or else, "too ill to see him." Her
majesty's sufferings must have been dreadful, and they seemed to come on
periodically, when her cries could be heard in all the adjacent rooms,
and then it appeared that the doctors _dosed_ her with laudanum, which,
of course, added to the CONSTIPATION of her bowels, as well as rendered
her quite insensible when her friends did see her. Her majesty seemed
most partial to Dr. Holland, who sat up with her every night, till
Saturday, when she was a little better; but, being called to town, he
left her majesty under the care of Dr. Ainslie, we think. Next morning,
being Sunday, her majesty got up and dressed herself, and sat in her
chair. Either in the night or in the morning, Dr. Ainslie brought her
majesty a draught to take, which the queen dashed out of his hand, in a
very marked manner, spilt it, and said, "I am well; do you not see I am
well, Sir? I want no physic." At which, Dr. Ainslie felt somewhat
offended, as well he might.

On the Sunday before her death, her majesty said, "I should much like to
take the sacrament; and I desire that the clergyman who does the duty at
Hammersmith may be sent for to administer it." Application was
immediately made; but the gentleman said, "I cannot administer it,
without leave from the rector, who is now at Richmond." A messenger went
to Richmond, and found that the rector had gone to dine in London, and
that the clergyman must either go there to him, or solicit permission
from the king's ministers! Notwithstanding this unfeeling piece of
tyranny, her majesty said, "I do not doubt but my intentions will be
accepted by God, the same as if I had been permitted to receive it." The
queen was truly an example of patience and resignation, for she never
repined, not even in her most agonizing moments. Her majesty, alas! too
well knew she must eventually be the VICTIM OF TYRANNY.

Let every thinking being contrast the profession of Christianity with
the contemptible procedure set forth in the anecdote just related. At
the time her majesty requested to receive the sacrament, she believed
herself near death; and, in accordance with the sentiments and doctrines
of the Church of England, she very naturally desired to express her
reliance on the Saviour by receiving this ordinance; yet even this
gratification was denied her, until she was sinking into the embrace of
death! This disgraceful circumstance is almost without a parallel in the
annals of persecution. A virtuous and noble-minded queen, lying on the
bed of death, which had been prepared for her by the hand of cruel and
ill-judged Malignity, was refused this last comfort of religion; while a
felon, who may have imbued his hands in the blood of his
fellow-creature, is allowed to receive this emblem of salvation previous
to his transition from time to eternity! Here, then, is sufficient to
inform "The Many" of the policy of the "Established Church." May we not
ask how far the English clergy are removed from Popery? as it is
evident that the attentions of a rector or a bishop (under the crown)
are equally difficult to be obtained as the Catholics believe those of
St. Peter to be!

In contemplating the above exposure of malice, many questions naturally
suggest themselves; for instance, What could prevent the curate's
_immediate attention_ to the wish of the dying queen? for had even the
meanest parishioner desired it, HE MUST have attended to the request.
What was meant by asking leave of "the rector, or the king's ministers,"
who were at some distance from the abode of sorrow? Was it not intended
to add fresh insults to injuries already too deep? Did the ministry
think thereby to prevent an _encroachment_ upon his majesty's comforts
in the world to come, (as he had declared, that he never again would
meet the queen) and, by refusing the outward rites of the church, shut
the door of hope in the sufferer's face?

Her majesty, in her agony, frequently exclaimed, "I know I am
dying,--THEY HAVE KILLED ME AT LAST! but I forgive all my enemies, even
Dumont," her maid Brunette's sister, who had done her majesty the
greatest injury,--"I charge you (turning to her maid Brunette) to tell
her so." Brunette and her majesty's maître d'hôtel, Hyronemus, wished to
marry. Her majesty called them to her, and joined their hands over her
body, (one standing on each side of the couch) and charged Hyronemus to
be kind to Brunette. Her majesty then told them, she had left them all
her linen (by right, belonging to her lady in waiting) and two of her
carriages. On Tuesday, her majesty became much worse, and moaned
terribly with pain, from four o'clock till ten at night, when she
rapidly grew weaker, till Dr. Holland, with the awful watch in his hand,
feeling her pulse, at last closed her majesty's eyelids, and declared
"All is over!"

Malice and Crime had now done their worst; the fatal blow had been
struck, and Caroline, the injured and innocent Queen of England was for
ever relieved from her despicable and heartless persecutors!

     "O, what a noble mind was here o'erthrown!"

Every person now left the room, except Dr. Lushington (one of the
executors) and Lady Hamilton. Dr. Lushington said, "You, my lady, or
Lady Hood, must not quit the body." Lady Hamilton replied, "Then, sir,
let it be me." Shortly afterwards, the alderman and Mrs. Wood went into
the chamber of death, the alderman offering the services of his wife to
assist in the last sad duties to the lamented queen. In the interval,
Brunette, the queen's maid, said that her majesty had desired no one
might go near her body except herself; and Dr. Lushington complied with
the request. Lady Hamilton observed, Brunette was not strong enough to
move the body; Brunette, therefore, chose the _housemaid_ to assist her.
Shortly afterwards, Dr. Lushington requested Lady Hamilton's presence
again; and, upon her appearance in the gloomy chamber, said, "Now, you
must remain here; and promise me not to lift up the sheet which covers
the body, or permit any one else to do so." Lady Hamilton promised; when
very soon afterwards Mrs. Wood went into the room, as she said, "to have
a peep." Lady Hamilton prevented it, saying, she had given her word, and
Mrs. Wood must therefore desist. The body, very speedily after life was
extinct, became much discoloured, and, though it was washed and prepared
for the grave-clothes in less than two hours after the decease, it
exhibited a very great change, as well as being much swollen. The
housemaid who assisted Brunette to prepare her majesty for the
grave-clothes, said, the body turned quite BLACK before their task was
finished, and swelled exceedingly, and on the following Thursday became
quite offensive, when the leaden coffin arrived. On the Monday after,
the rooms were lighted up, and hung with black, for her majesty _to lie
in state_! Oh! sad mockery to her persecuted remains!

The housemaid, who helped Brunette to lay her majesty out, was quite
disgusted at the unfeeling manner in which Brunette performed this sad
duty; for she tossed the body about most indecently; and, when
remonstrated with for such behaviour, said, "La! I mind her no more than
an old hen!!!" The morning after her majesty's death, Lady Anne
Hamilton's own maid went creeping into Brunette's room, expecting to
find some show of grief, at least, for the loss of so good a mistress.
What, then, was her astonishment to find her up, dressed, and in the
highest spirits! "I never was so happy," said she, "in all my life. I
can now get up when I like, go to bed when I like, and do every thing as
I like!"

Previous to the funeral, some difficulty arose from an uncertainty
_where_ the deceased queen had kept her cash; and, without any ceremony,
Mr. Wilde took up her majesty's watch, (the one presented by the
inhabitants of Coventry, and which was very valuable) and said, "I will
advance forty pounds, and return the watch when the money is paid!!!"
Yet, at the time of her majesty's death, she must have been in
possession of fourteen or fifteen hundred pounds! because Mr. Obequina
had advanced the queen, but a few days before her death, the sum of two
thousand pounds; and it was an indisputable fact, that not more than
four or five hundred pounds had been expended out of this sum. The queen
deposited this money where she always kept her trinkets, in a small blue
box. In this box also her majesty frequently kept the Coventry watch,
(which she seldom wore) as well as two miniature pictures of herself.
This identical box, the executors gave into the care of Lord Hood; but
he very properly refused to receive it, until they locked it and took
the key. Dr. Lushington promised one of the miniatures to Lady Hamilton,
and the other to William Austin, the protégé of the ill-fated queen;
but, up to this period, such promise has not been fulfilled in either
case.

It is well known that the queen, in her jocular moments, used to say,
"They did not like my young bones, so they shall not have my old ones;"
and, in her last illness, her majesty unfortunately added, "and that as
soon as possible." This formed an excuse for the tools of George the
Fourth to hurry her funeral beyond all decorum; as, in one single week
after her majesty's death, did Lord Liverpool order that all the
cavalcade should be ready. The route was chalked out, and strict orders
given that, on no account, was the procession to go through the city;
but every avenue was so choked up and barricaded by overturned coaches,
carts, and rubbish, that they were _obliged_, at Piccadilly, to turn
through Hyde Park; and, at Cumberland Gate, the scene of bloodshed
commenced. We observed a pool of blood in the gateway, and a woman with
her face all over blood, and two men lying dead. The people had pulled
down the wall and railing for a hundred yards opposite Connaught-place;
and the horse-soldiers (the Blues, we think) were pursuing the unarmed
multitude down the park. A spent ball had fallen _very near the hearse_,
and a gentleman in the retinue got off his horse, picked it up, and
said, "This will be proof against them." At last Sir Robert Wilson,
being a military man, rode up to the soldiers, and contrived to end the
combat. The procession was then suffered to pass quietly along Edgeware
and the New Roads till it came opposite to Portland-road, when the same
obstructions of overturned carts, waggons, &c., prevented the cavalcade
from continuing along the City-road, or turning into _any street_
eastward, until it arrived at Temple Bar, when it turned into the city,
to the great joy and acclamations of the millions of people who had
followed, and who had lined the streets, windows, and tops of houses,
although it rained in torrents, and the well-dressed women who attended
were ancle deep in mud; nor did the people gradually drop away till the
procession had entirely left the suburbs of London.

Sir George Naylor, king at arms, had his instructions where they should
rest each night. The delays in London had been so many, that they were
obliged (to fulfil orders) to travel at _full trot_ to Ilford, where the
procession arrived a little after six o'clock in the evening, having
been more than twelve hours in performing this first stage of the
journey. We pass over the insulting orders of Lord Liverpool, in their
_minute detail_, and only advert to that part of them wherein he states
to Mr. Bailey, the undertaker, that the body was to reach Harwich the
second night. Various disgraceful altercations took place during the
several stoppages on the road; and the mourners were treated similarly
to their departed mistress. At length the sea opened upon their view;
and the most prominent object upon it was the "Glasgow" frigate,
stationed at some distance from Languard Fort. The procession arrived at
Harwich, on Thursday, at half-past eleven, at which place, not even a
single hour was allowed for retirement or repose; for the order was
almost immediately given, that the coffin should be taken to the quay,
and from thence lowered by a crane into a small barge. This was not
accomplished without great difficulty, the coffin being extremely heavy.
Four men rowed the boat to the side of the "Glasgow," which was waiting
to receive the remains of England's injured queen. Sir G. Naylor and his
secretary, with Mr. Bailey, accompanied it, and added the sad mockery of
laying a paltry crown upon the coffin. The ladies and the rest of the
suite followed in boats. At this moment, the first gun was fired from
the fort. Such was the indelicate hurry and rude touch of the persons
engaged in the removal of the royal coffin, that before it was received
on board the "Glasgow," the crimson velvet was torn in many places, and
hung in slips. When the boat reached the "Pioneer" schooner, the coffin
was hoisted on board, the crown and cushion were laid upon it, and the
pall was thrown out of the boat to a sailor on deck, by one of the three
gentlemen who had it in charge, with no more ceremony than if it had
been his cloak. Before it could possibly be announced that the corpse
was safe on deck, the sailors were busily employed in unfurling the
sails, and in less then ten minutes the "Pioneer" was under sail, to
join the "Glasgow" frigate. The body and the mourners were at length
received on board the "Glasgow," and here followed perplexity upon
perplexity. The captain had not been informed of the probable number in
this melancholy procession, and was incompetent to set before them
sufficient food, or furnish them with suitable accommodation. Corn beef
was therefore their daily fare; and hammocks, slung under the guns,
were the beds assigned to the gentlemen, while the ladies were very
little better provided for in the confined cabins. The coffin was placed
in a separate cabin, guarded by soldiers, and with lights continually
burning. On the 19th of August, the "Glasgow" appeared before the port
at Cuxhaven; and, as she drew too much water to get up the Stade, she
resigned her charge to the "Wye," commanded by Captain Fisher.

On Monday evening, the 20th, the remains of the Queen of England were
landed at Stade. The coffin, _without pall_, or _covering of any kind_,
was brought up the creek, a distance of three miles, the mourners
following in boats. On their arrival at the quay, no preparation had
been made for receiving the body on shore, and had it not been for the
sympathy of the inhabitants of the place, the coffin must have been laid
upon the _earth_; but they were so impressed with the necessity of
paying regard to decency, and so incensed against the heartless and
abominable conduct manifested towards the queen, that they, as if by one
consent, brought out their tables and chairs, to afford an elevation for
the coffin from the ground; and thus a kind of platform was raised, on
which it was protected from further injury. After a short delay, arising
from want of due notice having been given of the arrival of the
procession, the citizens of the town, headed by the magistrates and
priests, proceeded to meet it. The coffin was then taken up, and carried
into the church, which was lighted, and partially hung with black. A
solemn anthem was sung, accompanied by the deep-toned organ; after which
the numberless crowd retired, leaving the royal corpse to the care of
those who were appointed to watch over it. Early the next day the
procession departed for Buxtehude. About a quarter of a mile from this
town, it was met by the citizens and magistrates, who attended it,
bareheaded, to the church, where the royal remains were deposited for
the night. On the ensuing day, the 22nd, the procession was met on its
entrance into Saltan, by the authorities, in the same manner as before
named. On the 23d, it reached Celle, where the coffin was carried into
the great church of the city, and placed upon the tomb of the
unfortunate sister of George the Third, Matilda, Queen of Denmark. On
the 24th, the procession was met at Offau, by Count Aldenslaben, the
grand chamberlain of the court, and arrangements were made, that the
funeral should take place at midnight. The mourners were immediately to
proceed to Brunswick, and the funeral procession to follow, so as to
arrive by ten the same night at the gates of the city, there to be met
by the mourners; but further delay of interment than this was strictly
forbidden. At the appointed hour, the last stage of the cavalcade
commenced. On a near approach to the church, whose vaults were to
receive the remains of this royal victim, the children of a school
(founded and supported by a lady of truly patriotic principles) walked
before the hearse, strewing flowers on the road. Arriving at the
church, the Brunswick soldiers demanded the privilege to bear the
remains of their beloved princess through the church to the vault, in
which were deposited those of her illustrious ancestors. This being
granted, the corpse was borne by as many of them as could stand under
the coffin into the abode of death. It was then placed upon an elevation
in the centre of the vault, which had previously been prepared for its
reception, and where it will remain until another occupy its place; her
majesty's coffin will then be removed to the space appointed for it.
After an oration had been delivered in German, the curtain was drawn
over our persecuted and destroyed queen. The mourners retired, and the
assembled crowds dispersed, shortly after two o'clock.

It may possibly be asked, "Did not the nephew of the queen (the son of
her brother, the late duke) meet the funeral, and follow it to the last
abode of royalty?" To the eternal disgrace of George the Fourth, this
youth was not permitted to do so. The kingdom of Brunswick was governed
by two commissioners, under the controul of the King of England, and the
young prince had been commanded to leave Brunswick previous to the
ceremony of the interment of his aunt! The inhabitants of Brunswick had
also been ordered to keep within their houses, to shut their windows,
and not to appear upon the occasion. This imperious order was generally
attended to. One gentleman, however, was independent and noble-minded
enough to furnish flambeaux to be carried before and on each side of
the procession, until it had reached the church. Every expression of the
inhabitants indicated how much they were attached to the Princess of
Brunswick, and the more superior and well-informed part of the community
mourned that her days had been blighted by the delusive prospects held
out to her family, in her alliance to the heir-apparent of England. The
Brunswickers were afraid to express their sentiments in public
companies; but, privately, they could not suppress their opinions, that
"it was very strange not the least notice of the funeral had been
communicated to them until the evening previous to the ceremony."

These unconstitutional and vindictive arrangements for the queen's
funeral will ever be considered an indelible stain on the characters of
those who concocted them. The law enacts that the dead shall be carried
the nearest way to the place of interment; but the "notorious
government" laid all possible restrictions in this case, and, in short,
offered every indignity to the departed. If the English people had been
resolute, and the lord mayor but consented, the body might have been
taken into the Mansion-House, and the corpse EXAMINED, previous to its
being taken from London, as considerable suspicion was caused by the
unusual privacy and secrecy required immediately after her majesty's
demise. The lord mayor (Thorpe) was the acknowledged friend of the
queen, and ought not to have demurred to the generally-expressed opinion
upon this subject.

It was rather a peculiar circumstance that George the Fourth should have
_contrived_ so well to be out of the way of death, both in his
daughter's and his consort's case! But the prerogatives of royalty are
numerous as well as _unnatural_, particularly when exercised by DESPOTIC
PRINCES, who live only for their own gratification, and with whom the
good of the people is an unimportant consideration. When the tidings of
her majesty's death were communicated to her heartless husband by Lord
Londonderry, the royal yacht was lying in Holyhead roads. Etiquette
prevented the landing of the king while the unburied remains of his
consort were upon English ground; therefore, despatches were forwarded
to cause the first lord of the Treasury to press for an early removal of
the body of the queen, in order that facility might be given to the
landing of the king in Ireland.

After paying this _formal_ attention to the awful intelligence he had
received, his majesty landed at Howth, and, as soon as he had reached
the viceregal lodge, addressed the gaping multitude in the following
_eloquent_ speech:

     "_My Lords and Gentlemen, and
         my good Yeomanry_,

     "I cannot express to you the gratification at the kind and
     warm reception I have met with on this day of my landing
     amongst my Irish subjects. I am obliged to you, _very much_
     obliged to you; I am _particularly_ obliged by your escorting
     me to my _very_ door. I may not be able to express my feelings
     as I wish. I have travelled far; _that is_, I have made a long
     _sea voyage_; I have sailed down the English Channel, and
     sailed up the Irish Channel; and I have _landed_ from a
     _steam boat_; besides which, _particular circumstances_ have
     occurred, known to you all, of which it is BETTER, at present,
     _not to speak_ (alluding to the queen's sudden death) upon
     these subjects. I leave it to your DELICATE and _generous
     hearts_ to APPRECIATE MY FEELINGS! However, I can assure you
     that THIS IS THE HAPPIEST DAY OF MY LIFE! I have long wished
     to visit you; my heart has always been IRISH!! From the day it
     first beat, I have loved Ireland. This day has shewn me, that
     I am beloved by my Irish subjects. _Rank, station, honours,
     are nothing_; but to _feel_ that I _live_ in the hearts of my
     _Irish subjects_ is, to me, the most _exalted happiness_!

     "I must now, once more, thank you for your kindness, and bid
     you farewell. Go and do by me as I shall do by you; drink my
     health in a _bumper_; and I shall drink all your's in a bumper
     of good _Irish whiskey_!!!"

Who that reads this address will not acknowledge his majesty's genius
for speaking was equal to his talents for ruling? Shades of Fox,
Grattan, and Sheridan, what a display of eloquence was here, delivered,
too, by the "most polished man in Europe!" We may easily account for the
rapturous admiration which the Irish people evinced for their monarch!
Naturally eloquent themselves, they knew how to appreciate the energy
and beauty of what a _king_ addressed to their taste and understanding.
When he assured them, in the _most elegant_ and _lofty_ language, that
"his heart was _entirely Irish_," and that, in proof of the sincerity of
his royal professions, he would "drink all their healths in a bumper of
good Irish whiskey," they felt, with its superiority, the exhilirating
stimulant of kingly declamation, and yielded to all the ecstacy that
forms so prominent a characteristic of their sensations. The declaration
of a _British_ king, that his heart was _wholly Irish_ was a kindness
as highly strained, with respect to them, as disheartening to the
feelings of all his other subjects. Great as was our _admiration_ of the
_nobleness_, both in matter and style, of this oratorical display, we
scarcely were able, for a time, to reconcile our startled judgment to
the perfect equity of this _sudden_ partiality for a people who had
never before experienced any mighty favours from the same quarter. But
our error, we frankly confess, was the child of our stupidity: we
understood his majesty to the simple letter, rather than in the _royal_
meaning, of what he addressed to his long-forsaken children, and were
too dull to understand his language till some time afterwards, when he
visited his German dominions. But when, after assuring his Hibernian
subjects that his heart was _wholly Irish_, he, in the same _exquisite_
style, protested that his heart was _entirely Hanoverian_, we were wise
enough to comprehend his majesty. There is a kind of ductility in this
sort of affection that soars as much above the ordinary course of human
feeling as the language in which the sentiment is conveyed surpasses the
general powers of lingual eloquence. _Such goodness_ and _such
eloquence_ may be ADMIRED, but we hope they will never be COPIED!

However gaily and flatteringly his majesty was received by his Irish
subjects, all unbiassed people were shocked at the unbecoming
incongruity of a king lost in the intoxication of mirth and wine, while
his persecuted consort's passing hearse was calling forth the tears of
his pitying people. Even under circumstances the most proper and
respectful towards her late majesty, in regard to the conveyance of her
remains to their destined place of rest, the appalling knowledge that,
while her obsequies were performing, her husband's heart and soul were
wrapped in the transports of convivial enjoyment, would have deepened
the gloom of the dismal occasion, and excited exclamations of anguish
and astonishment; but, witnessing the sordid neglect and studied insult
with which the government conducted the melancholy preparation and
procession, they combined with the sad spectacle the idea of her
husband's simultaneous joy and merriment, and felt disgusted at such
indecent and unmanly conduct. Of the qualities of the Irish character,
generally viewed, there is much to admire; they are liberal and
kind-hearted, and, in some few instances, have shewn a public spirit and
a manly sense of their political wrongs and oppressions. We cannot,
however, compliment either their delicacy, as men, in not feeling for
the _cruel death_ of an amiable woman, or their loyalty, as subjects, in
slighting the memory of their sacrificed queen. At the cold indifference
manifested by the Hibernian _ladies_, at this period, we were perfectly
amazed. Over and above the tenderness natural to their hearts, their sex
had an interest in her case, which ought to have awakened their concern,
and commanded their tears. But the whole drama of life abounds with
discordant scenes; and, without _female_ inconsistency, the piece would
be incomplete.

     "All the world's a stage,
      And men and women are the players!"

A tyrant drops his head upon the scaffold, and they weep!--an innocent
queen is poisoned, and they "show no sign of sorrow!"--a cruel, cowardly
yeomanry, and a brutal, sanguinary soldiery, massacre an unarmed
populace, and thanks and a subscription acknowledge and reward their
heroism!--_here_ a people are stripped of their rights and privileges,
and content themselves with complaining!--_there_ a country is
everwhelmed in penury and wretchedness, and finds a cure for all its
distresses in the casual visit of its despotic ruler, and his unmeaning
and stupid speeches!

The despicable figure which the king made at this period, and the
fulsome flatteries bestowed upon him by the Irish people, did not escape
the keen penetration of the illustrious and patriotic Lord Byron. We had
the pleasure of his lordship's acquaintance for some years before his
lamented death; and he was in the habit of sending us many brilliant
effusions of his muse, which he probably never intended for publication.
But the following verses, on the subject of which we have just been
speaking, possess so much poetical beauty and justness of expression,
that we cannot refrain from gratifying our readers by inserting them in
this place.


THE IRISH AVATER[31:A].

     Ere the daughter of Brunswick is cold in her grave,
       And her ashes still float to their home o'er the tide;
     Lo! George the triumphant speeds over the wave
       To the long-cherish'd isle, which he lov'd like his--bride.

     True, the great of her bright and brief era are gone,--
       The rainbow-like epoch, where freedom would pause
     For the few little years out of centuries won,
       Which betray'd not, or crush'd not, or wept not her cause.

     True, the chains of the Catholic clank o'er his rags;
       The castle still stands, and the senate's no more;
     And the famine, which dwelt on her freedomless crags,
       Is extending its steps to her desolate shore.

     To her desolate shore,--where the emigrant stands
       For a moment to gaze, ere he flies from his hearth;
     Tears fall on his chain, though it drops from his hands,
       For the dungeon he quits is--the place of his birth!

     But he comes! the Messiah of royalty comes!
       Like a goodly leviathan roll'd from his waves;
     Then receive him, as best such an advent becomes,
       With a legion of cooks and an army of slaves!

     He comes, in the promise and bloom of three-score,
       To perform in the pageant the sovereign's part;
     And long live the shamrock which shadows him o'er,--
       Could the green on his _hat_ be transferred to his _heart_.

     Could that long-withered spot but be verdant again,
       And a new spring of noble affections arise,
     Then might freedom forgive thee this dance in thy chain,
       And the shout of thy slavery which saddens the skies.

     Is it madness or meanness which clings to thee now?
       Were he God,--as he is but the commonest clay,
     With scarce fewer wrinkles than sins on his brow,--
       Such servile devotion might shame him away.

     Age roar in his train, let thine orators lash
       Their fanciful spirits to pamper his pride;
     Not thus did thy GRATTAN indignantly flash
       His soul o'er the freedom improved and denied.

     Ever glorious Grattan! the best of the good!
       So simple in heart, so sublime in the rest,
     With all that Demosthenes wanted endued,
       And his rival, or victor, in all he possess'd.

     When TULLY arose, in the zenith of Rome,
       Tho' unequalled preceded, the task was begun;
     But GRATTAN sprung up like a god from the tomb!
       Of ages, the first, last, the saviour, the one.

     With the skill of an Orpheus to soften the brute,
       With the fire of Prometheus to kindle mankind,
     Even Tyranny, listening, sat melted, or mute,
       And Corruption shrunk, scorch'd, from the glance of his mind.

     But back to my theme; back to despots and slaves!
       Feasts furnished by Famine, rejoicings by Pain;
     True Freedom but welcomes, while Slavery still raves,
       When a week's Saternalia has loosened her chain.

     Let the poor squalid splendour thy wreck can afford
       (As the bankrupt's profusion his ruin would hide)
     Gild over the palace. Lo, Erin, thy lord!
       Kiss his foot with thy blessing for blessings denied.

     Or if freedom, past hope, be extorted at last;
       If the idol of brass find his feet are of clay;
     Must what terror, or policy, wring forth be class'd
       With what monarchs ne'er give but as wolves yield their prey?

     Each brute hath its nature,--a king's is to reign;
       To reign!--in that word see, ye ages, comprised
     The cause of the curses all annals contain,
       From Cæsar the dreaded to George the despised!

     Wear, Fingal, thy trappings! O'Connell proclaim
       His accomplishments!--His!!!--and thy country convince
     Half an age's contempt was an error of fame,
       And that "_Hal is the rascaliest, sweetest young prince!_"

     Will thy yard of blue ribbon, poor Fingal, recall
       The fetters from millions of Catholic limbs?
     Or will it not bind thee the fastest of all
       The slaves, who now hail their betrayer with hymns?

     Aye, build him a dwelling; let each give his mite,
       Till, like Babel, the new royal dome has arisen;
     Let thy beggars and helots their pittance unite,
       And a palace bestow for a poor-house and prison.

     Spread, spread for Vitellius the royal repast,
       Till the gluttonous despot is stuff'd to the gorge,
     And the roar of his drunkards proclaim him at last
       The FOURTH of the fools and oppressors,--called GEORGE!

     Let the tables be loaded with feasts till they groan,--
       Till they groan like thy people through ages of woe;
     Let the wine flow around the old Bachanal's throne,
       Like the blood which has flow'd, and which yet has to flow.

     But let not his name be thine idol alone;
       On his right hand, behold a SEJANUS appears!
     Thine own CASTLEREAGH!--let him still be thine own!
       A wretch never nam'd but with curses and jeers!

     Till now, when the isle, which should blush at his birth,
       Deep, deep as the gore which he shed on her soil,
     Seems proud of the reptile which crawl'd from her earth,
       And for _murder_ repays him with _shouts and a smile_!

     Without one single ray of her genius, without
       The fancy, the manhood, the fire of her race,
     The miscreant, who well might plunge Erin in doubt
       If she ever gave birth to a being so base.

     If she did, let her long-boasted proverb be hush'd,
       Which proclaims that from Erin no reptile can spring;
     See, the cold-blooded serpent, with venom full flush'd,
       Still warming its folds in the breast of a king!

     Shout, drink, feast, and flatter! Oh, Erin, how low
       Wert thou sunk by misfortune and tyranny, till
     Thy welcome of tyrants hath plunged thee below
       The depth of thy deep to a deeper gulph still.

     My voice, though but humble, was rais'd for thy right;
       My vote, as a freeman's, still voted thee free;
     This hand, tho' but feeble, would arm in thy fight,
       And this heart, tho' outworn, had a throb still for thee!

     Yes, I love thee and thine, tho' thou art not my land;
       I have known noble hearts and great souls in thy sons,
     And I wept with the world o'er the patriot band
       Who are gone,--but I weep them no longer as once.

     For happy are they now reposing afar,
       Thy GRATTAN, thy CURRAN, thy SHERIDAN,--all
     Who for years were the chiefs in the eloquent war,
       And redeem'd, if they have not retarded, thy fall.

     Yes, happy are they in their cold English graves;
       Their shades cannot start to thy shouts of to-day,
     Nor the steps of enslavers and chain-kissing slaves
       Be stamp'd in the turf o'er their fetterless clay.

     Till now I had envied thy sons and thy shore;
       Tho' their virtues were hunted, their liberties fled,
     There was something so warm and sublime in the core
       Of an Irishman's heart, that I envy their dead!

     Or if aught in my bosom can quench for an hour
       My contempt for a nation so _servile_, tho' sore,
     Which, tho' trod like the worm, will not turn upon power,
       'Tis the GLORY OF GRATTAN, the GENIUS OF MOORE!

     [31:A] _Avater_ is the Hindoo expression for a divinity
     assuming the human form, and residing on earth.

Speedily after the queen's death, Lord Sidmouth retired from office, and
was succeeded by Mr. Robert Peel. Several other changes also took place
in the ministry.

There was only _one_ occurrence that could have been more gratifying to
the people of England than the secession of Lord Sidmouth from office,
and that was--his being rendered amenable to the laws for his share in
the frequent outrages of the constitution, and his almost numberless
violations of the liberties of the subject. We had hoped that he would
have remained in office until he had received his FULL REWARD, in the
return of the days of ministerial responsibility, in spite of bills of
indemnity and venal majorities. But, for the honour of justice, we hope
yet to see the day when he shall be subject to an honest tribunal for
his political misdeeds. His name will ever awaken the liveliest
indignation in the bosoms of Englishmen; not, indeed, that his _talents_
made him formidable against the liberties of his country, but because he
so readily lent himself to the dangerous views of his _superiors_.
Personally, he was of no importance. The son of a provincial
medicine-vender, he had neither rank nor birth to command respect. The
tool of Mr. Pitt in early life, Mr. Addington had cunning enough to
stipulate for a peerage just at the time he was found unfit for a
minister. The failure of his attempt to abridge the liberties of the
dissenters covered him with disgrace. Such a design should have been
entrusted to abler hands; but it was not his lordship's fault that the
dissenters escaped religious persecution. His next exploit, however,
proved more successful; he declared eternal hatred of reform and
reformers in 1816. The seizure, the imprisonments, the tortures, and the
outrages, occasioned by the employment of his _moral friend_ Oliver
have, in the language of Pope, occasioned him to be

     "Damned to everlasting fame!"

The liberation of his victims, after long confinements, ruined in
circumstances, wounded in mind, and some of them destined to premature
death, through their unwholesome confinement, complete the picture of
this nobleman's LEGISLATION! To prevent an investigation into such cruel
acts, a bill of indemnity screened his lordship, his agents, and
minions, from the tribunals of that day; but if _earthly_ justice should
never be vindicated, there is a tribunal before which he must one day
meet his victims! The part which Lord Sidmouth had in the _reward of the
Manchester massacre_ is well known, and will not be likely to add to the
quiet of his repose. This lamentable portion of his history involves the
double charge of misadvising his prince, and patronising a violation of
the laws, in the most wanton and cruel manner! No man, indeed, has been
more instrumental in the ruin of his country, and he may probably live
to reap some of the bitter fruits himself!

During this year, the _affable_ king made his pompous entrance into
Hanover, where he threw gold and silver amongst the crowd, with as much
confidence as if it had been his own!! If he had allowed some of this
said "gold and silver" to have remained in the pockets of its real
owners, it would have redounded much more to his credit.

In one single week this year, eleven persons were hung for forging Bank
of England notes. Such a sanguinary penal code of laws as our's would
really disgrace a nation of savages! Even our common laws, which ought
to be intelligible to the meanest understanding, are an unfathomable
abyss, and frequently exceed the utmost penetration of even the
"gentlemen of the long robe." Indeed, our laws appear designed to
perplex rather than to elucidate, to breed contentions rather than to
prevent them. The principal MERIT of the English jurisprudence seems to
consist in its _intricacy_, and the learned professors of it may almost
be said _to live upon the vitals of their clients_. It not unfrequently
happens that, for trivial omissions upon some useless observance of
forms, the victim is incarcerated in a prison, and, after enduring all
the horrors of these dens of thieves, expires in want, disease, and
apparent infamy!


The year

     1822

was one of great interest and importance, both abroad and at home; but
to the latter we shall chiefly confine ourselves.

On the 18th of January, a cabinet council was held, at which Lord
Sidmouth was present, notwithstanding his previous resignation of the
seals of office. From this, it is evident that, though out of OFFICE in
reality, this _noble_ lord was in place _specially_.

Ireland, at this time, presented a sad appearance; outrages of every
kind were of daily occurrence, and famine, with its appalling front,
stared the lower classes in the face. Much blood was shed, and yet no
efficient means were taken to subdue the cause of these fatal
insurrections. The King of England, though he had professed so much
_love_ for his dear Irish subjects in his late _eloquent_ speech,
screened himself, under his assumed popularity, from blame on such
serious charges, while his incompetent and mean advisers, believing
their persons safe under the protection of their PUISSANT PRINCE, gave
themselves no trouble about so _insignificant_ a matter. Disgrace and
infamy, however, will ever be attached to their names for so flagrant a
dereliction of duty to the Irish people!

In April, Thomas Denman, esq., the late queen's solicitor-general, was
elected to serve the office of common-sergeant for the city of London;
and, on the 27th of May, he commenced his career with trying the unnamed
servant of a bookseller for selling an irreligious and seditious book.
Mr. Denman sentenced him to eighteen months' imprisonment in the House
of Correction and, at the end of that time, to find sureties for five
years, himself in one hundred pounds, and two others in forty pounds
each!

In narrating this circumstance, we cannot forbear expressing our
detestation of all prosecutions in matters of RELIGION. They neither
redound to the honour of Christianity, nor effect the slightest benefit
to morality. Every one has an undoubted right to entertain what
religious opinions may best accord with the dictates of that
all-powerful monitor--CONSCIENCE; and all endeavours to _force_
different opinions are only so many attempts to make men _hypocrites_.
"But," say our religious prosecutors, "the Bible must not be attacked,
or the true religion will fall into contempt." As an answer to this
argument, we say, that if the said true religion will not bear the test
of examination and argument, the sooner it falls into contempt the
better! The glorious truths of the New Testament, however, are
sufficiently manifest, and do not require the puny and adventitious
advocacy of Cant. The strong arm of the law is not requisite to uphold
Christianity, for it possesses within its own pure doctrines sufficient
to recommend it to the admiration and gratitude of mankind. When these
doctrines are attacked, let Christians endeavour, by fair and mild
reasoning, to support their beneficence and purity, and they will be
sure to make converts. But, if they once attempt to FORCE CONVICTION,
their defeat is inevitable! It is, therefore, contrary to common sense,
as well as being unjust and deplorable, that a man should be punished
for disbelieving any particular sentiment. What proof did Mr.
Denman[40:A] give of the mild and forgiving doctrines of Christianity
in his severe sentence against this man? Was it from motives of
Christian charity that he traduced him before a public tribunal? Were
the proceedings of the court at all calculated to impress the man's mind
with the true spirit of Christianity? The contrary might well be said.
For neither was the accusation distinguished by that moderation which
ought to be observed even against the worst of criminals, nor was it
very humane to imprison him eighteen months, and afterwards keep the arm
of justice suspended by binding him in sureties for five years not to so
offend again. It will be but fair to ask, whether, if the _religious_
welfare of this man had been deemed by his prosecutors worthy of the
slightest consideration, they would not have proceeded directly contrary
to what they did? But, as Dr. Watts has justly observed, when speaking
of religious prosecutors, "They are too apt to denounce damnation upon
their neighbours without either justice or mercy; and, while pronouncing
sentences of divine wrath against supposed heretics, they _add their
own human fire and indignation_!" Such prosecutions, therefore, only
tend to excite the contempt of those very persons who are expected to be
made better by them. With respect to the other count of the foregoing
indictment, "that the publication was calculated to bring the king and
his ministers into contempt," we think such an attempt of the publisher
was totally unnecessary; for both the king and his ministers were then
in the full zenith of their _fame_, and had the sincere prayers of the
greater part of the community for their speedy deliverance from--this
world!

     [40:A] Mr. Denman has since been created "Sir Thomas," and, at
     the period of our writing this, holds the office of
     attorney-general. On the 21st of May, 1832, Lord Stormont
     brought forward a motion in the House of Commons relative to a
     general crusade against the press, for what his lordship
     pleased to term "infamous, obscene, and scandalous libels." It
     must ever be gratifying to patriots when public men openly
     confess their errors; and we are, therefore, most happy to
     record the following extract from Sir Thomas Denman's speech,
     delivered on the above occasion, relative to the prosecution
     upon which we have so freely commented:

          "In May, 1822, he (Sir Thomas Denman) first sat as
          common-sergeant, and was called upon to try a case
          of most atrocious libel in 'The Republican:' it
          contained a summing up of all the blasphemies which
          had ever been promulgated in that paper, and direct
          incitements to insurrection. The prosecution was
          instituted by a constitutional association, which
          thought the attorney-general was negligent of his
          duty; but he believed that that association obtained
          but little credit for thus undertaking his
          functions. There were two aldermen upon the bench,
          one of whom thought that two years' imprisonment was
          the least that could be awarded as a punishment,
          while the other thought that one year would be
          sufficient. The middle course was pursued, and
          the man was sentenced to _eighteen_ months'
          imprisonment. Though this was the _mildest_
          punishment which had been awarded on any case of a
          similar description at that time, yet he (the
          attorney-general) had been held up to odium as a
          cruel judge. THE PUBLIC, IT WAS CLEAR, HAD REAPED NO
          BENEFIT WHATEVER, and he (the attorney-general) had
          experienced some pain during the whole of the
          eighteen months that that man was in prison; for he
          felt a strong disinclination to proceed against any
          man who was fairly stating his opinions. The young
          man was twenty-one years of age, and what he was
          doing was certainly mischievous; _but when his
          imprisonment expired, he could assure the House that
          it was to himself a great comfort_. The liberty of
          the press was established in this country, and that
          alone was enough to induce people to publish those
          opinions; and that liberty would make him extremely
          cautious of prosecuting merely for opinion. During
          periods of public excitement, the classes from which
          juries were taken gave no encouragement to
          prosecutions, and if only one juryman stood out upon
          a case, the prosecution was obliged to be dropped.
          He, therefore, except some very atrocious
          circumstances should occur, did not think it
          expedient to proceed. In striking special juries, it
          was impossible to go into the heart of society, and
          act as spies in families to ascertain the sentiments
          of jurymen. _It was necessary to submit to a great
          deal, lest by legal proceedings bad should be made
          worse._ PROSECUTIONS AGAINST THE PRESS WERE BETTER
          LEFT ALONE."

     The last sentence of this speech contains advice which we hope
     to see _practised_ by all future attorney-generals. In the
     case of Sir Thomas Denman, however, it is only adopted through
     _necessity_; for he freely confesses his wish to prosecute, if
     he could only insure the verdict of a jury! It is, indeed, a
     gratifying truth, that attorney-generals cannot controul the
     decisions of juries; and it is well for the people of England
     that they cannot. Were it otherwise, the press would soon
     become worse than useless, and every independent writer
     speedily be consigned to a prison. We cannot, consequently,
     join Sir Thomas Denman in his lamentation; and we regret that
     a gentleman of such lofty pretensions to liberality and
     patriotism should have tarnished his fame by thus exposing
     himself to the censure of his countrymen. While upon this
     subject, we would give a word of advice to Lord Stormont. His
     lordship has been described as a young man of considerable
     natural abilities, which have been highly improved by a
     liberal education. How, then, can he be so blind to the spirit
     of the present age as to suppose himself capable of restoring
     the very worst part of Toryism,--that of undermining the
     glorious LIBERTY OF THE PRESS? His noble father (who was
     educated in the Pitt school of politics) may have impressed
     him with an idea of its practicability; but the people are now
     changed, the age is changed, and we warn him not to expose
     himself to the disgust of the English people, by making futile
     attempts to destroy the grand palladium of national liberty.
     As well, indeed, might he essay to execute Herod's commands to
     slay the innocents, as to restore, by such means, the absolute
     power which the Tories so unfortunately exercised during the
     last two reigns!

In the early part of this month, an elegant service of plate was
presented to Alderman Wood, as an acknowledgement for his
_disinterested_ services in the cause of the late queen; while, strange
to say, the large service of plate subscribed for the queen by the
country, at only one shilling each, never reached its destination! The
funds for this purpose were entrusted to the care of Messrs. Wood, Hume,
and others; the amount collected was more than three thousand pounds
during the first few months of the subscription, which regularly
increased till the queen's death. The cause of the opening of this
subscription was owing to the fact of her majesty being refused all
suitable conveniences for the dinner table, as she could only have a
dinner served upon blue-and-white earthenware! To this fact, the
noblemen and gentlemen who dined at her majesty's table can fully
attest. We are inclined to think, however, that the alderman's services
to the queen have been a little overrated. That Mr. Wood was her
majesty's best and most disinterested friend, thousands were led to
believe; but that he was not so, we shall endeavour to PROVE.

When a subscription was proposed for a service of plate for her majesty,
a Scotch lady forwarded one hundred guineas towards it. Alderman Wood
had the chief management of this subscription, as of almost every thing
else that related to the queen. The alderman employed one Pearson to
collect the money. This Pearson was the fellow that cut such a figure in
the Manchester massacre; and, therefore, he was thought, we suppose, a
_very capable person_ for such an undertaking. After collecting a
considerable sum of money, Pearson was about taking his leave of this
country for America; but, intimation having been given of his perfidy,
he was stopped.

Alderman Wood said his friends also wished _him_ to have a service of
plate, but his subscription was to be raised by _half-crowns_; indeed it
was expected that four or eight friends would join, and not present the
alderman with less than a GOLDEN PIECE. Unfortunately, the poor queen
died before the money the people intended to raise for her plate was
completed. At first, her friends wished to have a monument erected to
her memory in Hammersmith; but no ground could be obtained for this
purpose, and it was feared that her enemies would treat any pillar to
her honor with the same indignity that they had treated herself.
Alms-houses were then proposed to be built, but _NOTHING HAS YET BEEN
DONE WITH THE MONEY_, (amounting to about three thousand pounds) either
principal or interest. Mr. Wood has been frequently applied to, through
the public papers, concerning this money, but no answer has ever been
given. The alderman managed the subscription for his own plate much
better; for he took good care to receive it as soon as possible! The
alderman is known now to be very _rich_ from his Cornwall mines; he has,
besides, two distant relations in Gloucester, brothers, worth a million
between them, which he may probably share, they having no relations.
When, however, he went for the queen, his mines were unprofitable, and
himself embarrassed. Be that as it may, the queen certainly, by his
urgent entreaties, employed _his_ coach-maker in South Audley-street,
and most of _his_ other tradespeople.

The ill-natured world will talk; and some people went so far as to
accuse the _disinterested_ and _patriotic_ alderman with sinister
motives in these recommendations, and that he had actually "a feeling in
every thing that came into her majesty's house!" Whether or not this was
the case, the alderman most assuredly spoke to the queen, very
animatedly, to purchase Cambridge House, opposite to his own, in South
Audley-street, though her majesty said she would never sleep in it, nor
did she. The enormous sum which Mr. Wood persuaded the queen to give for
this house was sixteen thousand pounds! but, notwithstanding her majesty
made several improvements in it, it only sold at the queen's death for
six thousand pounds!! This fact will speak volumes. Are no interested
motives to be traced here?

We do not wish to deprive Alderman Wood of any merit that may justly be
his due; but, though he accompanied her majesty to England, he certainly
did not persuade her to come over, as some people have imagined. He, nor
any one else, had any hand in that; it was the spontaneous determination
of the queen herself! That the alderman REFUSED the house, 22,
Portman-street, which was offered for the queen's accommodation till a
better could be provided cannot be denied; he preferred receiving her
majesty into his own house. It is also well known that the alderman, by
his officious and ungentlemanly, nay, we may say, IMPUDENT conduct, lost
her majesty many friends in the higher circles, who would not act with
_him_. Nor can this be wondered at when his vulgar manners to his
superiors are taken into consideration. That we may not be supposed to
assert this without reason, we will here relate a few instances, which
came immediately under our own observation.

The queen gave a dinner to the Duke of Bedford, Earl Grey, Lord
Tankerville, and other noblemen and gentlemen. His grace of Bedford
handed her majesty down the room, and sat on her right, and Earl Grey on
her left. Instead of the vice-chamberlain (according to etiquette)
sitting at the top of the table to carve, Mr. Wood seated himself
_there, above every one_, and, _grinning_, ordered her vice-chamberlain
to go to the other end opposite him, thus publicly proclaiming his
ignorance and impudence! Earl Grey is reckoned the proudest man in
England, and it was said, he observed, "It is the first, and shall be
the last, time that the alderman shall sit above me."

When the queen came from Dover to town, accompanied by this alderman and
Lady Anne Hamilton, he presumptuously seated himself by her majesty's
side, thus forcing her lady to take the seat opposite, with her back to
the horses! We need hardly offer a remark upon so great a breach of good
manners; for any individual, possessing the spirit of an Englishman,
would always give precedence to a lady.

When her majesty went to St. Paul's cathedral, Mr. Wood placed himself
at the coach door to attend her out, and kept laughing and talking to
her till they arrived near the statue of Queen Elizabeth, where the lord
mayor and his retinue met her, after coming from the church for that
purpose; but when his lordship (Thorpe, naturally a modest man)
perceived that the queen was so engaged that she never lifted up her
eyes, he and his procession were turning back in confusion to re-enter
the church, when one of the queen's followers caught firmly hold of the
officious alderman's gown, stopped them, and said, "Mr. Wood, Mr. Wood,
don't you see the lord mayor come to hand the queen?--you would not
affront the city so as not to let him?" Sir Robert Wilson, who was near,
said, "Do run and call the lord mayor back, thousands of eyes are upon
us!" His lordship turned round, and the procession proceeded into the
church, as it ought to have done from the carriage door; but Mr. Wood
was exceedingly angry, and would follow next to her majesty, though
repeatedly told that it was Lady Anne Hamilton's place, as her majesty's
lady in waiting.

At the city concert, also, Alderman Wood displayed his indecorous
conduct. The orchestra was elevated about a foot, and at the right of
the orchestra two chairs were placed, one for the queen, and the other
for her lady in waiting, who sat next the people. Alderman Wood stood
behind her majesty the whole time, laughing and whispering, in the most
intimate style, in her ear; and though her lady kept her face towards
them, wishing it to appear _to the public_ that at least she had a
_share_ in the conversation, alas! too many saw she was never spoken to
by either!

From such impudent and vulgar conduct as this, we heard a certain royal
duke observe, "I wish to serve the queen, but I will not be Mr. Wood's
cat's-paw, nor play second fiddle to him!" Similar observations were
made by noblemen of the very first rank in this country. It may be
asked, "Why did the queen allow herself to be guided so much by this
alderman?" Because her majesty thought him _honest_, and was not aware
that he kept any other persons away. "Could no one tell her majesty the
real state of things?" No! for Mr. Wood actually set her against every
one, except himself and his own creatures, in order to preserve entire
influence over her majesty. Indeed, her legal advisers could hardly
speak to the queen, without this very officious gentleman being present.
He began by prejudicing her majesty against them all; for he said, "No
lawyers are good for any thing; I esteem _myself_ above them all." _We
ourselves heard him say so._ When he had thus persuaded her majesty of
his own superiority, and introduced himself into all the consultations
of her law advisers, (unless they demanded a _private_ audience) he
began to attack the _Whigs_, and amused himself by constantly abusing
them. He has frequently been heard to say, "The Whigs are worse enemies
of your majesty than the ministers; they would sacrifice you if they
could." But, for himself, he led her to believe that he could do any
thing with the people! In the city, he conceitedly told her majesty, at
the head of her own table, (where he _usually sat_, till Lord Hood took
his place) in November, when his friend Thorp was elected mayor, that
"they wanted to elect me mayor a third time, but I would not accept the
office;" while, at this very election, there was but ONE SINGLE VOTE for
him, and that was the new lord mayor's, who could not vote for himself!

It is very lamentable to consider that her majesty was so much guided by
this one man in most of her actions, even to the fatal day of the
coronation, upon which occasion, however, he took particular care not to
attend her. There is every reason to believe, notwithstanding, that her
going at all was owing to his _secret_ advice, though he pretended to
the contrary. Those who heard him at the _king's dinner_ were disgusted
at his being the _loudest_ to applaud his majesty! Most certainly, the
coronation day did not end to her majesty as she had been led to expect;
and she discovered, or fancied so, that she had no friend or adviser in
England on whom she could rely; and, therefore, determined to visit
Scotland. It was remarked to the queen, by a _true_ friend, who sought
only her honour and happiness, that Scotland was a proud nation, and
that it would not be there thought that Alderman Wood was of sufficient
rank to attend her majesty. The queen quickly and _indignantly_ replied,
"Alderman Wood! I should never think of taking _him_! No, no; I shall
only take Lord and Lady Hood, and Lady Hamilton!" All the world knows
her majesty never named the alderman in her will; but all the world does
not know that, a short time before her death, she said, "I OWE WOOD
NOTHING!"

The alderman also seized every opportunity he could to persuade the
queen to go _abroad again_. On one of these occasions, a friend of her
majesty overheard the hypocritical adviser, and immediately said, "How
can you, Mr. Wood, pretend to be her majesty's best friend, and yet want
her to do that which would ruin her in the eyes of the whole country?"
"I do not _want_ her to go," replied he, "but if she _will_ go, I wish
to point out to her the best way of doing it." "Sir, there is _no good
way_ for the queen to quit the country, and if you should unfortunately
succeed in persuading her to do it, you will be her ruin!"

Thus it will be seen, that "all is not gold that glitters;" but Mr. Wood
ought hardly to find fault with us for stripping him of his borrowed
plumes, considering the length of time he has been allowed to wear them!
If the public had known these particulars at the time they occurred, it
is doubtful whether the alderman would have ever received _his plate_;
therefore, he owes us a little gratitude for not mentioning them before
that (to him) _golden_ opportunity!

Alderman Wood, however, we are sorry to say, was not the only false
friend her majesty had to lament. Many others "held with the hare in one
house, and ran with the hounds in another." Some of these even attended
public meetings in the quality of friends, and then wrote as enemies in
the public journals. Some inveighed against her in public, and wrote,
spoke, and acted for her cause in private. One of her judges, to our
positive knowledge, spoke admirably for her in parliament, and yet
privately, in more places than one, impugned the character of her
majesty! Even while the queen was abroad, her _presumed_ friends were
extremely negligent at home. They permitted insidious paragraphs to
appear in the newspapers, day after day, month after month, and year
after year, without either contradiction or explanation; by which
shameful neglect, the public mind became so impregnated with falsehood
and insinuation, that, had not the queen returned to this country as
she did, her name would have been recorded in history as infamous! Sure
never woman was so shamefully treated, both by friends and foes; indeed,
her majesty might well have exclaimed, with Gay,

     "An open foe may prove a curse,
      But a _pretended_ friend is worse!"

On the 12th of August, while his majesty was absent on a visit to
Scotland, an extraordinary excitement prevailed by the reported "sudden
death" of the Marquis of Londonderry. It is hardly necessary to enter
into the various causes assigned for so unexpected an event; it is
sufficient to know, that his lordship committed suicide, by cutting his
throat with a small knife, at his seat, Foot's Cray, and that a
coroner's inquest (either from conviction, or in kindness to his
surviving friends) returned a verdict, that his lordship inflicted the
wound while "delirious and of insane mind."

It is an obligation imposed upon every independent historian to lend his
assistance to a just and honest estimate of the character of public men.
It leads to useful, though not always to gratifying, reflections, to
examine the causes which pointed them out as objects worthy of being
entrusted with political command. By what strange union of
circumstances, then, or by what unlucky direction of power, did the
Marquis of Londonderry attain to the high and important offices which he
successively held for so long a period?--a period the most momentous
and ominous, the most fertile in change, the most wicked in court
intrigue, and the most fraught with terror, of any in our annals! We
have heard his lordship described as having been amiable in private
life; but who has denied the manifest mediocrity of his genius for the
situations he was allowed to fill? Some of his public proceedings,
however, prove him not to have possessed much of "the milk of human
kindness," as we shall presently shew. He was, indeed, only qualified to
act as a mere associate, to be put forward in the face of Europe, not as
himself a high and original power, but as a passive organ for the
expression of sentiments, or for the execution of measures, hereafter
traceable only as the opinions and actions of the "united cabinet" of a
wicked chief magistrate. The panegyrists of his lordship have also
trumpetted forth eulogiums on his "personal bravery." And if bravery
consists in fighting duels, proposing the most unconstitutional acts,
fearlessly oppressing the innocent, and in defying the power of a
justly-enraged people, Lord Londonderry assuredly possessed "personal
bravery" in an eminent degree!

His lordship was born on the 18th of June, 1769, and consequently died
in the 53rd year of his age. He commenced his career, like his patron,
Mr. Pitt, as the advocate of parliamentary reform; and, also like that
apostate minister, Lord Londonderry abandoned his early patriotic
pledges and principles for the emoluments of office, which he first
entered in 1797, as keeper of the privy seal, and, shortly after, one
of the lords of the treasury, of Ireland. In the following year, he
became secretary to the lord lieutenant. Honours and places were now
lavishly heaped upon him. In 1802, his lordship received the appointment
of the Board of Controul, and, in 1805, was raised to the high and
responsible office of minister of war! On the death of Mr. Pitt in 1806,
his lordship was obliged to resign, with all the other "clerks in
office," as the _débris_ of Mr. Pitt's cabinet were called. On the
resignation of the Grey and Grenville administration, in 1807, he
resumed his former situation of minister of war, in which he continued
till the ill-starred Walcheren expedition and his duel with Mr. Canning
drove him from office, scorned and ridiculed by the whole of Europe. The
year 1809 gave his lordship an opportunity of shewing how much he
admired the existing abuses in church and state; for, on an
investigation taking place into the Duke of York's shameful neglect of
duty, as commander-in-chief, this year, the noble marquis was peculiarly
active in his defence, and circulated a considerable sum of money in
bribing those who were likely to appear as witnesses against the royal
libertine. On the assassination of Mr. Perceval, in 1811, his lordship
was made foreign minister, in which situation he continued till his
death. Holding so high an office at a time when our foreign exertions
were the most extensive and important, and acting as our negotiator when
Europe might have been composed and re-adjusted by our councils, he had
opportunities, which few ministers have enjoyed, of benefitting his
country and the whole human race. But how did he employ these rare
opportunities? Alas! his name is only to be found in treaties and
conventions for clipping the boundaries, impairing the rights, or
annihilating the existence of independent states; and he gloried in the
opportunity of stifling liberty in all the lesser states of Europe. Even
the colonial and commercial interests of Great Britain herself were
bartered away for snuff boxes and the smiles of Continental despots! If,
however, there is one action more than another calculated to brand the
name of Castlereagh with immortal infamy, it is the mean, tyrannical,
and inglorious conduct which he exercised towards the greatest man that
ever reigned over a free and enlightened people--the Emperor NAPOLEON!
To view the career of this truly illustrious man is to look back upon
the course of a blazing star, that, drawing its fiery arch over the
concave of heaven, fixes the admiring attention of the sublunary world,
and dazzles, while it arrests, the wondering eye! What language can do
justice to the mental powers and noble daring of the man who subdued the
blood-thirsty enemies of his country, and laid Europe at his feet? In
Napoleon, we saw the triumphant opposer of all despots, and the restorer
of order to his own disorganized and distracted subjects. See him from
his bold and judicious exertions at Toulon to his assumption of the
imperial title, and the dread-inspiring attitude he presented to
terrified and retiring Russia,--then judge his gigantic energy and
valour! As first consul, he pacified Europe; and, as emperor and king,
revenged her breach of the peace. Russia, Sweden, Denmark, Holland,
Prussia, the Netherlands, Germany, Sardinia, Spain, Portugal, Italy, and
Naples, were all in arms against his power; yet--all fell before it!

The termination of the great war in Europe was not the peculiar triumph
of that cabinet of which Lord Londonderry was the most prominent tool.
The campaigns of 1813 and 1814 were guided by the skill and spirit of
Russian and German officers,--aided, to be sure, by British
soldiers,--and with the whole civilized world for their allies. The
English ministers, or rather, the MONIED INTEREST of England, were
bankers to the "Grand Alliance," and furnished the sinews of the war.
But, even with such mighty odds against him, the towering and gigantic
genius of Napoleon would have defied them all, if English money had not
BRIBED some of his generals. It was this, and this only, that completed
his downfall. To talk of the Duke of Wellington as the conqueror of
Napoleon is an insult to the understanding of any intelligent man, and
for Lord Castlereagh to have boasted of having subdued him, as his
lordship was wont to do, "was pitiful, was wonderous pitiful!" The
English cabinet, at this period, was the same "incapable" cabinet. The
men were the same satellites to Mr. Pitt, subordinates to Mr.
Perceval,--nay, even to Lord Sidmouth, of Manchester notoriety,--whom
the independent members of parliament had long known and despised.
Circumstances ruled these ministers, whose position was chosen for them,
and improved by others. They could not have resisted that universal
impulse which they had not created, but which Bonaparte himself had
provoked; for he defied the whole "Grand Alliance," and, so far, was the
author of his own reverses, which, however, he would not so soon have
experienced if Fouché, Duke of Otranto, had not suffered his avarice to
get the better of his duty. It was this wicked duke, who, dreading the
detection of his treachery, devised a plan for assassinating the Emperor
Napoleon on his road to Waterloo. But, though this diabolical intention
proved a failure, he succeeded too well in putting his illustrious
master in the power of the British government. Not content, however,
with betraying his king, Fouché, though he capitulated for Paris, gave
up the rest of France to the discretion of her enemies and the tender
mercies of the Russian cossacks! This most consummate of traitors
likewise exposed those who had assisted him to execute his diabolical
plans, and actually signed lists for their proscription! Even the treaty
for the capitulation of Paris proved a mere juggle; for none of its
provisions were properly adhered to by Lord Castlereagh. The Parisians
were here most shamefully deceived. It could never have been
contemplated by them, for instance, that the capital was to be rifled of
all the monuments of art and antiquity, whereof she had become possessed
by right of conquest. A reclamation of the great mortar in St. James'
Park, or of the throne of the King of Ceylon, would have just as much
appearance of fairness as that of Apollo by the Pope, and Venus by the
Grand Duke of Tuscany. What a preposterous affectation of justice did
our foreign secretary evince in employing _British_ engineers to take
down the brazen horses of Alexander the Great, that they might be
re-erected in St. Mark's Place at Venice,--a city to which the Austrian
emperor has no more equitable a claim than we have to Vienna! Lord
Castlereagh's authority for emptying the Louvre was not only an act of
unfairness to the French, but one of the greatest impolicy as concerned
our own countrymen, since, by so doing, he removed beyond the reach of
the great majority of British artists and students the finest models of
sculpture and of painting the world has produced. Although England was
made to bear the trouble and expense of these removals, the complacent
Castlereagh gave all the spoil to foreign potentates, whose smiles and a
few trifling presents compensated _him_ for their loss! But what will
posterity think of a British minister's violating a treaty for such
paltry gratifications?

We come now to speak of the conduct of the departed minister to the
betrayed Emperor of the French. Napoleon always declared that he gave
himself up to England, in the confidence of promises, sacredly made to
him by Lord Castlereagh, that he should be allowed to remain in this
country. "My having given myself up to you," were Napoleon's words, "is
not so simple a matter as you imagine. Before I went to Elba, Lord
Castlereagh offered me an asylum in England, and said that I should be
very well treated there, and much better off than at Elba." But how did
his lordship fulfil these promises? This will be best explained in the
language of Napoleon himself, in a protest which he wrote on board the
Bellerophon, August 4th, 1815, of which the following is a translation:


"I hereby solemnly protest, in the face of heaven and of man, against
the violence done me, and against the violation of my most sacred
rights, in forcibly disposing of my person and my liberty. I came
voluntarily on board of the Bellerophon; I am not a prisoner, I am the
guest of England. I came on board even at the instigation of the
captain, who told me he had orders from the government to receive me and
my suite, and conduct me to England, if agreeable to me. I presented
myself with good faith, to put myself under the protection of the
English laws. As soon as I was on board the Bellerophon, I was under
shelter of the British people.

"If the government, in giving orders to the captain of the Bellerophon
to receive me, as well as my suite, only intended to LAY A SNARE FOR ME,
it has forfeited its honour and disgraced its flag.

"If this act be consummated, the English will in vain boast to Europe of
their integrity, their laws, and their liberty. British good faith will
be lost in the hospitality of the Bellerophon.

"I appeal to history; it will say that an enemy, who for twenty years
waged war against the English people, came voluntarily, in his
misfortunes, to seek an asylum under their laws. What more brilliant
proof could he give of his esteem and his confidence? But what return
did England make for so much magnanimity? They feigned to stretch forth
a friendly hand to that enemy; and when he delivered himself up in good
faith, they sacrificed him.

                                             (Signed) "NAPOLEON."


Napoleon, however, acquitted the English PEOPLE of any participation in
this crime, and said, "We must not judge of the character of a people by
the conduct of their government."

Europe should understand how little the English people are implicated in
the crimes of their king or his ministers. The PEOPLE did not vote
millions after millions for a crusade against French and American
liberty. _They_ did not commission a Wellington to interfere in the
re-enthronement of a Bourbon; _they_ did not depute a Castlereagh to
dictate the slavery of Saxony and Genoa; nor should _they_ be charged
with the gross injustice, dastardly inurbanity, and forcible
imprisonment of the greatest man and the most magnificent monarch of
modern or ancient times,--of a man whose mental superiority was
honourable to human nature, and which threw into utter darkness the
abilities of every other sovereign!

British annals have, indeed, been stained by many a dark and unsightly
spot; our volumes will exhibit divers foul and desperate deeds in the
domestic history of the last two kings: but never was an act more
_nationally_ disgraceful than the banishment of Napoleon to St. Helena!
He was never accountable to England, much less to the English
boroughmongers, for his political conduct. He had been the general, the
first consul, and the emperor of the French. He arose amidst the storms
of the revolution; he was (as he himself felt and said) the "sword-arm
of the republic," with which it chastised and humbled to the dust the
accursed confederacy of despots who had endeavoured to rivet an old,
worn-out, oppressive, and rejected dynasty on thirty millions of
Frenchmen. He conquered at first by the help of that flame of liberty
which raged with a fierceness proportioned to its long suppression; and,
latterly, having raised himself above his contemporaries by his powerful
genius, he was made emperor by his countrymen and fellow-soldiers,
partly because a large portion of the people, weary of the violent
fluctuations of an ill-constituted democracy, desired the repose even of
absolute government, and partly because he was looked upon as the
fittest instrument for foreign conquest, which had become a favourite
habit, though originating in an absolute necessity. Never let it be
forgotten, that he was chosen first consul for life (a distinction used
only for the sake of republican appearances, and known to mean king all
over Europe) by the votes of the French people at large! The question
was submitted to them in the separate departments; all voted that took
interest in the affirmative or the negative; and the result was, his
election by more than 3,500,000 voices against 374! Can the House of
Hanover say as much for their succession to the throne of the STUARTS?
NAPOLEON was not only the elected sovereign of the French people, but he
was acknowledged in that capacity by all his enemies. As first consul,
the allies, including England, made the treaty of Amiens with him. As
emperor, the Continental sovereigns not only often acknowledged, but
_flattered_, and bowed to the earth before him; and this country, at the
least, negotiated with him for peace. Whence, then, arose Lord
Castlereagh's right to treat him as an offender amenable to England?
When, by a marvellous succession of ill-fortune, he fell from his
towering height, and left for ever his post at the head of the French
government, he became a private individual; and this country had no more
business to interfere with his personal freedom than with that of
Marshal SOULT, or any other of the military men who had equally sought
to crush us. Some canting and arrogant people talked of his
_crimes_--his tyranny--his unjust aggressions in Spain and elsewhere.
But we deny that Napoleon was a tyrant. After his return from Elba, he
wished to be at peace with all mankind, and to devote the remainder of
his days to increase the happiness and prosperity of his people. Which
of his enemies could say as much? We quote the following letter in
justification of what we here advance, which the emperor addressed to
all the sovereigns of Europe:

                                         "_Paris, April 4, 1815._

     "SIRES, MY BROTHERS,--You have no doubt learnt in the course
     of the last month my return to France, my entrance into Paris,
     and the departure of the family of the Bourbons. The true
     nature of those events must now be made known to your
     majesties. They are the results of an irresistible power,--the
     results of the unanimous wish of a great nation, which knows
     its duties and its rights. The dynasty which force had given
     to the French people was not fitted for it; the Bourbons
     neither associated with the national sentiments nor manners;
     France has therefore separated herself from them; her voice
     called for a liberator. The hopes which induced me to make the
     greatest sacrifice for her have been deceived; I came, and,
     from the spot where I first set my foot, the love of my people
     has borne me into the heart of my capital. The first wish of
     my heart is to repay so much affection by the maintenance of
     an honourable peace. The restoration of the imperial throne
     was necessary for the happiness of the French people. It is my
     sincere desire to render it at the same time subservient to
     the maintenance of the repose of Europe. Enough of glory has
     shone by turns on the colours of the various nations. The
     vicissitudes of fortune have often enough occasioned great
     reverse, followed by great success; a more brilliant _arena_
     is now open to sovereigns, and I am the first to descend into
     it. After having presented to the world the spectacles of
     great battles, it will now be more delightful to know no other
     rivalship in future but that resulting from the advantages of
     peace, and no other struggle but the sacred one of felicity
     for our people. France has been pleased to proclaim with
     candour this noble object of her unanimous wish. Jealous of
     her independence, the invariable principle of her policy will
     be the most rigid respect for the independence of other
     nations. If such then (as I trust they are) are the personal
     sentiments of your majesties, general tranquillity is secured
     for a long time to come, and Justice, seated on the confines
     of the various states, will of herself be sufficient to guard
     the frontiers.

                                          "I am, &c.
                                                      "NAPOLEON."

If further proof be needed against his being a tyrant, it may be found
in the following extracts from the Additional Act to the Constitution of
the Empire of France, 1815:

     "Rights of Citizens.--All Frenchmen are equal in the eye of
     the law, whether as contributors to the public taxes and
     imposts, or as to admission to civil and military employments.
     No one can be prosecuted, arrested, imprisoned, or exiled,
     except according to the forms prescribed by the law.

     "Liberty of worship is granted to all.

     "Every citizen has the right of printing and publishing his
     thoughts (signing his name) without any previous censorship,
     and subject only to legal responsibility after the publication,
     by the verdict of juries, even where there should be no
     occasion but for a correctional penalty. The right of
     petitioning is secured to all citizens. Every petition is
     individual.

     "The French people declare moreover that, in the delegation
     which they have made, and which they shall make, of their
     powers, they have not intended to give, nor do they give, the
     right of proposing the re-establishment of the Bourbons, or
     any prince of that family, upon the throne, even in case of
     the extinction of the imperial dynasty; nor the right of
     re-establishing either the ancient feudal nobility, or the
     feudal and signorial privileges or titles, or any privileged
     and dominant worship; nor the power of making any attempt upon
     the irrevocability of the sale of the national domains: they
     formally interdict to the government, the chambers, and the
     citizens all propositions to that effect.

     "Done at Paris the 20th of April, 1815.

                                  (Signed) "NAPOLEON.
                                           "The Duke of BASSANO."

Nothing but their own love of tyranny, therefore, could induce these
sovereigns to wage war against a happy people, like the people of
France. But Napoleon's virtues were too luminous for their dim eyes to
look upon. The abolition of the slave-trade ought to be held in
everlasting remembrance by all the friends of justice and humanity.

     "IMPERIAL DECREE.

     "Napoleon, Emperor of the French. We have decreed, and do
     decree, as follows:

     "Art. 1.--From the date of the publication of the present
     decree, the trade in negroes is abolished. No expedition shall
     be allowed for this commerce, neither in the ports of France
     nor in those of our colonies.

     "Art. 2.--There shall not be introduced to be sold in our
     colonies any negro, the produce of this trade, whether French
     or foreign.

     "Art. 3.--Any infraction of this decree shall be punished with
     the confiscation of the ship and cargo, which shall be
     pronounced by our courts and tribunals.

     "Art. 4.--However, the ship-owners who, before the publication
     of the present decree, shall have fitted out expeditions for
     the trade may sell the produce in our colonies.

     "Our ministers are charged with the execution of the present
     decree.

                                  (Signed) "NAPOLEON.
                                           "The Duke of BASSANO."

Beside these noble examples of good government, many other advantages
were bestowed on the French people by their emperor. Their "Code
Napoleon," their "Legion of Honour," their "Central Schools," their _new
roads_, _bridges_, and _canals_, will be lasting evidences of the
gigantic powers of his mind, and of his sincere desire to serve his
country, and render himself worthy of the exalted station to which he
had been called by her gratitude for his pre-eminent military services.
Had Napoleon bounded his ambition to the glory of ruling France upon
free and liberal principles, it had been happy for himself, his
relations, and his country; but to talk of his foreign despotism, and
his _carrying_ tyranny to where, in fact, he _found_ tyranny,--tyranny
the most rank and inveterate,--is to use the language of folly or of
knavery, and to merit the contempt of every thinking mind.

But if it be even allowed that Napoleon was all that his enemies would
make him, where did our ministers get the unheard-of privilege of
setting themselves up as cosmopolite censors? By what right did the
British government constitute itself a tribunal to judge and punish, in
the last resort, delinquent monarchs? Could it by any reasoning have
made out a claim to that office, was it just or decent to make a victim
of _one_,--a man of unquestioned talent and greatness of soul,--and at
the same moment to compliment and make alliances with all the worse
tyrants, the maudlin hypocrites, and base violaters of their word? Or
did these moral Quixotes and immaculate judges only profess to "do
_justice_" upon _one_ sinner "against the spirit of the age,"--and that
one a _fallen_ enemy?

The only plausible pretence for the treatment of the abdicated emperor
was--that his surpassing genius, and his great hold on the military part
of the French character, rendered him a necessary exception to the rule
regarding prisoners of war, and made it indispensable to the safety and
repose of the world, that he should be prevented from appearing again on
the grand stage of European politics. This is confessedly on the
dangerous plan of doing positive injustice for the sake of what the
doers think safe and necessary. But we deny the necessity. We say the
argument is built on utter ignorance of human nature, and a wilful
blindness to all history and experience. Napoleon was grand in his
views, because he admired and loved greatness for its own sake. He never
sullied his conquests by partitioning and dividing the conquered. He
could afford not to weaken his enemies by petty violations of national
integrity. He encouraged every thing liberal and noble, which did not at
the same time interfere with his personal authority. He cherished
literature, art, and science; and they, in return, reflected true glory
upon him. He never insulted and mocked mankind by pretending an eternal
right in himself and his successors to trample them under his feet,
because he was an emperor. He had always a respect for liberty, though
he so often forgot it in his greater eagerness for power. He never laid
claim to _holiness_, but acknowledged himself, in his proudest moments,
sovereign, "_by the constitutions of the empire_." He was not
vindictive; his long military rule was never sullied by any act which
could be compared in infamy with the imprisonment of the unfortunate
TRENCK by that Prussian FREDERICK, whom the legitimate abusers of
NAPOLEON call "the _Great_." The prominent fault of his career as a
leader of a new and revolutionary period, was that, instead of looking
forward, he looked backward, and became an imitator instead of an
original. He evidently had the glories of former ages strongly in his
view; and was to be a great conqueror, not because the times wanted
_him_, but because there are medals and statues in the world, and
dynasties were founded by CÆSAR. In the height of his prosperity, he was
a CHARLEMAGNE--another "Emperor of the West;" and, in his adversity, he
forgot the Prince Regent of England so far as to talk to him of
THEMISTOCLES[68:A]. And yet there was a romance even in this, which set
him above all ordinary conquerors. He had the poetry, as well as the
prose, of the military art about him. _He_ would never have sunk into a
mere lounger and man of pleasure, or stood behind any commonplace man
with a gold stick in his hand.

     [68:A] The following is a translation of the letter above
     referred to:

                                     "Rocheford, 13th July, 1815.

     "YOUR ROYAL HIGHNESS,

     "A victim to the factions which distract my country, and to
     the enmity of the greatest powers of Europe, I have terminated
     my political career, and I come, like Themistocles, to throw
     myself upon the hospitality of the British people. I put
     myself under the protection of their laws, which I claim from
     your royal highness, as the most powerful, the most constant,
     and the most generous of my enemies.

                                                      "NAPOLEON."

As a soldier, his military career has never been surpassed in
brilliancy. Quick, active, decisive, he never paused in the vigorous and
persevering execution of the plans which his genius prompted him to
undertake. He introduced a new, high, and successful mode of conquest,
by striking immediately at the centre of armies and countries; and he
was finally overthrown, both as general and sovereign, not because his
individual antagonists were greater, but because the very physical
remains of old English liberty were greater, and because public opinion
was greater than all. He possessed, in an eminent degree, the great art
of estimating and working upon the characters of his adversaries, and
the still greater art of gaining the affections of his soldiers, who
were always passionately fond of him, and who at this day adore his
memory.

As a prince and a conqueror, his master-passion was a restless ambition,
the impetuous tide of which bore him onward to his ends through many
signal acts of injustice and violence. We shall not dwell upon them:
there has been plenty of "envy, hatred, and all uncharitableness," to
ring the changes on his worst deeds, and an abundance of those feelings,
we find, survive the object that particularly roused them. Neither shall
we indulge in uselessly regretting the good he _failed_ to do, or in
reproaching him with the want of moderation and wisdom. Our business is
with the illustrious soldier as he was, not as he might have been
without his defects:

     "His warlike mind, his soul devoid of fear;
      His high-designing thoughts were figured there."

His character was spoilt, or at least not adapted to the purposes of
freedom, by a military education. The BOURBONS brought him up at one of
their military schools, where his head was filled with CÆSAR and
ALEXANDER, and then complained of him for his ambition: that is to say,
the legitimate monarchs will let you be as ambitious and warlike as you
please, provided you assist _their_ ambition and wars; but if not, you
are a blood-thirsty conqueror and a tyrant. Some writers have attempted
to confound, on _this_ occasion, ambition with mere ordinary
selfishness. This is paltry and ridiculous. Napoleon was never so cool
as when contemplating eminent success. Those who have carried him the
news of victory have frequently supposed that he had learnt it before,
or that he did not credit them. It warmed no feature of his countenance;
it lit up no additional lustre in his eye. Yet this was not
indifference; he had acquired a habit of subduing the ordinary emotions
of mankind. Defeat and error certainly enraged him towards those who
contributed to such mortifications; but they never had power to hurry
him into any efforts to repair disaster. His intemperance never extended
itself to his plans or resources, as a general. Let us look to the
course of his feelings when the thunderbolt of his fortune was expended
at Moscow. He had recourse to no dribbling efforts on which to hang the
flame of military hope. He negotiated the plan of his retreat with all
the precision of an attorney, who leaves nothing unprovided for. Trifles
alone disturbed Napoleon. The offence of an inattention on the part of
an attendant would make him angry; but if the world had burst asunder,
and only left him a place to stand upon, he would have regarded it
through his eye-glass as an experiment in natural philosophy!

Had Napoleon lived in times of less turbulence, he would have been a
still greater statesman than a warrior. It is a fact not to be disputed,
that it was this great man who definitively freed the entire Continent
of Europe from that democratic mania, of all other tyrannies the most
cruel, savage, and unrelenting, and which was in full, though less
rapid, progress when he, by accepting the diadem of France, restored the
_principles_ of monarchy to its vigour, and, at one blow, overturned the
many-headed monster of revolution. To attain this beneficial end, HE
SPILT NO BLOOD! The decapitation of Louis, in which he could have had no
concern, completely overwhelmed the Bourbon dynasty; but Napoleon, in
one single day, re-established that monarchial form of government which
the imbecile ministers of England had, with so much expense of human
life and treasure, been for many years unsuccessfully attempting to
restore!

One of Napoleon's greatest admirers was Mr. Fox, who, speaking of him
one day, said, "If we even shut our eyes on the martial deeds of this
great man, we must allow that his _eloquence alone_ has elevated the
French people to a higher degree of civilization than any other nation
in Europe,--they have advanced a century during the last five years.
Bonaparte combines the declamation of a Cicero with the soul-stirring
philippicks of a Demosthenes; he appeals _to the head and the heart_, to
honour and to self-interest, at the same time. Had this wonderful man
turned his attention to poetry, instead of war, he would have beaten
Homer out of the field! Whatever his manner of delivery may be, and I
understand it is impressive, he is certainly the greatest orator that
the world ever produced. The soaring grandeur of his conceptions is
admirable, and his adaptation of the deeds and sayings of the heroes and
statesmen of ancient times to present circumstances, not only shows the
extent of his reading and the correctness of his taste in their
application, but also serves to assure the French people that he is as
capable of governing as he has proved himself to be in leading them
forth to conquest. But it is in his power of simplification that he
shines most; although as romantic as Ossian, he disdains all rodomontade
and circumlocution; and, by stripping his subject of all extraneous
matter, he reduces the most complex proposition down to the laconic
simplicity of a self-evident axiom."

What, then, are we to think of a British minister, who could violate his
most sacred pledges of protection to a man of this exalted description?
But Lord Castlereagh's mind was not capable of estimating the worth and
talents of Napoleon, and the mean expedient to which his lordship
resorted to gain possession of the emperor's person will ever reflect
the greatest possible disgrace upon his character, both as a man and a
minister. The petty, vexatious, and unjustifiable conduct, to which the
Emperor Napoleon was afterwards subjected at St. Helena, was equal in
meanness to his capture. When the emperor quitted the Bellerophon, on
the 8th of August, the officers and ship's company were in
consternation; they felt implicated in the shame and the injustice of
such a procedure. Napoleon traversed the deck to descend into the
sloop, with calmness and a smile upon his lips, having at his side
Admiral Keith. He stopped before Captain Maitland, charged him to
testify his satisfaction to the officers and crew of the Bellerophon,
and, seeing him extremely grieved, said to him, by way of consolation,
"_Posterity cannot, in any way, accuse you for what is taking place; you
have been deceived as well as myself._" Napoleon enjoyed, during
twenty-four days, the protection of the British flag; he sojourned in
the inner roads of Torbay and Plymouth; and it was not until after that
lapse of time, on the 8th of August, when passing on board the
Northumberland, that Admiral Keith disarmed the French,--the delivering
up of arms being one of the characteristics of prisoners of war. The
arms of the emperor, however, were not demanded.

It would be unnecessary to give a copy of the "official" regulations,
which Lord Castlereagh ordered to be observed towards the illustrious
Napoleon; their tyrannical operation will be made manifest in the
following correspondence:


LETTER FROM COUNT MONTHOLON TO THE GOVERNOR, SIR HUDSON LOWE.

                                  "_Longwood, 23rd August, 1816._

"GENERAL,

"I have received the treaty of the 2nd August, 1815, concluded between
his Britannic Majesty, the Emperor of Austria, the Emperor of Russia,
and the King of Prussia, which was annexed to your letter of the 23rd
July.

"The Emperor Napoleon protests against the contents of that treaty. He
is not the prisoner of England: after having abdicated, into the hands
of the representatives of the nation, for the advantage of the
constitution adopted by the French people, and in favour of his son, he
repaired voluntarily and freely to England, to live there as a private
individual, in retirement, under the protection of the British laws. The
violation of all laws cannot constitute a right; in point of fact, the
person of the Emperor Napoleon is in the power of England; but in fact,
and of right, he has not been and is not in the power of Austria,
Russia, and Prussia, even according to the laws and customs of England,
who never admitted into the balance, in the exchange of prisoners, the
Russians, the Austrians, the Prussians, the Spaniards, the Portuguese,
although she was united to those powers by treaties of alliance, and
made war conjointly with them. The convention of the 2nd August, made
fifteen days after the Emperor Napoleon was in England, cannot, of
right, have any effect; it exhibits only a spectacle of a coalition of
the four great powers of Europe for the oppression of a SINGLE MAN!--a
coalition disclaimed by the opinion of all people, and at variance with
all the principles of sound morality. The Emperors of Austria and of
Russia, and the King of Prussia, not having, either in fact or of right,
any controul over the person of the Emperor Napoleon, they have had no
power to decree any thing concerning him. If the Emperor Napoleon had
been in the power of the Emperor of Austria, that prince would have
recollected the relations which religion and nature have placed between
a father and a son,--relations which are never violated with impunity.
He would have recollected, that Napoleon has four times restored him to
his throne: at Leoben, in 1797, and at Luneville, in 1801, when his
armies were under the walls of Vienna; at Presburg, in 1806, and at
Vienna, in 1809, when his armies were masters of the capital, and of
three-fourths of the monarchy. That prince would have recollected the
protestations which he made to him at the bivouac of Moravia, in 1806,
and at the interviews at Dresden, in 1812. If the person of the Emperor
Napoleon had been in the power of the Emperor Alexander, he would have
called to mind the bonds of friendship contracted at Tilsit, at Erfurt,
and during twelve years of daily intercourse. He would have remembered
the conduct of the Emperor Napoleon on the day after the battle of
Austerlitz, when, having it in his power to make him prisoner with the
wreck of his army, he contented himself with his parole, and suffered
him to operate his retreat. He would have called to mind the dangers
which the Emperor Napoleon personally braved to extinguish the
conflagration of Moscow, and preserve to him that capital. Certainly,
that prince would not have violated the duties of friendship and
gratitude towards a friend in misfortune. If the person of the Emperor
Napoleon had even been in the power of the King of Prussia, that
sovereign would not have forgotten, that it depended on the emperor,
after the day of Friedland, to place another prince on the throne of
Berlin; he would not have forgotten, in the presence of a disarmed
enemy, the protestations of devotedness and the sentiments which he
expressed to him in 1812, at the interviews of Dresden. Accordingly, it
is obvious in the Articles 2 and 9 of the said treaty of the 2nd August,
that, being unable in any way to influence the fate of the Emperor
Napoleon's person, which is not in their power, those same persons agree
to what shall be done thereon by the King of Great Britain, who
undertakes to fulfil all obligations. These princes have reproached the
Emperor Napoleon with having preferred the protection of the English
laws to their protection. The false notions which the Emperor Napoleon
had of the English laws, and of the influence which the opinion of a
great, generous, and free people had on their government, induced him to
prefer the protection of their laws to that of his father-in-law, or his
old friend. The Emperor Napoleon was ever competent to ensure what
concerned him personally, by a diplomatic treaty, either by replacing
himself at the head of the army of the Loire, or by placing himself at
the head of the army of the Gironde, which General Claus commanded. But,
seeking thenceforward only retirement, and the protection of the laws of
a free nation, either English or American, all stipulations appeared to
him unnecessary. He thought the English would be more bound by his
frank, noble, and confident procedure, than they would have been by the
most solemn treaties. He was mistaken. But this error will always make
true Britons blush; and, both in the present and in future generations,
it will be a proof of the faithlessness of the English administration.
An Austrian and a Russian commissioner have arrived at St. Helena. If
the object of their mission be the fulfilment of the duties which the
Emperors of Austria and Russia contracted by the treaty of the 2nd of
August, and to see that the English agents, in a small colony, in the
midst of the ocean, do not fail in the attentions due to a prince, bound
to them by the ties of kindred and by so many other relations, there may
be recognised in this procedure some characteristics of those
sovereigns. But you, sir, have affirmed that those commissioners had
neither the right nor the power to form any opinion as to whatever takes
place on this rock.

"The English ministry have caused the Emperor Napoleon to be transported
to St. Helena, 2000 leagues from Europe. This rock is situated in the
tropic, 900 leagues from any continent; it is subject to the consuming
heats of this latitude; it is covered with clouds and fogs during three
quarters of the year; it is at once the driest and the most humid
country in the world; such a climate is most adverse to the emperor's
health. It was hatred that dictated the choice of this abode, as well as
the instructions given by the English ministry to the officers
commanding at this place. They have been ordered to call the Emperor
Napoleon, 'General,' wishing to oblige him to acknowledge that he has
never reigned in France; and this has determined him not to assume a
name of incognito, as he had resolved to do on quitting France. As first
magistrate, for life, of the republic, he concluded the preliminaries of
London and the treaty of Amiens with the King of Great Britain; he
received, as ambassadors, Lord Cornwallis, Mr. Merry, and Lord
Whitworth, who sojourned in this quality at his court. He accredited to
the King of England Count Otto and General Andreossy, who resided as
ambassadors at the court of Windsor. When, after an interchange of
letters between the two administrations of foreign affairs, Lord
Lauderdale came to Paris, invested with full powers from the King of
England, he treated with plenipotentiaries invested with full powers
from the Emperor Napoleon, and sojourned several months at the court of
the Thuilleries. When, subsequently, at Chatillon, Lord Castlereagh
signed the ultimatum which the allied powers presented to the
plenipotentiaries of the Emperor Napoleon, he thereby recognised the
fourth dynasty. That ultimatum was more advantageous than the treaty of
Paris; but it was demanded that France should renounce Belgium and the
left bank of the Rhine, which was contrary to the propositions of
Frankfort, and to the proclamations of the allied powers, which was
contrary also to the oath by which at his coronation the emperor had
sworn to the integrity of the empire. The emperor then thought that the
natural limits were necessary to the guarantee of France, and to the
equilibrium of Europe. He thought that the French nation, in their then
existing circumstances, ought rather to incur all the chances of war
than to depart from them. France would have obtained that integrity, and
with it preserved her honour, if TREASON had not come to the aid of the
allies.

"The treaty of the 2nd August and the British bill in parliament call
the emperor, 'Napoleon Bonaparte,' and do not give him the title of
general. The title of General Bonaparte is doubtless eminently glorious;
the emperor bore it at Lodi, at Castiglione, at Rivoli, at Arcola, at
Leoben, at the Pyramids, at Aboukir; but for seventeen years he has
borne that of first consul and of emperor. It would be to allow that he
has not been either first magistrate of the republic, or sovereign of
the fourth dynasty. Those who think that nations are mere flocks, which
belong, _by divine right_, to certain families, are not in the spirit of
the age, nor even in that of the English legislature, which several
times changed the order of its dynasty, because great changes that had
taken place in opinions, in which the reigning princes did not
participate, had rendered them inimical to the welfare and to a great
majority of that nation. FOR KINGS ARE ONLY HEREDITARY MAGISTRATES, WHO
EXIST BUT FOR THE WELFARE OF NATIONS, AND NOT NATIONS FOR THE
SATISFACTION OF KINGS. It was the same spirit of hatred which ordained
that 'the Emperor Napoleon should not write or receive any letter,
unless it was opened and read by the English ministers and the officers
of St. Helena.' He has thus been denied the possibility of receiving
news from his mother, his wife, his son, his brothers; and when,
desirous of avoiding the inconvenience of seeing his letters read by
subaltern officers, he wished to send letters sealed to the Prince
Regent, the answer was, that they could only undertake to let open
letters pass; that 'such were the instructions of the ministry.' This
measure needs not be reflected on; it will give strange ideas of the
spirit of the administration which dictated it; _it would even be
disclaimed at Algiers_! Letters have arrived for general officers of the
emperor's suite; they were unsealed, and were remitted to you; you did
not communicate them, because they had not passed through the channel of
the English ministry. It was necessary to make them travel over again
4000 leagues, and those officers had the pain of knowing that there
existed on this rock, news from a wife, a mother, children, which they
were not to know for six months. The heart rises at this!! We were not
allowed to subscribe for the Morning Chronicle, the Morning Post, and
some French journals. Some odd numbers of the Times were now and then
sent to Longwood. Upon the demand made on board the Northumberland, some
books were sent, but all those relative to transactions of late years
were carefully withheld. It was afterwards wished to correspond with a
London bookseller, in order to have direct means of obtaining some books
that were wanted, and those which related to the events of the day: this
was prevented. An English author having performed a voyage in France,
and having printed it in London, took the trouble to send it you, that
it might be offered to the emperor; but you did not think yourself
empowered to transmit it to him, because it had not come to you by the
channel of your government. It is also said that other books sent by
their authors could not be transmitted, because on the title page of
some were the words 'To the Emperor Napoleon,' and on others 'To
Napoleon the Great.' The English ministry are not authorized to order
any of these vexations; the law of the British parliament, though
iniquitous, considers the Emperor Napoleon as a prisoner of war; and
prisoners of war have never been forbidden to subscribe for journals, or
to receive books which are printed. Such a prohibition is made only in
the dungeons of the inquisition.

"The isle of St. Helena is ten leagues in circumference; it is
inaccessible on all sides; the coast is surrounded by some brigs, and
there are posts placed on its verge within sight of each other, which
render all communication with the sea impracticable. There is only one
small village, James Town, where vessels arrive and depart. To prevent
an individual from quitting the island, it is sufficient to guard the
coast by sea and land. In interdicting the interior of the island,
therefore, there can only be one object, that of excluding an easy ride
of eight or ten miles, which exclusion, in the opinion of professional
men, is shortening the life of the emperor.

"The emperor has been established at Longwood, a site exposed to all
winds, a sterile tract, uninhabited, destitute of water, unsusceptible
of any culture. There is a precinct of about 1200 toises uncultivated;
at the distance of 300 or 400 toises, upon a peak, they have established
a camp; another has just been placed about the same distance, in the
opposite direction; so that, amidst the tropic heats, on whatever side
we turn, we behold nothing but camps. Admiral Malcolm, having conceived
how useful a tent would be to the emperor in such a situation, has
caused one to be pitched by his sailors, twenty paces in front of the
house; this is the only place where any shade can be found. However, the
emperor has no reason but to be satisfied with the spirit which animates
the officers and soldiers of the brave 53rd., as he also was with the
crew of the Northumberland. Longwood House was built to serve as a barn
for the Company's farm; subsequently, the lieutenant-governor of the
island had some rooms fitted up there; it served him as a country-house,
but it had none of the conveniencies of a dwelling. For a year past, men
have been constantly at work there, and the emperor has been continually
exposed to the inconvenience and insalubrity of inhabiting a house in a
state of building. The room in which he sleeps is too small to contain a
bed of ordinary dimensions: but every addition to Longwood House would
prolong the annoyance of the workmen's attendance. Yet in this miserable
island there are beautiful spots, presenting fine trees, gardens, and
pretty good houses, Plantation House among others; but the positive
instructions of the ministry prohibit you from giving that house, which
might have spared much expense from your treasure, expense employed in
building at Longwood some cottages covered with pitched paper, which are
already out of repair. You have forbidden all correspondence between us
and the inhabitants of the isle; you have in fact placed the house of
Longwood in a state of exclusion; you have even fettered the
communications of the officers of the garrison. It seems to have been a
study to deprive us of the few resources which this miserable country
affords, and we are here as we should be on the uncultivated and
uninhabited rock of Ascension. During the four months that you, Sir,
have been at St. Helena, you have deteriorated the situation of the
emperor. Count Bertrand observed to you, that you were violating even
the law of your legislature; that you were trampling under foot the
rights of general officers, prisoners of war: you answered, that you
recognised only the letter of your instructions, that they were worse
even than your conduct appeared to us.

                            "I have the honour to be, General,
                  "Your very humble and obedient Servant,
                      (Signed) "The General C{te}. DE MONTHOLON."

"P.S. I had signed this letter, Sir, when I received your's of the
17th. You annex to it an estimate of an annual sum of twenty thousand
pounds sterling, which you deem indispensable to meet the expenditure of
the establishment at Longwood, after all the reductions have been made
which you have judged practicable. The discussion of this statement
cannot in any manner concern us. The emperor's table is scarcely what is
strictly necessary; all the provisions are of bad quality, and four
times dearer than at Paris. You ask of the emperor a fund of twelve
thousand pounds sterling, your government allowing you only eight
thousand pounds sterling, for all these expenses. I have had the honour
to tell you that the emperor had no funds; that for a year past he had
not received or written any letter; and that he was in complete
ignorance as to what is passing or may have been passing in Europe.
Transported by violence to this rock, 2000 leagues distant, without the
power of receiving or writing any letter, he now remains entirely at the
discretion of the English agents. The emperor has always desired, and
does desire, to defray all expenses whatever himself; and he will do so
as soon as you will make it possible for him, by removing the
prohibition imposed on the merchants of the island, of forwarding his
correspondence, and by consenting that it shall not be subject to any
inquisition by you or any of your agents. As soon as the wants of the
emperor shall be known in Europe, the persons who are interested
concerning him will send the necessary funds for supplying them.

"The letter of Lord Bathurst, which you have communicated to me, gives
rise to some strange ideas. Were your ministers then ignorant that the
spectacle of a great man struggling with adversity is the sublimest of
spectacles? Were they ignorant that Napoleon at St. Helena, amidst
persecutions of all kinds, which he confronts only with serenity, is
greater, more sacred, more venerable, than on the first throne in the
world, where he was so long the arbiter of kings? Those who in this
position are wanting in what is due to Napoleon, vilify only their own
character, and the nation which they represent.

                         (Signed) "The Gen. C{te}. DE MONTHOLON."


FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME.

                                  "Longwood, 9th September, 1816.

"GENERAL,

"I have received your two letters of the 30th August; there is one of
them which I have not communicated. Count Bertrand and myself have had
the honour of telling you several times, that we could not take charge
of any thing which would be contrary to the august character of the
emperor. You know better than any one, Sir, how many letters have been
sent from the post-office to Plantation House; you have forgotten that,
upon the representations which we have made to you repeatedly, you
answered, that your instructions obliged you to let nothing go to
Longwood, either letter, book, or pamphlet, unless those articles had
passed the scrutiny of your government. The lieutenant of the Newcastle
having been the bearer of a letter to Count Lascases, you kept that
letter, but the officer deeming his delicacy compromised, you
transmitted it thirty days after it had reached this island, &c. We are
sure that our families and our friends write to us often; hitherto we
have received very few of their letters. But it is by virtue of the same
principle, that you this day disavow that you have retained the books
and pamphlets that have been addressed to you, and yet you keep them.

"Your second letter of the 30th August, Sir, is no answer to that which
I had the honour to write to you, to remonstrate against the changes
effected by you in the course of that month, and which demolish all the
basis of our establishment in this country.

"1. 'There is no part of my written instructions more definite, or to
which my attention is more pointedly called, than that no person
whatever should hold any communication with (the emperor) except through
my agency.' You give a Judaical interpretation to your instructions;
there is nothing in them which justifies or authorizes your conduct.
Those instructions your predecessor had; you had them for three months
previous to the changes which you effected a month ago. In short, it was
not difficult for you to reconcile your different duties.

"2. 'I have already acquainted (the emperor) personally of this.'

"3. 'In addressing all strangers and other persons, except those whose
duty might lead them to Longwood, in the first instance to Count
Bertrand, (or asking myself) to ascertain whether (the emperor) would
receive their visit, and in not giving passes, except to such persons as
had ascertained this point, or were directed to do it, I conceive,' &c.

"4. 'It is not, Sir, in my power to extend such privilege, as you
require, to Count Bertrand,' &c.

"I am obliged to declare to you, Sir, 1st, That you have communicated
nothing to the emperor. 2nd. For more than two months you have had no
communication with Count Bertrand. 3rd. We require of you no privilege
for Count Bertrand, since I only ask a continuation of that state of
things which existed for nine months.

"5. 'I regret to learn that (the emperor) has been incommoded with the
visits,' &c. This is bitter irony.

"Instead of endeavouring to reconcile your different duties, Sir, you
seemed determined to persist in a system of continual vexations. Will
this do honour to your character? Will it merit the approbation of your
government and your nation? Permit me to doubt it.

"Several general officers, who arrived in the Cornwallis, desired to be
presented at Longwood. If you had referred them to Count Bertrand, as
you had hitherto referred all strangers presenting themselves in the
island, they would have been received. You have doubtless your reasons
for preventing persons of some distinction from coming to Longwood;
allege, if you choose, as you commonly do, the tenour of your
instructions; but do not misrepresent the intentions of the emperor.

"The younger Lascases and Capt. Pionkowski were yesterday in the town.
An English lieutenant accompanied them thither, and then, conformably to
orders existing until that day, left them at liberty to go and see what
persons they wished. Whilst young Lascases was talking with some young
ladies, the officer came, and, with extreme pain at being charged with
so disagreeable a commission, declared that your orders were not to lose
sight of him. This is contrary to what has taken place heretofore. It
would, I think, be proper that you should make known to us the changes
you are effecting. This is forbidding us every visit to town, and thus
violating your instructions[88:A]. Yet you know that scarcely one of
the persons at Longwood goes to the town once a month, and there is no
circumstance which can authorize you to change the established order.
This is carrying persecution very far! I cannot conceive what has
occasioned your letter of the 8th of September; I refer, Sir, to the
postscript of my letter of the 23rd August. The emperor is ill, in
consequence of the bad climate and privations of all kinds, and I have
not made known to him all the fastidious details that have been made to
me on your part. All this has been going on for two months, and should
have been terminated long ago, as the postscript of my letter of the
23rd August is explicit. It is now high time that the thing should be
ended; but it appears to be a text from which to insult us.

                          "I have the honour to be, General,
                   "Your very humble and obedient servant,
                         (Signed) "The Gen. C{te}. DE MONTHOLON."


     [88:A] However tyrannical the orders of Lord Castlereagh might
     have been, we cannot help remarking on the petty pleasure Sir
     Hudson took in executing them, even to the very letter. It was
     this kind of conduct in Napoleon's jailer that gave rise to
     the following distich:

     "Sir Hudson Lowe, Sir Hudson Lowe,
      By name, and ah! BY NATURE SO!"

     Napoleon himself said of this governor, "I have had to do with
     men of all countries; I never saw any who had so bad a
     physiognomy, and a more execrable conversation. He writes with
     the intention of being amicable. That is a contrast to the
     ignoble vexations that are daily imagined. There is something
     sinister in all this." Without contradicting the repeated
     asseverations of Sir Hudson Lowe, that he only acted according
     to instructions, we must say, that any man of honour should
     rather have resigned his office than have executed them; for
     they were not only unnecessary to the security of Napoleon,
     but they were also ILLEGAL. But Sir Hudson did not possess
     moral courage; he was captious and mistrustful, and was not at
     all calculated for the delicate offices he had to perform; he
     created his own fears, and lost his understanding in
     endeavouring to foresee misfortune. Count Lascases thus writes
     of him:

     "The noble-minded English beside us," says the Count, "as well
     as those who merely visited the island, used to say that our
     treatment would experience a great and blessed change when the
     new governor appeared, &c. &c. This new Messiah at length
     came; but, gracious God!--the word escapes involuntarily from
     my pen,--it was an executioner, a _gens-d'arme_, whom they had
     sent. On his appearance, every thing assumed a dark and gloomy
     aspect; every appearance of external respect, and all the
     forms prescribed by a due regard to decency, which had
     hitherto been observed, at once disappeared; every day since
     has been to us a day of greater pain and more insulting
     treatment; he has narrowed still farther the boundaries
     prescribed to us, and even endeavoured to interfere with our
     domestic economy; he has strictly interdicted all intercourse
     with the natives, and even prohibited all society with
     officers of his own nation; he has ordered our residence to be
     surrounded with ditches and palisades; he has increased the
     number of soldiers, and endeavoured to make prisons within
     prisons; he has surrounded us with objects of affright, and
     reduced us to close custody. The emperor remains almost always
     in his prison, and no longer leaves his apartment. The few
     audiences which he has given to that officer have been highly
     disagreeable and oppressive to him; he has put an end to them,
     and determined not to see the governor any more. 'I had just
     grounds,' he observed, 'to complain of the Admiral, though he
     had at least a heart; but this man has not even a vestige of
     the character of an Englishman, he is nothing but a low
     Sicilian _sbirro_.' Sir Hudson Lowe pleads the instructions of
     his minister in justification of himself, with respect to all
     these complaints; if this justification is well founded, his
     instructions are most barbarous; but he can bear witness, at
     the same time, that he endeavours to carry them into execution
     in a barbarous manner."

Count Lascases also felt so indignant at the treatment which his noble
master experienced, that he reproached the governor, in no very measured
terms, with his want of common humanity, and boldly asked him, "Do you
or do you not wish to kill the emperor?" For this, and writing
complaints to his friends, all his private papers were seized, and
himself dismissed the island. The following farewell letter was written
to him, on this occasion, by the emperor:


"MY DEAR COUNT LASCASES,

"My heart sensibly feels what you endure; torn away fifteen days ago
from my presence, you were shut up during that period in secret,
without my being able to receive, or give you, any news, without your
having communicated with any one, French or English; deprived even of
the servant of your choice.

"Your conduct at St. Helena has been, like your life, honourable, and
without reproach: I love to tell you so.

"Your letter to one of your friends, a lady in London, has nothing in it
that is reprehensible; you there pour forth your whole heart into the
bosom of friendship. That letter is like eight or ten others, which you
have written to the same person, and which you have sent unsealed. The
commandant of this place, having had the delicacy to sift out the
expressions which you confide to friendship, has reproached you with
them. Latterly he threatened to send you away from the island, if your
letters contained any more complaints against him. He has, by so doing,
violated the first duty of his place, the first article of his
instructions, and the first sentiment of honour. He has thus authorized
you to seek the means of conveying the effusions of your feelings to the
bosom of your friends, and of acquainting them with the culpable conduct
of the commandant. But you have been very artless: it has been very easy
to take your confidence by surprise.

"They were waiting for a pretext to seize your papers; but your letter
to your London friend could not authorize a police visit to you; for it
contains no plot, no mystery; it is simply the expression of a noble and
frank heart. The illegal and precipitate conduct pursued on this
occasion bears the stamp of a very base personal hatred.

"In countries the least civilized, exiles, prisoners, and even
criminals, are under the protection of the laws, and of the magistrates.
The persons appointed to guard them have chiefs, either in the
administrative or judicial order, who superintend them. Upon this rock,
the man who makes the most absurd regulations executes them with
violence, transgresses all laws, and there is no one to restrain the
excesses of his temper.

"They envelop Longwood with a mystery, which they would wish to render
impenetrable, in order to conceal a criminal conduct; and this leaves
room for suspecting the most criminal intentions!!

"By some rumours artfully spread, it was wished to mislead the officers,
strangers, inhabitants, and even the agents who are said to be
maintained by Austria and Russia in this place; doubtless, the English
government is deceived in the same way by adroit and fallacious
statements.

"Your papers, among which it was known that there were some belonging to
me, have been seized without any formality, near my apartment, with a
marked and ferocious exultation. I was apprized of this a few moments
afterwards: I looked through the window, and saw that they were taking
you away. A numerous staff was parading round the house; I could fancy I
saw so many South Sea islanders dancing round the prisoners whom they
were going to devour.

"Your society was necessary to me; you alone read, spoke, and understood
English. How many nights have you sat up, during my fits of sickness!
Yet I enjoin you, and, if need be, I order you, to request the
commandant of this place to send you back to the Continent. He cannot
refuse that, since he has no controul over you, but by the voluntary act
which you have signed. It will be a great consolation to me to know,
that you are on your way to more fortunate countries.

"On arriving in Europe, whether you go to England, or return home,
dismiss the remembrance of the ills which they have made you suffer;
boast of the fidelity which you have shewn me, and of the great
affection which I bear you.

"If you should one day see my wife and my son, embrace them. For two
years, I have not heard from them, directly or indirectly. There has
been for six months in this place a German botanist who saw them in the
garden of Schoenbrunn, some months before his departure; the barbarians
have carefully prevented him from giving me any news from them.

"My body is in the power of the hatred of my enemies; they forget
nothing which can glut their vengeance. They are killing me by inches.
But the insalubrity of this devouring climate, the want of every thing
that sustains life, will, I feel, put a speedy end to this existence,
the last moments of which will be an opprobrium on the English
character; and Europe will one day signalize with horror that crafty and
wicked man[94:A], whom true Englishmen will disown as a Briton.

"As there is every reason to think, that you will not be permitted to
come to see me before your departure, receive my embraces, the assurance
of my esteem, and my friendship. Be happy.

                                             (Signed) "NAPOLEON."

"_11th December, 1816._"


     [94:A] Sir Hudson Lowe is, doubtless, the person here alluded
     to by the emperor; but he would not have dared to act as he
     did if such tyrannical and unfeeling conduct had been against
     Lord Castlereagh's approbation.

We might add many other proofs of the inhumanity exercised towards
Napoleon, were it necessary to our purpose. Let our readers look over
the writings of O'Meara, Lascases[94:B], and numerous other persons now
living, both French and English, who bear the most heart-rending
testimony to all that was done to torture and to put an end to the life
of this great man.

     [94:B] Particularly his eloquent and manly "Appeal to the
     Parliament of Great Britain, on the case of the Emperor
     Napoleon."

The inhuman conduct pursued towards the captive emperor at length became
the subject of parliamentary inquiry. A motion to this effect was
introduced to the House of Peers by Lord Holland, in the month of March,
1817. Of the motives by which this noble lord was actuated, it is
difficult to award sufficient praise. He declared, "My chief motive in
bringing forward this motion is to rescue parliament and the country
from the stain that will attach to them, if any harsh or ungenerous
treatment has been used towards Napoleon." Such an anxiety for the
character of his country was, doubtless, a patriotic and proper motive;
but it never ought to claim precedence of the great, permanent, and
universal feelings of pity for the unfortunate, which are among the
noblest characteristics of our nature. His lordship, therefore, might
have insisted more upon the merit of a motive to which, on all
occasions, he has shewn himself to be eminently entitled. That the
praiseworthy object of Lord Holland's motion was not attained must be
matter of deep regret to every man who wishes to maintain the reputation
of his country. But the ministers shuffled over the charge by reading
partial extracts from those documents which his lordship wished to have
produced, while they refused an examination of the entire papers. This,
to say the least of it, had a very suspicious appearance. Such a mode of
proceeding was contrary to the long-established usages of the House, to
the laws of evidence, and to the common course of practice in all
investigation; and, however it might answer Lord Castlereagh's purpose,
was little calculated to dispel the doubts of impartial inquirers, or to
make a satisfactory case to the world and to posterity. What judgment
would a foreigner form of this matter, who might have heard the
blessings of our happy administration of justice extolled to the skies?
A captive, the most illustrious ever classed under that head, complained
of the unnecessary rigour of his treatment. A British peer made a motion
in parliament to inquire into the truth of these allegations, and for
the production of papers connected with and tending to elucidate the
subject. The secretary of state contended, that the assertions of the
complainant were groundless, read partial extracts from the papers in
question, but refused their entire production, and negatived the motion
for them, without assigning any sufficient reason. If Lord Castlereagh
thought the inference to be drawn from such a garbled statement would be
favourable to his cause, he must have built his logic, not upon the
REASON of the matter, but upon the VOTES OF HIS PENSIONED ADHERENTS,--a
mode of conclusion not at all uncommon or unnatural to this minister.
His lordship, indeed, considered his conduct to Napoleon as meritorious,
on account of that great man having been the enemy of England! But does
it follow that, because the uncertain events of war had placed the
French emperor in a situation to claim the protection of our laws as a
private individual, that his lordship was justified in betraying his
misplaced confidence, or in treating him with the same spirit of
hostility when he was a helpless captive, as when he was a powerful
general arrayed in arms against the whole of Europe? A doctrine, more
repugnant to humanity, more dangerous in its consequences to society,
cannot be conceived. From what code of morality, or from what system of
religion, did his lordship borrow such a principle? Much has been said
of Lord Castlereagh's kindness of heart; but what a dark scroll of
evidence does the treatment of Napoleon at St. Helena exhibit against
such an assertion! To commiserate a fallen foe, to be moved by the sad
spectacle of his fortunes, is the natural propensity and inseparable
concomitant of every man possessing "PERSONAL COURAGE," or "KINDNESS OF
HEART:"

               "The truly brave
     Will valorous actions prize,
     Respect a great and noble mind,
     Albeit in enemies;"

while to oppress an adversary in your power, whether among nations or
individuals, is not only considered _cowardly_, but abject, ungenerous,
and savage. There is no circumstance which reflects so much disgrace on
the national character of the Romans as their behaviour to Hannibal. The
treatment which he received has been stigmatized as an act of
complicated meanness, cruelty, and injustice. In modern times, the case
of Napoleon seems most closely to resemble that of Hannibal, both in the
splendour of his achievements while he was victorious, and in the sad
similitude of fortune after his being defeated and betrayed into the
hands of his enemies. It is true that Napoleon did not "play the Roman"
and kill himself, as Hannibal did[97:A]; but a portion of the words
which the Carthaginian general used on that occasion might have been
aptly repeated by Napoleon, with merely an alteration of names: "The
victory which Flamininus gains over a man, disarmed and betrayed, will
not do him much honour. This single day will be a lasting testimony of
the great degeneracy of the Romans. They have deputed a person of
consular dignity to spirit up Prusias impiously to murder one who is his
guest!" It is curious to reflect that, in the annals of the world, the
same action, according to circumstances, at one time is a crime,--at
another, an act of heroism! The same man is at one time a Claudius,--at
another, a Marcus Aurelius. Cataline is but a vile conspirator. If,
however, he had been able to found an empire, like Cæsar, he would have
been esteemed a benefactor. Our Oliver Cromwell was acknowledged till
his last hour, and his protection sought by all sovereigns; but after
his death, his body was suspended on a gibbet: he only wanted a son like
himself to enable him to form a new dynasty. So long as NAPOLEON was
fortunate, Europe bowed at his footstool, while the first princes
thought it an honour to ally themselves with his family, and to obtain
his smile was esteemed a favour. As soon, however, as he fell a prey to
treachery, it was pretended that he was nothing more than a miserable
adventurer, an usurper, without talent and without courage!

     [97:A] Plutarch assigns him three different deaths; but Livy
     tells us, that Hannibal drank poison, which he always carried
     about with him, in case he should be taken by surprise.

But, even allowing that any sufficient argument could have been urged
for the detention of Napoleon, surely all restraint beyond what was
strictly necessary for the security of his person was unjustifiable, and
every species of mortification, not only ungenerous, but absolutely
criminal. Lord Castlereagh ought, at least, in giving directions for his
custody, to have been particularly circumspect that no real or seeming
unkindnesses were exercised against the captive emperor. If the coercive
measures adopted were thought necessary, they should have been
introduced in a more conciliatory manner, and with every allowance for
the irritation and impatience which exile and imprisonment will be sure
to produce upon the most apathetic being in creation. But, when we take
into consideration the ungentlemanly and ignoble proceedings pursued
against Napoleon at St. Helena, can we feel surprised at the bursts of
indignation which now and then escaped him at the cowardly conduct of
his jailer? That he should have viewed Sir Hudson Lowe as the meanest
creature in existence, is not at all to be wondered at; for it appeared
as if

     "Some demon said, 'Sir Hudson Lowe,
      Although we've got the dreaded foe,
          Yet here the question pinches:
      How shall we crush this mighty man?'
      Sir Hudson cried, 'I know the plan;
          We'll make him DIE BY INCHES!'"

Neither could Napoleon help considering Lord Castlereagh as the "demon"
here alluded to. His lordship had induced him on board a British ship,
under the most sacred promises of bringing him over to this country,
that he might pass the remainder of his days under the blessings of our
so-much-boasted constitution, as being "the envy and admiration of the
whole world!" What milder appellation than "demon," therefore, did his
lordship deserve, when, violating every principle of hospitality, he
took advantage of Napoleon's faith in such promises, and seized upon the
opportunity it afforded him of arresting the emperor as a prisoner of
war, and of sending him to a barren rock, far from his wife, child, and
friends, to be a prey to an unwholesome climate, and the rude insults of
a mean and pitiful man like Sir Hudson Lowe!

     "Great God of war, and was it so
      That Britons crush'd a fallen foe!
          Had Wellington been taken,
      (And there were chances on that day)
      Would Bonaparte have used his sway,
          And left him thus forsaken?"

Indeed, there was once a time when this same Lord Castlereagh might have
been taken prisoner by Napoleon, which would most probably have been
done, if the French emperor had possessed no loftier ideas of justice
and honour than his lordship exhibited. This circumstance is related by
Mr. O'Meara, in Bonaparte's own words, as follows:

     "When Castlereagh was at Chatillon with the ambassadors of the
     allied powers, after some successes of mine, and when I had,
     in a manner, invested the town, _he was greatly alarmed lest I
     might seize him_ and make him _prisoner_. Not being accredited
     as an ambassador, nor invested with any diplomatic character
     to France, I might have taken him as an enemy. He went to
     Caulincourt, to whom he mentioned that _he laboured under
     considerable apprehensions that I should cause violent hands
     to be laid upon him_, as he acknowledged I had a right to do.
     It was impossible for him to get away without falling in with
     my troops. Caulincourt replied, that as far as his opinion
     went, he would say that I should not meddle with him; but that
     he could not answer for what I might do. Immediately after, he
     (Caulincourt) wrote to me what Castlereagh had said, and his
     answer. I signified to him in reply, that he was to tell
     Castlereagh to make his mind easy, and stay where he was: that
     I would consider him as an ambassador. At Chatillon,
     (continued Bonaparte) when speaking about the liberty enjoyed
     in England, Castlereagh observed, in a contemptuous manner,
     that it was not the thing most to be esteemed in England; that
     it was an USAGE they were obliged to put up with; but that it
     had become an abuse, and would not answer for other
     countries."

It will thus be seen that GRATITUDE, at least, ought to have prompted
different conduct in Lord Castlereagh towards Napoleon; instead of
which, the charges brought against Sir Hudson Lowe by Mr. O'Meara
were not only deemed unworthy of inquiry, but his lordship actually
dismissed the accuser from the British service. Thus a deserving and
generous-minded officer was ruined, without even a hearing, for merely
attempting to do an act of justice to the exiled Emperor of France! The
charges against Sir Hudson Lowe, however, remained the same, and this
summary mode of revenge inflicted on Mr. O'Meara was not at all
calculated to acquit Lord Castlereagh from sharing in the accusation of
wantonly oppressing Napoleon. Could any thing tend more to criminate his
lordship than the sudden punishment of the accuser, while in the act of
preferring his complaint? Grant that Mr. O'Meara had misconducted
himself, and that he had thus given his employer a right to dismiss
him, surely he ought not, in common honesty, to have done so till he had
first given him every opportunity of making good his charges. His
lordship's readiness to stigmatize, and even silence him, in this
manner, wore any appearance but that of an honourable anxiety to meet
and to defy his adversary. We cannot devote space sufficient to bring
forward the charges of Mr. O'Meara; but the inquirer will find himself
amply repaid for his trouble by their perusal. As Sir Hudson Lowe can
only be looked upon as a cowardly ruffian, who scrupled not to _execute_
the orders of his superiors in office, however unjust they might be, the
real odium of Napoleon's treatment and death must rest upon the
government, of which Lord Castlereagh was the most active member. Mr.
O'Meara was appointed medical attendant upon the emperor by this
government, and his professional ability and private worth have never
been questioned. If Lord Castlereagh, therefore, willed not the death of
Napoleon, it was his duty to have removed those causes of complaint
which Mr. O'Meara emphatically pointed out "would render Bonaparte's
PREMATURE DEATH as inevitable as if it were to take place under the
hands of the EXECUTIONER!" The public are aware how fatally this
prediction was fulfilled; but the whole evidence of Mr. O'Meara would
carry conviction to the mind of any man who had not previously
determined to disbelieve truth. Indeed, he has been confirmed in many
essential points of his statements by the admissions of either the
governor's advocates or the governor himself. One of these advocates
stated that Mr. O'Meara was discharged for disobeying orders; but of
what nature were those orders? The governor wanted him to act as a spy
upon the emperor, and to sign false reports of the state of his health!
Consequently, Mr. O'Meara did indignantly refuse to perform such a base
and cruel service; and what man of honour and principle would not have
done the same? A refusal of this kind reflects no disgrace upon Mr.
O'Meara, but will rather hand his name down to posterity as one
deserving better treatment than he unfortunately experienced.

In contemplating the manifold deprivations to which Napoleon ultimately
fell a victim, we cannot help remarking upon one peculiar trait of the
human mind,--that of being more moved by fiction than reality; for a
tale of imaginary woe will excite more exquisite feeling, more real
sympathy, than the severest reverses of fortune which may have occurred
in our time, or which may be even present to our view! If Napoleon, for
instance, had been an ideal personage, and the history of his life had
been made the subject of romance or poetry, what mind so dull but would
have moralized upon the vicissitude of human affairs?--what heart so
cold but would have felt some commiseration for the captive? But when
all that a poet's fancy could have formed and blended of surprising
extremes, to raise the interest of the reader in the hero of the
tragedy, had actually occurred and been signally manifested in this
extraordinary man,--when he, who at one time was raised to an elevation
and possessed a power never enjoyed by any other individual, was hurled
headlong from his height to the abyss of humiliation, was imprisoned,
exiled, captive, and forlorn,--how happened it that the feelings of our
nature were not to take their accustomed course, that the sources of
sympathy were to be dried up, and compassion, which had hitherto been
considered amongst the most amiable of virtues, was all at once to lose
its very essence and property, and not only not to be numbered amongst
our weaknesses, but catalogued amongst our crimes? For the prevalence of
this disposition,--which, alas! was too observable even among those
classes in whom education and the intercourse of enlightened society
would have naturally led to an expectation of better feelings and
sounder conclusions on the subject,--it is difficult to account; unless
it be true in morals, as in mechanics, that the motion may be continued
when the impulse has ceased, and that to this we must refer the state of
national feeling at the time Napoleon was suffering an accumulation of
indignities at St. Helena. Since his death, however, the injustice and
inhumanity of his treatment have been freely acknowledged and severely
commented on; and there is every reason to believe that his great name
will be finally rescued from that misrepresentation which interested
writers have endeavoured to surround all his actions.

From the affinity between fear and hatred, there is no wonder that when
Napoleon was arrayed as our enemy, we joined hatred with hostility. But,
at the time of his seizure on board the Bellerophon, he was no longer
formidable; he was then in our hands. Upon what principle, then, did
active hatred continue when both hostility and apprehension had ceased?
Did a consciousness of inclemency (to use the mildest term that the
occasion will admit) towards the object of it sufficiently account for
the continuance of this hatred? It had been better, indeed, if Lord
Castlereagh, as well as his coadjutors at that period, who cherished
this inextinguishable species of enmity, had considered whether the
world and posterity might not be apt to ascribe the meanest and most
wicked of motives to such conduct. And let all the detracters of
Napoleon recollect, that the illiberal invectives in which they have so
freely indulged against him will, instead of making any lasting
impression upon his fame, only serve to perpetuate their own disgrace
and that of his ignoble persecutors. While his figure will stand
conspicuous through history, the crowd of monarchs and ministers, who
have alternately crouched to and calumniated, truckled to or trampled
upon him, can only escape oblivion as they make the group which shade
the back ground of the picture, and give a force, _by forming a
contrast_, to the grandeur of the leading figure. Lord Castlereagh will
assuredly form one of this back-ground group; but we envy him not in
_such fame_. The conduct of his lordship to Napoleon, instead of
displaying that dignified sentiment and enlightened understanding which
should adorn the character of a nobleman, and which we should naturally
be led to expect from a "secretary of state for foreign affairs," has
degraded his name to the level of the meanest of the mean. We will not
say that we had rather been a chimney-sweeper than have been guilty of
his lordship's treachery to Napoleon; but, considering it as a
deliberate exposition of the wickedness of his heart and his abandonment
of every honourable feeling, which will be put on record, and handed
down to posterity, we certainly will say, that all the wealth and titles
of Lord Londonderry, together with his immense political power and the
smiles bestowed on him by his despotic patrons, should never have
induced us to have done the like.

Would that it were in our power here to close the catalogue of crimes,
which are written in characters of blood, against the Marquis of
Londonderry. The death of Napoleon was followed by the persecutions of
an innocent and noble-minded WOMAN,--"the injured Queen of England!" But
this self-important man had been so hardened in iniquity, that it was by
no means a difficult task to persuade him to assist in her ruin. Her
majesty was too well acquainted with the SECRETS OF STATE to be allowed
the free exercise of her rights; and as his lordship had lent his
assistance to prevent many of these disreputable secrets from being
made public[107:A], self-preservation might have operated as a further
inducement for him to enter the lists of her most bitter enemies. How
fatally the Marquis of Londonderry and his colleagues succeeded in their
diabolical plans have been already explained. But the inglorious triumph
added not to his lordship's peace of mind; for, from that period, he was
observed to exhibit "a conscience ill at ease." And it was a very
remarkable fact, that the marquis should have selected the precise time
of the year, only twelve months after, for his own destruction as that
in which his royal mistress met her fate! A circumstance of this
singular nature should operate as a great moral lesson for the
consideration of mankind generally, though Providence might have
designed it as a warning to the "titled wickedness" of our land. Such is
the condition of our nature, that we cannot mortgage either our moral or
our physical energies so as always to repel the accusations of our own
hearts, which are sure, eventually, to reprove us for evils committed.

                         "O then beware;
     Those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves:
     Omission to do what is necessary
     Seals a commission to a blank of danger;
     And danger, like an ague, subtly taints
     Even then when we sit idly in the sun!"

On what a slender thread hangs human life, and how worthless are titles
and wealth, if all is not at peace within! On what a "beetling ledge"
the favourite of royalty tracks his uncertain way! By what a fragile
tenure the courtier holds the rewards of his servility, on which he is
so accustomed to pride himself! The suicide of the gay and puissant
Marquis of Londonderry was, indeed, a memento full of lessons of
humility to the fawning parasites of power.

     [107:A] More particularly the affair of the bondholders. His
     lordship also strenuously exerted himself to prevent any
     public inquiry into the cruel death of the Princess Charlotte.

In the October of this year, Mr. Henry Nugent Bell, of whom we have
before had occasion to speak, died at his house, Whitehall Place, in the
30th year of his age. This individual merits a little commiseration,
notwithstanding the disgraceful part he took in the Manchester murders,
and other similar missions of Lord Sidmouth; because, though the tool of
despotic ministers, he made some amends to the public by _betraying_ his
base employers. The newspapers generally reported his death to have
proceeded from a _natural cause_; but this was not the case. We can
POSITIVELY state that he died UNFAIRLY; but whether from his own hand,
or from the design of an enemy, we are not able to determine. Mr. Bell
appears never to have forgiven himself for his dereliction from the path
of virtue, and only urged, in extenuation of his conduct, the _cruel
necessity_ he was under to oblige his patron. Once enlisted under the
banners of Sidmouth, the unfortunate man soon found out the necessity of
not being over-scrupulous in his actions. One crime succeeded another;
and thus a man of education and talent was made the victim of unjust
and diabolical proceedings.

After a great deal of ministerial manoeuvring, Mr. Canning succeeded in
his suit for the foreign secretaryship. The situation of the Marquis of
Londonderry had long been the darling, though for many years the
unattainable, object of this gentleman's intrigues or importunities. The
country, however, had no cause to rejoice in the appointment of Mr.
Canning to an office of such conspicuous importance, and many people
felt considerable surprise at so unexpected a promotion, as the right
honourable gentleman had been previously selected as the new
governor-general of India. It was a well-known fact, that Mr. Canning
had fallen into personal disgrace with his majesty, and all his
vacillating conduct with respect to our ill-treated queen had not been
able to restore him to royal favour. There have, however, been instances
where a minister has been forced upon the king by public opinion, as was
the case with the _first_ Mr. Pitt, in the reign of George the Second.
This Mr. Pitt was in high favour with the PEOPLE of England, acquired
through his known attachment to freedom, and through the irresistible
ascendency of his upright and unbending character. George the Second,
notwithstanding, showed great opposition to the appointment of this
worthy man, who was hated by his king _only_ because he feared his
politics; yet Mr. Pitt was finally made secretary of state, and proved
himself worthy of the popularity with which the PEOPLE had invested
him. But the case of Mr. Canning was of a widely different nature. In
him, the PEOPLE took no interest, except that which leads all men to
watch their enemy's motions. He had not the _honour_ of being disliked
at court for his politics,--they were of the most accommodating
character; he had given a _personal_ offence to the "first gentleman of
the land." By the country, on the other hand, it was his political
principles, history, and character, that were held in the most
disrepute. Placed in such circumstances, the public must have been aware
that this political adventurer would not be _very patriotic_ in his
endeavours to obtain pardon for his crime against the "puissant prince;"
and how far, therefore, such a man could be entrusted with power was a
question not difficult to solve. As for the nation generally, they
regarded Mr. Canning but in the nature of an HIRED ADVOCATE, retained
for the mean purpose of palliating the weaknesses or transgressions of a
cabinet, the great majority of whose members he excelled in making witty
or fallacious speeches. His countrymen recollected his conduct through
life too well to imagine that he was made foreign secretary to introduce
any real improvement into the policy or councils of the nation. They
felt convinced of his being chosen as the apologist of bad measures, not
the author of good ones; and that he held the language of one of
Shakespeare's heroes to be good sentiment: "A plague of opinion!--a man
may wear it on both sides, like a leather jerkin!"

Mr. Canning was, indeed, known to be a fit agent for the "Holy
Alliance;" he was the sworn antagonist of every reform in church and
state; and wheresoever a grievance or an abuse appeared, there stood he,
arrogantly to charge as public enemies all who testified to the
existence of either. Even the unfortunate country gentlemen, reduced as
they now were, by their blind support of Mr. Canning's system, to a
state bordering on pauperism, could hardly have hoped, from such a
rooted foe to liberty, for any shadow of relief or of assistance. "Be
quiet, gentlemen," was the self-important style of his addresses, "see
what an example the poor have set you; be patient, as they are, and you
will soon be prosperous, like me!" From a minister of this description,
no consolatory expectations could possibly be formed by any class or
party. We might certainly look for a few better speeches than Lord
Londonderry made; for his were, indeed, but poor maudlin affairs. The
new acts would only have a better chance of being varnished over, while
we might expect them to be much worse in their nature than they had
been; because, as ministers had no intention to reform the system, it
must, of necessity, become more vicious every day. The only measure on
which Mr. Canning had ever taken any particularly active part, was the
emancipation of the Catholics; and our readers will form some opinion of
his SINCERITY on this subject, and of the IMPORTANCE which Mr. Canning
attached to it, when we inform them that the _honourable_ gentleman
actually promised the Earl of Liverpool not to discuss the matter if he
might only be allowed to retain the foreign secretaryship! The conduct
of the Earl of Liverpool, also, leads to an observation which reflects
any thing but honour on the character of his lordship. We know that the
power of this premier over the king was omnipotent, owing to his being
in possession of SECRETS, of the most vital importance to his majesty
and the royal family. By his lordship threatening to be no longer prime
minister, he could, at almost any time, have forced his own schemes of
policy upon the vitiated court. By the admission of Mr. Canning to
office, he had driven his royal master to the wall, and compelled him to
do that which all the world had before supposed would have been more
unpalatable to his proud feelings than the admission of even the Whigs
to office. If Lord Liverpool could, therefore, bring in a minister so
personally disliked as Mr. Canning notoriously was by his majesty, could
he not also have prevented that odious and atrocious measure, commonly
called the "Queen's TRIAL,"--Mr. Canning's declared disapprobation of
which created the very difficulty which had just been overcome? That
disgraceful proceeding against an injured woman, with all its horrid
consequences, it now became indisputably evident, might have been
avoided, had Lord Liverpool but only have shown as much pertinacity in
the CAUSE OF INNOCENCE as he had now done in that of PARTY. His personal
power in the cabinet was, however, much increased by the nomination of
Mr. Canning. There was a tacit, though well-understood, separation of
interests during the life of Lord Londonderry, who usually headed one
division of the ministers, with the Duke of Wellington in the number of
the subalterns of his party, while Lord Liverpool led the other wing of
Tory pensioners. There was nothing now, therefore, to stand against the
first lord of the Treasury, unless Mr. Canning's inveterate spirit of
intrigue should possess him (a thing by no means unlikely) to see a
rival in his benefactor, and to undermine Lord Liverpool, as he had done
one of his former colleagues.

What an enviable opportunity to enter office did this period afford to
any man having the real welfare of his country at heart; for all the
blessings that had been promised from the "glorious battle of
Waterloo,"--that wind-up of a war against the liberties of Europe,--were
yet to come: taxation remained undiminished; the liberties of the
subject were gradually declining; the commerce of England was almost at
an end; and her people poor and unhappy. Here, then, was a wide field
for a patriotic minister to display his abilities, by restoring the
country to its wonted prosperity! But, while Mr. Canning and his
colleagues were indulging in luxury at the expense of the nation, the
just complaints of the public were designated "the cries of a faction,"
and the miserable victims of their misrule said to betray an "ignorant
impatience" when they prayed for relief. After years of peace, the
expenditure of government exceeded the income of the Treasury, and our
visionary and delusive system of finance required to be bolstered up by
additions to our already overwhelming debt; strength of council was
superseded by strength of army; all public discussion, however peaceably
conducted, was opposed; acts of coercion were encouraged and abetted;
and England, once the pride of nations, became desolated by the worst
complication of ignorance and obstinacy that ever disgraced a cabinet!
To whatever department of the state we turned our eyes, the same
indifference to its prosperity seemed manifest. The ARMY, preponderating
beyond all precedent in time of peace, had become an overgrown source of
profligacy and barter; commissions and promotions, instead of being
rewards for service and merit, were sold to the best bidder, and the
produce applied to pamper the vitiated appetite of royalty. In the NAVY,
once our bulwark and our boast, the services of effeminate lordlings
seemed more courted than those of bluff and able seamen, commissioners
more important than shipwrights, and large expensive establishments kept
up on shore, while our fleets were rotting in the docks. Our TRADE was
neglected, while pirates infested the seas, and destroyed our
merchantmen. In our FOREIGN POLICY, all was danger and uncertainty; the
calm of peace was only prolonged by our unexampled apathy and puerile
forbearance. Foreign powers owed us money that we dare not demand;
nations were struggling for liberty and independence that we must not
assist; and outrages committed that we could not avenge. In the past, a
long and sanguinary war, in which were sacrificed an incalculable number
of lives and immense treasure; while in the future was exhibited the
most dreary prospect of our declining power. At home, our decay was
still more apparent: the sacred flame of liberty, to which we were
indebted for our preference over other nations, was attacked on all
sides by every means that treachery could devise; the malignity of the
ministers visited faithful servants with dismissal without inquiry or
hearing; the sovereign was recommended and advised to treat his subjects
with contumely and neglect; while the constitution itself was assailed
by spies and informers, who first created and abetted the commission of
the crimes which they afterwards denounced! This was, indeed, a fearful
state of affairs; but history will justify us in the picture we have
drawn. Though these and ten thousand other evils were evidently the
results of imbecility, folly, and knavery, which had mainly been
assisted by bribery, lavishly bestowed on those who had possessed
themselves of those secrets of state recorded in our volumes, yet he who
dared to hint at such an unpleasant truth, or even to doubt the honesty
of ministers, was sure to be denounced a traitor. But, thank heaven! the
power of the Tories now received a check. The manly stand made by a few
members of the House of Commons, during the previous session of
parliament, had opened the eyes of the long-blinded public, and the late
acts of oppression[116:A], with which the Londonderry cabinet had
disgraced itself, furnished fresh cause for censure and new inducements
for perseverance. The ministry, therefore, which Mr. Canning joined were
humbled and degraded before he became one of its members; but, instead
of raising it from the disgrace into which it had fallen, his
underhanded conduct only aggravated matters, and rendered him a greater
object of suspicion to patriotic men than even their avowed enemies.

     [116:A] The treatment and death of Napoleon, the funeral of
     the late queen, the conduct of the ministers and soldiers on
     that occasion, the murders at Cumberland Gate, the dismissal
     of Sir Robert Wilson for an attempt to stop the scene of
     bloodshed, formed but a portion of the black catalogue of
     their misdeeds.

Various royal diversions and exhibitions were displayed throughout this
year, and the "first gentleman in the world" was too often made to
appear the "first knave on the stage of life." George the Fourth's means
had been bestowed so bounteously, that he had become arrogant, and
considered THE PEOPLE merely in the light of SLAVES, created only to
administer to his passions and caprices. He could hardly be said to know
the nation, except by the representation of his hirelings. Neither did
he care to know the subjects from whom his strength was derived, because
they sometimes exhibited more independence than suited his princely
ideas of decorum. Indeed, he not unfrequently found the popular voice
rather formidable against the attainment of some of his wishes; and it
would have been well if parliament had taken a lesson from former and
better times in this particular. In the works of our oldest honest
historians, we find very plain language used by parliaments to their
kings, and the latter generally receiving the sharpest rebukes for their
vanity and partiality,--not as designed affronts, but as wholesome
chastisements. Matthew Paris tells us, when Henry the Third asked for
money to defray the expenses of a foreign expedition, "which his people
thought did not at all concern England," that his parliament told him,
"It was very imprudent in him to ask money for any such purposes, and
thereby impoverishing his subjects at home, by his squandering it in
idle expeditions, and that they flatly refused supplying him on any such
account." Upon thus remonstrating, "that he had engaged his royal word
to go abroad in person that year, and that he must have a supply," they
asked him, "What has become of all the money your majesty has had
already, and how it comes to be lavished without this kingdom being one
shilling the better?" But the freedom with which the people treated
their sovereigns in those days was not confined to remonstrances. One of
the greatest and most victorious of our princes, Edward the First, had
an inordinate desire of making, in person, a campaign in Flanders, that
he might support a confederacy he had entered into, to reduce the power
of France, and had demanded an extraordinary supply for that purpose.
The people, conceiving the quarrel to be very indifferent to England,
strongly opposed his leaving the kingdom upon any such idle expedition.
"The people of England," said the parliament, "do not think it proper
for you to go to Flanders, unless you can secure out of that country
some equivalent, which may indemnify us for the expense." We have a like
instance in the reign of that great and powerful king, Henry the Second.
This prince being strongly tempted to make an expedition abroad, in
person, became so fond of the proposal that he laid it before his
parliament, with a most earnest request for their consent, "it being the
sole and darling purpose of his heart!" But his parliament, honest to
the people, thought that he had no business abroad, and "that it was
much better for him to keep the money at home." Accordingly, the
question was put and carried, for "An address to the king to keep within
his own dominions, according to his duty." Edward the Third likewise
received several mortifications of the like kind; and it appears from
the whole tenor of history, that the great care of our ancestors was to
root from the breast of their kings every principle of vain glory,
which, the more ridiculous it is, becomes generally the more expensive
to the nation. What an amazing contrast, then, does all this offer to
the proceedings of the parliament of George the Fourth, who generally
addressed him in the most adulatory language, and gave him money to
gratify all his inordinate vanity. But the House of Commons, during his
reign, spoke not the sentiments of the PEOPLE.


At the commencement of the year

     1823,

some friends of the late ill-fated queen addressed Mr. Canning upon the
subject of certain letters and papers, preserved from the period of her
majesty leaving this country in 1814. Mr. Canning, however, did not
think proper to reply to this communication. At the expiration of two
months, another respectful inquiry was submitted, but it also shared the
fate of its predecessor. A third expostulatory epistle was forwarded,
and a certain individual received an anonymous reply, saying, "Things
were changed; times were altered; and it was impossible that Mr. Canning
could serve the king and the cause of the person so much disliked by his
majesty!" This circumstance affords indubitable proof, that a man in
office can never prove himself free from the trammels of party, or
unwarped by elevation to power. Humanity and generosity were, however,
alike forgotten in this case for _interested_ motives,--a meanness which
no man of integrity would have committed. But, to any one acquainted
with the truckling arts of Mr. Canning, such conduct was no more than
might have been expected.

Early in this year, Mr. Vansittart was released from the _fatigues_ of
the financial department, and raised to the chancellorship of the duchy
of Lancaster, at the same time sinking his humble name for the more
agreeable title of Lord Bexley. Mr. Robinson succeeded him in the
Exchequer, and Mr. Huskisson was appointed president of the Board of
Trade. The latter changes gave the public much pleasure, as those
individuals were supposed to possess a manly sense of propriety, as well
as liberal opinions, from which the country hoped to reap some benefit
in financial and commercial administration.

Very soon after these political arrangements were completed, the royal
family were much annoyed by applications on behalf of the _protégé_ of
her late majesty, William Austin, as the trifling income he received was
not sufficient to support him in comfort and respectability. But,
although he had been left her majesty's residuary legatee, his claims
were totally disregarded.

Notwithstanding the bold language used in memorials and private
addresses to the king at this time, the interest and happiness of the
population of this mighty empire were treated as subjects of no
consequence. The besotted "Prince of Dandies" was rioting in luxury and
adulterous embraces, and neither felt nor cared for public distress. He
was too great, _in his own estimation_, to condescend to men of low
estate; he was too mighty to listen to the cry of the destitute; and too
noble to heed the incessant petitions of the rabble, as all those who
complained of existing grievances were denominated by him and his
ministers. But the "accomplished gentleman" was not above receiving half
the peasant's loaf; and, like the locust, he made the increase of the
land his prey. It was _acknowledged_ in the House of Commons that the
coronation expenses amounted to two hundred and thirty-eight thousand
pounds! and that even the DRESS of the monarch, for whom such a mighty
show was made, cost twenty-four thousand pounds!!! This abominable
expenditure, too, was for the _honour_ of George the Fourth, whose
excesses and debaucheries would have disgraced the most debased of his
subjects,--the man who had dishonestly permitted the most valuable jewel
to be extracted from the crown of England, to bestow upon the _lusty
person_ of his mistress. A beautiful jewel, that formerly belonged to
his deceased daughter Charlotte, was also given to this same _kind_
lady. The jewel belonging to the crown was, upon compulsion only,
afterwards restored, but the other is still retained! Some celebrated
jewellers, not ten miles from Ludgate Hill, could bear testimony, that
the choicest trinkets in their possession were culled, by this "Prince
of Abominations," for presents to his mistresses and confidants. Such,
however, was the easy character of the English nation, that they
submitted to the absolute command of a tinselled despot, and became
dupes to custom.


The misrule of the year

     1824

opened with the unfortunate ratification of the "movements" in Italy
and Spain, which tended to consolidate arbitrary power throughout
Europe, so that the Continent might be considered as one federal
despotism, each state possessing its peculiar coercive government, under
the controul of the "Holy Alliance," improperly so called.

The public now lost an uncompromising friend in Thomas, Lord Erskine,
who died on the 17th of January, in the 74th year of his age. His
lordship was not a favourite with the king; his sentiments were of too
liberal a cast for George the Fourth's ideas of subjection and tyranny.
Neither did Lord Erskine ever become a welcome visiter at the palace,
because the court-minions knew that he despised intrigue and villany.
The poison of the court was of too malignant a character for his
lordship. There, all direct terms were disused in discourse, and distant
insinuations supplied their place. Every shining reputation was sure to
be sullied, and the ministers, as well as the officers of the army, and
clergymen of the "Established" church, were perpetually left to the
discretion of that sort of people, who, as they could not be useful to
the state themselves, suffered none to serve it with reputation and
glory. The king himself had no informations but what were conveyed to
him by the canal of a few favourites, who acted always in concert
together, and even when they seemed to disagree in their opinions, they
were only in the province of a single person to their sovereign. A
tainted atmosphere like this was, therefore, ill-suited to the
enlightened and patriotic mind of Lord Erskine, who proved himself to
be a talented and equitable judge, an admirable statesman, and a most
accomplished and kind-hearted gentleman. The native sweetness of his
disposition inclined him to universal humanity; his unbiassed judgment
and his keen penetration well fitted him for the important situation of
Lord Chancellor; and his unclouded understanding guided him to support
beneficial measures for the people, while his indignant and noble soul
poured forth its majestic language on the oppressors of his
long-enslaved country. His lordship was ever actuated by the best of
motives, while his conduct was free from all party extremes. On the
memorable proceedings against Queen Caroline, his lordship freely
delivered his sentiments upon their unjustness and wickedness, and we
shall never forget the energy with which he closed his eloquent remarks:
"All the powers of Europe," said he, "are in array against one deserted,
betrayed, and unprotected woman! I am an old man, and have had more
experience than most of your lordships in proceedings of this kind; I
could not have interest or object in attempting to deceive or mislead
you; and, therefore, I shall ever defend myself against any imputation
which may be directed against the purity of my motives, in doing what I
thank my God I have done, and which, under similar circumstances, if
unhappily they occurred, I should repeat." The freshness and vigour of
youth glistened in his lordship's eye as these words burst from his
lips, which proclaimed him deserving of being numbered among the
venerated champions of our injured and oppressed queen.

We have also to record the death of another determined enemy of tyranny,
in the person of Lord Byron, who expired at Missolonghi, on the 19th of
April, after an illness of ten days. His lordship had rendered himself
highly popular among the Greeks by his pecuniary and personal services
in their good cause, and, to show their great respect for his worth, and
sorrow for his loss, they would not permit the celebration of their
usual festivities at Easter. His lordship's genius as a poet is freely
acknowledged; but, though he possessed many public and private virtues,
they have been but little estimated, while the tongue of Slander has
enlarged upon his frailties with much greater severity than they really
deserved. As we were personally intimate with his lordship, we may be
allowed to know something of his private sentiments and opinions, and we
willingly testify to the exalted ideas he entertained in the cause of
universal freedom and equitable government, as well as to his general
benevolence and kindness of heart. In religion, his lordship avowed
himself a free thinker, a determined enemy to pious fraud and cant, and
a despiser of all prosecutions, having for their object the stifling of
conscientious opinion. These liberal sentiments called forth the pious
rage of many ignorant and intolerant ministers of the gospel, who
attempted to darken his bright fame by their bigotted tirades against
his pretended infidelity, as well from the PULPIT as in their numerous
vituperating pamphlets. Such a system of enforcing the mild and
benevolent doctrines of Christianity, however, will work no conversions
but on those whose minds are clouded by the baneful effects of
ignorance. The gigantic power of Lord Byron's genius could not tamely
endure the thraldom of being confined to certain modes of narrow-minded
faith. He felt that he had a right to examine and to judge for himself
in matters of such vital importance to his eternal peace, and for which
no one should have condemned him. If his lordship occasionally expressed
his indignation at religious prosecutors and Pharisees, ought it,
therefore, to be inferred that he was an infidel? No real Christian, we
are convinced, would so demean himself; and from the intolerant portion
of religious professors, his lordship's fame has little to fear.
Posterity will be the best judge of such matters, as it will be sure to
discard all private acrimony and party feeling; to its award, therefore,
we shall confidently look for a removal of the stigma of "INFIDEL" from
the character of the illustrious author of "Childe Harold."

Would that it were in our power, before closing the account of this
year, to record the passing of some beneficial act for relieving the
oppressed people of England; but we cannot. Our ministers seemed as
resolutely determined as ever to plunge and flounder onward in the track
that had already procured them the detestation of the British public,
and effected the ruin and misery of our once-flourishing and happy
country. Looking backward upon their conduct, nothing could be seen but
political turpitude; the present was pregnant with wretchedness; but, in
contemplating the future, the patriot was animated to exertion by the
cheering star of Hope. The baneful influence of the cabinet over our
legislative assemblies, the time-serving politics of our church
dignitaries and their dependants, and the sycophantic spirit of all
those who came within the vortex of the court, formed in themselves a
combination of evils, to remove which would indeed require the united
moral energies of the people.

The king, as usual, was hunting after the most frivolous pleasures, and
gave himself no manner of concern about the grievances of his people.
How applicable is the language of Cowper to this vitiated monarch:

                     "King though he be,
     And king of England, too, he may be weak,--
     May exercise amiss his proper powers,
     Or covet more than freemen choose to grant;
     Beyond that mark is TREASON!"

That derogatory doctrine, however, which proclaims "the king can do no
wrong," has proved the evil genius of liberty, and the very soul of
despotism. George the Fourth ever made it his shield, and was content to
let the odium of his actions fall upon his ministers. But his majesty
should have recollected that a king of England is not king by hereditary
right. The nation is not a patrimony. He was not king by his own power,
but by the power of the LAW. All the authority he possessed was given
him by the law, under whose protection alone he reigned. It may,
therefore, seem surprising that this monarch so frequently dared to
outrage the very power to which he owed his existence as a king; but it
is still more surprising that the people permitted him to do it with
impunity: for no king ought to have been allowed

     "To smother Justice, property devour,
      And trample Law beneath the feet of Power;
      Scorn the restraint of oaths and promis'd right,
      And ravel compacts in the people's sight;
      For he's a TYRANT!--and the PEOPLE FOOLS,
      Who basely bend to be that tyrant's tools!"

This is, indeed, powerful language; the importance of the subject was
deeply felt by the poet; but its truth will plead the best justification
of the censure. George the Fourth unhappily considered himself of a
different species to the rest of mankind, and lost all the natural
feelings of our nature for his subjects. Blinded with prejudices, the
truth stung him like a scorpion; his wounded pride instantly took the
alarm, and the rash intruder upon his dignity and his pleasures was sure
to be dismissed with hauteur, if not ever after denied the royal
presence. This was, indeed, a lamentable state of things; but which,
however, had one consolation: it was impossible that it could continue
much longer; for if nothing else happened, its own iniquity would be
sure to produce its destruction.


We now enter upon the year

     1825,

the eleventh of peace, though not of plenty. It is true that public
opinion now began to gain considerable ascendency, though every possible
advantage was taken to undermine the _liberty of the press_, and heavy
fines were imposed upon various persons for publishing facts
disreputable to the lordlings in power.

In the January of this year, several most respectable individuals
expressed an earnest desire to press for a public inquiry into the
mysterious and hitherto-unaccounted-for death of her royal highness the
Princess Charlotte. Among the rest was Lord Tullamore, who obtained an
audience of the Earl of Liverpool for this purpose on the 18th. The
premier, at first, treated his lordship with much coolness and reserve;
but when Lord Tullamore mentioned the letter of Queen Charlotte to Dr.
Sir Richard Croft, the noble earl exhibited signs of the most acute
pain, and became dreadfully agitated. His lordship eagerly inquired if
that letter was forthcoming; and admitted, that the subject had been
mentioned to him before, but that the party was not so respectable as
the present. Lord Tullamore then repeated those words from the other
letter to the doctor--"Come, my boy, throw physic to the dogs,"--when
the earl became so confused and embarrassed, that it was quite evident
he was well acquainted with the contents of both those letters. Previous
to Lord Tullamore's retiring from this audience, the premier requested
to know if he had Queen Charlotte's letter in his possession, to which
Lord Tullamore replied, that his instructions went no further. Though
suffering exceedingly from the gout in his feet, the Earl of Liverpool
politely rose from his seat, pressed his lordship's hand, called him his
dear lord, and hoped to see him again.

When detailing the particulars of this interview on the ensuing day,
Lord Tullamore said, that the noble earl had certainly admitted the fact
of THE MANNER OF THE DEATH OF THE PRINCESS!

Shortly afterwards, a second interview took place with the same
noblemen, when Lord Liverpool was more composed, and said the business
did not rest with him, but that it must be investigated in the office of
the secretary, by Mr. Peel. His lordship then, saying he was in haste,
took leave of Lord Tullamore in the kindest manner, very different from
the cool and reserved demeanour and address so conspicuous upon his
_first reception_. Immediate application was made at Mr. Peel's office,
but _that_ secretary was not in the administration when the melancholy
event occurred, and therefore could not be responsible for any
circumstance attending it!!

Let the unprejudiced reader duly weigh this simple statement of facts,
and judge dispassionately. Lord Liverpool was first lord of the Treasury
at this time, as well as at the period of the princess' death; he was,
therefore, of necessity the principal actor in all state business; he
well knew that a secretary of state was answerable only for
circumstances and transactions in his department during his
secretaryship; no one could be amenable for that which occurred at the
period his predecessor held office. Yet this premier, by the most
unmanly and guilty-looking subterfuge, put off all inquiry upon such an
important subject, pretending that it did not belong to his department,
and then referring it to a secretary, by whom Lord Liverpool well knew
the matter could not be investigated, for the reasons before mentioned.
In consequence of these shuffling contrivances against justice, this
most serious inquiry was negatived, while every principle of right was
set at open defiance, and the most honourable of the community privately
insulted. One fact, however, may clearly be deduced from this
circumstance: that Lord Liverpool was TOO WELL INFORMED upon all this
most heart-rending tragedy, and he therefore, for his own sake, put off
the inquiry, hoping the subject would be either forgotten, or adverted
to in a more agreeable manner.

While these unsuccessful attempts were making to obtain a public inquiry
into the cause of the Princess Charlotte's death, the well-paid
court-minions were busily employed in calumniating the characters of
every person engaged in so laudable an undertaking. The most unfounded
reports were industriously circulated to wound their good names, while
reasons, the farthest from the truth, were injuriously assigned to
blacken their motives. Yet, if we take into account the wickedness and
voluptuousness of the court at this period, as well as the imbecility
and arrogancy of the king's ministers, Surprise will naturally give way
to Disgust, and Anger wonder at Toleration. The JUNIUS that exposed and
animadverted upon the ministerial delinquencies of a Bedford and a
Grafton, a Sandwich and a Barrington, neither knew, nor could possibly
imagine, the incomparably bolder task of doing justice to the public and
private turpitude of a Liverpool and a Sidmouth, a Bathurst and a
Canning, a Wellington and a Bexley, an Eldon and a Melville! To paint
the characters of these men in their true colours would, indeed, be a
difficult task. Our darkest tints and our deepest shades would give but
a faint outline of the blackness of the originals. When we look back
upon the accumulated burthens, the ills upon property and patience which
they inflicted, what an ocean of insults and what a wild waste of
oppressions do we behold! The three grand pillars of the state _in its
purity_, and the people _in their freedom_, were nearly demolished.
Magna Charta, the Bill of Rights, and the Family Compact, were scrolls
mouldering on the shelves of these ministers, and ready to be swept out
of their several departments, together with the copies of their oaths
"to advise their royal master according to the dictates of their
consciences,"--consciences, the only proof of the existence of which was
given in their constant violation. If it be urged, that Lord Sidmouth,
who was the home-secretary at the death of the Princess Charlotte, was
not in office at the time of Lord Tullamore's interview with the
premier, we can only say, his power to do harm was as great as if he had
been, if not greater, and that he took especial care to exert himself
strenuously, that no "inquiry" about the Princess Charlotte should be
instituted.

The premier, at this eventful period, was eager to engage the assistance
of all his Tory friends, whether in or out of office, to enable him to
bolster up his own misrule. The ancient author who correctly observed,
that "there are vices of MEN and vices of TIMES," would have improved,
as well as have enlarged, his maxim by adding, that "bad times are made
by bad men." Of the truth, that "bad rulers too often make a mean
people," the ministerial subjugation of nations has afforded innumerable
evidences. But, with science and the manual arts, the knowledge of the
best means of banishing liberty and liberal sentiments had now
wonderfully advanced. The proficiency in despotism to which the Earl of
Liverpool and his junto had attained certainly entitled them to take
precedence of any anterior ministry. These men, throughout their
whole conduct, from the highest down to the humblest of their
misdeeds,--whether they betrayed the king who received their services,
or the people who paid their salaries,--whether they dishonoured the
crown by insulting a virtuous queen, or injured the country by screening
public plunderers and private murderers,--whether they outraged justice
by acquitting the guilty and convicting the innocent,--were ever true
to themselves. With all their arts, however, they could not destroy the
SPIRIT of our free constitution; for that will ever remain immoveably
fixed in the British bosom. The flame whose rays shot hence across the
Atlantic can never be wholly extinguished. The sparks with which England
herself animated the hearts of her regenerated colonists, warmly
cherished by every American, will never cease to feed the parent fire.
Lord Liverpool might have assisted to re-burthen France with the hated
Bourbons, and other parts of the Continent with their legitimate
despots; but this could only last for a time. The fire of liberty was
but smothered for a season, as after events have sufficiently attested.

It will assuredly be matter of great surprise to posterity, how men of
such circumscribed talents as were to be found in the cabinet of the
Earl of Liverpool should find it possible to effect so much mischief.
But Fortune delights in maintaining a sort of rivalship with Wisdom, and
piques herself on her power to favour fools as well as knaves. These
beings, however, were indebted to various aids for their long and too
successful career; yet their principal dependance rested on the
supineness of the people. The generous forbearance of Englishmen
unhappily cherished the power which their patriotic vengeance should
have destroyed. They were looking for gratuitous justice and liberality,
instead of deserving relief by the ardour and nobleness of their own
exertions. Had Britons but borne in mind that "zeal, without _action_,
is nothing worth," their condition had been very different to what it
was at the period of Lord Tullamore's praiseworthy attempts to obtain an
inquiry into one of the blackest crimes recorded in our annals; for
Thought is the projector, and Faith the encourager, of all our views and
wishes; though it is only ACTION that can render them effectual and
profitable.

At the period of Lord Tullamore's interviews with the premier, the
Marchioness of Conyngham held an entire and very injurious sway over the
actions of our voluptuous monarch; her will soon became an absolute law,
and, to supply means for this lady's insatiable wishes, the nation was
burthened beyond all honourable limits. Yet, strange to say, one of her
ladyship's sons, Lord Mountcharles, professed himself most anxious to be
entrusted with the previously-named "INQUIRY." His lordship was,
consequently, allowed to undertake that the matter should be
investigated; but no sooner had the marchioness' son obtained an
interview with George the Fourth, than he hypocritically said, "The
inquiry into the death of the Princess Charlotte is all useless. You may
rely upon it, the idea has originated in some ungenerous feeling towards
his majesty." But, in this particular, my Lord Mountcharles acted
dishonourably to the trust reposed in him. From undoubted authority, WE
KNOW that George the Fourth received Lord Mountcharles into his
friendship _to prevent the further elucidation of this matter_,--at
least, as far as his lordship was concerned. Another of the _professed_
friends of justice, also, who was known to have been a witness upon this
business, was speedily afterwards enlisted under the "royal banner,"
and, though previously _poor_ and in "holy orders," soon found abundant
means to play for no trivial sums in St. James'. But his principles may
be more correctly ascertained by the fact that, after receiving the most
generous services from his friends, he was mean enough to abscond from
his bail, when fifty pounds was offered for his apprehension. Such was
the Reverend JOSEPH B----, whose apostacy in this common cause fixes
upon his name eternal discredit. Yet, notwithstanding his dissolute
habits, this clergyman has very frequently occupied a seat at the table
of Lord Teynham, and was in the habit of receiving considerable
attentions from many of the lordlings in power. If his word might be
deemed worthy of credit, he was no stranger to the friendship of his
royal highness the Duke of Sussex, and other branches of the royal
family. But of one point, we are well assured, that he who was mean
enough to desert a post of duty, though it might be a post of danger, to
revel in ease and luxury, was, at least, undeserving the notice of any
honourable man. However strange it may appear, this divine (so called)
was most unceasing in his endeavours to rouse the country to a due sense
of the impositions forced upon it, declaring all consequent sufferings
would be "light as dust in the balance," compared to the tortures of a
guilty and harassed conscience. Thus, under the mask of religion and
patriotism, did this faithless character hide his real sentiments and
intentions, and while professing to serve the cause of liberty, he was
in reality the aider and abettor of tyrants,--dishonourable in his
engagements, and a disgrace to his order. We may pity and even forgive
his want of honour to his friends; but the subject from which he shrunk
was of such vast national importance, that his desertion of the cause of
justice and his dereliction from the path of duty in this matter must
always be considered as unpardonable offences.

Such vacillating conduct, however, we are sorry to record, was not
confined to the two gentlemen just mentioned. Many, whose prospects of
aggrandizement appeared upon the wane, exhibited an anxiety to ascertain
the probable result of this inquiry. Amongst this number, was a
fashionable fortune-hunter, who boasted of being the illegitimate son of
a royal duke,--the sudden and unexpected death of whom, it was currently
reported, had left this unfortunate offspring totally unprovided for.
Added to a tolerably honest appearance and pleasant address, this
gentleman possessed considerable talent, which he could exemplify in
farce, comedy, or tragedy, as the circumstances might require. In the
words of Lord Byron, "he had ten thousand names, and twice as many
attributes." He also professed himself the uncompromising enemy of
oppressors, and as being ever ready to hazard his life in bringing the
murderers of the Princess Charlotte to their merited punishment. But
exteriors are too frequently deceptive, and this self-styled patriot was
ultimately proved unworthy of the notice of any respectable person.
Under false pretences, he found means to reach "the board of
hospitality," fed upon the ample provision, and then, like the reptile
of eastern climes, stung the benevolent hand that had furnished the
sources for his enjoyment, by an attempt to defame one of the proudest
and most noble characters our country can boast!

Would that we had no more instances of treachery to offer; but too many
others might be given of persons, calling themselves _professional_
gentlemen,--particularly one residing in Duke-street, St. James',--who,
after volunteering their services to bring this "hidden thing of
darkness to light," forsook their friends, and accepted a BRIBE as a
reward for their silence. We could also extend our record of mean
expedients adopted by men in power to suppress this disgraceful
business,--such, indeed, as would almost stagger the faith of those who
had not been eye-witnesses of their depravity. Indignation rises in our
breasts while contemplating such a picture of human wickedness! Our
readers, we feel assured, do not desire more proofs than we have already
given of the principal fact,--that the PRINCESS CHARLOTTE WAS POISONED,
through the instrumentality of those who ought to have been the first to
protect so amiable and virtuous a woman! It is, therefore, only a
matter of minor importance to expose those who have failed in their loud
professions of seeing justice enforced on her murderers. No history,
perhaps, is richer in recorded crime than that of our own country; but
neither the annals of this or any other empire can furnish a more
striking instance of unmanly barbarity, of greater wickedness, or of
more horrid depravity, than that of which we are now speaking. Let us
hope the people of 1832 will seriously reflect on the enormity of this
revolting act, and be no longer lost in an apathy that has already
proved so disastrous to their liberties. Let them not suffer their good
sense to be lulled and amused by the "raree-shows" of royalty, or by the
glitter of any grandeur supplied by the produce of their own labour.
Nothing confers, either on a king or his ministers, any real dignity or
glory, except their virtue and their good deeds; and the people ought,
therefore, not to suffer their courage to be deterred, or their judgment
to be imposed upon, by the pomp and glare of state ostentation. The
people, we say, ought now to make amends for their long neglect, and
exhibit a stronger and more determinate resolution than ever for that
"inquiry" which Lord Liverpool so often refused; for, so long as the
death of the Princess Charlotte remains unavenged, so long will
cowardice and ignominy be attached to the name of Englishman!

In the month of April, Mr. Brougham visited his native country, for the
purpose of being invested with the title of "Lord Rector of the
University of Glasgow." We should not have noticed a circumstance of
such trivial importance to the public, did it not afford us an
opportunity of introducing a most admirable speech, which that learned
gentleman had an opportunity of delivering on the occasion by reason of
some allusion being made to the trial of the late Queen Caroline. To
explain the impropriety of calling such persecuting proceedings a
"trial," Mr. Brougham said,


"If he could bring himself, on such a day as this, to those habits of
contentious discussion to which he was sometimes accustomed, he should
have to analyze his friend's splendid speech, and object to the whole of
his eulogy. But there was one part of that speech which had caused him
considerable pain: his friend had talked of 'the trial' of the late
queen. Never had he (Mr. Brougham) either in public or private, before
heard so great a profanation of the attributes of those judicial
proceedings, which by profession and habit he had been taught to revere,
than to use the name of 'trial' when speaking of such an event. It was
no trial, he said, and so did the world. The subject was gone by, and
not introduced by him; but still the phrase, when dropped, must be
corrected; for 'trial' it was none. Was that a trial where the accused
had to plead before those who were interested in her destruction?--where
those who sat on the bench of justice, aye, and pretended to be her
judges, had pre-ordained her fate? Trial!" continued Mr. Brougham, "I
repeat there was, there could be, none, where every channel of
defamation was allowed to empty itself upon the accused, borne down by
the strong arm of power, overwhelmed by the alliance of the powers and
the princedoms of the state, and defended only by that _innocence_ and
that law which those powers and those princedoms, united with the powers
of darkness, had combined to destroy. Trial it was none, where every
form of justice was obliged to be broken through on the very surface
before the accusers could get at the imputed grounds of their
accusations. This, forsooth, a trial!--call it not so, for the sake of
truth and law. While that event deformed the page of their history, let
them be silent about eastern submissiveness; let them talk not of Agas,
the Pachas, and the Beys,--all judges, too, at least so they call
themselves,--while they were doomed to remember they had had in their
own times ministers of their own crown, who, under the absolute
authority of their own master, consented to violate their own pledge, to
compromise and stifle their own avowed feelings, and to act as slaves,
crouching before the foot-stool of power, to administer to its caprice.
Let them call that a trial which was so conducted, and then he would say
the queen had been tried at the time when he stood for fifty-six days
witnessing the sacrilegious proceeding. Did he now, for the first time,
utter this description of its character? No, no; day after day did he
repeat it in the presence of all the parties, and dared them to deny the
imputation; he dared them then, but not now, lest he should be forced
to see the same faces in the same place again, professing to exercise
the same functions. If it were in his power to repeat in their hearing
now what he had said in their presence before, they might, indeed, call
that a trial in his case which they had called it in the other; but to
whom it looked not like a chamber of justice, but rather the gloominess
of the den; not indeed of judgment, for he could not liken it to such,
but rather to others--(here Mr. Brougham paused)--But no, he could not
sustain the allusion, lest, perchance, for the very saying of it, (for
he could not be prevented from thinking of it so) he should again have
to submit to the test of power,--an alternative which his veneration for
the constitution of his country and its honours forbade him to
precipitate.

"How many long years," said Mr. Brougham, "had they not seen, when to be
an Englishman on the Continent was a painful, if not a degrading,
condition? He meant, during that dark and murky night of power, when the
machinations of the family of the tyrants of Europe were at work, and
when they could reckon upon the minister of England as silently
suffering, nay, permitting their deadly march against the liberties of
mankind. England then had her fair name degraded by being considered as
the ABETTOR of every tyrant's plan for the subjugation of his subjects.
Then was the time when no despot could open his glaring eye, flashing
with vengeance for his prey, without catching the glistening eye of the
supplicant British minister. Then was the time when no tyrant could hold
out his hand, after shaking in it the chains he had forged to bind and
excoriate his people, without its meeting the cordial grasp of
friendship of the British minister. Then was the time when the oppressor
stalked abroad with the countenance of the rulers of that land, which
was called the champion and the protectress of the free. Then did horrid
tyranny, more grim in its blasted actions than even in the vices of its
original debasement, disfigure the fair face of Europe, while linked and
leagued (O, shame upon the pen of history!) with the freest government
upon earth,--to which, nevertheless, the tyrant never turned his glance,
or stretched his hand in vain, during such disastrous times. That black
and disgraceful night of intellect and freedom had now gone down, the
sky was clear, and the view was changed into a brighter prospect. Now,"
continued Mr. Brougham, "we can _speak out_, and look abroad with clear
vision. What man is there now, I ask, in half-represented England, in
unrepresented Scotland,--aye, where and which of you, in either country,
or even in tortured, insulted, and persecuted Ireland,--where, I say,
can the man be found, who dared to look forth in the broad face of day,
who dared to raise his voice before his fellow-men, and say, '_I
befriend the Holy Alliance_?' Not only, I repeat, is there no such man,
I will not say so wicked, but so childish,--I will not say so stricken
with hostility to free principles, or so bent upon the destruction of
his own individual character,--in the whole walk of society, as to avow
such sentiments. O, no; not out of Bedlam could we find him!--hardly
there, save in the precipitation of a maniac's rage, could we behold a
being in the shape of a man to stand up and say, '_I am the friend of
the Holy Alliance_.' If there be the man where freedom shines, who could
look with complaisance on the accomplished despot who fills the Calmuc
throne, who can behold with meekness that specious and ungrateful
imbecility which promised first, and then refused, free institutions to
the Germans who had bled and died in thousands to restore his throne; if
there be any man who can approve the scourge of fair Italy, and the
tyrant of Austria; if there be, I repeat, any such man, so reckless of
himself as to admire or approve, (for that is out of the maddest rage of
speculation) but even to _tolerate_ the mere mention of the name of that
cruel tyrant of his people at home,--the baffled despot, thank God! of
South America,--but whose sway it pleased Providence still to permit at
home, and to suspend for a short season the doom of that nameless
despot. If there be a man, I say, so monstrous and unnatural as to
approve of these royal minions, then it was a consolation to know that
he had the grace to confine his thoughts to the regions best adapted for
their culture, to lock them up in the innermost recesses of the offices
of state, or to confine his silent migrations to the merest purlieus of
the court, or perchance to lurk 'behind the arras,' to live there among
the vermin which were its natural tenants, and there to gloat upon the
merits of Alexander, Frederick, Francis, or Ferdinand,--have I named
him?--among the spiders, the vipers, the toads, and those who hated the
toads, the lizards. To such an association and contact were these lovers
of despots confined; not a word of approbation from any member of the
government could be extorted for them. He had often seen much ability
and ingenuity devised and exercised to endeavour to get out even a
smooth word in favour of the Holy Alliance in parliament; but no, the
attempt was fruitless,--all cheered the sentiments which were breathed
against these tyrants. So that whoever loved them 'behind the arras,'
had at least, if not the better principle, the better taste,--was, if
not better in demeanour, at least more ashamed in practice to avow
himself as their champion, and rather to prefer to hide himself from
that sun of day, which would almost feel disgraced by being compelled to
shine upon him in common with the better part of mankind."


The facts and well-merited castigations contained in this most eloquent
address were not very creditable to the character of the voluptuous king
and his servile ministers. Mr. Brougham here uttered some startling
TRUTHS, and accompanied their recital with that keenness of remark for
which he is so famous. We need hardly say how heartily we agree with him
in the detestation he expressed against the queen's persecutors. Would
that he had performed HIS OWN PART more consistently with her majesty's
wishes and interests!

On the 6th of March, Science mourned the death of her favourite son, in
the Reverend Doctor Samuel Parr, a celebrated philologist, erudite
classical scholar, and a profound mathematician, in the 79th year of his
age. The weekly, monthly, and annual registers, did not forget to name
the transcendent merits of the deceased in _literary pursuits_; but they
either forgot or declined to mention the interest this worthy gentleman
had taken in the cause of the Princess of Wales, and also after she
became Queen of England. The memorials and testimonies of Doctor Parr in
her cause were not chimerical opinions, as some have imagined, but the
real sentiments of his honest and manly heart.

The close of this eventful year was marked with unprecedented calamity.
The "panic," as it was briefly termed, which prevailed in the city of
London, seemed to have overtaken the most wealthy of its inhabitants,
and poverty and consternation appeared in all their terrors. The
political horizon was also of the most foreboding and gloomy character.
The "House of Incurables," however, still arrogantly boasted of the
"freedom and prosperity of the nation," and shut their eyes against all
the proofs of a contrary nature.

There was a time when some atonement for unjust acts would have been
instantly demanded from the sovereign by the people; for we read in
"Rapin," that Edward the Second, when conquered and made prisoner by his
wife, was tried by the parliament, which decreed, "that (though kings
are supposed _incapable_ of doing wrong) he had done all possible wrong,
and thereby must forfeit his right to the crown." Again, for the sake of
illustration, we may mention, that the parliament tried and _convicted_
Richard the Second; thirty-one articles were alleged against him, in the
form of an impeachment, two of which were very remarkable, though
perhaps not uncommon; the first was, "that he had BORROWED MONEY WITHOUT
INTENDING TO PAY IT AGAIN!!!" the other, "that he had declared, before
witnesses, 'he was master of the lives and property of his subjects.'"
What a lesson, also, does the wretched death of our first Charles offer
of the imbecility of kings, and of their blind contempt for the people,
from whom their crowns and their wealth must always be derived. But,
with some men, example is disregarded, and advice neglected, if not
despised. George the Fourth, for instance, reckless of all consequences,
appears to have held it as a maxim, "I am determined to make every body
as miserable as I can; and, so long as all my wants are supplied, no
matter from what source they are derived!"


At an early part of

     1826,

the Duke of Devonshire attended the coronation of the despotic
Nicholas, since the murderer of the brave Poles, as the representative
of George the Fourth, King of England; and his splendid retinues and
sumptuous fêtes created no little astonishment in the Russian capital at
John Bull's extravagance.

In January, his majesty _returned_ one thousand pounds of the public
money, to relieve the distressed Spitalfields' weavers, who were
suffering every possible hardship from the want of employment. We feel
great pleasure in recording every instance of the _charitable_
intentions of this king, entertaining no fear of being wearied with
their detail. We should be equally happy, were it in our power, to
record the payment of those loans and promissory notes, to which this
personage had subscribed while Prince of Wales. It is a good old maxim,
"Be _just_ before you are _generous_;" and we cannot help thinking, that
if the "first gentleman in the world" had given his accommodating ladies
a little less, and satisfied the demands of the holders of those bonds,
he would have acted more "as became a man." But no; his kingly dignity
kept him aloof from the civil proceedings of his foreign creditors, and,
being a stranger to honour, the documents were left undischarged!

The king at this period being reported unwell, the parliament was opened
by commission. His majesty's indisposition could hardly be wondered at,
when the gay life he had led was taken into consideration. Besides, as
he was now getting into the "sear and yellow leaf," it might naturally
be supposed that the prickings of Conscience sometimes annoyed him into
bodily pain. Indeed, though the fact was only known to a few persons at
court, his majesty had long been getting into a very low and desponding
state, and frequently appeared lost in abstraction, from which he was
but seldom relieved by shedding tears! He knew that there were blemishes
upon his escutcheon, which, though he had long been able to conceal them
by bribery and trickery, might some day or another be exposed to the
rude gaze of the multitude. He had long unsheathed the sword of
oppression against his suffering people, and he could not possibly tell
at what period it might be lifted against his royal self.

The Tory government of persecuted England still appeared to think that
the persons composing their _Sanhedrim_ were the only interested
individuals in giving and opposing laws. But had not every Englishman a
direct interest in the affairs of government? If government should act a
part that might endanger the safety of the community, surely every man's
property would be equally at stake. All national affairs, therefore,
ought to be conducted with a view to the _general_ good, and not for the
mere aggrandizement of a privileged and self-elected set of hirelings.
When _secret missions_ were the order of the day, as was the case at
this period, the public might be assured that "something was rotten in
the state of Denmark!" for state secrecy is always the forerunner of
evil to the people. But no men of upright principles were to be found in
George the Fourth's cabinet. We do not mean to say that England did not
possess such characters, but then they had taken the advice of the poet,

             "When evil men bear sway,
     The post of honour is a private station!"

When the Chancellor of the Exchequer brought forward his budget this
year, the galleries and lobbies of the House of Commons were actually
converted into a "Stock Exchange." We need not offer a remark upon this
circumstance,--the intelligent reader will draw his own inferences from
such an exhibition. Shortly after this, the House proposed "that five
thousand pounds per annum be added to the salary of Mr. Huskisson."
Repeated discussion ensued, but the proposition was finally abandoned,
and two thousand pounds only agreed to. Mr. Huskisson was undoubtedly a
man of great talent; yet he was already in the receipt of a sufficient
remuneration for the exercise of that talent, as he then enjoyed _two_
incomes from the people: as treasurer to the navy, three thousand
pounds, and as president of the Board of Controul, five thousand pounds,
making together the _annual_ amount of eight thousand pounds! Some
people, however, are not to be satisfied, as Mr. Huskisson said, that he
felt considerable anxiety and _hardship_ arising from the union of the
two offices or situations, and that, from the great pecuniary
responsibility attached to the treasurer of the navy, the two offices
were more than he could possibly attend to! "Then," _modestly_ added
the president, "the pay-master is an officer fully acquainted with the
details of business, and perfectly familiar with all the operations
necessary for the proper and effective management of the department." We
do not doubt the verity of this remark, or dispute the qualifications of
Mr. Huskisson for _one_ of the offices; yet we cannot help thinking it
was a _little_ slip of the tongue, when this gentleman said, "I cannot
say from _my own knowledge_ whether, at this moment, matters are going
on _right or wrong_ in my office, but I have entire confidence in the
_pay-master_." This curious confession of Mr. Huskisson proved that he
enjoyed the emoluments arising from a situation, to the business of
which he paid little or no attention! Would an unprejudiced and honest
administration have exercised the imposing means here set forth? or
would any real representatives of the people have sanctioned such
mal-practices by their vote?

The manufacturing districts unfortunately continued in a most melancholy
and alarming situation. Riots, disorder, and distress, universally
prevailed. To relieve the people's grievances, however, the king
returned eight thousand pounds more of the public money to the
distressed weavers of Spitalfields. But we cannot help thinking, that
such an inadequate sort of relief very much resembled a bankrupt's
paying one farthing in the pound, and then claiming the gratitude of his
ruined creditors!

Let not our readers suppose that the _worthy_ parliament were idle this
year. The matter printed for the House during its short sitting, from
February to May, occupied twenty-nine bulky folio volumes, independent
of the journals, votes, private acts, and other matters of equal
importance to the nation! In this brief session, also, no less than
seventy-nine new acts of parliament were added to the already ponderous
and indigestible statute-book. Here was industry indeed! But, good
reader, in all this mass of business, not a single act was passed for
the amelioration of the distressed condition of the people.

The health of the Duke of York now began to decline; and, although he
had been in the receipt of such enormous sums from the people, he was
actually destitute of a home,--at least of one he could call his own.
Here was a disgraceful circumstance!--the heir presumptive to the throne
of England, through his abominable and reckless extravagance, obliged to
accept the hospitality of an acquaintance! An accumulation of diseases,
arising from excesses of every kind, soon became manifest, and the duke
was at length declared to be seriously indisposed. On the 14th December,
he was pronounced, by his medical attendants, to be in the most imminent
danger.

The revenue was deficient in its returns from the former year, two
hundred and thirty-three thousand, nine hundred, and forty pounds! which
arose from the very general stagnation of trade and the paralization of
commerce. This enormous deficiency in the country's income, however, had
no effect upon the men in power; for the most wanton expenditure was
still kept up, both at home and abroad. Our ambassadors appeared the
very type of their sight-loving and spendthrift master, and thousands
were swallowed up in glittering baubles and unmeaning pageantry. At the
time the "Dandy of Sixty," (as the ingenious and patriotic Mr. Hone
usually termed him) was meditating on the most expeditious way of
squandering the hard-earnings of the poor, his wicked and unmanly
ministers pampered the royal appetite in all its childish wishes and
unconstitutional desires, verifying the words of Pope,

     "Fools grant whate'er Ambition craves."


The internal state of the country at the opening of

     1827

exhibited the most lowering prospects; for when the people are suffering
from oppressive enactments and injurious policy, the country cannot
possibly wear a smiling countenance. Some of the milk-sop daily
journals, notwithstanding, were very profuse in their complimentary
language to royalty, and announced, as a matter of wonderful importance,
the kindness and brotherly affection manifested by the king to the Duke
of York, as his majesty had spent nearly two hours with his brother at
the residence of his Grace of Rutland! What astonishing kindness! what
inexpressible condescension that a man should visit his own brother who
was at the point of death! But the king's condescension did not put
aside the visit of the general conqueror, Death! for the Duke of York
expired, at the mansion of the before-named nobleman, on the 5th of
January, being then in the sixty-fourth year of his age.

If we were to form our judgment by the eulogiums bestowed on the
character of the deceased duke, by the greater portion of the press, he
was one of the brightest and most illustrious ornaments of society. But
such disgraceful truckling to royalty and the "powers that be" could
only tend to degrade the national character in the consideration of all
well-informed men, who would observe in such unmerited compliments a
convincing proof that Truth was a creditor, whose claims were "more
honoured in the breach than in the observance." To prove that our
complaints on this head are well-founded, let our readers look over the
following outline of the royal duke's virtues, which we copy from
"Baldwin's Annual Register for the year 1827:"


"Never was the death of a prince accompanied by more sincere and
universal regret; and seldom have the public services of one so near the
throne BEQUEATHED TO THE COUNTRY SO MUCH SOLID AND LASTING GOOD, as
resulted from his long administration of the British army. His private
character, frank, HONOURABLE, and SINCERE, was formed to conciliate
personal attachments; a personal enemy he had never made, and a friend
once gained, he had never lost. Failings there were: he was improvident
in pecuniary matters; his love of pleasure, though it observed the
decencies, did not always respect the moralities, of private life; and
his errors in that respect had been paraded in the public view by the
labours of unwearying malice, and shameless unblushing profligacy. But
in the failings of the Duke of York, there was NOTHING THAT WAS
UN-ENGLISH, NOTHING THAT WAS UN-PRINCELY.

"Never was man more easy of access, _more fair and upright in his
dealings_, more affable, and even simple, in his manners. Every one who
had intercourse with him was impressed with the openness, sincerity, and
kindness, which appeared in all his actions; and it was truly said of
him, that _he never broke a promise, and never deserted a friend_.
Beloved by those who enjoyed the honour of his private intercourse, his
administration of a high public office had excited one universal
sentiment of respect and esteem. In his youth, he had been tried as a
general in the field. The campaigns in Flanders terminated in a retreat;
but the duke,--unexperienced as he was, at the head of an army which,
abounding in valour, had yet much to learn in tactics, and compelled to
act in concert with allies who were not always either unanimous or
decided,--displayed many of the qualities of an able general, and nobly
supported that high character for daring and dauntless courage which is
the patrimony of his house. He was subsequently raised to the office of
commander-in-chief of all his majesty's forces; that office he held for
upwards of thirty-two years, and his administration of it did not
merely improve, it literally created, an army. During his campaigns, he
had felt keenly the abuses which disgraced its internal organization,
and rendered its bravery ineffectual; he applied himself, with a
soldier's devotion, to the task of removing them; he identified himself
with the welfare and the fame of the service; he possessed great
readiness and clearness of comprehension in discovering means, and great
steadiness and honesty of purpose in applying them. By unceasing
diligence, he gave to the common soldier comfort and respectability; the
army ceased to be considered as a sort of pest-house for the reception
of moral lepers; discipline and regularity were exacted with unyielding
strictness; THE OFFICERS WERE RAISED BY A GRADUAL AND WELL-ORDERED
SYSTEM OF PROMOTION, which gave merit a chance of not being pushed aside
to make way for mere ignorant rank and wealth. The head as well as the
heart of the soldier took a higher pitch; the best man in the field was
the most welcome at the Horse Guards; _there was no longer even a
suspicion that unjust partiality disposed of commissions_, or that
_peculation was allowed to fatten upon the spoils of the men_; the
officer knew that one path was open to all, and the private felt that
his recompense was secure."


In a similar strain, the writer continues at a far greater length than
our patience will allow us to quote. What man of understanding but must
have felt disgusted at such a fulsome panegyric, which has not so much
as a word of truth to recommend it! We despise the historian who
sacrifices his integrity by an attempt to mislead posterity in this
manner. It will, however, prove but an attempt; for will posterity
overlook the general iniquitous and abandoned conduct of the royal
libertine, both abroad and at home?--his cowardice and want of skill in
the field?--his tergiversation to his creditors?--his infamous conduct
with regard to certain foreign bondholders?--his notorious practices as
a seducer?--his gross and unpardonable dereliction of duty at the Horse
Guards?--his refusal to inquire into the conduct of the soldiers at the
Manchester massacre?--his shameful acceptance of ten thousand pounds a
year of the public money, for only calling upon his dying father twice a
week, which Earl Grey pronounced to be "an insult to the people to ask
it?"--his receiving this sum, and his going down to Windsor with a bible
in his carriage, on _pretence_ of visiting his royal father after he had
ceased to exist?--or his bigotted, ridiculous, and futile opposition to
the claims of the Catholics? Will posterity, we repeat, forget to
canvass all this, and much more, of which the Duke of York was
notoriously guilty?

If we pass over the meanness of the royal duke in accepting payment for
visiting his own father, we are naturally led to inquire why this money
was paid from the public purse, when the king was allowed sixty thousand
pounds per annum for his private demands? Could this fund have been
better applied than for the use of him for whom it was voted? If,
therefore, it was considered necessary to pay a son for visiting his
father, surely such money ought to have been applied for the purpose.
Was it justifiable, in times of universal suffering and distress, to
raise from an over-taxed and over-burthened people such a sum
unnecessarily, when there were funds from which it might have been
taken,--funds which must else be diverted from the purpose of their
creation, and pass into hands for whom they were not intended? Was it
not an insult to the sense of the nation to debate about what might be
the feelings of the sovereign, if he should recover from the gloomy
condition into which he was plunged by the afflicting hand of
providence, and find his money had been so appropriated? Would not his
majesty's feelings have been more hurt, in such an event, by his knowing
that a reward was necessary to induce a son to take care of his father?
Was there no delight in filial affection? Was not the sense of duty
powerful enough? Was there no beauty in the common charities of our
nature? No loveliness in gratitude? Were the claims of veneration
cold?--the warmth of regard frozen? With respect to the country, it
presented a serious aspect. Admitting that his royal highness, in the
discharge of his office, must attend twenty times a-year at Windsor,
then he would be paid five hundred pounds a time for such attendance: a
single journey would discharge the wages of a thousand labourers for a
week, and the annual salary satisfy twenty thousand for the same period.
Would it not have been more beneficial to the state, more conducive to
the happiness of society, to have expended the ten thousand pounds in
some honourable employment, in the erection of some work of art, that
would have called hundreds into action, who were steeped up to the neck
in penury, and worn down to the earth by wretchedness, than in forming a
salary for the royal duke for doing that which it was his bounden duty
to perform? But even this view does not put the question in its broadest
light. The sixty thousand pounds set apart as the annual privy purse of
the king was now useless to his majesty, for he could no longer
recognize his property, direct its disposal, or enjoy it. In fact,
during the greater part of the Duke of York's guardianship, his father
was a corpse! On what ground, on what pretence, then, could this wicked
grant be continued, as well as the accumulation of the sixty thousand
pounds a year, for the service of one who no longer needed either? Why,
only for the purpose of feeding the inordinate profligacy of the Duke of
York, and for the gratification of the regent's malice against his
innocent, though calumniated, wife! What, also, will posterity think of
Lord Castlereagh's conduct on this occasion, who proposed the disgusting
grant to parliament? He stigmatized as infamous the refusal to grant
from the _public_ purse that which the public _ought not to pay_; thus
boldly classing _virtue_ with _crime_,--pourtraying _prodigality_ to be
right,--disguising _corruption_ under the mask of honour,--and
attempting to cast the dark shade of _infamy_ over those few who were
honest enough to oppose measures, which justice disapproved, and good
policy condemned. By reducing such cases down to the level of common
life, we the better discover their injustice and unfold their rapacity.
If the constable of a village possessed of a rental, arising from a
parochial allowance for his services more than adequate to supply his
wants, were deprived of reason, and rendered unfit for his office, and
if one of his sons were to declare that he would not superintend the
care of his infirm and aged father, unless he was allowed a salary for
performing his duty, what would be thought of such a son? But if this
son averred that he would not take this salary from his father's
allowance, but would demand _it from the parish_, how severe would be
the censure that would follow his footsteps, and imprint itself on his
name! However difficult it may be found to believe, it is nevertheless a
fact, that the Duke of York would only receive the said ten thousand
pounds a year from the PUBLIC, and refused to take it from the privy
purse of his father. But this privy purse being already drained by his
royal elder brother, he had not the opportunity of taking it from that
source! Ought the country to have been thus trifled with and plundered,
when it was writhing under general distress and an immense load of
taxation,--taxation produced by bestowing unmerited pensions and
unnecessary salaries? But ministers imagined, that when their countrymen
became impoverished, their spirits would get depressed, and their
liberties fall an easier prey to their pecuniary plunderers. But why
were not bolder exertions made to defeat this grant by those members of
the House of Commons who were in the habit of talking loudly of their
patriotism? Why was not the unblushing audacity of ministers and their
time-serving tools put to the test? Why were they not told that, among
all the distressing periods of our history, not one could be mentioned
in which the people were less able to sustain any additional
burthens,--not one in which it would have been more indecorous,
disgraceful, and unfeeling than at that juncture? Why did they not
represent how much better it were that a son should pay to his father
the attentions dictated by nature, without fee or reward, than that,
oppressed as the community already was with the failure of trade and the
expenses of government, another shilling of taxation should be added to
their burthens? Why did they not ask the Treasury Bench with what face
it could talk of retrenchment and economy, while it augmented the weight
by which the country was borne down? When we reflect on the scandalous
meanness that turned so many poor clerks adrift, while it kept safely
floating in the harbour of ease and plenty, men who were doing so little
for the public service,--when we consider this, and add to it the
circumstance of the Duke of York's unconscionable grant,--when we place
together the wretchedness of the ministry's savings, and the enormity of
their waste,--our indignation rises at the injustice. We feel that we
are Britons; for we feel that we detest such oppression and oppressors.
Our hearts are held to the patriotic _minority_ by a spontaneous and
involuntary attachment, as sure and lasting as our hatred and disdain of
that portion of parliament, whose only object in obtaining their seats,
and only business in exercising their privileges, was to serve the
interest of the ministry at the expense of the people, and to promote
and help to perpetuate the mystery and the humiliation, the
impoverishment and the slavery, it was their especial duty to prevent or
diminish.

Of his royal highness' profligacy and neglect of duty, enough was proved
in the exposures of Mrs. Clarke to satisfy the most scrupulous of their
enormity. Of his utter recklessness of every honourable principle and
disregard of virtue, many families, whose peace he was the cause of
ruining, yet live to bear their afflicting testimony. Of his imbecility
and cowardness in the field of battle, we need only mention his
disastrous and disgraceful campaign in Holland, to call forth the
indignation and contempt of every honest man, who must also feel shocked
at the number of lives sacrificed to his royal highness' headstrong
obstinacy. Of his achievements, particularly after his return from
Germany, we believe they were chiefly confined to the parade in St.
James' park, and to the Tennis Court in James-street, with pretty
frequent relaxation amongst the nymphs of Berkeley-row. Nevertheless,
his royal parents early pronounced him the "Hope of the Family;" and
once, in an hour of festivity, when this prince was so intoxicated as to
fall senseless under the table, his _elegant_ and _accomplished_ elder
brother, with his glass in hand, standing over the fallen soldier,
performed the ceremony of baptism, triumphantly and sarcastically
exclaiming,

     "HERE LIES THE HOPE OF THE FAMILY!"

Of his ridiculous and futile opposition to the Catholics, after times
have given abundant proof. And of his getting into debt without the
means of paying is a deplorable fact, to which his ruined creditors are
even now (in 1832) freely testifying! Would it not have been thought
treason had they suspected that the king's son,--the prince who,
according to the writer in the Annual Register, "never broke a promise,"
"whose failings had nothing in them un-English or un-princely," and "who
was fair and upright in his dealings,"--would have treated them as a
common swindler, by getting their forbearance during his life, and dying
without discharging his obligations? It is true that the duke left some
property, which he consigned to his brother, the king, for the purpose
of discharging his debts. We also know that the king promised to do so,
and to supply any deficiency that might arise; but with what fidelity it
was kept, the world is pretty well aware. The extortionate demands of a
mercenary mistress were stronger in the eyes of George the Fourth than a
solemn engagement made to a brother on his death-bed!

Though the executors of the late duke declared that his freehold and
leasehold estates were mortgaged beyond their intrinsic value, nothing
satisfactory was said about the jewels of his royal highness, which were
valued a very few days after his death, and were calculated as being
worth one hundred and fifty thousand pounds. These jewels, we are aware,
were carried down to Windsor by desire of his majesty, but how they were
disposed of remains to be explained. It was known that a large portion
of these valuables had belonged to the Duchess of York in her lifetime,
and as some legacies bequeathed by her royal highness at her demise have
been paid since the death of her husband, it is inferred that the jewels
have been, in some way or other, made available for that purpose. The
legality of the application of any part of the personal property of the
duke to purposes in which the interests of the creditors at large have
not been consulted is, however, very questionable. Some part of the
duke's property was bequeathed to his sister Sophia; but how far such a
bequest was consistent in a man overwhelmed in debt, or how any
honourable woman could accept from a brother that which was not his to
give, is a matter totally irreconcileable with our notions of justice
and fair dealing. One of these said jewels was also bestowed on the
king's mistress, which, whenever and wherever it is recognized, cannot
possibly add any lustre to her corpulent charms.

The Duke of York was _elected_ Bishop of Osnaburgh when only _eleven
months old_; but we leave the reader to judge how _capable_ a child of
this age was to perform the duties of a bishop! Here, indeed, was a
wanton disgrace inflicted on religion and the Established Church of
England! If money had been wanted to purchase toys for this baby prince,
could it not have been supplied from some more creditable source? We are
here naturally led to inquire, who was the _former_ Bishop of Osnaburgh?
If this question should lead to inquiry among the friends of Truth and
Justice, it may possibly be productive of much good to a CERTAIN INJURED
AND PERSECUTED INDIVIDUAL.

Among the high church and high tory characters, his royal highness was
held in much esteem for his PIETY! They boasted of his always travelling
with a bible in one pocket of his carriage and a prayer-book in the
other, but we know that the last journey he took, thus equipped, was on
a Sunday, in order to make some bets on a race-course for the ensuing
day!

In contemplating the enormous means possessed by his royal highness, we
are at a loss to account for his dying so deeply in debt. We find him
enjoying out of the taxes an annuity of twenty-six thousand pounds, a
pension of seven thousand pounds, and an annuity of twelve thousand
pounds sponged from the poor people of Hanover. Notwithstanding this
income of forty-five thousand pounds a-year, and his immense receipts as
commander-in-chief, colonel of regiments, &c. &c., such an embarrassed,
pauper-like state of existence has seldom been exposed,--head and ears
in debt, and himself dying in another man's house, without a roof of his
own to cover his shame! At his principal banker's, he had but a balance
of forty-four pounds, fifteen shillings, and a penny, at his death. Like
the old story of the many items of sack to one item of bread, we find
that his royal highness' horses were more valuable than his books. But
one of his disgraceful transactions more deeply concerns the
public:--the scandalous grant of public land for a rent never paid, and
an advance of forty-seven thousand pounds of the public money, by way of
accommodation, upon a mortgage of land which already belonged to the
people. Common honesty required that the late Tory ministers, in leasing
public land to the duke, should exact its fair value; but, so far from
it, the duke obtained an immediate advance of thirty thousand pounds,
and eventually of forty-seven thousand pounds, upon his lease. Never was
there a more flagrant exposure of the insolent impunity with which Tory
ministers betrayed the public interests. It was the duty, _the sworn
duty_, of the Tory commissioners of woods and forests, to let the public
land upon the best terms. Instead of which, they not only granted a
lease to a notorious insolvent, a man who for very many years had never
paid his way,--a man so involved that sheriff's officers followed his
carriage and seized it directly he got out of it,--but they granted this
man a lease so much under its value that he immediately got thirty
thousand pounds advanced upon it. In other terms, the public were
defrauded of thirty thousand pounds; but this is purity compared to what
follows. These Tory ministers advance forty-seven thousand pounds of the
public money to the duke, knowing that he is insolvent and cannot pay
the interest. Their mode of securing the principal is still more
nefarious. Instead of pursuing the usual course of business, when ground
landlords advance money to tenants covering their estates on building
leases, they paid the money, not to those who built on the land, or not
by instalments exactly as the land was covered, but to the duke, _who_
got people to build for him on credit, and never paid them. The crown,
of course, seized for its claims of rent and loan, and, possessing
itself of the property of the duke's creditors, the builders, left them
the victims of their misplaced confidence in the royal honour,--of a man
who once thought that his mere word "on the honour of a prince" was
sufficient to paralyze the House of Commons in their inquiries into his
malversation of office. Such a playing into the hands of the duke,
whilst he was defrauding the confiding tradesmen and workmen, is
monstrous. We ask a question, Were not sums of money clandestinely paid
to the duke, and smuggled into the accounts of the Army Pay-office, and
did not, on one occasion, one of the sworn commissioners, in examining
and passing the accounts of the paymaster-general, publicly declare,
that the ministers who had signed the warrant for this illegal payment
to the duke,--a payment without any vote of parliament,--deserved to be
IMPEACHED?

From the above statement, it will be seen why the late Tory
administration so resolutely resisted all attempts made in the House of
Commons to obtain an annual statement of the land-revenue department.
The grant to the duke of a lease for sixty years of valuable mines in
Nova Scotia, also appears to be a job infamous beyond any recent
precedent. The public ought to have nothing to do with the private debts
of this weak, bad man; and it should rest with the royal family whether
they suffer the duke to go to his account, with all his imperfections on
his head, as an insolvent, defrauding his creditors.

When the disreputable life of the duke is taken into consideration, what
an insult was offered to the understandings of an informed people, at
the command issued for all persons to robe themselves in garments of
decent mourning, upon the demise of this son of Mars and Venus! The
country, indeed, had more cause for rejoicing than mourning; as they had
lost an enemy to every thing liberal and beneficial. "What!" said the
inquiring citizen, "am I to put on the garb of sorrow when I have no
cause to mourn? What was the Duke of York to me, or to my family?
Nothing less than an intruder upon our scanty means, and yet we are
commanded, as good citizens and loyal subjects, to put ourselves and
families into decent mourning?" But such was the order issued from the
office of the Lord Chamberlain, and it was certainly complied with by
all those who depended upon the favour of the court, and by persons who
wished to be thought--_fashionable_! Happy, however, are we to know,
that the sensible and independent portion of the nation viewed such an
absurd order with the contempt it merited. Had the duke been a private
gentleman, he would have had the exact portion of tears shed to his
memory as he deserved,--would have been buried and forgotten, except by
his creditors, who would scarcely have waited till the turf had covered
him, before his house and effects would have been sold, his family
turned into the street, and every one paid as much in the pound as his
property would have allowed. But the adored of Mrs. Clarke, being the
son of a king, no such insult was offered to his manes. His disappointed
creditors were left nothing but promises for the articles with which he
had been so lavishly supplied; and some of these broken-hearted men, we
can attest from personal knowledge, were afterwards reduced to the
greatest possible distress, while others have closed their miserable
days in a parish work-house,--martyrs to the broken faith of his royal
highness the Duke of York, of whom Sir Walter Scott impiously said, in
the language of Scripture "There has fallen this day in our Israel, a
prince, and a great man!" How forcibly the language of Shakespeare
applies here:

         "The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.
     An evil soul, producing holy witness,
     Is like a villain with a smiling cheek,--
     A goodly apple rotten at the heart;
     O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!"

Indeed, the whole panegyric which follows the quotation from Scripture
is of that description which is sure to raise for its author a monument,
whereon will be engraved, "Grovelling servility to royalty, and a mean
sacrifice of public duty at the altar of private friendship." The
following brief extract will be sufficient to establish the justness of
our censure:


"The RELIGION of the Duke of York was SINCERE. His family affections
were strong, and the public cannot have forgotten the _pious_ tenderness
with which he discharged the duty of watching the last days of his royal
father. No pleasure, no business, was ever known to interrupt his
regular visits to Windsor, where his unhappy parent could neither be
_grateful_ for, nor even be sensible of, his unremitted attentions.
(!!!) His royal highness prepared the most splendid victories our annals
boast, by an unceasing attention to the character and talents of the
officers, and the comforts and health of the men. Terms of service were
fixed for every rank, and neither influence nor _money_ was permitted to
FORCE any individual forward. (!!!) It has never been disputed(?) that,
_in the field_, his royal highness displayed INTELLIGENCE,(!) MILITARY
SKILL,(!!) and his family attribute, the most UNALTERABLE COURAGE.(!!!)
If a tradesman, whose bill was unpaid by an officer, thought proper to
apply to the Horse Guards, the debtor received a letter from
HEADQUARTERS, requiring to know if there existed any objections to the
account, and failing in rendering a satisfactory answer, he was put on
stoppages until the creditor's demand was satisfied. Repeated
applications of this kind might endanger the officer's commission,
_which was then sold for the payment of his creditors_."


While Sir Walter enlarges upon the duke's VIRTUES, (virtues, indeed!) in
a similar strain to the above, he uses the most palliative language to
gloss over his notorious vices. Not a syllable does he say about his
royal highness' OWN CREDITORS BEING LEFT UNPAID, nor does he advocate
the propriety, that the commander-in-chief ought to have been "put on
stoppages until HIS numerous creditors were satisfied," or that the
several commissions he held in the British army should have been "sold
for the payment of HIS creditors!" In eulogizing the "military skill,
intelligence, and unalterable courage of his royal highness," all
allusion to the duke's _precipitate flight from Lisle_ is carefully
omitted, and that Houchard, the governor of that fortress, lost his head
for not driving him into the sea, which it was proved he might easily
have done, through the duke's obstinacy and WANT of _military skill_!!!
Are the very clear statements and unshaken evidence of Mrs. Clarke also
to be set at nought, because a small majority of the most venal House of
Commons of any in our history thought proper to acquit his royal
highness from her charges? Was not every honourable man in England
convinced of their verity? And did not universal execration COMPEL the
commander-in-chief TO RESIGN, in defiance of that contemptible and
loathed majority? Yet all these well-known FACTS are so smoothed down by
misrepresentation and shuffling excuses, that his royal highness is
actually made to appear a MARTYR TO POPULAR OPINION!!! When speaking of
the duke's "_pious_ attentions" to his royal father, the "celebrated
novel-writer" says not a syllable about the infamy of receiving ten
thousand pounds a-year for such unnecessary services,--unnecessary,
because, at their commencement, they were only formally bestowed for the
sake of gain, and not through a sense of filial duty; and, for a greater
part of the period, they were less necessary, for _forms_ could be of no
use to a _dead monarch_!

We entertain the highest possible opinion of Sir Walter Scott's literary
talents, which makes us the more regret that so fair a fame should be
clouded by this incontestable proof of his want of principle and his
total disregard of historical verity. We do not wish to quarrel with the
talented knight's POLITICS or his _gratitude_ to George the Fourth for
bestowing on him a title, which adds little to the character of any man
of sterling worth, and nothing to him who was before a stranger to
virtuous principles; but we do not like to see the historian's glorious
shield--TRUTH--broken in pieces by bespattering a public defaulter with
praises, when such a man deserved nothing but the contempt and
detestation of all who regard upright dealings. Let not Sir Walter
Scott, then, thus attempt to mislead the people of England in the
character of their princes, by palliating their public abuses, and
varnishing their private misconduct; nor let him disseminate doctrines
unnatural, nonsensical, and injurious to the rights of human nature.
History is materially injured when the waters of truth are corrupted by
infusing into their channel the flatterer's poison. Such a vile cause
cannot be maintained without having recourse to falsehood, and the
cowardly concealment of conscious malversation. Honest purposes love the
light of truth; and the friends of liberty and man become justly alarmed
whenever they see the press disgraced by its perversion. We are well
aware that the Tories were lavish in their rewards to obsequious
political writers, and that needy, unprincipled, and aspiring persons,
to receive the infection, were always at hand. But can any man be really
great and honourable, can he be a patriot or a philanthropist, can he be
a zealous and sincere friend to law, order, and religion, who thus
hesitates not to break down all the fences of honour, truth, and
integrity? Did Sir Walter Scott, when he penned the character of the
late Duke of York, mean to proclaim to the world that vice is virtue,
guilt is innocence, cowardice is bravery, swindling is correct
dealing?--or that conscience is but a name, and honour a phantom? Since
the art of printing was invented,--since the era when Ignorance and
Superstition were first driven before the light of Reason, exhibited in
the circulation of a free press,--we unhesitatingly affirm there has
never been published an eulogium so totally at variance with fact as
that written by the author of "Waverly" on his royal highness of York.
In sober reason and in the language of common sense, we would calmly
appeal to the dispassionate reflection of every thinking Englishman,
whether such a prostitution of truth and genius is becoming the proud
fame of Sir Walter Scott? The power of such a celebrated writer over
general opinion is too considerable not to deeply deplore the certainty
of his misguiding some portion of the public by the apparent sincerity
of his mis-placed eulogium, and by his neglecting to lead his readers to
a path of just thinking. Scorning alike the meanness of flattery and the
crime of delusion, we have not hesitated to deliver our unbiassed
sentiments on the character of the Duke of York, (which are certainly
more in accordance with facts) with that freedom to which we deem the
historian to be justly entitled. We have not allowed the example of Sir
Walter Scott to interfere with our fixed purpose,--that of "AWARDING
HONOUR ONLY WHERE HONOUR IS DUE!"

It is a melancholy reflection that so little protection or encouragement
should have been afforded to writers of strict independence and
integrity, more particularly about the period of the Duke of York's
death, when Toryism was flourishing in the plenitude of its glory and
its power. The former patriotic spirit of literary men had almost
disappeared before ministerial bribery; and to write with that honesty
and boldness of purpose which JUNIUS wrote was a matter of rare
occurrence; and when any author did venture to imitate that great
benefactor of mankind, his temerity was sure to call down the vengeance
of the powerful, and, too frequently, without awakening the sympathy of
the public. Had those noble authors, who once defended the cause of
freedom and truth, been living at this period, how would they have
despised such instances of the degradation of talent as those we have
quoted! Could they, for a moment, have risen from their graves, what
would have been their astonishment at such a perversion of the blessings
of the press? In a country professing to be free, and boasting of its
rights and privileges, it was surely natural to expect, that he who
advocated its best and dearest interests would be certain of its ardent
support; that whoever devoted his time and talent to the exposition of
public abuses would be an object of general esteem, and enjoy the
protection of the PEOPLE, at least, if not of the government. But such
was seldom the case; and hence but too many writers resigned their
probity, and betrayed the public, by making ministerial delinquencies
appear as good government, and royal vices as elegant pastimes and
gentlemanly exploits! Most of the daily and other periodical
publications were in the pay of government, and they scrupled not to
deny the most glaring truths, if, by so doing, they could please their
patrons.

We deeply regret that so many could be found to wage war against the
sound principles of the English constitution, and so few that invariably
adhered to the cause of liberty and justice. That writer, who is
prompted by the pure love of his country's weal, and acknowledging no
party, seeks no adherents but those who are friends to her sacred cause,
will look back upon such a debased state of the press with mingled
feelings of indignation and pity. Be it ever remembered, that the
general corruption of that powerful engine is always first aimed at by a
minister who intends the slavery of the people. Had public writers but
maintained one grand universal adherence to the broad and general light
of TRUTH, the people of England would never have been burthened by such
men as Liverpool, Londonderry, and Sidmouth; nor would they have had to
endure their present immense load of taxation. Whenever the people are
properly united, and headed by an honest press, not all the standing
armies of their enemies will prevent them from obtaining their
constitutional rights. But when the people stand apart from each other,
and when ministers can obtain the services of venal writers, the star of
liberty grows dim, and patriotism becomes dangerous and obsolete.

The Earl of Liverpool was prevented from taking his seat at the head of
the government at this period, by a sudden attack of paralysis. His
cabinet were consequently thrown into great disorder and contention. The
united influence of Lord Eldon, the Duke of Wellington, and Mr. Peel,
however, proved inefficient to prevent the choice of prime minister
falling on Mr. Canning. Many discussions arose upon this change of
administration, and the frequent quarrels in the cabinet were of a
nature not very reputable to the members composing it. Within
forty-eight hours after Mr. Canning had received his majesty's commands
to form a ministry, no less than seven of the former leading members
resigned office, through vexation and jealousy at his appointment. The
inconsistent Lord Bexley, however, considered that _second_ thoughts
were best, and retracted his resignation. Sir John Copley was created
Baron Lyndhurst, and appointed Lord High Chancellor, upon the
resignation of the Tory veteran Lord Eldon, who, though he had for so
many years been amassing enormous wealth, was now _mean_ enough to be an
idle pauper upon the resources of our impoverished country for the
annual income of four thousand pounds! His lordship had been for more
than twenty years Speaker of the House of Peers, at a salary of three
thousand pounds, and Lord Chancellor at fifteen thousand pounds per
annum; while the salaries of the offices in his gift, in the legal
department alone, amounted to more than forty-two thousand pounds per
annum. The legal and ecclesiastical patronage at his disposal was also
immense; yet this pretended _poor_ man would not retire without an
ex-chancellor's salary! While "this keeper of the king's conscience"
took especial care of his own purse, he did not forget to look after
that of his family; and places, pensions, and church preferments were
most bountifully heaped upon them.

In contemplating the long period of his lordship's enjoying the
emoluments of his office, we are led to consider "the means whereby he
got the office." His unmanly desertion of the virtuous cause of Queen
Caroline was the principal, though not the only, reason of his rapid
promotion. In this instance, he committed an indelible stain upon his
integrity for the sake of obtaining patronage and wealth. Let the
following passage, dictated by this time-serving lawyer, when he
advocated the Princess of Wales' cause against the Douglases, bear us
out in the justness of our remarks:


"However Sir John and Lady Douglas may appear my ostensible accusers, I
have _other enemies_, whose ill-will I may have occasion to FEAR,
without feeling myself assured that it will be strictly regulated, in
its proceedings against me, by the _principles of fairness and
justice_!"


Who would suppose that boaster of "fairness and justice," Lord Eldon,
one of the most forward of the professed friends of the Princess of
Wales, could have proved so heartless and active an oppressor of Queen
Caroline? We are forcibly reminded of two passages of Scripture, which
powerfully apply to his lordship's desertion from the path of honour in
this instance; namely, the 2nd Book of Kings, ch. viii, v. 13, and the
2nd Book of Samuel, ch. xii, v. 7 and 8! Lord Eldon not only at that
time, however, expressed his decided opinion that other enemies existed,
but he afterwards named the very parties, and pointed out with what
clearness and facility the offence might have been proved against them!
But his lordship soon afterwards _sneaked_ into lucrative office, and
had something better to do for _himself_ than procuring justice for the
injured, insulted, and persecuted Princess of Wales! Out upon such
blood-suckers of their country, we say, and may their _crying_
professions of SINCERITY and CONSCIENTIOUS MOTIVES ever be viewed as the
ravings of hypocrisy!

Mr. Canning's ministry proved but of short duration. Soon after his
appointment to the premiership, his health began to decline, and within
four months he was numbered with the dead. This event took place on the
morning of the 8th of August, and his remains were consigned to the tomb
prepared to receive them, in Westminster Abbey, followed by a long
procession of dukes, lords, and other great personages,--the admirers of
his political principles.

In taking an impartial review of Mr. Canning's political career, we
cannot help thinking that all his public acts were _aristocratical_,
and afforded indubitable proof of his love of place. Like most men who
have risen to great eminence, he owed much to chance. He was lucky in
the time of his decease, and in the day of his deserting his old
friends. To very few has it happened to be supported by a party as long
as its support was useful, and to be repudiated by it when its affection
would have been injurious. The same men who, as friends, had given him
power,--as enemies, conferred on him reputation! But his name is not
connected with any great act of legislation. No law will be handed down
to posterity protected by his support. After generations will see in him
a lamentable proof of prostituted talent, and little or nothing to claim
their gratitude. The memorialist may delight in painting the talents he
displayed, but the historian will find little to say of the benefits he
bestowed. Mr. Canning was very irritable and bold in his manners. He
defended his conduct in the House and out of it; that is to say, he made
some bitter speeches in parliament, and wrote three challenges, or
demands for explanation: one to Mr. Hume, one to Sir Francis Burdett,
and one to an anonymous pamphleteer. The author of this pamphlet was Mr.
(now Sir John Cam) HOBHOUSE, though the fact is little known; but, for
some unexplained cause, the book was speedily withdrawn from
publication. A few having been sold, however, we were fortunate enough
to procure one, the following extracts from which may not prove
unacceptable to our readers:


"SIR,--I shall address you without ceremony, for you are deserving of
none. There is nothing in your station, in your abilities, or in your
character, which entitles you to respect. The first is too often the
reward of political, and frequently of PRIVATE, crimes. Your talents,
such as they are, you have abused; and, as for your character, I know
not an individual of any party, or in any class of society, who would
not consider the defence of it a paradox. Low as public principle has
sunk, _you_ are still justly appreciated; and no one is deceived by
_qualities_, which, even in their happiest exertions, are not calculated
or employed to conciliate esteem.

"To what a state of degradation are we sunk, when a defendant is to be
cheered into being a plaintiff; to be applauded when he assaults the
sufferings of the oppressed, and arraigns the motives of men of honour
and unsullied reputation! You are yourself aware, sir, that in no other
assembly in England would you have been allowed to proceed, for an
instant, in so gross a violation of all decencies of life as was
hazarded by that speech, which found a patient and a pleased audience in
the House of Commons. Can there exist in that body,--composed as it
undoubtedly is of men, who, in the private relations of life, are
distinguished for many good qualities,--an habitual disregard of
decency, a contempt for public opinion, an absurd confidence, either
individually or in mass, to which, absolving themselves from the rules
of common life, they look for protection against the censures of their
fellow-citizens? Were it not for such a groundless persuasion, there is
not a gentleman (for such a being is not quite extinct in parliament)
who would not have thought himself compromised by listening to your
insolent attacks upon the national character, and to a flashy
declamation, which, from beginning to end, supposed an audience devoid
of all taste, judgment, spirit, and humanity.

"I am at a loss, sir, to account for the insulting policy of your
colleagues in office, who, though they take their full share with you in
the public hatred, are far from being equal competitors for its
contempt. Those worthies must have had some motive, deeper than their
avowed designs, for entrusting their defence to such 'inept hands.' Were
they afraid of your partially redeeming your character by silence? Were
they resolved, that if you were yet not enough known, some decisive
overt act should reduce you below the ministerial level? Did they
suspect, that you were again willing to rebel or betray? How was it that
you were selected for the odious and TREACHEROUS task of justifying the
rigorous measures of the imbecile, but unfeeling, SIDMOUTH, directed as
they were against the aged, the infirm, the powerless of his own
countrymen? How was it that you were required to emerge from your
suspected, though prudent, silence, in behalf of him whom you had first
insulted by the offer of your alliance, then by your coarse hostility,
and, lastly, by the accepted tender of an insidious reconciliation?

"You know, sir, and the world should know, that when your seducer, Pitt,
was tired of you, you offered yourself to this silly, vain man, who
thought your keeping too dear at the proposed price, and accordingly
declined the bargain. You know, and the world may remember, the
immediate consequence of this slight of proffered service was your
lampoons in parliament, your speeches in the papers,--I forget where
they fell, but whether in one or the other, they were equally
_unprepared_ and opportune; these, and other assaults, manfully directed
against those whose forbearance was the sole protection of your
audacity, can hardly have slipped through the meshes of the ill-woven
memories of your colleagues. Perhaps, then, it was intended to reduce
you to irretrievable humiliation, and to fit you for the lowest agency,
by making you the loudest encomiast of the most undefensible measure of
him whom you have reprobated as the 'most incapable of all ministers,
the most inept of all statesmen.' You have kissed the hand that
chastised you, and have lost but few opportunities of testifying your
FEIGNED REPENTANCE to him who commands you from that eminence, which you
were adjudged incapable to occupy, even so as to save the few
appearances required from ministerial manners.

"Your submission to Lord Castlereagh, tricked out, as he appears, in
those decorations of fortune which might well deceive a vulgar eye, was
not surprising: it was the natural deference of meanness to success. But
it was not expected, even from your condescension, that the butt of his
party, the agent of that department which had, even in these times of
peace, with infinite address, contrived to make the executive
administration not only hateful but ridiculous, that the very minister
who had no character for talents should be defended by him who had shewn
himself unequal to the defence of his own. Your reply to those who spoke
the language of their constituents, of unprejudiced Englishmen, of human
nature itself, and who stepped forward to rescue the parliament from
indelible disgrace, was such as is seldom hiccupped up from the
Bacchanalian triumph of ministerial majorities.

"What, sir! one of the present cabinet dare to accuse any individual of
too _much faith_ in common rumour or in proffered information? A member
of that cabinet, whose _belief_ in the idle, malicious falsehoods of
spies, pimps, bullies, and all the abandoned broken characters, whom
their promises allured into perjury, has been proved by the verdict of
juries, has been recorded in the courts, has been the object of general
indignation, and, after having been the cause and excuse of a wanton
attack on our liberties, has been judged by the cabinet itself so little
qualified for examination that believing parliament has been instructed
to indemnify the rogues who told the lies, and the fools who believed
them. What! an apologist for the gulled, the gaping Sidmouth, to
deprecate the indiscriminating reception of tales and tale-bearers? a
defender of him who put his trust in Castles, who employed Oliver, and
who, on the faith of atrocious fabrications, of which he was alike the
encourager and the dupe, has persecuted and imprisoned, has fettered and
fractured, and might have put to death, his fellow-countrymen, even to
decimation.

"You tell us, you should have thought yourself '_a dolt and idiot_' to
have listened for a moment to complaints against an agent of the home
department, a runner of Bow-street, a gaoler's turnkey, or a secretary's
secretary. Mighty well, sir! but let a runaway from the hulks, a
convicted felon, tell you, that a bankrupt apothecary, a broken-down
farmer, and a cobbler, are the centre of a widely-spread conspiracy,
have formed and partially executed a plan for razing the kingdom, and
for taking the Tower of London,--have provided arms, have published
manifestoes; let the same respectable evidence impeach the loyalty of
the nobles and gentry in particular districts, and of the lower classes
in all; let this single felon assert that he is honest, and the majority
of his countrymen are rogues,--you do not think YOURSELF A DOLT AND
IDIOT!!! you do not think Lord Sidmouth a dolt and idiot for
proceeding, chiefly upon such information, to hang, draw, and quarter
the first individuals designated by this credible witness! But whatever
you or your colleagues thought, the JURY did think the secretary of the
home department a DOLT AND IDIOT, and shewed their opinion by their
verdict. I will take leave to observe, that there is this difference
between the credulity of such men as Mr. Lambton, and of such ministers
as yourself and your colleagues: the former may interpose to save, but
the consequence of the latter has been to destroy.

"To brand with the names of 'rebel and traitor' those whom you have been
unable to prove rebellious and traitorous, is but in the ordinary course
of official perseverance and incorrigible folly; but that you should
presume to assail those unfortunate individuals, the victims of your own
recorded credulity, by making a mockery of old age and of natural
infirmities, which have been occasioned by your own injustice!!--such an
outrage upon your audience--how is that to be accounted for? '_The
revered and ruptured Ogden!!!_' This mad, this monstrous sally was
applauded--was received with roars of laughter! and if there was a
confession from some more candid lips, that such allusions were not
'quite in good taste,' an excuse was drawn from the _warmth_ of the
debate, clear as it was, to those accustomed to your patchwork, that the
stupid alliteration was one of the ill-tempered weapons coolly selected
from your oratorical armoury.

"The little knot of dependants, who were willing to make common stock
and carry themselves to market with you, have become ashamed of the
trifling, oscillating buffoon, whom they mistook for the head of a
party, and who accepted the first and lowest vacancy that could replace
him in the precincts of power. Even the miserable chuck-farthing, Ward,
who has learnt from you how to run riot on his apostacy, owns, that he
hesitates between the disgrace of 'serving without wages, and of being
dismissed without a character.'

"Go on, sir, I pray you; proceed with your pleasantries; light up the
dungeon with the flashes of your merriment,--make us familiar, make us
pleased, with the anguish of the captive; teach us how to look upon
torture and tyranny as agreeable trifles; let whips and manacles become
the play-things of parliament; let patriotism and principle be preserved
only as vain names, the materials of a jest; and, as you have disturbed
the bed of sickness with your unhallowed mirth, hasten, with appropriate
mockery, the long foretold approaching _Euthanasia_ of the expiring
constitution. But confine your efforts to that assembly where they have
been so favourably, so thankfully received. You will find no other
hearers. You are nothing but on that stage. The clerks, the candles, the
heated atmosphere, the mummeries and decorations, the trained, packed
paper audience, confused, belated, and jaded into an appetite for the
grossest stimulants; these are the preparations indispensable to your
exhibition. Thank heaven, however, the House of Commons is not the only
tribunal; and it is possible, that, in spite of your extraordinary
progress and probable success, there may still be, in this country, a
body of men, now _dispersed_, but whom their common interest will ONE
DAY COLLECT AND UNITE, FOR THE DEFENCE OF THEIR RIGHTS AND THE
PUNISHMENT OF THEIR OPPRESSORS[187:A].

"Believe me, sir, not an echo of those shouts of laughter which hailed
your jests upon rebellious old age and traitorous disease, not an echo
has been lost in the wide circumference of the British islands. Those
shouts still ring in our ears; they will never die away as long as the
day of retribution is deferred; they will never die away until we are
finally extirpated by your triumph, or you are annihilated by our
indignation. Do not flatter yourself that, by securing the connivance of
parliament, you are safe from all national censure. _Parliament does not
represent the feelings of the British nation._ It would be an assault
upon the character of this great, this glorious people, to suppose that
their representatives were sent to the House of Commons to encourage the
playful ferocity of a hardened politician. The nobler portion of the
nation are certainly not members of either house: the better educated,
the more enlightened, and the more wealthy, at least the more
independent, are to be found _without the walls of parliament_. You are
(and what ministerial man is not?) an enemy to reform. But you shall be
told, sir, that the necessity of reform, and of choosing our
representatives from some other classes of society, was never so
decidedly shewn as in the reception of your speech. If Mr. Canning was,
on a former occasion[188:A], applauded for saying, that the constitution
of that assembly could not be bad, which '_worked so well in practice_'
as to admit of the selection of such men as Mr. Windham and Mr. Horner,
I am sure it is to be allowed me to say, that the assembly can have no
feelings or opinions, in common with the rest of their countrymen, which
would receive, with shouts of approving laughter, such a speech as this
of Mr. Canning.

"You cannot be far from the close of your career; for, either we shall
be so lost that all your farther efforts will be superfluous, or you
will be so resisted as to disable you for ever from all noxious
exertion. This, then, may be the time for summing up the evidence,
furnished by the unbiassed, uncontradictory witnesses of your life; and
for enabling your countrymen to pass the verdict.

"Let him speak who ever knew you in possession of any respectable
reputation. The rag you stole from Mr. Sheridan's mantle was always too
scanty to cover your nakedness: like all mimics, you caught only the
meaner characteristics of your archetype; oratorical, not orator;
poetaster, not poet; witling, not wit. You were never the first or best
in any one line of action. You might not have been altogether inept or
slow in playing second parts, but on no one occasion have you ever
evinced that sincerity, either of principle or capacity, which the
lowest amongst us are accustomed to require from the pretenders to
excellence. Your spirit was rebuked in presence of those accomplished
persons whom the followers of all parties recognized as beings of a
higher order, and were willing to yield even more deference than their
unambitious merit required. The chances of survivorship have left you a
great man in these days of little men; but you keep true to the epic
rule; you end as you began; power has conferred upon you no
dignity,--elevation has not made your posture more erect. The decency of
your character consists in its entire conformity to the original
conception formed of you in early life. It has borrowed nothing from
station, nothing from experience. IT BECOMES YOU, BUT WOULD DISGRACE ANY
OTHER MAN."


     [187:A] How well has part of this prediction been fulfilled by
     the people of 1832! May the rest be speedily accomplished!

     [188:A] See motion for a new writ for the Borough of St.
     Mawes, in the room of Francis Horner, esq., deceased.

To a person of Mr. Canning's warmth of temper, such a production was
felt most acutely; for he could not, with all his ready eloquence and
talent, deny the truth of the writer's charges, or the justness of his
severe censure. When men find themselves exposed, without the
possibility of making out a good defence by argument, however speciously
employed, it is no uncommon thing for them to abuse their accusers, by
stigmatizing them with the epithets of "SLANDERER," "LIAR," "COWARD,"
"DOLT," "IDIOT," and similar opprobrious names, which, however,
generally fall harmless on the person to whom they are applied, while
they recoil, with ten-fold vigour, on the head of him who disgraces
himself and his cause by their adoption. Such was precisely the case
with Mr. Canning, as the following letters will testify:


MR. CANNING'S LETTER.

                             "_Gloucester Lodge, April 10, 1818._

     "SIR,--I received early in the last week the copy of your
     pamphlet, which you (I take for granted) had the attention to
     send to me.

     "Soon after I was informed, on the authority of your
     publisher, that you had withdrawn the whole impression from
     him, with a view (as was supposed) of suppressing the
     publication.

     "I since learn, however, that the pamphlet, though not sold,
     is circulated under blank covers.

     "I learn this from (among others) the gentleman to whom the
     pamphlet has been industriously attributed, but who has
     voluntarily and absolutely denied to me that he has any
     knowledge of it or its author.

     "To you, sir, whoever you may be, I address myself thus
     directly, for the purpose of expressing to you my opinion,
     that,

     "You are a liar and a slanderer, and want courage only to be
     an assassin.

     "I have only to add, that no man knows of my writing to you;
     that I shall maintain the same reserve so long as I have an
     expectation of hearing from you in your own name; and that I
     shall not give up that expectation till to-morrow (Saturday)
     night.

     "The same address which brought me your pamphlet will bring
     any letter safe to my hands.

                          "I am, sir, your humble servant,
                                         (Signed) "GEO. CANNING."

     "N.B. Mr. Ridgway is requested to forward this letter to its
     destination."


THE AUTHOR'S REPLY,

_Addressed to the Editor of the Examiner._

     "SIR,--You are requested to insert in your paper the reply of
     the Right Hon. George Canning to my public remonstrance with
     that gentleman on the insult he lately dared to offer to the
     people of England.

     "I am agreeably disappointed. After ten days' deliberation, he
     acknowledges the tribunal, and has determined to plead.

     "Whilst his judges are deciding on the merits of his defence,
     it shall be my care to provide the gentleman with another
     opportunity of displaying his taste and talents in the
     protection of his character.

     "In the mean time, whilst Mr. Lambton is a 'dolt and an
     idiot,' I am content to be a 'liar and a slanderer, and an
     assassin,' according to the same inimitable master of the
     vulgar tongue.

               "I am, sir, your obedient servant,
                                    "THE AUTHOR OF THE
                            LETTER TO THE RIGHT HON. G. CANNING."

It was hard indeed for Liberty to have so ready and so ruthless an
antagonist as Mr. Canning. This minister was not satisfied with those
legitimate and classical weapons he was so well skilled to wield, forgot
the days of the "Anti-jacobin," and vociferated against and challenged
every one whose pen or voice was raised in opposition to him. Thus,
whether squibbing "the Doctor," as Lord Sidmouth was called, fighting my
Lord Castlereagh, cutting heartless jokes on poor Mr. Ogden, flatly
contradicting Mr. Brougham, swaggering over the Holy Alliance, or
quarrelling with the Duke of Wellington, he was in perpetual personal
scrapes,--one of the reasons which created for him so much personal
interest during the whole of his parliamentary career. No imaginative
artist, fresh from reading that career, would sit down to paint him with
the broad and deep forehead, the stern, compressed lip, the deeply
thoughtful and concentrated air of Napoleon. As little would the idea of
his eloquence or ambition call to our recollection the swarth and iron
features, the bold and haughty dignity, of Strafford. We cannot fancy in
his eye the volumed depth of Richelieu's, the volcanic flash of
Mirabeau's, or the offended majesty of Chatham's. We should sketch him
from our imagination as we see him identically before us, with a
countenance rather marked by intelligence, sentiment, and satire, than
meditation, passion, or sternness,--with more of the petulant than the
proud, more of the playful than the profound, more of the quick
irritability of a lively temperament in its expression, than of the
fixed or fiery aspect which belongs to the rarer race of men, whose
characters are wrought from the most inflexible and violent materials of
human nature. We do not wish to deny that Mr. Canning was an orator, a
wit, and a poet. Such talents and accomplishments, however, are not of
pre-eminent importance to the situation which he occupied at his death.
A premier ought to be the bold opposer of corruption, the solid friend
of his sovereign, and the uncompromising champion of the people's
rights. He should always remember that the security of the throne arises
from the interest which the sovereign possesses in the hearts of his
subjects, and that all attempts to stifle their voice, under a sense of
grievances, must tend to alienate their affections, and inevitably lead
to similar calamities which, in other countries, have been produced by
arbitrary and corrupt measures. Whether Mr. Canning was such a
statesman, we need only refer to his general vacillating conduct to his
superiors in office, and to the return made in 1820, that this gentleman
had received from the country, during his public association with
government, _two hundred thousand pounds_! Upon the demise of Mr.
Canning, a pension was granted, by act of parliament, to the trustees of
the family, of three thousand pounds per annum, and his widow, shortly
after, created a peeress!

The ensuing motley ministry, headed by Lord Goderich, (late Mr.
Robinson) soon exhibited symptoms of its inefficiency to stand against
the powerful phalanx of Toryism, then in array to oppose every thing
like liberty. The philosopher, however, deeply deploring the many
vicissitudes, the varying process, through which Opinion has to pass in
order to be refined to Truth, but calmly aware that the sense of a
people never ultimately retrogrades, might have observed through the
clouds which, at this period, dimmed the political horizon, the sun of
Liberty darting forth its smiling beams, and exhibiting signs of a
speedy victory over the murky enemies of mankind,--the brighter period,
when a more enlarged intelligence would necessarily triumph,--when
warlike Tory despotism, founded on a feverish desire to keep the people
down by the bayonet, would wear out its own harassed existence, and a
system of freedom, sanctioned and confirmed by a long previous
disposition of thought, would be realized, and the spirit and letter of
that solemn compact, made and ratified between the crown and the people
in 1688, be finally restored to the country.

No Englishman, who cherishes in his heart a love of freedom, and who is
at all conversant with the history of his country from its earliest era
down to the period of the revolution, can be insensible of the
acquisitions procured at that eventful period,--of the accumulation of
strength gained by the popular branch of the constitution, the
limitation to the power of the crown, and the extension of the admitted
and declared rights of the people. Before the revolution, we were the
slaves of kingly despotism, and the House of Commons itself was as much
subservient to the tyranny of the throne as the personal liberty of the
subject. We have heard much talk about Magna Charta, and the triumph
over John at Runnymede, by the people,--who, by the way, had nothing to
do with the struggle, for it was the struggle of the barons and the
king, the former of whom in their several domains were as despotic to
those beneath them as they felt the tyranny of the king they sought to
humble. It was the invasion of their own power and possessions by John
that fired their resentment and animated their public spirit, and hence
ensued Magna Charta. But, with the exception of the single clause that
forbids arbitrary and vexatious imprisonment, it scarcely adds, either
in spirit or letter, any thing to the liberties of the people. Not so,
however, with the compact as settled at the revolution,--not so with the
Bill of Rights and the Act of Settlement. The prerogative of the crown
was by these measures curtailed, and the liberty of the people greatly
extended and more clearly defined; the purity of the elective right was
provided for, as also the short duration of parliaments, the
discretionary power of the crown was prohibited, and standing armies in
time of peace declared to be illegal! The pretended right of
_suspending_ or of carrying into execution the laws, at the pleasure of
the crown, was done away with; the levying of money for the use of the
crown, by pretence of _prerogative_, without the consent of parliament,
was forbidden; the right of the subject to petition the king was
established; all elections of members of parliament were declared ought
to be free; excessive bail and excessive fines were declared should
neither be required nor enforced, nor cruel punishments inflicted; and
for amending, strengthening, and preserving the laws, it was declared
that parliaments ought to be held frequently. The further wise
provisions and legislative enactments of that period are proofs that
the liberties and happiness of the nation were the chief objects
contemplated by our ancestors.

But as all the wise limitations imposed by the friends of liberty on the
power of the crown would be rendered ineffectual and useless, without a
pure and freely-elected House of Commons, it had long been the chief
design of the Tories to destroy this sacred palladium by bribery and
corruption. How fatally they succeeded is well known. Thus all the
hazards which our forefathers had incurred, all the treasures which they
had expended, and all the blood that was shed to establish the freedom
of themselves and their posterity, were rendered useless by Mr. Pitt,
the Earl of Liverpool, Lord Castlereagh, Mr. Canning, and their
mercenary adherents. When this lamentable state of the power of the
Tories is considered, and which had been produced by fifty bitter years
of misrule, the difficulty of any other ministry being kept together
will be apparent. The cabinet of Lord Goderich was a confused mixture of
Whigs and Tories, and as the latter possessed a corrupted House of
Commons, it were easy to prophesy which party would gain the ascendency,
at least for a time; though it were equally observable, that

     "The PEOPLE, by and by, would be the stronger!"

In the month of September, the House of Commons lost one of its
worthiest members in the Right Hon. Lord Archibald Hamilton, who died in
the fifty-eighth year of his age, after a long and painful illness. His
lordship was more than twenty years the representative of the county of
Lanark, and one of his constituents publicly declared, that "the noble
lord had conducted himself, throughout that long period, so much to the
satisfaction of the county and honour to himself, that he was justly
considered the pride of Clydesdale and the glory of Scotland." The name
of his lordship was always to be found among those who supported the
people's rights. His virtues and his talents placed him at the head of
civil and religious liberty; he advocated every measure, both in and out
of parliament, which had for its object the welfare of man,--of the
meanest peasant as well as of the greatest lord. His affability and
kindness of heart secured to him a numerous circle of friends, and his
unwearied opposition in parliament to corruption and grants to pamper
royal libertines gained for him the proud and inestimable title of
PATRIOT.

In November, the unfortunate creditors of the late Duke of York were
informed that the assets of his royal highness would not furnish means
to pay more than _one shilling_ in the pound! We know that the duke, in
his dying hours, declared himself solvent. Whether he went out of the
world with a falsehood in his heart and on his tongue, whether he was
kept in ignorance of his affairs by those around him, or whether his
estate had been foully dealt with by his family or others, are points
which ought to have been better elucidated. We cordially pity the
creditors, many of whom have been more grossly defrauded than in any
case which has been punished in the Insolvent Court. The conduct of the
royal family and the executors of the Duke of York must have appeared to
the public in a very unamiable light; for why was not a thoroughly clear
account of every thing laid before the creditors? Nothing, however, was
said about the duke's jewels and the valuable diamond necklace belonging
to his duchess!!! We impute nothing to the executors, Sir Herbert Taylor
and Sir Benjamin Stephenson, both, doubtless, honourable men,--good Tory
placemen; but if people will not make executorship accounts clear and
public to all concerned in them, they are liable to be complained of.
The wills and affairs of dead princes are always smuggled over and
hushed up; but the creditors surely have a right to demand, because they
have an interest in demanding, that the wills and executorship accounts
of the royal family should be made as public as those of other
individuals.

During the session of parliament this year, Mr. Hume made a motion to
repeal one of the odious "Six Acts" against the liberty of the press,
which subjected to a stamp-duty those cheap periodical tracts that
formed the most powerful instruments against the oppression of Toryism.
The treatment which Mr. Hume received on this occasion will ever reflect
the greatest disgrace on the _pretended_ Whig government and their
friends. All those members who had opposed the passing of this act now
either purposely absented themselves or advocated its _utility_, and
the honourable member for Aberdeen had the mortification to see his good
intentions frustrated at a time when he calculated upon certain success.

Independently of the vexatious trouble which this act of Lord
Castlereagh's framing caused the booksellers, it was found materially to
injure the spreading of knowledge. But it was for this very purpose that
it became the law of the land. Lord Castlereagh was aware of the truism,
that

     "MEN, ONCE IGNORANT, ARE SLAVES!"

and consequently, to further his own unconstitutional views, he used
every exertion to fetter the press and clap a padlock on the mouth of
political knowledge. Wiser and better men, however, knowing that the
free education of the people is the surest safeguard to the permanent
happiness of the community, have lifted up their voices and given their
votes against the subjugation of the Press,--the Leviathan protector of
all that is worth living for. "The great mass of British subjects," said
the venerable and patriotic Lord ERSKINE, "have no surer means of being
informed of what passes in parliament and in the courts of justice, or
of the general transactions of the world, than through cheap
publications within their means of purchase; and I desire to express my
dissent from that principle and opinion, that the safety of the state,
and the happiness of the multitude in the laborious condition of life,
may be _best secured by their being kept in ignorance of political
controversies and opinions_. I hold, on the contrary, that the
government of this country can only continue to be secure while it
conducts itself with fidelity and justice, and as all its acts shall, as
heretofore, be thoroughly known and understood by all classes of the
people." Lord Erskine, however, is not singular in his view of this
subject; for every philanthropist cannot but subscribe to the justice
and equity of such doctrines. The prohibitory duty, therefore, on
political periodicals must be considered as a scheme, emanating from a
bad heart and weak head, to favour despotism. That law which requires
publishers and printers of newspapers to enter into heavy securities, to
answer to the consequences of the remote contingency of a LIBEL,--that
is, publishing any thing having a _tendency_ to bring either house of
parliament or his majesty's ministers _into contempt_,--must ever
operate perniciously to the cause of freedom. For is it not one of the
most sacred duties which a rational being owes to society, to his
family, and to himself, to endeavour to "bring into contempt" a
government, if it really be contemptible? To what did we owe the wreck
of our liberties, at this period, except to the _contempt_ into which
the preceding cabinets had been brought among the people? Is there an
Englishman, possessing a particle of manhood, or breathing the
inspirations of his ancestors, who would not blush at the human form,
could he witness a being so debased as not to perpetuate the contempt
into which public virtue had happily brought the names of Liverpool,
Castlereagh, Eldon, Sidmouth, and the whole tribe of Tory locusts that
so long fastened upon the vitals of his country? In America, the idea of
indicting a man for endeavouring "to bring the government into
contempt," would appear ludicrous. The language of the public
authorities in America would be, "If the government is not contemptible,
it will only gain strength from attacks; if it be contemptible, the
citizens have a right to prove it so, and to demand a change: it is
their duty to discuss the point, and to settle it by reason, and not to
suppress it by indictment." Our readers will acknowledge, that we do not
here advocate a doctrine we dare not practice; for we despise the
unjustness of the "Six Acts," and will never allow their
_unconstitutional_ powers to intimidate us in the discharge of our
public duty.


On the 29th of January,

     1828,

parliament was opened by commission, when the ministry, headed by Lord
Goderich, was dissolved. The Duke of Wellington and Mr. Peel succeeded
the former premier and secretary of state,--a change that could not
possibly afford any satisfaction to the public. Mr. Brougham, in an
address to the House of Commons on this subject, said, "Though I
entertain the highest opinion of the duke's military genius, still I do
not like to see him at the head of the finances of the country,
enjoying, as he does, the full and perfect confidence of his
sovereign,--enjoying all the patronage of the crown,--enjoying the
patronage of the army,--enjoying the patronage of the church,--and, in
fact, enjoying almost all the patronage of the state. The noble duke is
likewise entrusted with the delicate functions of conveying constant and
delicate advice to the ears of his royal master. As a constitutional
man, this state of things strikes me as being most _unconstitutional_."
Mr. Brougham further added, "I have no fear of slavery being introduced
into this country by the power of the sword. The noble duke (of
Wellington) may take the army,--he may take the navy,--he may take the
mitre, he may take the great seal,--I will make the noble duke a present
of them all. Let him come on with his whole force, sword in hand,
against the constitution, and the energies of the people of this country
would not only beat him, but laugh at his efforts." These were the
excellent sentiments of Mr. Brougham, and we wish the noble Lord
Chancellor may long continue the undeviating advocate of the people's
rights and liberties.

We have now to record the death of the Earl of Liverpool, which took
place at his residence, Coome Wood, on the 4th of December, in the
fifty-ninth year of his age, regretted by none but those who had
feasted on the wealth of our country, under his long unfortunate sway
over national affairs.

Could we write as severe as the ministerial qualities of Lord Liverpool
were injurious to the British people, what a hideous draught of
distortion, both in principle and conduct, should we exhibit! Looking at
the insignificant origin of his lordship, and the crooked crags of his
political progress, we trace the wily ascent of an intriguing
speculator, clinging to his towry height by principles hostile to the
constitution of England. His career is marked by a glazy ichor, which,
though repulsive to the chaste eye of public virtue, and offensive to
the independent feelings of public spirit, will be as memorable as
odious. Long after the praises of his lordship's minions shall be buried
in oblivion, the iniquity of his deeds will pain the recollection of all
good men, while he will be regarded as the favourite model of those who
aspire to the ruin of their country. The character of this weak and
daring man would not deserve the attention of history, if it were not so
fatally united with the misfortunes of our country, which are mainly to
be attributed to him and his notoriously wicked and over-bearing junta.

When in the House of Commons in 1793, he (then Mr. Jenkinson) was
foremost in opposing the memorable petition for parliamentary reform,
brought forward by Mr. (now Earl) Grey, and defended the then existing
state of the representation, maintaining, "that the House of Commons,
constituted as it was, had answered the end for which it was
designed,"--namely, we suppose, to subdue the people!

Upon the assassination of Mr. Perceval in 1812, Lord Liverpool became
first lord of the Treasury, by the especial request of the regent. Upon
his lordship's advancement to this high and important office, Lord
Sidmouth and Mr. Vansittart were announced as new members of the
ministry. The first act of Lord Liverpool, or what may be termed his
first important measure, was the introduction of a bill to increase the
magisterial power in various districts of the country, where the
inhabitants were suffering from want of employment. By this bill, such
persons were not allowed the use of fire-arms, and forbidden to meet in
companies. His lordship here mistook tyranny for justice, and appeared
to set at defiance the opinion of the admirable Locke, that "there is a
way whereby governments are dissolved, and that is, when the legislature
and the prince, or either of them, act contrary to their trust."

Another grievous inroad upon the liberties of the people, during the
administration of this puissant lord, was his frequent union of offices
diametrically opposite to each other; one of which, appointing the
clergy to sit on the judicial bench, must ever be considered as an
infringement upon that religion which his lordship considered as "part
and parcel of the law of the land." The studies of clergymen were
originally designed to fit them for the diffusion of "peace and
good-will towards men," and not to form them for the exercise of
_temporal_ power. We do not mean to say that, when people become
clergymen, they are to renounce their rights as men; but this is a
widely-different matter from investing them with the power of punishing
a delinquent. Christ himself exercised no such functions, but left them
to the secular authorities. Why, then, should those who pretend to be
the followers of Christ presume to that which their master condemned?
Alas! their conduct has too often proved them to be no followers of his;
yet Lord Liverpool, well knowing the general vindictiveness and
domineering austerity of their hearts, considered them the better fit
for the magisterial office, as his intention was to rule by forcing the
people into obedience, instead of soothing their irritated minds by a
few timely concessions. For the sake of Christianity itself, we hope to
see such an unholy union of spiritual and secular power speedily
abolished.

It was also under Lord Liverpool's administration that the most
revolting scenes of MILITARY FLOGGING occurred. We might relate numerous
instances of this barbarous custom, but one will be sufficient for the
purpose of illustration: Three soldiers, (MERE BOYS!) in July, 1817, in
company with others, met at the Rose and Crown public-house, Tower Hill,
where at length a fight ensued. A court-martial being held, Thomas
Hayes, Francis Hayes, and George Staniford were ordered to receive eight
hundred lashes each! The execution of this sentence, so disgraceful to a
civilized country, was commenced; but after Thomas Hayes (who was only
twenty years of age) had received six hundred and seventy-five lashes,
the surgeon pronounced his life to be in danger, and he was, therefore,
carried away. Francis Hayes, only sixteen years of age, received three
hundred and thirty-five lashes; and George Staniford, only seventeen
years of age, two hundred lashes!--when both the latter had the
remaining part of their sentence commuted, upon condition of their
entering a condemned regiment! Thus three of our fellow-creatures, who
had the misfortune to be English soldiers, and therefore, of all other
men in the world, alone liable to be subjected to a system of refined
cruelty, alike distinguished for its cold-blooded atrocity and the utter
absence of any reasonable plea for its infliction, were tortured in this
_Christian_ land as long as nature would bear the anguish, and that,
too, before the number of lashes awarded by their unmerciful judges had
been inflicted upon their poor backs! Is there a man whose heart retains
a spark of feeling,--who has not been hardened by military education and
habits,--that does not feel an involuntary shudder, a sickening of the
heart, when he learns that three of his countrymen--_free-born
Englishmen_, (oh, what a satire has that term become!)--were sentenced
to have "the living flesh torn from their backs" by the horrid
laceration of the "cat-o'-nine-tails," for being guilty of a
public-house brawl! In the name of an all-merciful Providence, of what
materials are military officers composed that they can endure such
disgusting spectacles? We wonder how they have so long dared to set at
defiance the indignation of the public, and tempt the just vengeance of
heaven! Can they, after witnessing such scenes of unbearable
torture,--of worse than Russian barbarity,--return to their wives and
families, and eat their food with an appetite? But officers are
GENTLEMEN,--_young sprigs of nobility_, in most cases,--and the
sufferings of the private soldier may possibly be SPORT TO THEM! We
hope, however, to see a law passed to give equal rights to the soldier
as to the _brute_, at least; for no man in England, be he whom he may,
is permitted to treat a dog as soldiers have been and are even _now_
treated. Were all Englishmen punished in the same manner for the offence
of brawling and drunkenness, where would the flogging system terminate?
Certainly not with the private soldier or the foremast sailor; it would
assuredly find its way to their _officers_, to the _noble_, the
_bishop_, and the _prince_!!!

Lord Liverpool allowed himself to be a prominent actor in the
unprecedented persecutions against the Princess of Wales. Had not his
lordship arranged the form of the secret proceedings abroad, and
consented to the lavish expenditure of our means to suppress truth in
that partial business, both the queen and her daughter might, at this
time, have been in the enjoyment of health and happiness. His lordship
said publicly, that the prosecution against her majesty in 1820 was "the
most embarrassing question which ever perplexed any government." This
short declaration spoke volumes; for truth is simple, and requires no
adornment of language. At the conclusion of the mock trial of her
majesty, there appeared, in the House of Lords, a majority of NINE for
the Bill against the queen; yet, under these circumstances, his lordship
thought proper to abandon the charges against her majesty! His motives
for acting thus, we shall presently explain; but in the mean time we
contend that such a proceeding was unconstitutional, and not to be
defended on any honourable grounds. If the peers had really voted
_conscientiously_, they were entitled to the award from their majority;
if they had _not_ so voted, then they ought to have been expelled from
the House for ever, as well as from all honourable society. Either way,
therefore, Lord Liverpool acted wrong, and fully proved the verity of
the old adage, "Power usurped is weakness when exposed; conscious of
wrong, it is pusillanimous, and prone to flight."

At the period of which we are speaking, certain documents were laid
before Lord Liverpool, relative to the bonds and promissory notes
entered into so solemnly by certain royal princes; and his lordship was
assured that, if the bill of pains and penalties did pass, these
disgraceful engagements, together with the attendant circumstances,
should immediately meet the public eye. Here then was one of the secret
reasons of his lordship's abandoning the infamous bill against the
queen!

The following is a true copy of the letter conveying this unwelcome
intelligence, and which was delivered into Lord Liverpool's own hand:


                                               "_Nov. 6th, 1820._

"MY LORD,

"Fearless of your displeasure, I beg to submit my sentiments to your
lordship without further ceremony. I am in the possession of a copy of
_a certain bond_, upon the execution of which your royal master was the
first named, and to whom the largest share was to be advanced. If the
bill against the queen _pass_, I will expose the whole transaction to
the nation, and that will be sufficient to open the eyes even of the
wilfully blind. You know the danger, and may provide against it in some
degree. I shall also explain the unhappy consequences attendant upon
some of the INJURED persons connected with this transaction.

                                  "I am, my lord,
                                         "Your humble servant,
                                                    "&c. &c. &c."

     "To the Right Hon.
        Lord Liverpool."


We here subjoin an exact copy of the bond referred to in this letter:

     =Know all Men= by these presents, that We, George Prince of
     Wales, Frederick Duke of York, and William Henry Duke of
     Clarence, all living in the City of Westminster, in the County
     of Middlesex, are jointly and severally, justly and truly,
     indebted to John Cator, of Beckenham, in the County of Kent,
     Esquire, and his Executors, Administrators, and Assigns, in
     the penal sum of _Sixty Thousand Pounds_, of good and lawful
     money of Great Britain, well and truly paid to Us, at or
     before the sealing of these presents. Sealed with our Seals
     this 16th day of December, in the Twenty-ninth year of the
     Reign of our Sovereign Lord George the Third, by the Grace of
     God, King, Defender of the Faith, anno domini 1788.

     The condition of the above-written obligation is such, that if
     the above bounden George Prince of Wales, Frederick Duke of
     York, and William Henry Duke of Clarence, or any or either of
     them, or any of their Heirs, Executors, or Administrators,
     shall well and truly pay, or cause to be paid, unto the
     above-named John Cator, his Executors, Administrators, or
     Assigns, the full sum of _Sixty Thousand Pounds_ of lawful
     money of Great Britain, within the space or time of six
     calendar months next, after any one or either of us, the said
     George Prince of Wales, Frederick Duke of York, and William
     Henry Duke of Clarence, shall come to and ascend the Throne of
     England, together with lawful interest on the same; to be
     computed from the day that such event shall happen, upon whom,
     to the time of paying off this obligation, then, and in such
     case, the same shall become null and void; otherwise to be
     and remain in full force and virtue.

                                 { GEORGE PRINCE OF WALES.  L. S.
                      _Signed_   { FREDERICK.               L. S.
                                 { WILLIAM HENRY.           L. S.

To save the exhibition of this bond, as well as several others of a
similar description, much to the discredit of the sovereign, Lord
Liverpool readily gave his assistance, and thus was _forced_ to abandon
the bill against the queen.

In 1823, Lord Liverpool said in the House, that "The policy of the
British government rested on the principle of the law of nations, which
allowed every country to judge how it could best be governed, and what
ought to be its institutions." This paragraph in his lordship's speech
sufficiently proved him to be an _aristocrat_, in the true sense of the
word. The policy of _his_ government was, doubtless, to concentrate
power in the hands of the rulers, and to _force_ the mass of the people
to submissive degradation and wretchedness.

In 1825, his lordship was again disturbed by an inquiry into some state
arrangements, relative to the mysterious demise of the Princess
Charlotte, which had been made in 1817, and to which his lordship had
been privy. But he declined all inquiries into this disgraceful subject,
in a manner not very consistent with his own honour, or the importance
of the question. In 1826, his lordship was once more solicited to
receive the information, but he still declined, though he must have
been aware of the justness of the claim. As we have fully explained
these appeals to his lordship in a former part of our work, we have only
considered it necessary to glance at them in this place.

At length this statesman, after serving his king in direct opposition to
the interests of the people, fell into the stupor of apoplectic and
paralytic disease, and expired as previously stated.

In this year, an inquiry was instituted into the death of the patriot
HAMPDEN; and, in order to ascertain, if possible, the sort of wound by
which he had been killed, his body was disinterred from Hampden church,
Bucks. The exhumation was attended by Lord Nugent, Mr. Denman, and
several other gentlemen. The following account of the investigation was
given to the public by one of the party:


"After examining the initials and dates on several leaden coffins, we
came to the one in question, the plate of which was so corroded, that it
crumbled and broke into small pieces on touching it. It was therefore
impossible to ascertain the name of the individual it contained. The
coffin had originally been enclosed in wood, covered with velvet, a
small portion only of which was apparent near the bottom, at the left
side, which was not the case with those of a later date, where the
initials were very distinct, and the lead more perfect and fresher in
appearance. The register stated, that Hampden was interred on the 25th
day of June, 1643, and an old document, still in existence, gives a
curious and full account of the grand procession on the occasion; we
were, therefore, pretty confident that this must be the one in question,
having examined all the others in succession. It was lying under the
western window, near the tablet erected by him, when living, to the
memory of his beloved wife, whose virtues he extols in the most
affectionate language. Without positive proof, it was reasonable to
suppose that he would be interred near his adored partner, and this
being found at her feet, it was unanimously agreed that the lid should
be cut open to ascertain the fact, which proved afterwards that we were
not mistaken. The parish plumber descended, and commenced cutting across
the coffin, then longitudinally, until the whole was sufficiently
loosened to roll back, in order to lift off the wooden lid beneath,
which was found in such good preservation that it came off nearly
entire. Beneath this was another lid of the same material, which was
raised without much giving way. The coffin had originally been filled up
with sawdust, which was found undisturbed, except the centre, where the
abdomen had fallen in. The sawdust was then removed, and the process of
examination commenced. Silence reigned. Lord Nugent descended into the
grave, and first removed the outer cloth, which was firmly wrapped round
the body; then the second and a third, such care having been extended to
preserve the body from the worm of corruption. Here a very singular
scene presented itself. No regular features were apparent, although the
face retained a death-like whiteness, and shewed the various windings of
the blood-vessels beneath the skin. The upper row of teeth were perfect,
and those that remained in the under jaw, on being taken out and
examined, were quite sound. A little beard remained on the lower part of
the chin; and the whiskers were strong, and somewhat lighter than his
hair, which was a full auburn brown; the upper part of the bridge of the
nose still remained elevated; the remainder had given way to the
pressure of the cloths, which had been firmly bound round the head. The
eyes were but slightly sunk in, and were covered with the same white
film which characterized the general appearance of the face. As a
difference of opinion existed concerning the indentation in the left
shoulder, where it was supposed he had been wounded, it was unanimously
agreed upon to raise up the coffin altogether, and place it in the
centre of the church, where a more accurate examination might take
place. The coffin was extremely heavy; but, by elevating one end with a
crow-bar, two strong ropes were adjusted under either end, and thus
drawn up by twelve men, in the most careful manner possible. The first
operation was, to examine the arms, which nearly retained their original
size, and presented a very muscular appearance. On lifting up the right
arm, we found that it was dispossessed of its hand. We might, therefore,
naturally conjecture that it had been amputated, as the bone presented a
perfectly flat appearance, as if sawn off by some very sharp
instrument. On searching carefully under the cloths, to our no small
astonishment, we found the hand, or rather a number of small bones,
enclosed in a separate cloth. For about six inches up the arm, the
greater part of the flesh had wasted away, being evidently smaller than
the lower part of the left arm, to which the hand was very firmly
united, and which presented no symptoms of decay further than the two
bones of the fore-finger being loose. Even the nails remained entire, of
which we saw no appearance in the cloth containing the remains of the
right hand. In order to corroborate or disprove the different statements
relative to his having been wounded in the right shoulder, a close
examination of each took place. The clavicle of the right shoulder was
firmly united in the scapula, nor did there appear any contusion or
indentation that evinced symptoms of any wound ever having been
inflicted. The left shoulder, on the contrary, was smaller and sunken
in, as if the clavicle had been displaced. To remove all doubts, it was
judged necessary to remove the arms, which were amputated with a
penknife. The socket of the left arm was perfectly white and healthy,
and the clavicle firmly united to the scapula, nor was there the least
appearance of contusion or wound. The socket of the right shoulder, on
the contrary, was of a brownish cast, and the clavicle being found quite
loose and disunited from the scapula, proved that dislocation had taken
place. The bones, however, were quite perfect. Such dislocation,
therefore, must have arisen, either from the force of a ball, or from
Colonel Hampden having fallen from his horse, when he lost the power of
holding the reins, by reason of his hand having been so dreadfully
shattered. The latter, in all probability, was the case, as it would be
barely impossible for a ball to pass through the shoulder without some
fracture, either of the clavicle or scapula. In order to examine the
head and hair, the body was raised up and supported with a shovel; on
removing the cloths, which adhered firmly to the back of the head, we
found the hair in a complete state of preservation. It was a dark auburn
colour, and, according to the custom of the times, was very long,--from
five to six inches. It was drawn up and tied round at the top of the
head with black thread or silk. The ends had the appearance of having
been cut off. On taking hold of the top-knot, it soon gave way, and came
off like a wig. Here a singular scene presented itself. The worm of
corruption was busily employed; the skull, in some places, being
perfectly bare, whilst in others the skin remained nearly entire, upon
which we discovered a number of maggots and small red worms on the feed
with great activity. This was the only spot where any symptoms of life
was apparent, as if the brain contained a vital principle within it,
which engendered its own destruction; otherwise, how can we account,
after the lapse of nearly two centuries, in finding living creatures
preying upon the seat of intellect, when they were no where else to be
found, in no other part of the body? He was five feet, nine inches, in
height, apparently of great muscular strength, of a vigorous and robust
frame; forehead broad and high; the skull altogether well formed, such
an one as the imagination would conceive capable of great exploits."


We offer no apology for inserting this very interesting inquiry into the
cause of the death of one of England's greatest characters. Such
investigations, we consider, possess peculiar interest to the lovers of
truth, as well as being calculated to effect much public good. The
deaths of many other illustrious individuals are yet involved in
mystery, which may probably, at no distant period, be cleared up in the
same way as that of Hampden has been. The sudden death of George the
Third's next brother, Edward, Duke of York, calls aloud for inquiry;
and, though it is impossible to make reparation to the departed duke
himself, yet such inquiry might lead to the benefit of his INNOCENT,
INJURED, and STILL SURVIVING OFFSPRING.

       *       *       *       *       *

The excesses of the court at this period, as usual, were enormous. The
man who had sworn to do justice and love mercy proved, by his
deportment, that he cared not for either. In defiance of prudence, he
continued to revel in gaiety and wantonness, totally regardless of the
sorrows of his subjects, whose condition daily became more grievous, and
whose petitions were disregarded in proportion to the pressure of their
miseries. This man of pleasure exhausted what time he could spare from
the indulgence of his passions in the invention of expensive and useless
decorations and embellishments to the already gorgeous palaces in which
he pleased to reside. He was still unwearied in his monstrous demands
from the resources of the people, indefatigable in the accomplishment of
all his lascivious pursuits, and deaf to the voice of remonstrance and
humanity.


At the commencement of the year

     1829,

the Catholics of Ireland exhibited so strong a determination to be
emancipated from their long oppression, that the Duke of Wellington and
Mr. Peel considered it expedient to pass a bill for their relief. We
cordially agree in the principle of removing all civil disabilities from
men on account of their religion; but we must nevertheless view the
conduct of these two inconsistent ministers with the greatest possible
contempt. Headed by the wicked Duke of York, they had frequently
declared their fixed determination to oppose any further concessions to
the Catholics, for fear of endangering the "established church," and had
violently and obstinately opposed their just demands on every ground of
right and of expediency! Even during the discussions of the preceding
year, both of them had expressed no inclination to desert the
principles which they had uniformly defended; yet, strange to say, all
of a sudden, their opinions changed, and that which had so long appeared
to them as being fraught with the greatest danger received their most
zealous advocacy and support!

Amongst the occurrences of this time, we cannot help noticing the
pompous enthronement of one of the pretended followers of the meek and
lowly Jesus,--the Bishop of London,--which took place in St. Paul's
Cathedral, on the 16th of January. The cathedral was filled, at a very
early hour, with a crowd of curious people to witness the installation
of Dr. Bloomfield. After the parade of being met by the Bishop of
Llandaff (Dr. Copleston), the prebends, canons, and other functionaries,
the lord mayor, &c., the installation speech was delivered in the
following words:--"I, Dr. Copleston, of the cathedral church of St.
Paul, do induct, instal, and enthrone You, the Right Reverend Father in
God, Charles James, _by divine permission_ (or by permission of the Lord
Chancellor?) Bishop of London, into the bishopric and episcopacy of
London; and the Lord preserve thy going out and coming in, from this
time forth for ever more; and mayest thou remain in justice and
sanctity, and adorn the place thou art _delegated to by God_! God is
powerful, and may he increase your grace." How far the bishop was
delegated by God, we do not pretend to determine; but fifteen thousand
pounds per annum for the _great labours_ attendant upon this office
were not, we think, a matter of indifference to the _pious_ bishop;
because such a sum would enable his right reverend lordship to be
"charitable to the poor," as well as to keep his "church in good
repair," for which purposes such an immense sum was _originally_
designed.

In the November of this year, died Thomas Garth, esquire, general in his
majesty's service, and colonel of the first regiment of dragoons. This
gallant general had the good fortune to render himself agreeable to a
certain lady of illustrious birth, by whom, _it was said_, he had one
son, who bears the general's name, and who now is a captain in the army.
This son was the chief mourner at the funeral of the general, which took
place on the 27th of November, at St. Martin's in the Fields. It is,
however, very probable, that the mystery of this very extraordinary
affair will, ere long, be explained, though it may not redound to the
_chastity_ of royalty. Many places and pensions have been bestowed to
prevent an exposure of the circumstances attending the captain's birth,
but we have reason to think that TRUTH will ultimately prevail. _We_
could ourselves elucidate this mysterious business, if we deemed it
requisite; but, as the matter is now pending in a court of law, it would
be improper for us to interfere. In referring to subjects of this
nature, we cannot help pitying the imbecility and sorrows of George the
Third, which were, doubtless, considerably heightened, though not
originally produced, by the delinquencies of his family, both male and
female.


In the early part of the year

     1830,

the king's health materially declined, though the greatest secrecy
prevailed at Windsor upon the subject. His disease, however,
progressively increased, and in the latter end of March, he became
unable to take his usual exercise in the park. From time to time, the
organs of the court pronounced his majesty again in tolerable health,
and announced his intention to hold a drawing room at St. James'; but at
the same time they well knew there was no probability that such an event
could take place.

On the 15th of April, the first bulletin was issued, and this official
document regularly appeared till the announcement of the royal demise,
which was as follows:


"His majesty expired at a quarter past three o'clock this morning, in
the 68th year of his age, and in the eleventh of his reign.--_June 26th,
1830, Windsor Castle._"


The death was lingering and painful, which is not to be wondered at when
we consider what an artificial system of body there was to break up, and
to what a magnitude it had grown. The wonder is, considering the life
which the king had led in his youth, and the ease and luxury in which he
indulged afterwards, that he lasted so long. After the usual ceremony
of lying in state had been observed, his majesty was consigned to the
royal vault at Windsor, on Thursday, the 15th of July. Immediately after
which, the greatest bustle was observed in the apartments occupied at
Windsor by the Marchioness of Conyngham, and a general scramble and a
rapid packing up of valuables took place.

We have so often had occasion to speak of the actions of George the
Fourth, that little remains to be said of his general character. That he
was handsome, dressed and lived extravagantly, put on fascinating
manners when he wished to gain his point, and had an extraordinary good
opinion of himself, are _accomplishments_ which we believe he possessed
in an eminent degree. But what were such insignificant matters to the
country in general, when their possessor owned the basest and most
vindictive heart that ever disgraced the human bosom? Would his handsome
person atone, in the eyes of doting parents, for the seduction of their
daughters? Would his splendid habiliments afford a recompense to his
ruined creditors? Would his fascinating manners compensate his injured
and cruelly-oppressed wife for the brutal, unmanly, and infamous
treatment she received from him? Or would his self-love satisfy the
heavily-taxed people, who were compelled to administer to his
extravagant demands for finery and baubles? Assuredly not; and such
"accomplishments," therefore, only tended to render the actions of his
majesty more disgusting in the eyes of the better part of the community.
In truth, George the Fourth thought of nothing but his personal ease
and comforts. When his mistresses or his friends became troublesome,
they were instantly and unceremoniously dismissed, without causing the
"first gentleman in the world" the least uneasiness as to their future
good or ill fortune. In politics, he leagued himself with the Whigs as
long as they served his purpose; but, directly they gave him the least
trouble, he disowned their acquaintance. He indulged the follies and
vices of his chosen companions, till indulging them longer became
irksome. He supported the principles of his family as long as supporting
them answered his ends. He consented to the passing of the Catholic
Relief Bill on the same principle as he had shaken off poor Mrs.
Robinson. Protestantism and Perdita were voted bores, and he therefore
took the easiest course to rid himself of both. In the latter years of
his life, he disliked public exhibitions, because they gave him trouble,
and kept him a few hours from indulging his private passions, which he
considered as so much time lost. This is the _true_ character of George
the Fourth, whatever his minions may say to the contrary.

Passing over many circumstances of dubious import, relative to the
departed monarch, we proceed to notice some transactions of an unhappy
complexion, and which reflect no small portion of dishonour upon his
memory. When the late Duke of York returned from his military education
in Prussia, he unfortunately brought with him the prevailing vice of
the principal courts of Germany,--that of GAMBLING; and to his
inordinate attachment to that ruinous propensity may be attributed the
frequent loss of property and personal disgrace he endured. The late
monarch, also, was equally addicted to a love of play, and the sum
allowed him when he attained his majority soon proved insufficient to
supply the natural consequences of that uncontrolled passion and his
very lavish expenditure in finery of all kinds.

In consequence of the mutual embarrassments of these royal brothers,
they found themselves under the absolute necessity of raising money to
discharge some of their most pressing accounts. The prince, in
conjunction with the Dukes of York and Clarence, tried every imaginable
source in this country, from which it was thought a supply could be
raised, sufficient to avert the impending storm that hung over their
heads; but all their endeavours failed. As a last resource, the late
monarch was advised to attempt a loan in Holland; and Messrs. Bonney and
Sunderland, then of George-yard, Lombard-street, were appointed notarial
agents for the verification of the bonds; and the late Mr. Thomas
Hammersley, of Pall-mall, banker, was to receive the subscriptions, and
to pay the dividends thereon to the holders on the joint bonds of the
Prince of Wales, the Duke of York, and the Duke of Clarence. The sum
intended to be raised was about one million sterling, the greater part
of which was subscribed for by foreign houses only, at a price which
would have proved very satisfactory if the contract had been faithfully
performed. The negotiation for this loan commenced in 1788; but an
interruption to its completion was occasioned by the death of Mr.
Bonney, the notary. It was ultimately confirmed, to the great loss of
those who had so rashly speculated in such a questionable security. The
loan was to bear six per cent. interest, and the revenues of their royal
highnesses were to be invested in the hands of the late Dukes of
Northumberland and Portland, in order to ensure the due payment of
interest and principal. A large portion of the money, to the amount of
nearly half a million, had been received by the princes when the
revolution in France, in 1793, presented an opportunity to resist the
payment of those bonds which had been circulated, and even the interest
due upon them was refused. During the revolution, some of the holders of
these bonds escaped, and arrived in England; and, as their last
resource, they made numerous applications to the princes for the
interest due to them, if it were not quite convenient to discharge the
bonds in full. But the law-advisers of the princes pretended that the
present holders were not entitled to the interest, as they presumed the
bonâ-fide holders had perished during the troubles in France and
Holland; and that, consequently, other claims were not legal. On the
part of the claimants, the bonds were produced which they had bought,
and their right asserted to claim interest and principal equally as if
they had been the original subscribers.

This evasive attempt to resist the just discharge of loans, raised at
such great hazards, must ever be considered as an indelible stain upon
the characters of the princes concerned. We, however, would acquit the
Duke of Clarence from any participation in the _profits_ of these bonds;
his natural affection for his two elder brothers induced him to add his
name to the bonds merely as a further security to their holders; and we
doubt not that his present majesty will, if he have not already done so,
make all the reparation in his power to the heirs of the original
sufferers in these very dishonourable transactions.

The holders of these bonds finding themselves so unjustly treated, M.
Martignac, one of the original subscribers to them, made an application
to the Court of Chancery, and the affair came on by way of motion. Sir
Arthur Pigott, who was then Attorney-General to the Duchy of Cornwall,
replied, "that he had never heard of the existence of such bonds; but
his own opinion was, that the unhappy condition of France and Holland
rendered the _identification_ of the bonâ-fide holders almost
impossible, even presuming they ever had existed; but the inquiry should
be made in the proper quarter!" That inquiry, however, never benefitted
the distressed refugees. Sir Arthur Pigott, the legal adviser of the
Prince of Wales, might, to please his master, attempt to deny the
existence of these nominal securities; yet positive proof against such
denial was, that they were actually floating in the "money market," as
_common as any other security_, AT THAT VERY TIME! There was, indeed,
scarcely a broker on the Exchange who had not some portion of them for
sale; and it was an indisputable truth that means, of a disreputable
nature, were used to depreciate their value in the money market.

We must not here pass over the suspicious conduct (relative to these
bonds) of the then secretary of state for the home department. Under the
specious pretext of enforcing the Alien Act, this gentleman caused the
whole of these injured claimants to be taken and put on board a vessel
in the Thames, which was stated to be ready to sail for Holland. This
vessel, however, cast anchor at the Nore, for the professed purpose of
waiting to receive the necessary papers from the office of the secretary
of state. The heart-rending destiny of the unfortunate victims now only
remains to be told. Although no charge was preferred against them, they
were thus unceremoniously sent out of the kingdom by the decree of
arbitrary power. From the list of twenty-six unfortunate creditors of
the princes, fourteen of them were traced to the _guillotine_. The other
twelve perished by another concocted plan. The two principal
money-lenders, M. Abraham and M. Simeon Boas, of the Hague, were
endeavouring to maintain their shattered credit, and actually paid the
interest themselves due upon these bonds for two years; but they were
finally ruined, and one of the brothers put an end to his existence by a
pistol,--the other by poison!

Similar tragical scenes were attendant upon another loan, raised for the
princes by M. John James de Beaume, and prepared by Mr. Becknel. The
_signed_ acknowledgment of the princes was for one hundred thousand
pounds, payable to the said De Beaume, and vesting in him the power to
divide this bond into shares of one thousand pounds each, by printed
copies of the bond, &c. The original bond was deposited, for safety, in
the bank of Ransom, Morland, and Hammersley, while an attested copy, as
well as the bankers' acknowledgment of their holding such security, were
given to De Beaume as a proof of his authority in being the agent of the
three English princes. They also gave him a letter of introduction to
their correspondent in Paris, M. Perregaux. After considerable
difficulty, and after having remitted and paid to the princes two
hundred thousand pounds, in money and jewels, M. de Beaume and his
associates were apprehended, and charged with treason, for asserting
that George the Third of England was King of France!!! These unfortunate
men were tried, condemned, and actually executed upon this paltry charge
within twenty-four hours after their mock trial! So perished Richard
Chaudot, Mestrirer Niette, De Beaume, and Aubert, either for purchasing
the shares of the princes' securities, or for negotiating them. Such
also was the fate of Viette, a rich jeweller, who had bought largely of
the shares from De Beaume.

Would that we could here close the catalogue of black offences against
certain individuals; but we are obliged, as honest historians, to refer
to the cruel death of Charles Vaucher, a banker in Paris. This gentleman
quitted France in 1793, and fixed his residence in England, where he
married an English lady. He had been the purchaser of twenty shares of
the princes' bond, and, as was naturally to be expected, made
application for the interest due thereon. The claim being refused, the
injured gentleman applied for legal assistance; but the interest was
still rejected, because the bond had not been named in the schedule laid
before the commissioners appointed to examine into the extent of the
debts of the Prince George! Further application was made; though,
instead of obtaining justice, this unfortunate gentleman received an
official order to quit England within the space of four days! Having
other affairs to arrange, M. Vaucher petitioned the Duke of Portland
(then prime minister) to allow him to remain until his affairs could be
arranged; but his petition was refused, and a warrant issued, signed by
the duke, directing William Ross and George Higgins, two of his
majesty's messengers, to take M. Vaucher into custody till he should be
sent out of the country, which was immediately put in force! He was
conveyed to Rotterdam, and from thence to Paris, where he was
imprisoned. On the 22nd of December, 1795, his trial took place upon
similar charges to those of M. de Beaume, and he was soon found guilty,
and guillotined!

We could recite many other crimes relative to these bonds; but we think
we hear the shocked reader exclaim, "Hold! enough!" Indeed such
sickening details can hardly obtain credence in the minds of men,
possessed of even the common feelings of our nature. To offer any
palliation of such monstrous atrocities would only be an insult to the
understandings of all unprejudiced observers of royalty!

At the time of the Prince of Wales' greatest embarrassments, an attempt
was made to divert the country into a belief of the honourable
intentions of his royal highness by the sale of his racing stud, and
some other property. But no sooner had parliament voted sufficient money
to relieve the prince from his debts than the turf-establishment was
revived in a more ruinous style than ever, the field of dissipation and
extravagance enlarged, and fresh debts contracted to an enormous amount,
which were not either in his or the nation's power to discharge. Strong
doubts were also entertained that the money voted by parliament to this
"prodigal son" was not applied to the purpose for which it was granted.
Had a private individual so committed himself, he would have become the
outcast of his family, while all the virtuous part of the community had
instantly avoided him; but in the case of this prince, where the example
was ten thousand times more contagious, such a flagrant breach of faith
and such base ingratitude hardly received the slightest animadversion!
Why should more indulgence have been shewn to this man, whose peculiar
duty it was to respect popular favour, and to act in such a manner as to
deserve it, and from whose exalted station the public had a right to
expect lessons of morality and virtue, than to a private person, whose
deviation from their rules only produces partial effects, and can be of
no detriment to the community at large. How unjust it is, what an
inversion of every fair and honourable principle, to suffer the bauble
rank to afford a veil to moral depravity! To protect genius, to reward
merit, and to relieve distress, is what _ought_ to be the duty of a
prince; but when the nation was called on to liquidate immense debts,
without a single instance of this kind on record to justify such a
perversion of their money, it was perfidy to the public, and not a
warranted liberality towards the prince, for any parliament to do so.
Such conduct, indeed, would not have been tolerated had not the
professed representatives of England (who were the nominees of a haughty
and unfeeling aristocracy) put it beyond the remedy of the majority of
the people. At the periods to which we now refer, the most disgraceful
sums were also voted for the repairs and embellishments of Brighton
Pavilion, Windsor Castle, Windsor Cottage, (so called) the Palace at
Pimlico, and other fanciful buildings of royalty. The money required for
these purposes, be it remembered, was drained from a heavily-oppressed
people, whose industry, economy, and honesty were, in the aggregate,
without a parallel. But it is a serious fact, that, from the accession
of George the Third to the death of George the Fourth, the royal
expenditure was ninety-two millions, ninety thousand, eight hundred, and
seven pounds! Yet, in this amount, the salaries and official emoluments
of the royal dukes are not included from the year 1815. We cannot help
contrasting the evil done with the benefits that might have been
bestowed by this money. What a fund it had made to lessen the hardships
imposed upon the poor!--to mitigate the sufferings of the mechanic!--and
to lighten the burdens of the honest citizen! Instead of which, it was
expended merely to gratify pride and vice. The delight of doing good was
the last sentiment for consideration; and though a vast field was open
for the exercise of benevolence, yet the offices of real greatness were
always neglected by George the Fourth and the greater part of his
family.

       *       *       *       *       *

Having now brought our history down to the providential release of
England by the death of George the Fourth, we cannot part company with
our readers before taking a general survey of the lamentable truths it
contains. Authors have too often demeaned themselves by concealing
facts, and, instead of being historians of an action, have proved
themselves the mere lawyers of a party; they are retained by their
principles, and bribed by their interests; their narrations are an
opening of their case, and in front of their histories, therefore, ought
to be written--"I am for the defendant," or "I am for the plaintiff."
With such unworthy writers, we should be ashamed to claim affinity. Our
unflinching exposures have been made with no sinister motives; for we
have dared to brave prosecutions and persecutions, despising the bribes
and defying the hate of the minions of power! Our's is the cause, the
righteous cause, of the insulted and harassed classes,--the real
productors of the national wealth,--who have so long endured the galling
yoke of oppression. The time, however, is now fast approaching when
fallacious speeches must yield precedence to solid reasoning, when
honest governments must supersede systems of despotism, when vice must
be recognized and punished in the case of the prince as well as in that
of the peasant; when superior talents must be permitted to occupy
superior stations; when individuals, most suited to serve the real
interests of the kingdom, will be solicited to guide the helm of state;
when all policy, opposed to freedom, will be annihilated; when
interested men will be compelled to quit their seats in the councils,
and weak men be afraid to venture another trial; when he who has the
heart of a coward, or the spirit of a sycophant, will not dare to
present himself for the suffrages of a free people! Yes, we repeat, such
an era is at hand, and "the people" of England are about to enjoy that
liberty and happiness, from which they have unjustly been debarred by
the cruel and haughty hand of tyranny. An unjust government, whether
professing Whig or Tory principles, will vainly attempt to stop this
march of liberty by raising the old bugbear cry of--"Anarchy and
confusion will be the consequences of entrusting the people with their
political rights and privileges!" Such an unnatural doctrine has been
held far too long by the titled and wealthy mortality of our land, who
are not contented with enjoying the great advantages of rank and
property, whether hereditary or acquired, but seem, by their behaviour,
determined to prevent their less-fortunate brethren from tasting the
happiness which would arise from a possession of their political rights.
The tyrannical nature of such characters, unsatisfied with the elevation
which their birth or fortune has given them, wish to trample on their
"inferiors," and to force them still lower in the scale of intelligent
beings. Contemptible proud men, thus to insult those who minister to
their luxuries and their wealth! Such vain conduct, however, will never
fail to excite the honest indignation of all who can think and feel, and
who are remote from the sphere of corrupting influence. It is not only
most highly culpable in a moral view, but extremely dangerous in a
political. It arises from the hateful spirit of despotism, and, if not
timely checked by the people, must soon become universal. A spirit of
this nature would allow no rights to the poor but those which cannot be
taken away,--the rights of mere animal nature. Such a spirit hates "the
people," and would gladly annihilate all of them but those who
administer to pride and luxury, either as menial servants, dependent
tradesmen, or mechanics,--or common soldiers, ready to shed the blood of
those who might render themselves obnoxious to their lordly tyrants.
Notwithstanding such contempt of "the people," however, these mighty of
the land think they are entitled to represent them in parliament; yet
what can be expected from such proud men but that they should be as
servilely mean and obsequious to a minister as they are cruel and
unfeeling in their behaviour to the poor of their vicinity? By such
behaviour, the ARISTOCRATS attempt to form a little world of their own,
where Folly and Vanity reign supreme, but where Virtue, Learning, and
Usefulness are alike unknown. The grand secret of its constitution is to
claim dignity, distinction, power, and place, exclusively, without the
painful labour of deserving either by personal merit, or by services to
the commonwealth. They talk and laugh loud, applauding each other's
self-complacency, and would not be supposed to cast an eye on the
"inferior crowd," whose admiration, nevertheless, they are at the same
time courting by every silly effort of pragmatical vanity! Men of this
cast pay no more, and frequently not so much, as other people; yet they
strangely conceive themselves privileged to treat tradesmen,--certainly
respectable when honest, sober, and industrious,--as if they were not of
the same flesh and blood with "gentlemen," but to be ranked with the ass
and the swine. Such proud pretenders to superiority consider the world
was only made for them, while their families and their houses must
studiously be kept from plebeian contamination. This aristocratical
insolence is also visible even at church,--in the immediate presence of
Him who made high and low, rich and poor, and where the gilded and
painted ornaments on the walls seem to mock the folly of all human
pride. The pew of "the great man" is raised above the others, and
furnished with curtains, adorned with linings, and accommodated with
cushions. Even those who do not bow at the name of Jesus are yet
expected to make their lowly obeisance to the lord in the gallery!
However indifferent such mighty persons may feel towards religion, they
are still zealous for the church; for this is useful, not only in
providing genteely for their poorer relations and dependants, but as an
engine to KEEP DOWN THE PEOPLE! The temporalities and splendours of the
"established" church endear it to them; but, if it had continued in its
primitive state, _when poor fishermen were its bishops_, how differently
would they have viewed it!

Against principles so dangerous and hostile to liberty, every friend of
his country will not hesitate to shew a determined opposition. The
poorer part of mankind,--that is, "the people,"--when they are not
blinded by ignorance, in which the "great ones" have always endeavoured
to keep them, may safely be entrusted with political power. "The people"
have lately been presented with a proof of the selfish motives of these
"great ones," which have done wonders in opening their eyes to the
degraded condition in which they have so long been held, and the natural
consequences of such enlightenment are rapidly being made known in
language not to be misunderstood. They begin to view themselves as
essential parts of one great body; they are therefore determined to
possess an equal portion of political rights, and peaceably possess
them; for they are too sensible not to be aware that all violence is not
only wrong, but totally unnecessary to accomplish this end. If our
exposition of the long-hidden things of darkness, as well as of the
characters of their oppressors, should assist in producing this happy
consummation, our reward will be ample; we desire no more.

In taking a review of our past pages, the intelligent reader will hardly
wonder at the awful complexion the present times have assumed. Every
evil has its origin, and, however remote it may be, will ultimately
produce its effects. What, then, it may be asked, is the cause of the
present unhappy state of England,--of its political struggles and
divisions? Have they not been mainly produced by the long-concealed
secrets of state, which have, alas! led to the commission of crimes--of
murders--that must force the tear of pity from the eye of
compassionating humanity?

According to the pure fabric of the British constitution, no nation on
the surface of the globe ought to have been more happy, more
consolidated in friendly intercourse and good understanding, nor more
prosperous and contented, than this country. But, from the time of Queen
Anne, the state has been gradually retrograding and divided into two
aristocratical parties,--WHIGS and TORIES,--whose watch-words were
principles, (which might be said to be constitutionally attached to
opposition or place) but whose struggles have ever been for power. The
spirit of party has been said to furnish aliment to the spirit of
liberty; and so perhaps it does, but in this way: by first creating the
despotism which it is the office of the spirit of liberty to counteract,
and, if possible, to overthrow. If there had never been the party of the
usurpers and abusers of power, there would have been no occasion for
that of the leaguers and reformers. It is of necessity that party spirit
must, on the whole, have done more harm than good, since assuredly it
has raised more giants than it has yet slain. All party spirit,
generally speaking, is injurious. It has been truly denounced by one of
the greatest friends of freedom the world has ever seen,--the
illustrious Washington,--as "the very worst enemy of popular
governments." In his farewell address to the American people, he
earnestly warns them against it as the thing from which, of all others,
they had most to fear. "It serves always," he tells them, "to distract
the public councils and enfeeble the public administration. It agitates
the community with ill-founded jealousies and false alarms; kindles the
animosity of one class against another; foments, occasionally, riots and
insurrections; it opens the door to foreign influence and corruption,
which find a facilitated access to the government itself, through the
channels of party passions." All party ascendencies have this character
in common: that they serve to make the interests of the country
subordinate to private ends. It is the established mode with dominant
factions to distribute the loaves and fishes among their own adherents
exclusively,--they could not, in fact, exist as factions otherwise.
Worth and talent are no farther regarded than is necessary for the
saving of appearances. The sort of followers whom your party minister
delights to honour are those who will stick at nothing, who will stand
by a leader through thick and thin, who will never consider the right or
wrong of any thing, but support whatever their patron supports, and
resist to the utmost whenever he gives the word,--men, in short, who are
prepared to look only to their own and their party's advantage, without
at all caring how the interests of the community at large may be
affected by their conduct. Ever since the revolution of 1688, England
has never been free from the trammels of some such dominant faction or
other; and what have been the consequences? One long course of
misgovernment, one unceasing heaping of burdens on the people, and of
pensions and sinecures on the aristocracy,--one unvarying round of
oppression, plunder, murder, corruption, and extravagance. Whether it
was Tory or whether it was Whig that was in power, the result to the
people was almost always the same. If the Whigs have, on the whole, been
less to blame than their rivals, it is to be remembered, on the other
hand, that their opportunities of doing evil have been fewer. However
the two parties may differ, or affect to differ, on general principles
of government, they have always agreed marvellously on one point,
namely: the perfect propriety of making the most of their time while in
office, to enrich themselves, their relations, and dependants, at the
expense of the nation[240:A]. Thus, public opinion has long been the
opinion of certain coteries, and public men, generally speaking, men
neither brought forward by the public, nor for the sake of the public!
It has been thought necessary that some one should make such a speech
as would "tell well," and procure a round of cheers from the House. If
such an individual could be found with a large landed estate and a
coronet entailed upon him, so much the better; if not, why he must be
sought for elsewhere. A school or college reputation, an able pamphlet,
a club or county-meeting oration, pointed him out. The minister, or the
great man who wished to be the minister, brought him into parliament: if
he failed, he sank into insignificance; if he succeeded, he worked for
his master during a certain time, and then became a minister or a great
man himself. As for the people, he had nothing whatever to do with them;
they returned some jolly 'squire, who feasted them well, or some nabob
who purchased their votes. Under such a state of things, cheerfully
acquiesced in, we say, it is hardly to be wondered at that what are
called "the people" should have been very much plundered and very much
despised. Were this base party spirit only banished from among us, were
all party badges, watchwords, and distinctions, only discarded for ever,
were superior talent and tried integrity but once to become the sole
passports to preferment, our social system would then be placed on the
very best possible footing. The time of so desirable a consummation, we
hope and trust, is not far distant; though we are still in the midst of
the manifold evils of which the so-much-lauded party spirit has been the
source, and we must necessarily deal with matters as they are. Tory is
again contending against Whig for the mastery, and with both the real
interests of the people seem, as usual, to form only a secondary
consideration. A greater proof of this cannot possibly be offered than
in the following extract from a late parliamentary report:

     "MR. DAWSON, in reference to the appointment of Lord Durham to
     be lord privy seal, asked whether any portion of the salary
     due to the noble lord from the time of his appointment to this
     period had been paid, or whether he had made any application
     for the payment of this salary. He wished to know the same
     with respect to the post-master-general.

     "SIR GEORGE WARRENDER said, that when the noble lord had found
     that his was an efficient public office, he had determined to
     take the salary. When the duke stated his determination not to
     take the salary, there was upon the part of the committee the
     general expression of an opinion that the noble duke, in so
     doing, would be unfair to the office. The committee
     communicated to him that he would be doing great injustice to
     the office.

     "MR. J. WOOD corroborated the statement of the honourable
     baronet, both with respect to the Duke of Richmond and of Lord
     Durham.

     "The CHANCELLOR of the EXCHEQUER said, that Lord Durham had
     received a regular salary. The Duke of Richmond intended also
     to receive the whole of his salary. He was sure that every
     honourable member would agree with him in thinking that it was
     not proper, because an individual had a large income, that he
     should refuse his salary. Under these circumstances, he
     thought that both his noble friends did not judge right."

     [240:A] How lamentably is this fact illustrated by the present
     Whig minister,--the _disinterested_ Earl Grey,--who has added
     to the burdens of his country, by places and pensions to his
     own family alone, more than sixty-two thousand pounds
     annually!!!

We can readily anticipate the surprise the public must have felt at the
nonsensical and unjust doctrine here broached by the _Whig_ Chancellor
of the Exchequer. A man in the possession of a large income was doing
injustice to an office if he refused to take the salary pertaining to
it, though such salary was drained from a heavily-taxed people! But it
is really wonderful how much a little acquaintance with office will
alter the liberal and patriotic opinions of a man,--even of that boaster
of economy and retrenchment, the _honest-looking_ Lord ALTHORPE! When
Lord Durham and the Duke of Richmond first accepted place, the public
heard much of their high-minded contempt for gain, and were told how
purely disinterested were their views on entering the public service.
Time, however, proved that money was not altogether so offensive to
these patriotic peers, and to avoid doing injustice to their offices,
they at length consented (amazing condescension!) to receive their
salaries. Such an act of justice _to an office_, which cannot be
appreciated by the object, is in very bad taste, considering it is
detrimental to the public, who would have felt grateful for a similar
regard to its own interests. But the Duke of Richmond's conduct by no
means surprised us: he who is only a Tory in disguise was just the man
to pretend a contempt for salary before he was in place, and to clutch
at it ravenously the moment he got into power. Some persons, when he
first spoke of taking no pay, laughed at his unfitness for office, and
he was strongly advised to resign, as he got nothing but ridicule for
his pains. His grace heeded not this rebuke, but appears to have been
actuated by the same feeling as the blind fiddler, who was recommended
to begone, as every one laughed at him. "Hold thy peace," said the
fiddler, "we shall have their money presently, and then we will laugh
at them."

Thus it will be seen that the interests of the people have never been
considered by any ministry, however great its pretensions to honesty and
patriotism. Added to this lamentable fact, an all-opposing and
insuperable obstacle has, for many years, been obtruding itself on the
energies of the country,--the embarrassing and overwhelming STATE
SECRETS. These have ever formed a paramount consideration with royalty;
and, in order to prevent them being made public, the constitution has
been openly and shamelessly infringed, morality and honesty set at
defiance, and the order of society reversed! The enormous charges
entailed on this country, by bribing the parties in possession of these
secrets, have been made fully manifest in our preceding pages. Still it
had been utterly impossible for ministers to carry on such a ruinous
system of peculation and crime, if they had not contrived the corruption
of the people's representatives. This was so effectually accomplished by
Pitt, Liverpool, Castlereagh, and Sidmouth, that every law they thought
proper to propose, and every supply of money they demanded, for whatever
iniquitous purpose it might be required, was sure to meet with the ready
acquiescence of the House of Commons. Hence the crown became a mighty
host of power, perpetually acquiring an accession of purchased
adherents, who ever exhibited the greatest readiness to accomplish the
unconstitutional purposes of their abandoned employers.

It may here not be improper succinctly to explain of what materials this
"host of power" consisted at the death of George the Fourth. Out of the
six hundred and fifty-eight who composed the House of Commons, four
hundred and eighty-eight, or nearly three-fourths, were returned by the
influence or nomination of one hundred and forty-four peers, and one
hundred and twenty-three commoners. These patrons, by themselves or
their nominees, necessarily determined the decisions of both houses of
parliament; and, consequently, engrossed the whole power of the state!
In the exercise of this overgrown influence, however, they were happily
a little restrained by the operation of public opinion, as prompted by
the liberty of the press, and sustained by the trial by jury,--both of
which they, in vain, attempted to destroy. This body of boroughmongers,
as we have shewn, consisted of two hundred and sixty-seven
individuals,--including lords, ladies, commoners, lunatics, and minors!
They constituted the oligarchy,--that selfish faction so unhappily
familiar to the public of the present day by the name of the
"Conservatives," or the "Cumberland Club." Of this faction, so long the
keepers of the now-explained secrets of state, the nominal ministers of
the crown were, in effect, necessarily the tools or agents. Under such a
monstrous system of government, carried on for the exclusive interest of
the prevailing faction, the blackest deeds were countenanced by men in
power, of the truth of which our volumes will furnish future generations
with abundant proof. This usurpation of the whole power of the state by
two hundred and sixty-seven persons, however, was not effected suddenly;
it was the result of gradual encroachments on the right of suffrage by a
succession of the votes of a corrupt and venal House of Commons,
commencing with the septennial act, a little more than a century ago. As
these two hundred and sixty-seven individuals returned nearly
three-fourths of the Lower House, and constituted a majority in the
Upper, their influence was supreme in both. To the one hundred and
forty-four peers who influenced the House of Commons was added the whole
tribe of the unchristianlike and ostentatious bishops, who, almost to a
man, voted with the oligarchial members, in hopes of coming in for a
share of the "loaves and fishes." From this, it is almost impossible to
say which house of parliament was most corrupt of the two. Hence arose
the incessant attempts to abridge the rights and liberties of the
people, through the forms of the constitution. The independence of
parliament became words of contempt to all who knew the secret spring of
their automaton movements. But, independent of corruption, another
grievous cause of complaint exists in the Upper House. It has been
frequently proved that both IDIOTS and LUNATICS have exercised their
"hereditary" right of assisting in the making of British laws!!! We also
lately observed, in the farewell address of Lord Stanley, _who is heir
to a peerage_, the reason assigned to his constituents for withdrawing
from the House of Commons was, "the rapid growth of an infirmity under
which he has long laboured." That infirmity is deafness; and here arises
a curious question: if his lordship's infirmity disqualify him from
sitting in a house whose functions are legislatorial, how can he be
qualified for a seat in a house which is both _legislatorial_ and
_judicial_? If his lordship's deafness unfit him to be a maker of laws,
how can he, when he becomes a member of the Upper House, be fit for the
discharge of the duties both of _legislator_ and _judge_,--HEARING, in
the latter case, being more indispensable than in the former? How
injurious is the doctrine of the legitimate descent of wisdom! A member
of the Lower House becomes deaf, like Lord Stanley, or an idiot, like
some scores of members who shall be nameless, and therefore unfit for
the duties of legislation _there_; but if he happen to be the heir to a
peerage, the death of a father makes the deaf to hear, and imbues the
idiot with intellect; and he is in a moment fitted not only for
_legislatorial_ but for judicial functions! How much longer will the
people tolerate such "hereditary" privileges? But, even from the dawn of
the French revolution, and the lesson which Napoleon gave to tyrants,
the oligarchy and the people have maintained a constant and increasing
struggle; and the year 1832 has plainly proclaimed to which party the
victory will be ultimately awarded.

From such an unconstitutional state of things as we have here briefly
described, Englishmen may account for the unjust wars which have
overwhelmed them with debt, poverty, and taxes, in order to retard the
progress of liberty, and stultify the human intellect. In what a
miserable plight did such wars leave this vast island, covered as she
once was with the gorgeous mantle of successful agriculture! They left
her "with Industry in rags, and Patience in despair: the merchant
without a ledger, the shops without a customer, the Exchange deserted,
and the Gazette crowded." Let us inquire for what purposes these wars
were so obstinately maintained. Were they for the benefit of
Europe?--for the happiness of mankind?--for the strengthening of
liberty?--for the improvement of politics and philosophy? Alas! no. But,
by these long and bloody wars, England has compelled the millions in
America to manufacture for themselves, and the greater part of the
Continent to do the same, to the manifest injury of our own artizans.
Besides this impolicy, the American war, from 1776 to 1782, cost this
country two thousand, two hundred, and seventy millions, and a half. The
fleet alone, in 1779, created an expense of one hundred and eighty
millions. During the crusade against French liberty, our national debt
was increased from two hundred millions to nine hundred millions, and
the interest from nine to forty-five millions per annum. And what was
the object to be obtained by this war? To save Louis the Sixteenth, and
to check that spirit of propagandism, announced in the French Chamber,
from being formidably maintained and spread by the troops of France. To
effect this, England took up arms when Louis the Sixteenth had gone to
his ancestors, and when the Republican armies, flushed with victory, and
threatened with the guillotine in the event of defeat, were become, from
raw recruits, desperate and veteran soldiers. We reserved our defence of
the monarch till he had perished on the scaffold,--our defence of the
monarchy till the French Republic was declared "a besieged city, and
France a vast camp!" Then we commenced a war with allies who were become
anxious for peace, and who, in taking our money, reserved it to pay the
expense of the campaign they had finished, without any consideration for
the violent inclination for fighting which we had just been seized with.
This was the policy which Mr. Pitt asked Mr. Canning if he approved of;
this was the policy which Mr. Canning came into parliament to defend,
and which he did defend on every occasion, and which he always boasted
having defended to his dying day! But it is only a person well
acquainted with the House of Commons at this period who could believe
that Mr. Canning's defence of such ministerial imbecility received
enthusiastic applause! There never was a collection of more glaring
contradictions, more gaudy sophisms, than the youthful orator's
declamatory harangue. The war was to be pursued because we were
victorious; peace was to be refused on account of the successes of the
enemy; France was too weak to be respected,--too formidable not to be
opposed! As for the sums we were expending, they were insignificant when
compared with the objects we had in view. Our ancestors, whose
immaculate wisdom Mr. Canning was at that time so fond of citing, would
certainly have been astonished to find that those objects were the
re-establishment of Spain in its ancient power, and the subjugation of
Rome to the authority of the Pope! The heart of any reflecting man must
burn within him when he thinks that a sanguinary war was undertaken for
the purpose of forcing France out of her undoubted right of choosing her
own monarch,--a war which uprooted the very foundation of the English
constitution, which declared tyranny eternal, and announced to the
people, amidst the thunder of artillery, that, no matter how aggrieved,
their only allowable attitude was that of supplication, which, when it
told the French reformer of 1793 that his defeat was just, told the
British reformer of 1688 his triumphal revolution was treason,
forgetting that OUR KING HIMSELF WAS THE CREATURE OF THAT REVOLUTION!
After an immense loss of life and treasure, the Bourbons were, for a
time, restored to the throne of France, contrary to the wishes of at
least nine-tenths of the French people; for the Bourbons had proved
themselves incapable of learning Mercy from Misfortune, or Wisdom from
Experience. Vindictive in prosperity, servile in defeat, timid in the
field, vacillating in the cabinet, their very name had become odious to
the ears of a Frenchman, and Napoleon had only to present himself to
ensure their precipitate flight. The downfall of that great man, who
shed a splendour around royalty unknown to it before, will ever be
regretted by the majority of the French people, though British ministers
have classed the unhallowed act in the list of their achievements! By
the same tyrannical means, a prince was restored to Portugal, who, when
his dominions were invaded, his people distracted, his crown in danger,
and all that could interest the highest energies of man at issue, left
his cause to be combatted by foreigners, and fled, with cowardly
precipitation, to claim the shameful protection of Lord Castlereagh and
his junta! A wretch was also restored to unhappy Spain, in the person of
the "beloved" Ferdinand, who filled his dungeons and fed his rack with
the heroic remnant that had braved war, famine, and massacre beneath his
banners,--who rewarded Patriotism with a prison, Fidelity with torture,
Heroism with the scaffold, and Piety with the inquisition! The royal
monster proclaimed his humanity by the number of his death-warrants, and
his religious zeal by embroidering petticoats for the blessed virgin!
Such were the three dynasties restored by these cruel wars. As to the
rest of Europe, how has it been ameliorated?--what solitary benefit have
the "deliverers" conferred? If we look back to Lord Castlereagh's
treaties of 1814 and 1815, we shall there find that the states of the
feeble were given to the powerful, and guarantees made to preserve the
institutions of every former tyranny. Saxony, Genoa, Norway, and, above
all, unhappy Poland,--that speaking monument of regal murder and
"legitimate" robbery, furnish a lamentable illustration of the cruel
injustice of these treaties. Italy was also parcelled out to temporizing
Austria, and Prussia, after fruitless toil and wreathless triumphs, was
mocked with the promise of a visionary constitution; while England was
left, eaten by the cancer of an incurable debt, exhausted by poor rates,
supporting a "civil" list of near a million and a half annually, guarded
by an unconstitutional standing army, misrepresented by the House of
Commons, mocked with a military peace, and girt with the fortifications
of a war establishment!!! This, frightful as the picture may appear, is
but an outline of the miseries that have been produced by our long and
sanguinary wars, undertaken to protect the monster of legitimacy, and to
crush the rising liberties of an enlightened people! These are the
"ACHIEVEMENTS" for which the Duke of Wellington received his title and
his enormous wealth, and for which he unblushingly claims the
_gratitude_ of Englishmen!!!

While all this misery was being accomplished abroad, how were our
ministers employed at home? Why, in feeding the bloated mammoth of
sinecure, in weighing the farthings of some poor clerk's salary, in
preparing Ireland for a garrison, and England for a poor-house,--in
furnishing means for their spendthrift master to erect Chinese palaces,
to decorate dragoons with his "tasteful" inventions, to purchase gold
and silver baubles, and to load his mistresses and his minions with the
produce of the people's industry! We had also, at this period, a "saint"
in the Exchequer, who studied Scripture for some purpose: the famishing
people cried out for _bread_, and the pious Vansittart gave them
_stones_! But the idea that a man like Vansittart should entail a debt
of above four hundred millions of pounds on the country; the idea that
"the least, the meanest" of the Pitt tribe should make the House of
Commons vote that the Bank note, worth twenty worn shillings, was as
valuable as the guinea worth twenty-seven good ones, will hardly be
credited by future generations. The weakest man that ever held office
under a crown may well boast that he reduced the parliament of England
to the lowest degradation, to the most abject servility, that a public
assembly of gentlemen was ever trodden to. Yet, strange as it must
appear, it was for such services that this same Vansittart was
created--a lord!! Lord Bexley was consequently sent to the "Upper
House," as a proof of the high approbation in which his talents were
held by his admiring master! In that situation, he has since zealously
exerted himself to preserve every existing abuse, and his ill-acquired
title has ever figured in the list of those who vote against the people.

To keep up such an iniquitous state of affairs, it was deemed necessary
to persecute those who struggled to bring back the constitution to its
original principles. Hence the employment of spies and informers; hence
systematic massacre, imprisonment, and cruelty; hence the regular
manufacture of forged seditious placards for the purpose of affording a
pretext for the military execution against the reformers at Manchester
and elsewhere; and hence, for such atrocities could happen under no
other system upon earth, the murders, the cold-blooded murders, recorded
in our preceding pages.

Even the most superficial observer must be convinced that our country
has long been gradually degenerating from its greatness, that the most
fictitious and speculative means have uniformly been devised to prop her
exchequer, and that the most plausible, though, to many, unintelligible,
pleas advanced for introducing new taxes and new laws of an arbitrary
description, tending to abridge the civil liberties and paralyze the
energies of the people. These, however, have eventually failed of
producing their desired end. Despotism, and the total thraldom of the
mind, Providence will never allow to be the destiny of generous and
noble-minded Englishmen,--at least for any length of time. An arbitrary
use of power naturally leads to extremes, and these extremes eventually
to a crisis, opening the door of dissatisfaction and inquiry, where a
stand must be made, rescinding every possibility either of proceeding or
of retreating. Is not such our present political situation? And whence,
let us again inquire, arises this state of affairs? Surely not to be
ascribed to a turbulent disposition or a moral degeneracy of the working
classes. It is the grossest deceit and hypocrisy, not to say the most
audacious and ungrateful calumny, to stigmatize them with such
opprobrium; for never were any people more injured, more oppressed, nor
more insulted, than were the tax-payers of England during the last two
reigns! Ministers have too long imposed upon the credulity of the timid,
by describing every riotous proceeding as the natural consequence of the
progress of liberal opinions. The excesses of a few rioters, who most
probably knew not the extent of the mischief they were doing, ought not
to be attributed to the people generally. Such accusations are a gross
libel on the peaceable spirit of Englishmen, and are only used by
corrupt and designing men to raise an alarm against liberty; for
mischief of this kind may be attributed, with more certainty, to the
cowardice, folly, and wickedness of certain public functionaries,
liberally paid to prevent such disgraceful exhibitions. But the "church
and state" men have never failed to turn riots to the illustration of
their own injurious theory. "See!" cry they, exulting over the scene,
"the effects of power in the hands of the people!" Yet the people,--that
is, the grand mass of the community,--were not at all concerned in
effecting the mischief, for who beside such libellers would call an
assemblage of all the refuse of society--the people? The first
irregularities at Bristol, for instance, might have been suppressed by
the slightest exertion of manly spirit; or, indeed, that destructive
riot had never commenced but for the headstrong or cowardly, (we hardly
know which to call it) conduct of Sir Charles Wetherell, who openly
declared that he would insult the Bristol people with his detested
person, "if a cannon forced his entrance!" Did not the Tories, then, we
ask, both create and feed the riots at Bristol, for the purpose of
frightening the people from reform? The people at large, we say, ought
not to be blamed for such events; the whole of the culpability belongs
to the aiders and abettors of them, and the appointed ministers of the
law, in whom the people trust, but have mostly been deceived. This
blame, however, has always been laid to the people, while all men of
arbitrary principles rejoice at the calamity, as an auspicious event,
confirming all their theories, and justifying their practice! But these
have been some of the murderous means employed to augment and continue
the political torpor of the people of England for the last sixty years.
When any appeal to the people was in agitation on the subject of
liberty, it was sufficient for Pitt, Liverpool, Castlereagh, Canning,
Sidmouth, or any of their minions, to exclaim, "Remember the riots!" and
the intended measure was sure to be relinquished immediately, when these
despotic ministers chuckled over the success of their scheme, as though
they had gained the most splendid victory. The excesses of the French
revolution in 1793 were peculiarly grateful to the friends of tyranny in
England. While the patriot wept, the factor of despotism triumphantly
shouted, "Here is another instance of the people's unfitness to possess
power, and the mischievous effects of excessive liberty!" Every art
which ingenuity could practise, and influence assist in its operation,
was exerted to vilify and misrepresent the real design of the French
revolution. From this moment, persecutions were vigorously commenced
against patriotism, and it became sedition to hint at parliamentary
reform,--the root of the people's grievances. Never, since the expulsion
of the Stuarts, were such vigorous laws enforced,--never before did Pitt
so exult in the downfall of liberty. He and his followers no longer
skulked, no longer walked in masquerade. They boasted of their
principles, and claimed the honour of being the only friends to law,
order, and religion! They talked of the English laws being too lenient
for the punishment of sedition, and the acts consequently introduced for
its more effectual suppression were made agreeable to the most refined
notions of despotism. The clergy now stood forward in their pulpits, and
preached, not the word of God, but that doctrine which led the nearest
way to promotion, while many other needy and avaricious men wrote in
favour of an arbitrary government. Thus fear in the well-meaning,
self-interest in the knavish, and systematic subtlety among the
state-secret keepers, caused a general uproar in favour of principles
and practices at variance with constitutional liberty, and invested the
reigning prince and his mother with all but absolute power. How
zealously they took advantage of this state of alarm, our volumes fully
explain. The friends of humanity, however, have now cause to rejoice
that the film of deception is rapidly disappearing from before the eyes
of the people, and that such panic fears, servile sycophantism, and
artful bigotry, can no longer prevail over cool reason and liberal
philanthropy. Such a feverish delirium has passed away, and sober sense
perceives the necessity of destroying the destructive power which held
so baneful a sway over English liberty during the last two reigns.

Let our readers also not forget the part which the "established church"
acted during this long period of misrule. How many of its ministers
sacrificed principle and honesty for the pleasure of basking in the
sunshine of the vicious court! Gold was the only god they worshipped,
and the political creed of tyrants the only testament they read.
Ministerial imbecility could always reckon upon their "holy" services,
and, in proportion to the callousness and hypocrisy displayed, they were
rewarded with bishopricks, deaneries, and other such well-paid
offices,--the duties of which they allowed their poorer brethren to
perform at wages something less than a common labourer. It is indeed
hardly to be credited that in haughty England, who held up her episcopal
head so pompously during the reigns of which we are speaking,--in this
very country which groaned, and is still groaning, beneath the
overwhelming expenses of keeping up a church establishment,--that the
real "labourers in the vineyard" were paid so scantily, that their
wages, in thousands of instances, did not amount to those of a
journeyman mechanic! Yes, in the very heart of this metropolis were to
be found men, on whom the fond and foolish ambition of their parents had
been exhausted in bringing them up in this profession, who possessed
learning and intellectual refinement, starving in back attics, in filthy
courts and alleys. This miserable state of the working clergy was not
confined to London alone. In many parts of this country (Wales in
particular) it was no uncommon thing for a clergyman, with seven
children, to do duty for two parishes, at only ten pounds a year each!
And we ourselves are acquainted with a gentleman, sixty-four years of
age, who was in the church more than forty years, receiving no sort of
promotion during the whole of that long period, because he entertained
what are termed "liberal principles," and who has lately been obliged to
retire from his scanty pittance, and throw himself on the generosity of
his friends for a living in his old age.

Let us now take a glance at the drones of the hive,--the men who have
ever shewn a peculiar readiness to make themselves a promotion-ladder
out of the wreck of their country's liberties. The income of an
Archbishop of Canterbury, exclusive of patronage and other valuable
emoluments, is thirty thousand pounds. Most of the bishops are also
paid, if not quite so extravagantly, in a degree amply sufficient to
keep his grace in countenance. Many beneficed clergymen, particularly
the younger sons and brothers of our aristocracy, who are not
dignitaries of the church, by holding a plurality of livings, drain the
country of incomes, varying from five thousand to twelve thousand pounds
a year each. And yet these men neither distinguish themselves (although,
as in every large class of society, there are honourable and favourable
exceptions) either for their grace, learning, or piety,--the only
qualification which they possess being the son, brother, nephew, or
cousin of a peer, or commoner possessed of parliamentary influence.

A very able article lately appeared in "Blackwood's Magazine," setting
forth the abuses here alluded to in such a clear and bold manner, that
we cannot refrain from making the following extract from it:


"The trusts of the church are admitted to be, and used as, patronage in
the most vulgar and corrupt sense of the term; and the minister of state
who bestows them regularly does it to enrich his connexions, reward his
adherents, or bribe his opponents. Why is this man made a bishop? He has
been tutor in one noble family or is connected by blood with another, or
he enjoys the patronage of some polluted female favourite of royalty, or
he is the near relative of a minister, or at the nod of the premier, or
he has been a traitor to the church in a matter affecting her existence.
Why is this man made a dean? He has married a relative of the home
secretary, or he is a turn-coat, who has joined the enemies of the
church in the destruction of her securities, or it is necessary to
preserve some powerful family from going into the opposition. Why is
this stripling invested with an important dignity in the church? He is
an illegitimate son of a member of the royal family, or he is the same
to some nobleman, or he belongs to a family, which in consideration of
it will give the ministry a certain number of votes in parliament. And
why is this man endowed with a valuable benefice? He has potent
interest, or it will prevent him from giving farther opposition to
measures for injuring the church, or he has voted at an election for a
ministerial candidate, or his connexions have much electioneering
influence, or he is a political tool of the ministry. At the contest for
the university of Oxford, which expelled Sir Robert Peel, it was
generally asserted, that certain members of the ministry used every
effort to gain votes for him by offers of church preferment; or, in
other words, they used the property of the church as bribes to induce
the clergy to support the assailant of her securities against the
defender of them. After the carrying of the catholic question, the
preferments, which fell into the hands of some of the apostate bishops
or their connexions, proved that these men had been bought with their
own property to turn their sacrilegious hands upon her. The disposal of
what is called church patronage in this manner is not the exception, but
the rule; it is not a matter of secrecy, or one that escapes public
observation; it is looked on as a thing of course; and so far has this
monstrous abuse been sanctified by custom, that while no one expects to
see a vacancy in the church filled according to its merit, the filling
of it in the most profligate way scarcely provokes reprobation.

"Let us now look at those appointments in the church which are not in
the hands of government. A great number of livings are private property.
On what principle are they disposed of? The owners fill them without the
least regard for qualification; they practically give them to their
relations while yet in the womb or the cradle, and these relatives enter
into orders from no other reason than to enjoy them as private fortunes;
or clergymen and others buy such livings solely for private benefit. In
the appointment of curates, those are chosen who are cheapest, the least
formidable as rivals, and, in consequence, the most disqualified; care
for the interests of the church is out of the question.

"Then in the general appointment of the functionaries of the church,
whether it rest with the government or individuals, qualification is
disregarded. These are some of the inevitable consequences:--1st. The
office of clergyman is sought by the very last people who ought to
receive it. However brainless or profligate a youth may be, he still
must enter into holy orders, because his friends have property or
interest in the church; perhaps they select him for it in preference to
his brothers, because he happens to be the dunce of the family. 2ndly.
The system directly operates, not only to keep ability and piety at the
lowest point amidst the clergy, but to render that portion of them which
may be forced into orders useless to the church. 3rdly. The clergy and
laity are separated from and arranged against each other. The minister
has no interest in conciliating, preserving, and increasing the flock;
its favour cannot benefit, and its hostility cannot injure, him. To give
all this the most comprehensive powers of mischief, almost any man may,
so far as concerns ability and character, gain admission into holy
orders. A clergyman may be destitute of religious feelings, he may be
grossly immoral, he may discharge his duties in the most incompetent
manner, and lose his flock; he may do almost any thing short of legal
crime, and still he will neither forfeit his living, nor draw on himself
any punishment."


All unbiassed individuals must acknowledge the likeness of the picture
here drawn, notwithstanding the high Tory quarter from which it is
painted. We are willing to acknowledge that these abuses have been
practised ever since the unholy alliance between church and state; but
they were certainly carried to a greater extent in the last two reigns
than previously known. The whole church-system, indeed, presented this
anomalous, inconsistent, but distinguishing feature: while the country
was drained for its support, the actual working clergy, as we have
shewn, were paid as the most degraded parish hacks; when the enormous
revenue which the system produced, and which was amply sufficient to
support the whole, by a proper equalization, in comfort and
respectability, was swallowed up by a few court-sycophants, who were
pampered by the very excess produced by the starvation and degradation
of their less fortunate (or more conscientious?) brethren! Little
serious amendment in the particulars here complained of, however, can be
reasonably expected, till this all-corrupting and derogatory alliance of
God and mammon shall be severed; for never have we so much cause for
fear as when the enemies of public freedom are concealed under the garb
of sanctity. The spiritual peers themselves seem fully determined to
hasten this "consummation so devoutly to be wished;" for they must have
but little foresight if they cannot see that their mad opposition to the
wishes of a united and determined people will, ere long, bring their
already dilapidated building about their own ears.

Every person who will not abjectly resign his common understanding, and
will bend his mind to investigate, IMPARTIALLY, what has been passing
ever since the landing of Queen Charlotte upon our shores, must be
satisfied of the bitter provocations which the British public have
received,--the indignation arising from which has now burst forth, never
to subside till some reparation be made. There are appointed limits to
every evil; there are periods when things must reach their utmost
boundary; when even forbearance becomes a crime. Such has been the issue
of the long-concealed mysteries of state. Englishmen, we trust, will no
more tolerate tyrannous power, murderous injustice, and oppressive
enactments. The march of intellect has proclaimed her inquisitorial
privileges; the enlightened understanding of the people of 1832 have
discovered, to the utter dismay of tyranny, that no satisfactory reason
can be assigned for the enormous load of taxation with which they have
so long been oppressed. The discovery is now made, that there is no
justice for the poor man, or man of inferior grade; but that all
enactments have been scrupulously made in favour of the rich and the
great. Impunity has been their privilege, while the mass of the
community were forced to subscribe to the bitter penalty. Times have
been, we are sorry to say, when even MURDER, if committed by rank, might
be glossed over by a privy council, while the poor man, agonized by the
reflections of his own accusing mind, was coldly, and even with
asperity, consigned to the gallows! The lady of rank,--even of the
_highest_,--might have an illegitimate offspring, and secretly hide her
shame by consigning it to an asylum; but the poor woman, who had strayed
from the path of virtue, through poverty, must be confronted with the
moralizing, austere, brow-beating, clerical magistrate, reproached for
her unfortunate lapse from rectitude, and be committed to the treadmill!
Such an unequal administration of justice, we repeat, has been; but God
grant that it may never occur again!

The present emancipation of the human mind from ignorance and
vassalage, through the medium of dauntless and cheap publications, has
discovered to all classes of the community that the administration of
our national affairs have never been satisfactorily explained; that all
has been artifice and delusion; that the rulers of the country have
assumed to themselves an extraordinary stretch of power,--a power above
law,--employing the country's revenues in enriching themselves,
corrupting the sources of justice, and plotting schemes against the
happiness of mankind generally. Hence, the people, weary of their
burdens, with no prospect presented to them of having their condition
ameliorated by their rulers, and disgusted with those who have so
constantly deluded and insulted them, have at last been goaded into the
exhibition of a determined spirit no longer to submit their privileges
and their liberties to such a state of misrule. They have, indeed, as if
with one accord, protested against all further fraud, imposition, and
slavery. They are determined to have a parliament of their own
selecting, and to demand that the principles and legitimate rights of
the British constitution be restored to their pristine vigour.

It may here be proper to inquire, "Who and what are they that have so
long opposed the just rights of the people?" Is there a member of the
House of Lords who has been elevated to the peerage for the last sixty
years and upwards, excepting some few individuals in the army and navy,
who does not owe his wealth and title to his weight, interest, and
exertions to further and perpetuate the corruption of the House of
Commons, or for some courtly servility or secret crime committed to
pamper the self-love, or to gratify the vindictive feelings, of their
royal patrons? Let the facts recorded in our volumes supply the answer.
The PEOPLE, however, are not now to be blinded with the glitter of
nobility, or their ears startled by the pompous-sounding title of "My
lord." They will rather view such ennobled characters in the light of
enemies to their country, and pensioners on their industry. They have
exhibited themselves as a proud, arbitrary, and selfish faction, leagued
against the spirit of liberty, and anxious for nothing but their own
individual aggrandizement. But as all unconstitutional power, sooner or
later, is sure to over-reach itself, they have, by their exactions,
frauds, and galling oppressions, sown the seeds of their own
destruction. The people of England are naturally of an easy and
contented disposition; but even their inherent generosity will not brook
being treated exactly like the subjects of Russian Nicholas,--the
assassin of the gallant Poles!

In recurring to the period of Queen Charlotte's tyranny, the enlightened
mind must feel petrified at the callous delinquency displayed by her
ministers. It is indeed hardly to be credited, that she should have
found men,--we will not say _English_-men, because some were of another
country,--so congenial to her own views and sentiments. To paint this
German princess and her adherents in their proper colours would be
impossible; but every crime and enormity was sanctioned in her reign
(for George the Third was a mere cypher in the affairs of state) that
crime and enormity can be supposed to comprehend; spoliation, murder,
incest, espionage, sanguinary plottings, the most inhuman outrages,
persecution, and oppression were of common occurrence. Who, we ask, was
the secret contriver, aider, and abettor of most of the ills Queen
Caroline endured? Who pocketted enormous sums from the illegal sale of
cadetships? Who made unfair use of government information to speculate
in the funds for the sake of "filthy lucre?" Who indulged in improper
intimacies with that wholesale inventor of taxes, William Pitt? Who
conceived some of the diabolical plots, executed, too fatally executed,
against the holders of her favourite prince's bonds? And who wrote, as
well as commanded to be written, such tender, comforting, and promising
letters to the late Dr. Croft, just before and immediately after the
execution of that cold-blooded deed,--the murder of Princess Charlotte?
The answers will easily be supplied by the intelligent reader. But let
us hope the day of retribution is fast approaching, when Justice will
preside at the examination of all the circumstances attending that most
unnatural act,--the foulest, blackest crime "that ever yet this land was
guilty of." Had the secret actions of Queen Charlotte been generally
known in her life, she would have appeared the basest and most abandoned
of women; but the deception and shew of virtue which she so artfully
practised made people think her the most amiable of queens. Had she not
have shielded her myrmidons from exposure, they would, long ago, have
appeared to the public eye as a class of beings of the basest and most
odious description. Impeachment had followed impeachment, and the law
would have denounced them as men who had violated every principle of
honour, of humanity, and of Christianity!

Some of our readers may probably view these reproaches as unmerited
aspersions, or hateful invectives, proceeding from a vindictive,
malignant, and democratic spirit, and their author deserving to be
anathematized as the most execrable of the human race. But TRUTH,
irrefragable Truth, is our defence; she has now burst her bonds, and
will no longer be prevented, by the threats of power, from boldly
speaking out! Common observation, indeed, might have ascertained that
the unnatural and usurped power, which so long controlled the destinies
of this country, was of a _foreign_ character, and totally at variance
with the constitution and chartered rights of Englishmen! Did not JUNIUS
expose the illegality of this power? and did not the noble-minded
CHATHAM remonstrate against it? But though Tyranny and Corruption
trembled to their very centres at the attacks of these champions of
liberty, the base fabricks remained unimpaired till the death of their
mistress,--the puissant Charlotte of Mecklenburgh Strelitz!

We come now more immediately to the consideration of those political
transactions that ensued when the final incapacity of George the Third
to discharge the duties of his sovereignty was made known. At this
period, Queen Charlotte, in collusion with her hopeful son, the Prince
of Wales, came into full power, which she exercised with a spirit truly
in accordance with her restless ambition and mercenary desires. A system
of despotism, veiled under the specious garb of piety and the country's
safety, was immediately put in force; and new taxes levied under various
pretences, but in reality for the purpose of bestowing wealth on her
zealous adherents. Indeed, in every proposition of the "devourers of the
public wealth," for increasing the amount of "SECRET-SERVICE MONEY," a
zealous abettor was always found in the queen. German craft is never at
a loss for deceptive plans, nor is German prejudice easily pacified. No
machinations were too hideous, nor too infamous, when suggested by the
one to gratify the other. If the queen and her son had gained what they
strenuously endeavoured to obtain--ABSOLUTE POWER--who would not have
justly felt alarm, not merely for the liberties of his country, but for
his own individual safety? The proscriptions of the Roman Decemviri and
the more recent and horrible cruelties of the French Robespierre are
appalling instances of what people CAN DO when armed with absolute
power. Had these guardians of the British public, therefore, but
succeeded in obtaining such power, to what lengths they would have gone
may be estimated by the crimes they actually did commit and countenance
without it! Where would the voice of mercy have prevailed on them to
sheath the sword of persecution? Their ministers, by distorting the
constitution from its original meaning, presumed to tear Englishmen from
the bosom of their families, without any assigned cause, loading them
with irons, and immolating them in damp and dreary dungeons! Some
actually died, horrible as the fact may appear, under this treatment,
while the survivers were released without any investigation, without any
trial whatever,--nay, without their even being made acquainted with the
nature of the suspected offence,--and denied the slightest redress for
their cruel injuries! Considering, we say, that such monstrous injustice
was practised, it is not too much to suppose that, with absolute power,
the same parties would have erected the triangle at the Royal Exchange
and at the Mews! We might then have expected to see Englishmen running
naked through the streets of London, with caps of burning pitch upon
their heads, and blood streaming from their lacerated bodies, or
observed them hanging on the lamp-posts, or before their burning
dwellings! Did not these horrors actually take place in Ireland in the
years 1797 and 1798, when the tyrannical Castlereagh held a public
situation in that betrayed, forlorn, and persecuted country? At the very
time these atrocities were committed in Ireland, spies, informers,
executioners, and all the refuse of society, were employed as the
principal instruments of Castlereagh's government; and when Queen
Charlotte and her son made that Hibernian monster minister of this
country, Castle, Oliver, and Edwards, with many other such wretches,
shared the smiles and favours of himself and his colleagues.

The history of Caroline of Brunswick, in whose unhappy fate every person
possessed of Christian feeling and principle must be interested, also
fully evinces the hateful passions of Queen Charlotte's heart. That
victim of a detestable conspiracy was the object of a sanguinary
determination from the moment she so unhappily came over to this
kingdom. Queen Charlotte, finding herself then defeated in the ambitious
desire she had always cherished, that one of her own relations should be
the future queen of England, became this noble-minded woman's most
uncompromising and inveterate enemy. Into the highest favour and most
unlimited confidence, her majesty now received the abandoned Lady
Jersey, though she _pretended_, with so much austerity, to preserve the
unsullied PURITY OF HER COURT; but this pretension was only made the
better to impose upon the country, and to effect the destruction of the
guiltless and unoffending niece of the king her husband! Her majesty,
however, did not live to see such a wicked scheme accomplished.

When the husband of the unfortunate Caroline attained, by the death of
his father, to regal authority, surrounded by the titled hirelings of
his own creation and the dependants on his bounty, he judged the
opportunity peculiarly favourable to the final ruin of his
long-persecuted consort. Every plot, therefore, that could be devised by
a servile ministry and a corrupt parliament, was put into active
operation for the purpose of depriving her of those constitutional
rights which the demise of George the Third had entitled her to expect.
The Duke of York stipulated with the king that, in the event of a
divorce being granted, his majesty _should not marry again_,--otherwise,
he threatened to take part with Queen Caroline! So much for the
consistency, love of duty, and purity of motive, which the duke boasted
in the House of Lords as solely actuating him in the line of conduct he
had followed in opposing the queen!

The injurious reports which ministers circulated regarding Queen
Caroline's conduct rendered it impossible for her majesty to remain
abroad, even if she had so wished; for they presumed to treat her as the
most abandoned of the human race, and therefore it became necessary for
any virtuous woman, thus publicly accused, to appear in person, and
assert her innocence. In the whole management of the ensuing "trial"
against this ill-fated queen, justice, feeling, honour, and common sense
were all equally outraged! What was the tribunal before which her
majesty was called? How was it constituted? Who sat there "to administer
evenhanded justice?" The ministers who brought forward the charges
against their queen, the officers of the king's household, two of the
king's brothers, with many other _noble_ persons closely connected with
the court, who held places and pensions at its will, and looked up to it
for new honours, for patronage, for wealth, and for power! Were such
people, then, calculated to administer justice? Justice, indeed! Was the
refusing a list even of the names of the witnesses impartial justice?
Was it impartial British justice, when the ministers of the king sat as
judges, jurors, and accusers? Like triple-headed monsters, did they not,
in that joint capacity, most profligately bribe, clothe, feed, house,
and amuse a horde of discarded miscreant Italian servants? Was the
instructing, drilling, marshalling, living, and conversing _all_
together of these wretches, who were watched and kept under lock and key
by these Cerberi, an example of the impartiality of British justice? Was
the permitting the witnesses instantly to return to their den and
communicate all their evidence to those who had not been before the
House of Lords another proof of the impartiality of what is commonly
termed "the highest court of judicature of the first nation in Europe?"
Was the treating her majesty as guilty before her trial a fair specimen
of the beauty of this court? Monstrous profanation of terms! Was ever
common sense so insulted? Was justice ever so outraged? Were those
iniquitous proceedings an evidence of that

     "Justice, by nothing biassed or inclined,
      Deaf to persuasion, to temptation blind;
      Determined without favour, and the laws
      O'erlook the parties to decide the cause?"

When the law-officers of the crown declared, that "there existed no
grounds upon which legal proceedings could be instituted," two obvious
and distinct paths were open to ministers. They had their election to
advise, either that her majesty should return to this country with all
the honours and constitutional privileges belonging to her high station,
or else that she should be prevailed upon to establish her court abroad.
Yet ministers determined to deviate into a dark and crooked path. They
did not venture openly to advise that the queen should return; and yet,
as if determined that she should come to this country, they took care to
render it impossible for her to remain abroad! Was not the name of the
noble-minded Caroline insultingly excluded from the Liturgy? And what
reason was assigned for so unjustifiable a proceeding? The Archbishop of
Canterbury and other church pluralists gave this: "If any defiled name
should there be inserted, the principles of morality would be invaded,
the foundations of religion would be sapped, and the destruction of our
constitution must inevitably follow!" Now, even allowing the queen to
have been the abandoned character represented by her hireling
enemies,--nay, more, had she been a MURDERESS,--these impudent and
canting hypocrites need not have searched far for a precedent to prove
her eligibility for a place in the Liturgy! Were Henry the Eighth, Queen
Mary, Charles the Second and his queen, James the Second and his queen,
all pure and undefiled? But the place-hunting clergy need not have gone
out of their own generation for an example of infamy. What were Queen
Charlotte, George the Fourth, the Duke of York, or, though last, not
least in the VIRTUES of his family, the _undefiled_ Ernest of
Cumberland? Our volumes fully explain what they were! and yet their
names graced the Liturgy, as the Attorney-General has declared that the
words "Royal Family" comprehend _all_ the individuals of the royal
family. But it may be objected that the names of York and Cumberland
were not _specifically_ mentioned in the days of Queen Caroline's
persecutions. Well, then, the Prince of Wales' name, at least, did
figure in our Prayer Book, and was he "pure and undefiled?" The _pious_
sons of the church formally prayed that "God would endue him with his
holy spirit," &c.; but it did not appear, by his actions, that their
prayers produced the least effect. When he became king, he was prayed
for, "to be endued with heavenly gifts, to incline to the will of God,
and walk in his ways." Did his infamous conduct to his wife, and his
living in open adultery with the Marchioness of Conyngham and others,
qualify him for a place in the prayers of the church, as "pure and
undefiled?" If ministers, therefore, consented to deprive the queen of
this dignity, because of her imputed immorality, might it not have
proved a precedent against George the Fourth himself? The lawyers, even
Lord Eldon, if it had suited his purpose, might have afterwards cited
the case of Caroline as a case in point, while the country could not
refuse to dethrone the king on the same plea as they had dethroned the
queen, more particularly as it was so easy a matter to prove the gross
adultery and immorality of George the Fourth; for his derelictions from
virtue were as notorious as the sun at noon-day. Would to heaven, we
say, that a king might have been dethroned for immoral conduct, as the
world had not then been so cursed with their atrocious deeds. When at
foreign courts, her majesty justly claimed the honours pertaining to her
exalted rank, but was insultingly told that she was not known as a
queen! Thus subjected, _untried and unheard_, to every indignity which
could only have followed upon proof and condemnation, her majesty had no
alternative left but to return to England, and boldly face her
mean-spirited and unmanly enemies. Had her title been proclaimed, had
foreign courts been instructed to receive her with the honours due to a
queen of England, her continuing to remain abroad would not have worn
the appearance of shrinking from the defence of her reputation,--a fear
to which she was utterly a stranger. Her noble soul scorned danger; for
a braver heart than her's never beat in human breast. But her husband's
ministers rendered her absence from this country incompatible with her
honour; they _forced_ her to return, and they, and they alone, were
responsible for all the mischief that might have ensued to the country
from such an unavoidable step on the part of the queen. No one, we
think, will doubt that the most serious mischief would have occurred, if
these men had persisted in their headlong career. But, _like all
cowards_, when they found the danger hovering over their _own_ heads,
they shrunk from the contest, and took refuge in a timely retreat!

Nothing in the whole history of human suffering could equal the wrongs
of her majesty. With respect to the bill of Pains and Penalties, the
various records of persecution may be searched in vain for a case so
foul, so false, so full of premeditated and disciplined perjury,--the
inquest on Sellis was JUSTICE when _compared_ with this, though the hand
of Lord Ellenborough may be traced in both. The mock "trial" of
Caroline, Queen of England, we say, cannot be matched for rancour,
cruelty, for monstrous and unnatural malignity. There never was a case
at all like it: it is without an example in history, and can never
become a precedent; for future generations will read it with pity and
with horror. The foul charges preferred against the queen by the lowest
of the low were disproved by noblemen of the first consideration, by
ladies of the highest rank and of the most unblemished honour, by
gentlemen of family, of education, and integrity, and by distinguished
and gallant soldiers. The evidence of such respectable characters as
these present a picture of her majesty which future generations will
admire and venerate. But it is impossible that impartial and discerning
Englishmen should believe that the "Bill of Pains and Penalties,"
nominally aimed against the queen, had not, for its main objects, the
doing away with trial by jury and the liberty of the press, and, on
their ruins, to establish a system of absolute despotism. Whether these
effects were originally foreseen and intended by the sagacious
projectors of that wicked measure, is a matter of little importance; it
is quite obvious that such would have been its consequences. The
place-loving Lord Eldon, however, tried hard to make people believe that
bills of Pains and Penalties were then "part and parcel" of the
constitution of the kingdom. But a trial of such an indescribably
infamous description was never before attempted; and even if it had
been, Lord Eldon, as a good chancellor, ought to have declared against
it, instead of attempting to defend and perpetuate it. With overbearing
oligarchs, any sort of precedent was deemed sufficient; and it is rather
wonderful that they did not, by the help of precedent, endeavour to
re-establish the STAR CHAMBER! If they had succeeded in such a point,
the first of the kind attempted in modern times, the faction would,
doubtless, have considered themselves authorised, whenever it had suited
their views, to proceed by a bill of Pains and Penalties against any
obnoxious individual, instead of going before a common jury! To
establish such a monstrous system, we repeat, was one of the real,
though disguised, objects of ministers, in the prosecution of Queen
Caroline; for they perceived the progress of political knowledge, and
felt alarmed lest they should lose their arbitrary authority, if they
could not adopt some such tyrannical measure to frighten the people into
obedience. It was the glorious majesty of the press that bravely
defeated such infamous machinations against liberty, for which future
generations will have cause to venerate and worship it.

The queen, however, was most grievously slandered and ill-treated by the
Tory portion of public writers. Nothing, indeed, could have been more
villanous than the charges which blackened the columns of certain
newspapers,--journals that, in their general colouring, were too foul
and too dark to obtain belief. Well remunerated by government, the
scurrilous editors of such libels against female majesty appeared to
exult in the pain they inflicted; so long as they satisfied the hateful
revenge of their abandoned employers, their end was answered. However
much such prostitution of talent is to be lamented, there was yet a
worse crime committed by the enemies of Queen Caroline. The ministers of
the "established" church scrupled not to take part against her, and,
instead of confining themselves to the exposition of the mild and
forbearing doctrines of the Christian religion, not unfrequently
indulged their wicked disloyalty by delivering the most foul and
blasphemous denunciations against their queen, even from the pulpit!
This, of course, could only be done with a view of pleasing those who
had "rich livings" to reward their misplaced zeal. One of these
contemptible _reverends_, by the name of Blacow, was so violent against
her majesty, that the queen's law-advisers thought it right to punish
his impertinence by an action, in the Court of King's Bench, for a
malicious libel, which was contained in a sermon preached by him in St.
Mark's Church, Liverpool, and which was afterwards published in the
shape of a pamphlet. The jury having found the reverend defendant
guilty, the following sentence was passed upon him by the presiding
judge:


"The defendant," Mr. Justice Bailey said, "had been convicted of a
libel, contained in a sermon preached by him. He was a clergyman, and
had uttered the libel within the church. It was, he rejoiced to say, a
rare instance of so sacred a place being corrupted to such purposes(?).
Of all other places, the house of God, where charity and brotherly love
alone should be inculcated, was the last which should be made a theatre
for attacks upon the characters of living persons. Every man had enough
to do to look to his own character, and it was not necessary to go
abroad and make ourselves inquisitors into those of others. This libel
was uttered at a time, and upon a subject, upon which there was no great
unanimity of thinking, and was therefore, in its nature, calculated to
excite far other feelings than such as ought to be indulged in within
an edifice devoted to God. The defendant had exercised a most wise
discretion to-day, in the line of conduct which he had adopted; and the
court had reason to believe that, looking back to his past conduct, he
felt contrition for what he had already done. Under all these
circumstances, the court having taken the whole matter into their
consideration, did order and adjudge that, for this offence, the
defendant was to pay to the king a fine of one hundred pounds, be
imprisoned in the King's Bench Prison for six months, and, at the end of
that time, give securities for his good behaviour for five years,
himself in five hundred pounds, and two sureties in one hundred pounds
each, and to be further imprisoned until these sureties are perfected."


Thus foiled in patronizing clergymen and public writers to vilify their
queen, as well as being compelled to abandon the "Bill of Pains and
Penalties," ministers began to feel alarmed lest her majesty should
publish an exposition of those state secrets and crimes, which she had
so frequently threatened. A more certain plan, therefore, to rid
themselves and their abandoned king from this dread of certain disgrace,
if not of entire ruin, was now secretly put in force; and her majesty
was devoted to a premature end, as we have before explained. One thing,
however, we have forgotten to mention in our account of that period,
which is this: Lord P----, one of the then ministers, and who is now a
member of the _Whig_ government, was fatally correct in FORETELLING the
death of this injured woman; for he very incautiously said, in a letter
to a friend, "THE QUEEN WILL BE DEAD IN LESS THAN FOURTEEN DAYS!" The
letter containing this fatal prediction is now in being; but we could
not prevail upon its possessor to allow us to publish a copy of it.

If we have been too prolix in our account or too severe in our remarks
respecting our late basely-treated queen, we hope our readers will
excuse us. We certainly might say much more, but the subject being one
of importance to history, we could not reconcile it with our duty to say
less. We are sure every generous-minded Briton will lament, with us, the
untimely end of her majesty. Alas! that the page of history should be
darkened by such foul transactions as Truth has obliged us to record!
Thousands and tens of thousands of the hard-earned money of the
tax-payers of this kingdom, with the pledge of peerages to add to the
"illustrious dignity" of the House of Lords, were presented to the
persons who effected these diabolical acts of atrocity. The money might
possibly have been paid; but, in one or two instances, the perpetrators
of these sanguinary deeds became too remorse-stricken to wait for the
honours of nobility, and made their exit from the world by committing
suicide!

The public must have been frequently surprised at the number of persons,
of obscure origin, who, without having either distinguished themselves
in the world by their talents, or conferred the least benefit upon their
country, were ennobled, loaded with wealth, and received into favour,
by the profligate George the Fourth. But the following anecdotes, among
many others that might be adduced, will explain to our readers the
secret causes of such advancement.

       *       *       *       *       *

Mr. William Knighton was a surgeon, and in his professional capacity
attended Sir John M'Mahon (whose numerous villanies we have before set
forth) in his last illness, and immediately upon his decease took
possession of all his papers, and carried them away, under pretence that
M'Mahon had given them to him. When the prince's _grief_ had a little
subsided, he went for these papers, but, to his great surprise and
consternation, found all the drawers empty! He sent for Mr. Knighton,
and asked him about the matter. "Yes," said Knighton, "M'Mahon gave them
to me!" "But you mean, of course, to restore them?" "Yes, certainly; but
only upon a proper remuneration." "Oh!" said the regent, "I always
_meant_ to give you M'Mahon's place!" Nor could he do less, since he
then had made himself master, not only of the _private secrets_, but
_public ones_ also, which were of the greatest possible consequence. The
Duchess of Gloucester was present at this dialogue between her brother
the Prince Regent and Mr. Knighton. Our informant had this account from
her royal highness' own lips, who also added, "And so my poor brother is
obliged to keep this viper about him!" But the ministers said, "The
prince may entrust his future secretary with his _private_ affairs, but
his _public_ ones belong to us alone, as keepers of his conscience." Mr.
Knighton, however, was compensated for this "loss of secrets" by
receiving the _honour_ of knighthood. He was also employed to deliver a
certain titled lady of an illegitimate child, in Hanover-square, and his
faithfulness, in keeping this secret from the public, was rewarded by
making him a present of the house, most elegantly furnished, in which
the disgraceful affair took place!!! Sir William Knighton had likewise a
thousand pounds per annum for his professional attendance on the king!!!

       *       *       *       *       *

Sir Benjamin Bloomfield, who was some time private secretary to his late
majesty, also acquired place and wealth by possessing himself of his
master's private transactions. This gentleman was sent from Windsor, by
George the Fourth, to the Earl of Liverpool with a large bill for
diamonds due to Messrs. Rundell & Co., and for money to pay it. The bill
was so large (seventy thousand pounds) that the prime minister
_insisted_ upon knowing who these diamonds were for. Sir Benjamin very
reluctantly confessed that they had been purchased for Lady Conyngham!
Lord Liverpool instantly took Bloomfield with him in his own carriage to
Windsor, and requested an audience of the king. His lordship, much to
his credit, emphatically told his majesty that Sir B. Bloomfield must
resign, or he himself would. The king was so enraged with his secretary
for informing the earl of these particulars, that he struck Bloomfield a
violent blow, when the mortified knight quickly asked, "WHO POISONED THE
PRINCESS CHARLOTTE?" It was owing to this circumstance that Bloomfield
was sent as ambassador to Sweden, into _honourable_ exile, and, to
soothe his wounded pride and prevent his exposure of certain infamous
transactions, in which he himself had acted a very prominent part, he
was shortly after created--a LORD!!! A good round sum of money was also
given him to hush up the matter. We cannot help admiring the conduct of
Lord Liverpool in this instance,--the only one, that we are acquainted
with, which deserved the thanks of his country; for his lordship boldly
refused to pay for the aforesaid diamonds without the consent of
parliament, which the king, for shame, could not agree to!

       *       *       *       *       *

The Duke of Wellington, who has been frequently termed the mushroom
duke, obtained his wealth and titles for exposing the brave army of
England to unnecessary dangers and hardships. The position which he
chose for that army at Waterloo would have assuredly proved its entire
destruction, if it had not been for the treachery of Field Marshal
Grouchy, one of Napoleon's generals! But the Wellesley family were in
possession of the STATE-SECRETS, and it was therefore deemed prudent to
shower wealth and honours upon the whole family.

       *       *       *       *       *

Mr. Conant, the chief magistrate of Bow-street, was knighted for
conducting the secret investigation against the Princess of Wales in
1813.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Marquis of Conyngham, it is well known, obtained his title through
the prostitution of his wife to the libertine George the Fourth. The
baneful influence which this designing woman exercised over his majesty,
to the very last moments of his life, is a deplorable fact, which not
only proved mischievous to the best interests of the country, but will
for ever brand the name of her contemptible husband with derision and
disgust. This shameless mistress stood as the fountain of emolument and
preferment, and she took every advantage of that situation to promote
the aggrandizement of her family. The indulgent country, however, would
hardly have found fault with this second, Mrs. Clarke, had not, in some
instances, the very laws of the constitution been infringed, and the
domestic policy of the country become endangered, by the effects of her
improper influence, which, as it was _secret_, was fraught with the
greater injury. Had the marchioness confined herself to benefitting her
own family, the mischief would not have been so deplorable; but when the
highest offices in the church were bestowed on persons scarcely before
heard of,--when political parties rose and fell, and ministers were
created and deposed, to gratify the ambition of a prostitute,--then the
palace of the king appeared as if surrounded by some pestilential air,
and every honourable person avoided the court as alike fatal to private
property and public virtue. Thus the entrance to Windsor Castle became,
as it were, hermetically sealed, by the "lusty enchantress" within, to
all but her favoured minions! The court of George the Fourth certainly
differed from that of Charles the Second, although the number and
reputation of their several mistresses were nearly the same in favour
and character; but George the Fourth had no confiscations to confer on
the instruments of his pleasure, and therefore took care to rob the
country of gold to make up such deficiency. The reigns of these two
monarchs, dissimilar as they might be in some respects, nevertheless
possessed this resemblance: that an illegitimate progeny of royalty were
thrust forward to the contempt of all decency, and proved a heavy tax on
the forbearance of virtuous society. The wicked George the Fourth, as we
have been very credibly informed, gave the Marchioness of Conyngham more
than half a million of money, as well as bestowing many titles to
gratify her insatiable ambition. We really have no words to express our
abhorrence of such proceedings!

       *       *       *       *       *

Towards the close of George the Fourth's wicked career, he pretended to
be very much attached to the drama, and that accomplished and
fascinating actress, Miss Chester, was therefore engaged as READER to
his majesty. Sir Thomas Lawrence, at that time engaged in taking a
portrait of this lady, as well as one of the king, was entrusted with
the delicate negotiation. A meeting was soon obtained, and a kind of
excuse adopted to have Miss Chester near the king's person, as "PRIVATE
READER," at an annual salary of six hundred pounds! Thus was another
beauty added to the royal establishment, and her name emblazoned in the
"red book" of the country's burdens. For the kind attentions this lady
bestowed on the "polished" monarch, she has lately been admitted to that
refuge for royal mistresses, titled dames, and pensioned members of the
aristocracy--HAMPTON-COURT PALACE! Without disputing Miss Chester's
claims to be maintained at the public expense among the noble drones
there domiciled, it is not without something like disgust and
indignation that we view one of our most ancient kingly edifices, built
by the liberality of the nation, and at this moment supported by the
public purse, being converted into an asylum of this description.
Englishmen are thus taxed to support the paramours, and minions of
royalty in ease and luxury! But we need not confine our indignation to
this one royal residence; for is not Bushy Park within a mile of
Hampton, where the progeny of an actress kept at that place form now a
portion of our _noble_ aristocracy? We do not charge these unworthy
doings exclusively on the Tories; for, alas! the Grey Whigs seem to be
treading very closely in the footsteps of their predecessors in office,
by tolerating such royal doings, as well as filling their own pockets
and that of their families.

       *       *       *       *       *

From such disreputable means of acquiring title and wealth, England has
long been imposed on, and the ancient nobility of the country degraded.
Any pre-eminent degree of merit, if exercised for the country's benefit,
was sure to render its possessor a certain object of George the Fourth's
vengeance. His private court, therefore, found their best security in
their want of virtue. By a voluntary submission to the tyrant's
caprices, they retained the _high privilege_ of his smile and favour,
and built the bulwark of their safety on their _own personal
insignificance_! And yet, strange as the infatuation may appear, these
very creatures fancied their nature had undergone a real metamorphosis
by his majesty granting them a title; they considered themselves refined
by a kind of chemical process, sublimed by the sunshine of royal favour,
and thus separated from the dross and the dregs of ordinary
humanity,--from that humanity of which the mass of mankind partake, and
which, contemptible as it may seem to upstart lords, is the same with
the prince upon the throne and the beggar upon the dunghill. But from
such proud characters, we may trace the present contempt in which
nobility is almost universally held. The great endeavour of George the
Fourth's favourites has been to keep "the people" at a distance, lest
their own _purer_ nature should be contaminated by plebeian society; and
the first lesson they teach their offspring is, not to revere God, but
to maintain their own dignity in the scale of being! To men of such
principles, the king had only to make his wishes known, however
monstrous and unjust they might be, and they were immediately, and, in
too many cases, _fatally_ executed. Under such a government as that of
the last sixty years and upwards, it was fortunate indeed to escape
notice,--to creep through the vale of obscurity, and to die in old age,
without the prison, the pointed steel, or the poisoned cup! From a
vigorous mind, in every way calculated to find pleasure and honourable
employment in noble and virtuous actions, George the Fourth degenerated
into a monster, delighting in baubles and in a wantonness of wickedness
that produced the most flagitious habits, and which rendered him the
most despicable man in the whole circle of society; yet he was
designated "the most accomplished gentleman of the age!!!" We are aware
that he was surrounded with flatterers and sycophants, who wished to
gratify their _own_ avarice and pride by extending _his_ tyrannical
power; but ought such a mean excuse to be urged in extenuation of his
crimes? A man, like him, endowed with nature's choicest gifts, both of
mind and body, which were farther heightened by the most liberal
education, should have spurned such minions from his presence, and kept
company with none but the virtuous and the patriotic. Away, then, with
that vindication of George the Fourth's unjust deeds, which would fix
the stigma of crimes, prompted by his _own_ love of sensuality, to the
"advice of evil counsellors!" Evil counsellors would not have dared to
present him the cup of flattery, if he had not shewn himself so
greedily desirous of swallowing its contents. Let every friend of man
and of his country, then, guard against two similar reigns of horror,
and defy, as we do, fines and imprisonment, in attempting, by every
lawful and rational means, to push back the gigantic strides of tyranny,
whether in a king or an overbearing ministry. Even now we are cursed
with a power, generated by Queen Charlotte and the late king, her son,
which is trying, by every scheme of ingenuity and desperation, to bring
back its former unjust, intolerant, and corrupt ascendency, both in
church and state; but who is there that can contemplate the possibility
of such a state of affairs occurring again, without feelings of horror?
What man in the possession of his senses but would exclaim against the
national misfortune of having another Pitt, a Liverpool, a Londonderry,
a Canning, or a Wellington, in power? Awful, however, as the havoc
appears which these men have made, the country need not yet give itself
up to despair. We believe that there is a fund of vigour in the empire
that may stand experiments, the least of which would shake the sickly
frames of other empires to dissolution. There is probably no dominion on
earth that has within itself so strong a repulsion of injury, or so
vivid and rapid a spring and force of restoration. Its strength is
renewed like that of the young eagle; and it is this very faculty of
self-restoration that has so long allowed the empire to hold together,
notwithstanding the infinite speculations, tamperings, absurdities, and
crimes of men in power, under the guidance of Queen Charlotte and
George the Fourth. Yet is it right that England should be kept merely
above bankruptcy, while she has the original power of being the first,
most vigorous, richest, and happiest portion of the world? Where does
the earth contain a people so palpably marked out for superiority in all
the means of private and public enjoyment of affluence, influence, and
security? The most industrious, strong-minded, and fully-educated
population of the world inhabit her island. She has the finest
opportunities for commerce, the most indefatigable and sagacious efforts
and contrivances for every necessity and luxury of mankind;
inexhaustible mines of the most valuable minerals, and almost the
exclusive possession of the most valuable of them all,--COAL; a
singularly healthy and genial climate, where the human form naturally
shapes itself into the most complete beauty and vigour; a situation the
most happily fixed by Providence for a great people destined to
influence Europe,--close enough to the Continent to watch every
movement, and influence the good or peril of every kingdom of it from
Russia to Turkey, and yet secured from the sudden shocks and casualties
of European war by the Channel, of all defences, the cheapest, the most
permanent, and the most impregnable!

When these immense and enviable advantages are compared with the present
state of England, heavy indeed must the sins of our rulers appear! But a
new class and character of hostility is now happily starting up to
oppose further inroads upon our liberties, and the question will
speedily be brought to a decision, not between the obsolete and formal
parties of the two houses of parliament, but between the Treasury bench
and the delegates of "the people,"--that people itself shewing a bold
and virtuous character, commissioning its representatives with a voice
of authority, and exhibiting a rigid determination to see that their
duty is done, unexampled in the history of Britain! This is the kind of
spirit that has long been wanted, and we look to it as the sure cure for
the decaying vitality of the constitution. We are no advocates for a
revolution brought about by popular passion, by the vulgar artifice of
vulgar demi-gods, by the itinerant inflammation of pretended patriotism;
but the present state of public feeling appeals not to the ambition of
the democrat, to the baseness of the incendiary, the sordidness of the
plunderer, or the fury of the assassin. There is nothing in it but the
natural expression of honourable minds, disdaining to look calmly upon
injustice, extortion, and royal profligacy, whether practised by Whig or
Tory, and however sanctioned by time. The people are indignant at the
callous venality of public men, and feel themselves insulted by the open
spoil which bloated sinecurists and state-secret keepers have so long
committed upon the honest gains of society. They cannot see the
necessity of that strangling burthen of taxes which makes industry as
poor as idleness, and they shrink from the view of their withering
effect on the freedom and prosperity of England. The people who observe
matters in this light are not the wild haters of all governments, nor
the sullen conspirators against the peace of mankind; but the father of
the industrious family, the man of genius, honesty, and virtue, the
sincere patriot, are those who now feel themselves compelled to come
from their willing obscurity into the front rank of public care, to
raise up their voices, till now never heard beyond the study or the
fireside, and demand that the House of Commons shall at last throw off
its fetters, scorn the indolence, meanness, and venality of the Upper
House, knowing no impulse but its duty, no patronage but that of public
gratitude, and no party but its country! Such feelings are so just, that
they have become universal, and so universal, that they have become
IRRESISTIBLE! The minister, be he Whig or Tory, must yield to them, or
he instantly descends from his power. All candidates for public
distinction will thus be compelled to discover that the most prudent
choice, as well as the most manly, generous, and principled, is to side
with the country. Then may we hope to see sinecures extinguished; the
obnoxious patronage of government destroyed; every superfluous expense
of the public service rent away; the enormous salaries of ministers and
the feeders on the civil list reduced; the annuities to ministerial
aunts, cousins, and connexions of more dubious kinds, on the pension
list, unsparingly expunged; which, by disburthening the nation of
unnecessary taxes, will enable the Englishman to live by his labour. If
these things may be done by the Russell reform bill, it will be only by
a circuitous process. BUT ENGLAND HAS NO TIME TO WAIT. What must be done
at last cannot be done too speedily. The truth is, that the nation is
disgusted with the insolent extravagance of the Grey cabinet, which
utters the most zealous declarations of economy and withdrawal of taxes,
while the people remain unrelieved of a single impost. They observe a
premier lavish of the public money on his own family, while a Chancellor
of the Exchequer starts up, and sapiently condemns certain members of
the Whig government for refusing their salaries! Thus the old Tory
system is still attempted to be perpetuated, under the banners of the
Whigs; the tax-gatherer makes his appearance with undiminished demands;
the necessaries of life increase in price as they decrease in
excellence; every thing, in short, that man eats, drinks, or wears,
loads him with an additional tax, paralyzing his industry, and
overwhelming him in poverty.

Every candid and impartial observer will acknowledge that the public
voice is not raised against government itself, nor against the many
admirable institutions of this country; but against the perversions of
government; against unconstitutional and wicked rulers; against abuses
of trust, office, and authority; against impositions and corruptions
pervading every department of the state, which have been reduced to
system, and teem with every species of fraud, tyranny, and oppression;
against the Star Chamber of Toryism; against the misappropriation of
unnecessary, extortionate, and oppressive imposts; against despotic
enactments; against fictitious prosecutions and arbitrary imprisonments;
against the perversions of law and the decrees of political judges;
against spies and hireling ruffians, suborned to deprive the subject of
his liberty, aided by the corrupt practices of heart-hardened clerical
and other magistrates; against packed juries, and the artful
construction of libel; against the iniquitous forms and delays of the
chancery and other courts;--against these, we say, and all such
violations of the chartered rights of Britons, is that voice proclaiming
its DETERMINATION TO BE FREE!--to be masters of their own wealth, their
own industry, their own personal security, and their own liberties! The
people of England will no longer be swayed by those upstart peers which
George the Fourth created. What claims have such state-pensioners on
public confidence? Why should sensible men give up their judgments to a
selfish and hypocritical faction of--LORDS? What better, in the name of
heaven, are they than the rest of human creatures?

     "Remove their swelling epithets, thick laid
      As varnish on a harlot's cheek; the rest,
      Thin sown with ought of profit or delight,
      Will far be found unworthy."

It is, indeed, idle to suppose that the present highly-enlightened
inhabitants of this country can be thwarted from their wishes by the
vote of such men; for almost all the ancient nobility are with the
people. Englishmen, we repeat, care not for the vote of time-serving
lords, for the prayers of worldly-minded bishops, or for the tears and
vehement gestures of ex-chancellors! The people have resolved to redeem
the constitution from their polluting hands. The pupils of those who
have brought the country to its present impoverished state by their
misrule, during the last two reigns of vice and profligacy, will seek in
vain for the support of the people of 1832! A different form of
government is now dawning upon us, and the Tories have "fallen, for ever
fallen!" Murder, we trust, will now no longer be committed with impunity
by rank; exactions, weighing down a people's existence, will cease; the
needy will no longer be required to pamper the insatiable avarice and
voluptuousness of the great; a system of pure justice in the
administration of national affairs will rectify those abuses which have
for so many years ingulphed the kingdom in misery. If the people do but
prove true to themselves, nothing can now prevent their emancipation
from the thraldom of that overgrown power, by which they have cruelly
been enslaved. Yet the disease has been so long accumulating, that it
still lies deep, and will require both energy and skill to eradicate it.
They must, therefore, be upon their guard against the machinations of
their wily enemies, who will magnify every little ebullition of public
feeling into an attempt to overturn the existing institutions of the
country. Sensible men, and true friends to the constitution, and
therefore to the king, who forms so considerable a part of it, will
understand the Tory cry of "SEE THE EFFECTS OF POWER IN THE HANDS OF THE
PEOPLE!" and will not be led into a fear of some future evil, from
popular commotion, by such an attempt to divert them from their
constitutional rights. In this respect, vigilance is highly necessary to
protect them from the secret depredations of their former artful
tyrants, who are ever on the alert to regain their lost power. Let the
people, then, avoid all riots, tumults, and popular commotions, with the
utmost care, and preserve peace, good order, and security to all ranks
of society. True patriots will be careful to discourage every thing
which tends to destroy these natural fruits of a free constitution, not
only because whatever tends to destroy them tends to destroy all human
happiness, but also because even an accidental outrage in popular
assemblies and proceedings, as we have before shewn, is used by the
enemies of freedom to discredit the cause of liberty. By the utmost
attention to the preservation of the public peace, Englishmen will
defeat the malicious designs of servile courtiers; but, whatever may
happen, they will not desert the cause of humanity. Through a dread of
licentiousness, they will not forsake the standard of liberty. It is the
part of fools to fall upon Scylla in striving to avoid Charybdis. Who
would wish to see restored the despotic sway of Queen Charlotte and
George the Fourth, through the fear of a few transient outrages being
committed by the excitation of a long-insulted people? Both these
extremes are despotic while they last; but the former is a torrent that
would rush its headlong course for ever, if it met not a barrier
sufficiently strong to resist its power, while the latter may be
compared to a spring flood, that covers the meadows to-day, and
disappears on the morrow. The learned and eloquent DR. PRICE has a
passage so applicable to this subject, that our readers must excuse our
introducing it. This humane philosopher observes,


"Licentiousness and despotism are more nearly allied than is commonly
imagined. They are both alike inconsistent with liberty, and the true
end of government; nor is there any other difference between them than
that one is the licentiousness of great men, and the other the
licentiousness of little men; or that by one, the persons and property
of a people are subject to outrage and invasion from a king or a lawless
body of grandees; and that by the other, they are subject to the like
outrage from a lawless mob. In avoiding one of these evils, mankind have
often run into the other. But all well-constituted governments guard
equally against both. Indeed, of the two, the last is, on several
accounts, the least to be dreaded, and has done the least mischief. It
may be truly said, if licentiousness has destroyed its thousands,
despotism has destroyed its millions. The former having little power,
and no system to support it, necessarily finds its own remedy; and a
people soon get out of the tumult and anarchy attending it. But a
despotism, wearing a form of government, and being armed with its force,
is an evil not to be conquered without dreadful struggles. It goes on
from age to age, debasing the human faculties, levelling all
distinctions, and preying on the rights and blessings of society. It
deserves to be added, that in a state disturbed by licentiousness, there
is an animation which is favourable to the human mind, and puts it upon
exerting its powers; but in a state habituated to despotism, all is
still and torpid. A dark and savage tyranny stifles every effort of
genius, and the mind loses all its spirit and dignity."


MR. BAILEY, of Nottingham, an independent writer of great talent, has
well defined the causes of political convulsions, and the line of
conduct to be pursued by "the people" in times of great excitement. In
that gentleman's "Discourse on Revolutions," he says,


"That the progress of civilization may be retarded in states, by the
measures of governments, cannot be doubted. That the tendencies towards
disturbance in states, which inevitably await on advancing civilization,
may be restrained in their development by a politic or resolute
government, even whilst its policy is anomalous to the spirit of the
age, can as little be doubted. But what, it may be fairly asked, is in
reality gained by this procedure? The principle of revolution is not
annihilated, the nature of social man is not altered, the impetus of
knowledge is not weakened, the momentum of public opinion is not broken!
After every thing is done which cunning or tyranny can suggest, to avert
the day of demand and concession, IT WILL ARRIVE, when demand will be
made in a voice of thunder by an infuriated populace, and concession, of
the most humiliating description, be granted by an abject sovereign!

"As fires longest pent up in obscurity at length burst out with the most
resistless fury, so revolutions longest deferred are attended, in their
crisis, with the most terrible consequences. Were the rulers of nations
actuated by a spirit of sound wisdom, those dreadful convulsions could
never arise in states, on account of social rights, which, after causing
the death of thousands of the citizens, and desolating towns and
provinces, leave palaces in ruins, and thrones vacant.

"Revolution ought always to be the work of the government, not of the
people, except through the expression of public opinion. This is the
only species of power which the people can beneficially employ for the
redress of grievances,--at least, in old states, where a long indulgence
in habits of venality and corruption by the government, and a
widely-extended ramification of interests springing therefrom, and
pervading all classes of the community, must create a strong disposition
in favour of the existing order of things among large masses of the
citizens. Physical force ought never to be employed for the correction
of social evils, until every species of negative resistance has been
proved to be unavailing.

"When despotism has arrived at that state of audacious temerity, that it
makes a mockery of suffering, and tramples on remonstrances, sacrificing
alike the property, the persons, and consciences of men to its
ungovernable lust of dominion, it is justifiable to arraign such tyrants
at the tribunal of nature, that so their impotence may be exposed, and
their crimes punished."


Let us hope, therefore, that Englishmen, in freeing themselves from
despotism, will studiously avoid such scenes as lately took place at
Bristol. Britons should recollect that a determined and virtuous people
can do any thing and every thing by firmness and quietness; but all
violence defeats its own ends, and gives advantage to our enemies. A
thorough reform in church and state MUST take place; a crisis is at
hand, and those who wish to see England escape a trial of misery and
blood will heartily wish, and openly and resolutely demand, to see a
change of that long system, under which Corruption has thickened round
the high, while Poverty and Taxation have smitten the low. A longer
delay to remedy these evils may unhappily irritate the people into a
spirit of vengeance, which the tears of Lord Eldon, the bullying of the
Marquis of Londonderry, the professions of a Whig ministry, the
intrigues of German women, or the threatenings of Wellington's bayonet
law would vainly attempt to oppose! Sullen visions are now upon the
clouds, to which place-hunters and renegados are afraid to lift their
terrified eyes. But if they tremble at those visions, what will be their
fate when they ripen into substance, and let loose their thunders upon
the heads of the enemies of our country? May the necessity for such
vengeance be obviated by a timely concession to the constitutional
demands of an enlightened people is our sincere prayer!


THE END.


Printed by W. H. STEVENSON, 5, Whiskin Street, Clerkenwell.




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Transcriber's note:


The word "manoeuvring" uses an oe ligature in the original.

The following corrections have been made to the text:

     Page 1: Of meaner vice and villains[original has villians]

     Page 47: When the queen came from Dover[original has Dovor] to
     town

     Page 138: In the month of April, Mr.[period missing in
     original] Brougham

     Page 144: 'behind the arras,'[original has double quote]

     Page 149: [quotation mark missing in original]"Then,"
     _modestly_ added the president

     Page 161: amongst the nymphs of Berkeley-row[original has
     Berkely-row]

     Page 191: SIR,--You[original has Yor] are requested

     Page 214: where[original has were] it was supposed he had been
     wounded

     Page 219: the Bishop of Llandaff (Dr. Copleston),[comma
     missing in original] the prebends

     Page 228: bank of Ransom, Morland, and Hammersley[original has
     Hammersly]

     Page 263: presented this anomalous, inconsistent[original has
     inconsistant]

     [94:A] had been against Lord Castlereagh's[original has
     Castereagh's]