their dumb show, without a congenial heart for them, without sympathy or equity, is a Tory cabinet. The Laisser-Faire then means no more than "Turn out the Whigs, they have done nothing for you, get in the Tories, they will take care to let you do nothing!" Again, we say, Mr. Carlyle may not mean this, but his argument means nothing else. But we are too provident of our lessons of experience to be deceived by the flattering bait of "new lamps for old." What the Whigs have done, they have done of and from themselves, what they have not done, the Tories have prevented them from doing. Let this fact go forth along with all the rest, and the people may exclaim, "Hang up philosophy, if it give us no bread." Even the new Poor Law, the great sin of the Whigs according to our author, was imperative and invaluable to society. Mr. Carlyle says it is a half-truth, but that it was nevertheless indispensable. Of the old law, he says truly, 66 ; Any law, however well meant as a law, which has become a bounty in unthrift, idleness, bastardy, and beer-drinking, must be put an end to. In all ways it needs, especially in these times, to be proclaimed aloud, that for the idle man there is no place in this England of ours. He that will not work, and save according to his means, let him go elsewhither let him know that for him the law has made no soft provision, but a hard and stern one ; that by the law of nature, which the law of England would vainly contend against in the long run, he is doomed either to quit these habits, or miserably be extruded from this earth, which is made on principles different from these. He that will not work according to his faculty, let him perish according to his necessity; there is no juster law than that." And of the New Poor Law Bill he says with equal truth,— "Work is the mission of man in this earth. * * * Let the honest working man rejoice that such law, the first of nature, has been made good on him, and hope that, by and by, all else will be made good. It is the beginning of all. We define the harsh New Poor Law to be withal a protection of the thrifty labourer against the thriftless and dissolute;' a thing inexpressibly important; half-result, detestable, if you will, when looked upon as a whole result, yet without which the whole result is for ever unattainable." was Yet this very poor law - indispensable and fruitful of great blessings made the engine of Tory disaffection to work up the labouring classes into Chartism. The fact is notorious all over the country that this very law was converted into an agent of factious disturbance at elections, and upon all other occasions, in public and in secret, by Tory magistrates, landholders, and attorneys, to inflame the passions of the lower orders against the Government, this law, which was the essential foundation of a new and improved system, which contained the declaration of that important principle, the protection of industry, and which relieved the land from the greatest pestilence of fraud, corruption, and oppressive taxation that ever encumbered the soil, or paralysed the energies of the people! The half-result is that it merely provides against the encouragement of idleness by refusing relief to those who will not work. The other half, which it does not provide, is employment for all those who are willing to work out of doors in the ordinary way. It is needless to say that no law could provide such a result, however desirable it is allowed to be. The poor laws proposed for Ireland contemplated such an object in the suggestion for the emigration of surplus labour. But how was that bill received in parliament ? Is it not matter of history that the ministry struggled in vain against the well-regulated phalanx of a Tory opposition in their attempts to carry that and other measures for the amelioration of the state of society both of Ireland and England? Who is to blame for this? If we are to probe the evil, let us, in the name of common honesty, probe it to the bottom. But thus, however obscured by generalities, and veiled under a specious exposition of abstract principles, Mr. Carlyle's book is a protest against the administration, seeking to establish upon its ruins a government of action. Mr. Carlyle may be right in this, and there is no doubt that he must be right, if the activity he looks for were directed into right channels. But activity may be for evil as well as for good; and it does not require much sagacity to foretel upon which side the activity of the Tories would be developed, if they once more got into power. See what they demand in Ireland, through their accredited mouth-pieces, Sir Harcourt Lees, Lord Rathdowne, and Mr. Butt-the repeal of the Reform Bill and Catholic Emancipation. Now the Reform Bill and Catholic Emancipation were but half-truths or half-results, and the better part-the spiritual moiety of Plato - remained behind. They were but means to an end; and whoever talks of finality, is ignorant alike of the philosophy of history and the laws of nature.* But even as a finality, the Tories would take away these concessions they would draw us back to feudal slavery, without the melancholy consolation of feudal forms-setting up again the fraudulent ascendency of Force over Intelligence. And this chimera- this impossible avatar of power, breasting the winds and tides with wickerwork is the government of action that is to put down Chartism! When we are reminded of the Laisser-Faire, only one aspect of the case is put before us. How shall we determine the nature of this apparent inaction, if we are not in possession of the circumstances by which it is influenced? If nations could be governed by simple principles, without reference to the incidental intrusion of impediments and impulses, of modifications of old interests and the growth of new, external agencies and internal changes, the fluctuations of arts, commerce, and intercourse, the increase of population forcing itself into strange inventions and expedients, the growth of fresh wants, and the perpetual craving of advancing desires that are more easily lulled than satisfied then we might be ruled by a stereotype code, and a petrified constitution, realising the dream of Utopian finality. But government is a complex machine, demanding constant adaptation to fresh and manifold exigencies. Pause over the revolutions of ages, and investigate the progression of necessities and means—reduplicated heads and hands, villages displacing forests, towns cresting their chimneys over villages, roads and rivers populated with toiling waggons and fluttering canvass, the Spinning-jenny, and the Steam-engine. Look then abroad, to colonial empires in the waste of waters, in the west, in the east, in the north, in the south, the emporiums of our manufactures →→→ the harbours of our superabundant labour. Must there not arise from all these ever-multiplying springs of human struggle a vast chaos of aspirations, of conflicting and perplexing emergencies, for which there are no precedents, and which exhibit an endless succession of difficulties unknown to our predecessors? Is it as easy to govern England and her dependencies now, as it was fifty, or even twenty years ago? And when we find these That Mr. Carlyle should fix his eyes on finality, as an object attainable and desirable for the happiness of mankind, is incredible. Yet he suggests as much. "Democracy," he says, "makes rapid progress in these latter times, and even more rapid, in a perilous accelerative ratio; towards democracy, and that only, the progress of things is everywhere tending as to the final goal and winning post. So think, so clamour the multitudes everywhere. And yet all men may see, whose sight is good for much, that in democracy can lie no finality; that with the competent winning of democracy there is nothing yet won,- except emptiness, and the free chance to win! " And is this free chance to win nothing? We clamour not for democracy, but we clamour for the free chance to win. As to finality of any kind it is pure fiction. Time is progressive-eternity alone is final ! difficulties augmented tenfold by an obstinate Obstruction, impervious to the appeals of truth, in the configuration of the richest, the most solid, and the most selfish party in the state, opposing itself like a wall of brass to the progressive policy of the government, what then shall be said of the LaisserFaire of Mr. Carlyle? Is it a sound exposition of the real state of things? Is this government, in the open, plain dealing of words, a government of indifference? Has it not essayed many things, and effected some — accomplishing more practical benefits against the teeth of the wolf than ever was before accomplished in similar circumstances: for what government ever before had such a wolf to contend with as the Tory faction out of office? To sustain the intricate web in which the administration is to be poised and meshed, Mr. Carlyle runs into numerous ramifications of his theory of vigour. He is all for controlling, by some means, the throbbing motion of the huge heart of the populace. He will not even admit the presence of facts, lest they may endanger the certainty and finality of the machinery by which he proposes to stifle the perilous unrest of the working classes. He anathematises statistics. "Tables are like cobwebs-like the sieve of the Danaides; beautifully reticulated, orderly to look upon, but which will hold no conclusion. Tables are abstractions, and the object a most concrete one, so difficult to read the essence of. There are innumerable circumstances, and one circumstance left out may be the vital one on which all are turned. Statistics is a science which ought to be honourable, the basis of many most important sciences; but it is not to be carried on by steam, this science, any more than others are; a wise head is requisite for carrying it on." If tables be cobwebs, the world of the past is an empty pageant. If tables be cobwebs, there is no utility in experience, no connection between cause and effect, no collective life-all is individualisation. But who claims for statistics the name and functions of a science? It is a handmaid to the sciences; it furnishes materials—no more. For the materials themselves, all that need be said is, that they are facts. If a false use be made of facts, statistics are not responsible. If conclusions be formed from an insufficient basis of facts, he who does so practises a gross deception; but the facts are there notwithstanding, and cannot be obliterated. We cannot reject statistics without rejecting facts. To argue from the abuse against the use of any thing under the sun, is the forlorn hope of those artificial theories which cannot be held up to the light without betraying their porousness, and which may with unimpeachable propriety be compared to the sieve of the Danaides. But in the midst of all these extraneous considerations, we must not omit Mr. Carlyle's remedy for the state of the country. He proposes two measures Universal Education, and General Emigration. Of each of these much has already been said, and much still lingers to be said. Had we not already fought hard for the one, and witnessed the other in actual operation, we might hope that good would come of this advice. Who are for education and who are against it? To recapitulate the impediments, the fanatical resistance, the overwhelming bigotry, falsehood, and fraud that were brought to bear last summer against the ministerial plan for national education, would break all bounds of patience. Let us only vanquish the intolerance that mars the progress of this movement, and the people shall be educated. But what is to be done with Chartism in the mean time, and long after while the young generation is at school? Will emigration pierce the core of the mystery? The gap you make in the population will rapidly be filled up again, and the evil, whatever it may be, that lies under this tumult uous agitation of the masses will continue as vivid as ever, acquiring even an accelerated impetus from procrastination and baffled hope. Where is the present remedy for Chartism? These are but expedients stretching far into the future one of them an indestructible truth doubtless, which must hereafter lay healthy nourishment at the roots of society, invigorating the health, and enriching the fruit of the goodly tree. But what is to be done for the present want that cries aloud for succour? Mr. Carlyle replies, a government of action, of order, even if it be opposed to the sympathies, the wishes, the convictions of the people! "A rearing horse- you may back him, spur him, check him, make a little way even backwards! Alas! that minds so clear, so subtle, so far-seeing, and so ennobled by pure and high thoughts, should be so dazzled and misled even by the light that is within them-blinded by their own lustre ! Time was when this physical vigour and processional order answered all ends in England. But that Arcadian time is over. There was a time when the phrases "loyalty," "allegiance," "patriotism," "British constitution," "legal safeguards," "hurrah!" and the like, were magic incantations to the spirits of Englishmen. There was a time when a farce of Dibdin's would have inspired thousands with as much enthusiasm as would have lasted them through a whole war-when a comedy by Reynolds or Morton, sparkling with apostrophes to British merchants and purses without strings, would have produced a high fever of nationality. But the age of clap-trap is at an end: the age is at an end when Might was better understood than Right, and worshipped accordingly, when men were carried away on a flood of ecstasy by the gorgeous banners of costly victories, when escutcheons, and trumpets, and blue ribands, and illuminations filled the imaginations, and bewildered the brains of the multitude. Since then, we have had a long peace, and much leisure for reflection, and much calamity and suffering to supply it with topics; and in that thoughtful interval the Pen has risen up as an expounder of the blessings of the Sword, and the people, chewing the cud of bitter fancies, began to look in upon themselves and back upon the past, and its train of ashes and monuments, and, for the first time, they dared to gaze into the future. Since then, we have had incendiarism and Rockiteism, Peterloo and the Six Acts, agrarian insurrections, corn-law restrictions, cash payments, million demonstrations, riots for wages, riots for food, riots for knowledge; since then, we have seen the antique proverbs of government crumbling, fragment by fragment, before the slow but stern advance of popular intelligence, gaining hourly instruction in its wants, its perils, and its privileges: we have seen the Catholics emancipated the Dissenters liberated — the close boroughs abolished—the hornets' nests of corporations broken up the newspaper stamp diminished, giving free vent and circulation to the most effective of all kinds of knowledge-and, most wonderful of all, we have seen a popular government in Ireland. Are these indications to be set aside as nought? Can such changes be wrought in the body of society, and the head remain still as it was? What will emigration do for this great political anomaly - the vitality below, and the death-watch above? It is a grave error to lay too much stress upon our power to suppress an emeute. It is the common frailty of Englishmen to despise outbreaks that are easily put down, or that are headed by obscure individuals. There was a great rising of men at Newport, pouring upon the town in three distinct levies, headed by a draper, a publican, and a watchmaker,-some say to the number of ten thousand, others twelve, and others fourteen thousand. This tremendous, irregular, and confused gathering, was dispersed by a few soldiers from the window of an inn, breast-high. The whole affair was wanting in the requisite concert, in the bravery and skill of its chiefs, not one of whom had a spark of courage in his soul,-poor, cowardly, and frantic to the last excess of imbecility and thoughtlessness. Such an insurrection wants the ordinary recommendation of respectability. John Bull likes a genteel revolution; his feelings are not to be waylaid by vulgar shopkeepers and mechanics playing the heroics with staves and iron hoops. But let us not deceive ourselves by calculations of this sort. Newport was saved, but Chartism lives. - Let us not suppose because a design has suffered a temporary check and frustration from the unfitness, the headlong folly, and cowardice of its leaders, that it has, therefore, failed. What might have been what must have been the result at Newport, if the wild mob had had other and abler leaders? And what may not be the result if other and abler leaders should be found hereafter? The consideration is not how to overcome these myriads of insurgents, which we can always do by force at an expenditure of blood; but how to prevent insurrection. What can be done ought to be done. Extend to them the wise lenity of paternal legislation. Hear their complaints dispassionately: set the majesty of justice above the terrors of the sword, and disarm them by reason. Do not treat their grievances even if they be visionary and unreal-with derision and contempt. They are a part and parcel of the life of this kingdom, and are entitled to sympathy and protection. If their demands are extravagant and incompatible with the safety of our institutions, or the liberties of the subject, demonstrate to them the folly and impolicy of their wishes. Much is to be done by an appeal to the common interests of men, to their domestic affections, their social security more than by a thousand examples of the gibbet and the prison-ship. And at this crisis such a disposition on the part of the upper classes, the legislature, and the government, would be deeply felt it would penetrate to the heart of this desperate confederation; and its dastardly leaders, shaken from their grasp upon the fears and passions of their dupes, would fall away into obscurity, dishonoured and forgotten. - To the Chartists we would say, that if the upper classes, the legislature, and the government have a duty of guidance and tenderness to perform, the executive has also a duty to discharge, the neglect of which would be nothing short of the abdication of all law and authority, the wholesome ascendency of which is for the common good. Our homes must be protected against violence; our hearths must be held sacred; life and property must be guarded, and all attemps to invade them must be repressed, and, if it come to extremities, punished. Of all wars, the war of kindred is the most desolating in its progress and results; lacerating the holiest ties and affections, destroying our faith in ourselves, enfeebling us in the sight of other nations, and, with suicidal hands, striking at the very heart of our freedom and independence. Let it be remembered, too, that England is a great maufacturing and commercial country, limited in space, teeming with an active population, and full of wealth accumulated in narrow bounds. The consequences of a successful revolution against property-of extensive conflagrations of levelling and massacres, would be to entail irremediable misery upon all ranks of the population; and chiefly upon the incendiaries themselves, who, by thus poisoning the wells from which they have hitherto drank, and confiscating the granaries from which they have hitherto been fed, would be the earliest victims of their own fury. We do not believe there was any good foundation for the rumour which recently prevailed, |