"singular young man," "well-intentioned, I dare say; but unsafe, sir, quite unsafe." The prudent of course conform the place of nearly everybody depends on the opinion of every one else. There is nothing like Swift's precept to attain the repute of a sensible man, “Be of the opinion of the person with whom at the time you are conversing." This world is given to those whom this world can trust. Our very conversation is infected: where are now the bold humor, the explicit statement, the grasping dogmatism of former days? they have departed, and you read in the orthodox works dreary regrets that the art of conversation has passed away. It would be as reasonable to expect the art of walking to pass away: people talk well enough when they know to whom they are speaking; we might even say that the art of conversation was improved by an application to new circumstances. "Secrete your intellect, use common words, say what you are expected to say," and you shall be at peace; the secret of prosperity in common life is to be commonplace on principle.

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Whatever truth there may be in these splenetic observations might be expected to show itself more particularly in the world of politics: people dread to be thought unsafe in proportion as they get their living by being thought to be safe. "Literary men," it has been said, are outcasts ;" and they are eminent in a certain way notwithstanding. "They can say strong things of their age; for no one expects they will go out and act on them." They are a kind of ticket-of-leave lunatics, from whom no harm is for the moment expected; who seem quiet, but on whose vagaries a practical public must have its eye. For statesmen it is different: they must be thought men of judgment. The most morbidly agricultural counties

There is no such sentence in Swift's works, and what it is meant for is past guessing. The nearest approach I find to it is the very different advice in Hints for an Essay on Conversation," "never to say a thing which any of the company can reasonably wish we had rather left unsaid."-ED.

were aggrieved when Mr. Disraeli was made Chancellor of the Exchequer: they could not believe he was a man of solidity, and they could not comprehend taxes by the author of "Coningsby" or sums by an adherent of the Caucasus. "There is," said Sir Walter Scott, "a certain hypocrisy of action, which, however it is despised by persons intrinsically excellent, will nevertheless be cultivated by those who desire the good repute of men." Politicians, as has been said, live in the repute of the commonalty. They may appeal to posterity; but of what use is posterity? Years before that tribunal comes into life, your life will be extinct; it is like a moth going into Chancery. Those who desire a public career must look to the views of the living public; an immediate exterior influence is essential to the exertion of their faculties. The confidence of others is your fulcrum: you cannot many people wish you could go into Parliament to represent yourself; you must conform to the opinions of the electors, and they, depend on it, will not be original. In a word, as has been most wisely observed, "under free institutions it is necessary occasionally to defer to the opinions of other people; and as other people are obviously in the wrong, this is a great hindrance to the improvement of our political system and the progress of our species.”

Seriously, it is a calamity that this is so: occasions arise in which a different sort of statesman is required. A year or two ago we had one of these.. If any politician had come forward in this country, on the topic of the war, with prepared intelligence, distinct views, strong will, commanding mastery, it would have brought support to anxious intellects and comfort to a thousand homes; none such came. Our people would have statesmen who thought as they

* Mangled from this passage in the preface to "Carleton's Memoirs" (quoted in Lockhart, Vol. ii., Chap. vi.):-"There is a certain hypocrisy in business, whether civil or military, as well as in religion, which they will do well to observe who, not satisfied with discharging their duty, desire also the good repute of men. "-ED.

thought, believed as they believed, acted as they would have acted; they had desired to see their own will executed. There came a time when they had no clear will, no definite opinion: they reaped as they had sown; as they had selected an administrative tool, of course it did not turn out a heroic leader.

If we wanted to choose an illustration of these remarks out of all the world, it would be Sir Robert Peel. No man has come so near our definition of a constitutional statesman, -the powers of a first-rate man and the creed of a second-rate man. From a certain peculiarity of intellect and fortune, he was never in advance of his time. Of almost all the great measures with which his name is associated, he attained great eminence as an opponent before he attained even greater eminence as their advocate. On the Corn Laws, on the currency, on the amelioration of the criminal code, on Catholic emancipation, the subject of the memoir before us, he was not one of the earliest laborers or quickest converts. He did not bear the burden and heat of the day: other men labored, and he entered into their labors. As long as these questions remained the property of first-class intellects, as long as they were confined to philanthropists or speculators, as long as they were only advocated by austere, intangible Whigs, Sir Robert Peel was against them; so soon as these same measures, by the progress of time, the striving of understanding, the conversion of receptive minds, became the property of second-class intellects, Sir Robert Peel became possessed of them also: he was converted at the conversion of the average man. His creed was, as it had ever been, ordinary; but his extraordinary abilities never showed themselves so much. He forthwith wrote his name on each of those questions, so that it will be remembered as long as they are remembered.

Nor is it merely on these few measures that Sir Robert Peel's mind must undoubtedly have undergone

a change. The lifetime of few Englishmen has been more exactly commensurate with a change of public opinion, - a total revolution of political thought. Hardly any fact in history is so incredible as that forty and a few years ago England was ruled by Mr. Perceval: it seems almost the same as being ruled by

the Record newspaper, he had the same poorness of thought, the same petty Conservatism, the same dark and narrow superstition. His quibbling mode of oratory seems to have been scarcely agreeable to his friends; his impotence in political speculation moves the wrath, destroys the patience of the quietest reader now. Other ministers have had great connections or great estates, to compensate for the contractedness of their minds: Mr. Perceval was only a poorish nisi prius lawyer, and there is no kind of human being so disagreeable, so teasing to the gross Tory nature. He is not entitled to any glory for our warlike successes; on the contrary, he did his best to obtain failure by starving the Duke of Wellington and plaguing him with petty vexations. His views in religion inclined to that Sabbatarian superstition which is of all creeds the most alien to the firm and genial English nature. The mere fact of such a premier being endured shows how deeply the whole national spirit and interest was absorbed in the contest with Napoleon, how little we understood the sort of man who should regulate its conduct," in the crisis of Europe," as Sydney Smith said, "he safely brought the Curates' Salaries Improvement Bill to a hearing,"*- and it still more shows the horror of all innovation which the recent events of French history had impressed on our wealthy and comfortable classes: they were afraid of catching revolution as old women of catching cold. Sir Archibald Alison to this day holds that revolution is an infectious

*I suppose this refers to the following in Letter iv. of "Plymley" :If this combination [of the North-Irish Dissenters with the Catholics] does take place, . . . the death blow of England is struck; and this event may happen instantly, — before . . . Mr. Perceval [has] conducted the Curates' Salary Bill safely to a third reading.” — ED.

disease, beginning no one knows how and going no one knows where; there is but one rule of escape, explains the great historian: Stay still, don't move; do what you have been accustomed to do, and consult your grandmother on everything. In 1812 the English people were all persuaded of this theory; Mr. Perceval was the most narrow-minded and unaltering man they could find: he therefore represented their spirit, and they put him at the head of the state.

Such was the state of political questions. How little of real thoughtfulness was then applied to what we now call "social questions" cannot be better illustrated than by the proceedings on the occasion of Mr. Perceval's death. Bellingham, who killed him, was, whether punishable or not, as clearly insane as a lunatic can be who offends against the laws of his country. He had no idea of killing Mr. Perceval particularly: his only idea was, that he had lost some property in Russia [and] that the English government would never repay him his loss in Russia; and he endeavored to find some Cabinet minister to shoot as a compensation. Lord Eldon lived under the belief that he had nearly been the victim himself, and told some story of a borrowed hat and an assistant's greatcoat to which he ascribed his preservation.* The whole affair was a monomaniac's delusion: Bellingham had no ground for expecting any repayment; there was no reason for ascribing his pecuniary ruin to the Government of that day any more than to the Government of this day. Indeed, if he had been alive now, it would have been agreed that he was a particularly estimable man: medical gentlemen would have been examined for days on the doctrine of "irresistible impulse," "moral insanity," "instinctive pistol discharges," and every respectful sympathy would have been shown to so curious an offender. Whether he was punishable or not may be a question; but all will now agree that it was not a case for the punishment

Anecdote Pook"; quoted in Twiss's "Life," Chap. xxxiii.