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Liverpool in the Houfe of Lords (June 15th, 1809), * I am convinced, that the disfranchifement of the fmalleft borough would lead to confequences of a moft pernicious nature, and would eventually deftroy the conftitution.'

Pour remplir de si grands devoirs,' says M. Chas again, il est juste et necessaire que le chef de la nation jouisse d'une grande puissance, et pour que cette puissance ait toute la liberté de son exercice, il faut qu'elle soit inviolable. Ce n'est point pour leurs chefs que les nations ont institué cette inviolabilité [viz. l'inviolabilité d'une grande puissance]: c'est pour leurs interêts politiques, et pour leur propre tranquillité; c'est pour affermir le règne des lois, pour enchaîner les passions, et pour prevenir ces revolutions terribles qui conduisent les peuples à l'anarchie et à l'esclavage.'

Mr Windham said in the House of Commons, on the 12th of June 1809- For his part, he was no enemy of the influence which the Crown at present possesses. In considering the proper degree of influence for the Crown to possess, it was necessary to consider the antagonist influence which it had to contend with. All manner of persons were usually conspiring against the government; and it was necessary that government should be strong enough to counteract them. Again, on the 4th of May -It had for many years been his opinion, that the House ought strenuously to oppose, as dangerous and mad, any proposal for Parliamentary Reform; every system, and every feature of which, that had hitherto been produced, was, in his mind, extravagantly and even ludicrously wrong...... There was no proof of corruption in the government; and as to any hope of pacifying the people by this bill, it was extravagance itself to suppose it. If there were corruptions in that House, they could not be cured by Parliamentary Reform; but he would not countenance such an idea. If once we began, we could never stop; and if we once made a change to please the people, they would go on; they would never know when they had enough.'t

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We trust that despotism and anarchy, are not, as writers and orators of this description would have us believe, an inevitable alternative. We trust it is not necessary for us to enter upon a comparison of the advantages and disadvantages of each, in order to make our election between them. We fondly hope, that there is some intermediate stage between absolute government, and no government; some arrangement whereby nations may enjoy some tolerable security for the good management of their affairs, without forfeiting the benefits of management altogether.

* Cobbett's Parl. Debates, Vol. XIV. P. 1033. Ibid. Vol. XIV. p. 1009 and 369.

We

is used by the friends of defpotifm, the utter diffolution of all government, and alfo every intermediate ftage of government between that and abfolute power. They paint as ftrongly as poffible-and it is impoffible they can paint too ftrongly, the evils to which the diffolution of government gives birth. This they call anarchy--and this name, with all the terrors which it brings, they endeavour to affociate with every form of government but that baleful one, to which it is the tendency of their endeavours to chain or to reduce mankind. To the republics of Rome or of Greece, for example, the application of this name, and of all its affociated ideas, is now feldom fcrupled. But with refpect to that even of Athens-the most nearly democratical, perhaps, of the wholeand in its fecurities and checks extremely imperfect, it is highly inftructive to reflect, that it was only from the period when they adopted the laws and conftitution of Solon, that the Athenians were placed in a state of fuch profperity as admitted of much improvement in civilization. They were, at this time, a people but just emerging from the femibarbarous ftate. From that period to the commencement of the Peloponnefian war, which put, a full, and, alas! a final ftop, to their improvement, there elapf-, ed little more than one hundred and fifty years. Yet to fuch a height of perfection did human nature attain in that fhort career,, that the improvements of the Athenians in the arts and fciencesin eloquence, in painting, in fculpture, in mufic, in hiftory and philofophy, in war, in architecture-in almoft every thing which can elevate and adorn mankind-remain, to this day, the admiration and astonishment of the world. Never did the human mind, in any other fituation, advance fo rapidly, or expand fo wide: and it may be fafely affirmed, that the fpace in the line of improvement, over which, in thofe few years, human nature paffed, was greater than that over which, reckoning from the point at which the Athenian improvement was arrefted, it has paffed, notwithstanding the aids of the prefs, in all the ages which have followed. We fhall offer no other anfwer to the calumniators of liberty. It could not be a very deteftable tree which bore fuch exquifite fruit. Though we are of opinion that the Athenian conftitution was far from a good one, even at the time of its greatest perfection, we think it was better than anarchy. Nay, with all its turbulence, we think it was better than the fplendid defpotifm which Bonaparte has established, and Mr Chas has fubmitted to praife.

ART.

ART. XI. The Curse of Kehama. By Robert Southey. 4to. London, 1810.

pp. 376.

WE admire the genius of Mr Southey; we reverence the lofty principles, and we love the tenderness of heart, that are visible in all his productions. But we are heartily provoked at his conceit and bad taste, and quite wearied out with the perversity of his manifold affectations. Not many poets, dead or living, have given proofs of a finer fancy, of drawn more copiously from the stores of a rich and cultivated imagination: still fewer have maintained a sublimer tone of sentiment,-or pictured, in more enchanting colours, the simple and innocent affections of our na ture; and none has ever made these rich gifts poor' by such an obstinate strain of childish affectation; or so perversely defrauded the world of the delight, and himself of the glory, which they were intended by nature to produce.

It is this mixed feeling of provocation and delight, that has given that contradictory character to our observations on Mr Southey's former productions;. which, we fear, may have brought our judgment into disrepute with the more uncharitable part of our readers. Our praise and our blame, we suspect, have appeared to be both too strong, to be justly applicable to one and the same performance; and we have been accused, alternately, of malice' and of partiality, by those who will not understand, that a long poem may afford matter both for just ridicule, and for just admiration. Mr Southey's case, indeed, we have always considered as an extreme one; and, however awkwardly the censure and applause may stand together in our pages, we must be permitted to say, that nothing could be more sincere and conscientious than our expression of both these feelings; and that it appears to us, that no other expressions could have done full justice to the extraordinary performances by which they were excited. It is Mr Southey himself that is the grand inconsistent; and the more truly we are charmed by the brilliancy of his imagination, and the truth and delicacy of his feelings, the more we must be offended by the wilful deformities by which he has rendered vain the combination of so many beauties.

Mr Southey, of course, despises equally our censure and our advice; and we have no quarrel with him for this. We have been too long conversant with the untractable generation of authors, to expect that our friendly expostulations should have any effect upon them,-except as exponents of the silent, practical judgment of the public. To that superior tribunal, however, we do think ourselves entitled to refer; and while we, who profess VOL. XVII. NO. 34. Ee the

the stately office of correcting and instructing, are yet willing, in most things, to bow to its authority, we really cannot help thinking, that a poet, whose sole object is to give delight and to gain glory, ought to show something of the same docility.

There is, indeed, another and a final appeal to Posterity,from the benefit of which, we are very far from wishing to exclude any unfortunate persons whose circumstances may reduce them to rely on it. But the cases, we believe, are wonderfully rare, in which that mysterious and inaccessible Judge has ever reversed the unfavourable sentences of the ordinary jurisdictions; and there seems even to be great reason for thinking, that such reversals will be still fewer in time to come. Without resting much upon the superior intelligence of the present age, we believe we may safely pass a large encomium on its indulgence; and may be fairly allowed to doubt, whether any time is at all likely to come, which every sort of merit will be so sure of being detected and extolled, in spite, and sometimes in consequence, of the incongruities and deformities with which it may be associated. Things are wonderfully changed in this respect, since a licentious and illiterate age withheld from Milton the fame which its successor was so proud to bestow. Poetry is read now, we suppose, by very nearly ten times as many persons; and fifty times as many think themselves judges of poetry; and are eager for an opportunity to glorify themselves as its patrons, by exaggerating the merit of some obscure or dubious writer, in whose reputation they may be entitled to share, by contributing to raise it. Thus, in our own time, we have had Mrs H. More patronizing Mrs Yearsley the milkwoman; and Mr Capel Loft bringing forward Mr Bloomfield the shoemaker; and Mr Raymond Grant challenging immortality for Mr Dermody the drunkard; and Sir James Bland Burgess and Sir Brooke Boothby, and Miss Aikin and Miss Holford, and fifty others, patronizing themselves, and each other, with the most laudable zeal and exemplary activity. Now, whatever may be its other effects, it is certain that all this competition for patronage and discovery ensures notoriety, and a certain viaticum of praise, to almost every poetical adventurer; and takes away almost the possibility of that neglect which, in former times, stood so often in the way, not merely of reputation, but of fair trial. That a great deal of false reputation will be raised, under such circumstances, and various lots of undeserved and perishable praise be awarded, by vanity, partiality and caprice, cannot indeed be doubted; but it is not so easy to conceive, that any real merit should escape detection, or miss honcur, in this sanguine search after excellence,--that the active manure which quickens 50 many colder seeds, should not stimulate the more sensitive

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fibres of genius, or that the bright sun, which gilds, with a passing glory, the idle weeds of literature, should fail to kindle into beauty the splendid blossoms of poetry.

But, leaving Mr Southey the full benefit of his chance with Posterity, it is enough for us to observe, that his appeal to the present generation has now been made with sufficient fulcess and deliberation; and that the decision, as we understand it, has not only confirmed, but outgone, all that we had predicted as to the fatal effects of his peculiarities. During the last fifteen years, he has put forth (besides the present work) three very long poems, no one of which, we think, can be said to have succeeded. That they have all had some readers, and some admirers, we do not mean to dispute: nay, there are many who pass for tolerable judges in such matters, who think they have had a very strange and unaccountable success: But the author, and his admirers, and his booksellers, are not by any means of that opinion; and we, for our parts, have no hesitation in saying, that they have not had nearly so much success as it appears to us that they deserve. There have been three editions, we believe, of Joan of Arc-two of Thalaba-and one only of Madoc,-though the last has been six years in the hands of the public,-and of a public which has called, during the same interval, for more than ten editions of the Farmer's Boy, and five or six, if we do not mistake, of the Wanderer of Switzerland.

This, we think, is pretty strong testimony against the taste of a poet, whose genius, we believe, was never lowered, cven among those who neglect him, to a comparison with that of Mr Bloomfield, or Mr Montgomery. But the inference is still stronger, when we consider the circumstances under which this testimony has been given. Mr Southey is no longer in his noviciate. Though still in the vigour of life, he has been a full-fledged and industrious author for nearly twenty years; and has not wanted, as we ourselves can testify, for advice and admonition, both laudatory and vituperative. With all these advantages, however, and means of improvement, we are afraid that he is rather less in favour with the public, than he was at the beginning of his career. His first poem was decidedly more successful than his second,-and his second than his third: Yet his genius certainly is in no degree impaired ; and his judgment and powers of execution may be fairly presumed to have received some improvement. When we find him rather on the decline, therefore, in public estimation, and discover that his fame, instead of gathering brightness, as his course is prolonged, seems rather to waste away and wax dim, it is difficult to suppose that this proceeds from any thing but the misapplication of acknowledged powers, and the obstinacy with which he has persisted

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