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dée formed so glorious an exception to the rest of France, and kept its faith inviolate, in the midst of civil defection and military treachery, and gained victories over the Republic greater than the Kings of Europe were able to effect? It was because the pride and corruption of the Aristocracy had not penetrated into that secluded province; because no exclusive system there prevailed; because the attractions of Paris had not drawn its nobility from their estates; because they were still, what they ever ought to be, the friends, the patrons, and the benefactors of the people. Ask the peasant of the Bocage, why he is still a Royalist in his heart; why he took up arms against an almost irresist ible enemy, and sent forth his sons and brothers to the fight, and maintained the struggle, when the monarchs of Europe had abandoned it in despair? He will answer, that his affections are all centred upon his landlord; that his ancestors have been the benefactors of his race for three hundred years; that he has been his friend in prosperity, and his support in adversity; that he shared in his amusements, and sympathized with his sorrows, and participated in his interests; that he rejoiced with him when he rejoiced, and wept with him when he wept. -Such are the principles which bound the peasantry of La Vendée to their landlords and the cause of order; and similar conduct will never, to the end of time, fail in producing similar effects.

It is no doubt important that the nobility should occasionally come forward and take the lead on great public occasions, but if they imme diately relapse into their indolent habits and exclusive circle, the affections of the gentry and the peasantry will not be secured. The vast effect which the praiseworthy efforts of the leading nobility have had when they have come forward on any public occasions, at dinners, yeomanry meetings, or cattle shows, and cordially united with the gentry and tenantry of the country, may serve to demonstrate what prodigious effects would be produced if these important but insulated acts were followed up and cemented by a life habitually devoted to the furtherance

of the same patriotic objects. But the effect of these admirable steps is insensibly weakened, and ultimately lost, if, the moment they are concluded, the nobility rejoin the aristocratic set, and live with the élégans of the metropolis, to the entire neglect of the gentlemen and education of the country. Such casual and passing efforts have some effect, but nothing comparable to what might be attained by more sustained efforts; they evince a feeling of the necessity for exertion, without a knowledge of the means by which the object is to be gained. It is by cordially and sincerely uniting with the gentlemen by whom they are surrounded; by selecting the able, the worthy, and the accomplished, out of the whole classes in their vicinity, whose manners and acquirements fit them for their society; by drawing the vast, intelligent, and powerful body of the middling ranks towards them, by the bonds of mutual interest, affection, and gratitude, that that cordial cooperation of all the respectable classes can alone be secured, which is now the only barrier that exists between our present state and revolutionary anarchy.

The Conservative part of the Aristocracy, embracing a vast majority of all that is great and good and illustrious in the Peerage, have made memorable and noble efforts during these trying times. If it had been nothing else, the very act of staying at home, instead of flying like the French noblesse, from the danger; the demonstration they have afforded of their capacity to govern by their courage and moderation in Council, as well as their eloquence and energy in debate; the utter confusion to which they have put the Revolutionary party by the vast superiority they have asserted on the great theatre of Parliament over all that the democratic cauldron has been able to throw up; have been of inestimable importance, and will, it is to be hoped, yet stamp a very different character upon the English Revolution, from that which disgraced its predecessor on the other side of the Channel. The younger part of the Aristocracy, in particular, whatever their parents were, are almost all Conservative in

their principles; and the vigour and resolution which their public conduct has evinced, as well as the ability of their speeches, have had a most powerful effect in moderating, though they could not allay, the tempests of anarchy. It is from no want of a desire to do their duty as patriotic leaders and good citizens, but from an ignorance, arising from their elevated station and peculiar habits of life, that they so often, by their private foibles, neutralize or obliterate much of what their public conduct might have done. It is from keeping aloof from the gentlemen immediately beneath them that they have become ignorant of the means by which their co-operation is to be secured.

It is impossible not to be sensible that, among all the educated and better classes, the tide has now set in, firmly and decidedly, in favour of Conservative principles. The enormity and near approach of the danger has awakened all but a few incurable Whig aristocrats, many insatiable Whig expectants, and innumerable Whig ten-pounders, to constitutional sentiments. In the younger and more highly educated classes of the community, in particular, the predominance of these noble and generous sentiments has become most conspicuous. It is impossible now to bring together any respectable body of men in any part of the kingdom, either connected with agriculture, trade, or manufactures, without the strength and intensity of constitutional feeling being immediately manifested. It is contrary to all experience that this vast and weighty mass of the gentry and middling ranks should be permanently subdued by the monstrous union of Whig aristocracy and plebeian ambition. Let the Conservative nobility only ally themselves cordially and sincerely with the intermediate classes, now awakened to the same sentiments as themselves, and the evils which have been done may yet in some measure be repaired.

No one expects men of rank and station to select their intimate companions out of classes who, though perhaps their equals in manners, and their superiors in acquirement, are their inferiors in fortune or descent. By all means, let Peers associate with Peers, and Earls with Earls,

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and Barons with Barons. larity in habits, taste, occupation, and pursuit, will necessarily lead to intimacies between persons of this description. But it is one thing to choose your intimate circle out of persons in the same rank as yourself; it is another and a very different thing to shut your gates altogether against all but a few chosen exclusives, and live in the land which gave you birth as if it contained no one worthy of your esteem. We tell the Aristocracy, that this system will not do. Support must be won by condescension; affection can only be secured by good deeds: if the higher orders expect the middling ranks, or the untitled gentlemen, to hazard every thing for them, they must begin by some sacrifice on their own side. Let them commence by laying on the altar of their country the exclusive system, the offspring of overweening prosperity, and they will be both more powerful politicians, more estimable citizens, and happier men.

It was very different in former times. When we were beginning life at the opening of the French Revolution, this system was unknown. The houses of the great were then open to all their neighbours and friends: the centres of fashion, and information, and distinction in their respective counties, the pivots on which the Conservative interest in the country chiefly turned. We have mingled with the Aristocracy; we have been intimate with the brightest ornaments of both Houses of Parliament; and many of the happiest days of our life have been passed under roofs which are now open only to exclusive dandies and titled élégantes. It is by comparing these recollections of former days with the accounts which, in old age, we receive of the habits and manners of the rising generation from our sons and grandsons, that we are struck with astonishment at the prodigious step towards social decline which the aristocracy has made during that period, and cease to wonder at the slender support which it has received in the hour of need from the middling ranks, who were formerly almost unanimous in its support. It is not yet too late to arrest the progress of the evil: the aristocracy was never so powerful

in talent, information, and energy, as it is now; its younger branches are perhaps superior in acquirements to any equal number of men in the kingdom. It is the mania of fashion and a foolish etiquette, which alone prevent such a cordial co-operation between them and the class of gentle men now fully awakened to their danger, as would prove an invincible barrier against the farther inroads of revolution.

We have exposed with fearless language, though with painful feelings, what we consider as a general evil in our social condition. We have done so from no feeling of animosity towards individuals; from no irritation or jealousy towards classes, but from a strong sense of public duty, and our clear perception of the injury which many estimable men are doing to their country and themselves, from their acquiescence in habits and manners originating with the frivolous or contemptible leaders of fashion. We have done so the more readily, because no one can accuse us of being either subservient to authority, or carried away by popular applause; because our attach ment to the cause of order and the Conservative side, is known to all the world; and because (we say it fearlessly) we have done more to support the Constitution in perilous times, than any other Periodical in existence. We have no favour to ask of the Aristocracy; we are independent and unfettered men: But weknow from study and observation the vital importance of the nobility, to uphold the fabric of liberty not less than order, and that the moment they are swept away, there is no barrier remaining to protect ourselves or our children from the worst of tyrannies -the tyranny of a multitude of tyrants. We esteem and reverence the many great and good men whom the Peerage contains; we appreciate and admire the elegance of the aristocratic circles; we are fully alive to the vast ability, profound knowledge, and splendid talents which the discussions in the House of Peers exhibit. It is just because we are so fully impressed with these excellent qualities, because we know how essential to the cause of order it is that the class of proprietors should be organized, in the desperate struggle which awaits them, under weighty

and upright leaders, and because we see clearly how competent the aristocracy are to take the lead in such a strife, that we are so strongly impressed with the disastrous effects of that mania of fashion and exclusive frenzy,which threatens so soon to divide two classes whose interests and affections ought ever to be the same, and who are so well fitted to support and improve each other.

But there is one class of the aristocracy to whom, in an especial manner, the weight of historical censure is due-that is, the Whig nobility: the great and old families, once the ornament of Britain, who, to serve the purposes of party, hold a language to the people, and support measures in the Legislature, calculated to bring ruin alike upon their country and themselves, and which they know to be disastrous-the Orleanses, and Liancourts, and Clermont Tonnerres of the English Revolution. Enter the cabinets or the drawingrooms of these grandees, you hear nothing but the most haughty and conservative language. The necessity of taking steps to arrest the evil, the imminent danger to the holders of property from the progress of radicalism, the need of a cordial union among all the better classes to resist the spoliation springing from their inferiors, is universally talked of. The frivolity of popular applause, the inconstancy of the mul titude, the insufferable vulgarity of their leaders, the perils arising from their ascendency, are the frequent subjects of conversation. The Reform Bill itself is, in the best and most elevated Whig circles, stigmatized as an unnecessary and perilous measure, going infinitely beyond what was either expected or required, which was as great a surprise to them as their opponents, and which threatens, in its ultimate consequences, to undermine all the institutions of the country. But listen to these Whig aristocrats on the hustings, or at public meetings; you will hear nothing but the necessity of yielding to popular opinion, the growing importance and vast intelligence of the people, the irresistible weight of their voice, the paramount sway which they have acquired in the Constitution. Examine their conduct in Parliament; you will see

only a blind and contemptible obedience to their party leaders in every measure, how absurd and perilous soever; while in private, they are continually deploring the necessity to which they are subjected of supporting Lord Grey's administration. Now this, we say, is altogether unpardonable, to excite the people by language which they know at the time they use it to be as delusive as it is dangerous, and support their party in measures which, they confess themselves, are at once hazardous and unnecessary.

Reversing the principle and practice of their opponents, let it be the maxim of the Conservatives to throw themselves cordially, openly, and without reserve, upon the middling ranks; upon the gentlemen of England; upon all of whatever birth, or in whatever profession, whose worth, talents, education, and manners fit them for their society. This great and weighty class, whom Whig aristocracy excludes from its saloons, whom Whig legislation has cast down to the earth, still contains the preponderating influence in the scale; if thrown cordially to the Conservative side, it will in the end cast the balance. Let the Whigs ally themselves with the Tenpounders; let them alternately adulate the great, and flatter the multitude; let them degrade rank by an alliance with violence, and elegance by the contact of vulgarity; let their haughty nobles bow to deputations headed by tailors, and their exclusive eligibles sink into the society of urban intrigue; but let the great and noble Conservative body draw closer the bonds which are beginning to unite them to the gentlemen of the country, and cordially receive into that phalanx all whose manners and principles, of whatever birth, qualify them to enter its ranks. It is by so doing that they will in the end acquire the supremacy over their adversaries; the weight of the middling ranks, when fairly committed to the scale, ever decides the contest. It was not in the refuse of cities, but the sons of the yeomanry, that Cromwell recruited for the Iron Bands, which finally gave victory to the republicFas est et ab hoste doceri.

For the same reason, let the disastrous measure of the Reform Bill

be as soon as possible, if not forgotten, at least forgiven. We know the difficulty of doing this; we are alive to the shudder which every true Conservative must feel at acting with men who they think have ruined their country; we recommend it, albeit in the firm and sincere belief that the passing of that measure was the death-warrant of the British empire. But though we can never expel the poison, we may for a time provide antidotes to its malignity; though we cannot restore health, we may prolong an anxious and precarious existence. This is the utmost to which patriotic hope can now aspire; this the limit assigned to public duty. To this melancholy duty, however, all who love their country, are imperiously called; and much remains even in this world to reward its conscientious discharge. The Reform Bill, and the means by which it was passed, have become matter of history; let them leave to History to do justice to its authors. It will stretch them on the rack of ages, and paint their conduct with the pencil of Tacitus. But let all who love their country, or are even solicitous to preserve themselves from destruction, unite with those of the opposite party who are inclined, even at the eleventh hour, to take their stand firmly and decidedly on Conservative principles. Let them recollect Napoleon's maxim,—“ Il ne faut pas nous facher des choses passés ;" and the good sense of Mr Sheridan's saying, "The question is not, how we got into the war, but being in it, in the name of God what are we to do?" Let them recollect that it is the destiny of man to err; that the Conservatives have committed many errors, which should make them lenient to those of their opponents; that the Whigs contain many able and good men, guiltless of the fatal step, and in secret as apprehensive of its consequences as themselves; that it was the divisions among the respectable classes, consequent on Catholic Emancipation, which opened the door to the Demon of Revolution, and that if his march is yet to be stayed, it can only be by a cordial union amongst all the talent, worth, character, and property, which yet remains in the state.

1834.] Pussages from the Diary of a late Physician. Chap. XV. 81

PASSAGES FROM THE DIARY OF A LATE PHYSICIAN.

CHAP. XV.

THE BARONET'S BRIDE.

NEVER was man married under more auspicious circumstances than Sir Henry Harleigh. Himself the descendant of an ancient house, and the accomplished possessor of a splendid fortune; his bride the fairest flower in the family of a distinguished nobleman; surely here were elements of high happiness, warranting the congratulations of the "troops of friends" who, by their presence, added éclat to the imposing nuptials. "Heaven bless thee, sweet Anne!" sobbed the venerable peer, her father, folding his daughter in his arms, as Sir Henry advanced to conduct her to his travelling-chariot; "may these be the last tears thou wilt have occasion to shed!" The blushing, trembling girl could make no reply; and linking her arm in that of her handsome husband, dizzy with agitation, and almost insensible of the many hands that shook hers in passing, suffered him to lead her through the throng of guests above, and lines of be-favoured lacqueys below, to the chariot waiting to conduct "the happy pair" to a romantic residence of Sir Henry's in Wales. The moment they were seated, the steps were shut up-the door closed. Sir Henry hastily waved a final adieu to the company thronging the windows of the drawingroom he had just quitted; the postilions cracked their whips, and away dashed the chariot-and-four, amidst the cheery pealing of the bells

bearing its precious throbbing charge

To halcyon climes afar."

Sir Henry's character contrasted strongly, in some respects, with that of his lady. His urbanity was tinctured with a certain reserve, or rather melancholy, which some considered the effect of an early and severe devotion to study; others, and perhaps more truly, of a constitutional tendency inherited from his mother. There was much subdued energy in his character; and you

VOL. XXXV. NO. CCXVII.

could not fail, under all his calmness of demeanour, to observe the strugglings of talent and ambition. Lady Anne, on the contrary, was all sprightliness and frolic. 'Twas like a sunbeam and a cloud brought together; the one, in short, "L'Allegro;" the other, "ll Penseroso." The qualities of each were calculated to attemper those of the other, alternately instigating and brightening; and who would not predicate a happy harmonious union of such extremes?

Six months after their marriage, the still "happy couple" returned to town, after having traversed an extensive portion of the Continent. Lady Anne looked lovelier, and her spirits were more buoyant and brilliant than ever. She had apparently transfused not a little of her vivacity into her husband's more tranquil temperament: his manners exhibited a briskness and joyousness which none of his friends had ever witnessed in him before. During the whole of the London "season," Lady Anne revelled in enjoyment; the idol of her husband-the centre of gaiety and cheerfulness-the star of fashion. Her début at Court was the most flattering of the day. It was generally talked of, that the languid elegance, the listless fastidiousness of royalty, had been quickened into something like an appearance of interest, as the fair bride bowed before it, in the graceful attitude of loyal duty. Once or twice I had the satisfaction of meeting with her Ladyship in public-all charming vivacity -all sparkle-followed by crowds of flatterers-till one would have thought her nearly intoxicated with their fragrant incense! "What a sweet smile!"-"How passing graceful!"-" Heavens, what a swan-like neck!"-" Ah! happy fellow that Harleigh!"-" Seen Lady Anne? Oh! yonder she moves-there-that laughing lady in white satin, tapping the French Ambassador on the shoul der with her fan."-" What! Is that Lady Anne, now waltzing with Lord

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