When we remember what took place in England under the reign of one Titus

Oates, we shall not conclude that these terrible hallucinations of the

public mind are proofs of any very peculiar condition of barbarism.

Then, as at the later epoch to which we have alluded, a very marvellous

plot was devised and thoroughly credited. All the Jews throughout

Christendom were under the control and government of certain superiors

at Toledo—a secret and mysterious council of Rabbis—from whom they

received their commands. These prepared the poison with their own hands,

from spiders, owls, and other venomous animals, and distributed it in

little bags, with injunctions where it was to be thrown. Dr Hecker gives

us, in an appendix, an official account of the “Confessions made on the

15th September, in the year of our Lord 1348, in the castle of Chillon,

by the Jews arrested in Neustadt on the charge of poisoning the wells,

springs, and other places, also food, &c., with the design of destroying

and extirpating all Christians.” These confessions were, of course,

produced by the rack, or by the threat of torture, and the manifest

inutility of any defence or denial. Nor must it be forgotten, that the

official report was drawn up _after_ the whole of the Jews at Neustadt

had been burnt on this very charge. Amongst these confessions is one of

Balaviginus, a Jewish physician, arrested at Chillon “in consequence of

being found in the neighbourhood.” He was put for a short time upon the

rack, and, after being taken down, “confessed, after much hesitation,

that, about ten weeks before, the Rabbi Jacob of Toledo sent him, by a

Jewish boy, _some poison in the mummy of an egg_: it was a powder sewed

up in a thin leathern pouch, accompanied by a letter, commanding him, on

penalty of excommunication, and by his required obedience to the law, to

throw the poison into the larger and more frequented wells of Thonon.”

Similar letters had been sent to other Jews. All Jews, indeed, were

under the necessity of obeying these injunctions. He, Balaviginus, had

done so; he had thrown the poison into several wells. It was a powder

half red and half black. Red and black spots were produced by the

plague; it was right that this poison should partake of these two

colours.

Conveyed over the lake from Chillon to Clarens to point out the well

into which he had thrown the powder, Balaviginus, “on being conducted to

the spot, and having seen the well, acknowledged that to be the place,

saying, ‘This is the well into which I put the poison.’ The well was

examined in his presence, and the linen cloth in which the poison had

been wrapped was found. He acknowledged this to be the linen which had

contained the poison; he described it as being of two colours—red and

black.” We follow in imagination this Jewish physician. Taken from the

rack to his cell, he repeats whatever absurdity his unrelenting

persecutors put into his mouth. Rabbi Jacob of Toledo—mummy of an

egg—what you will. Conducted to the well—yes, this was the well; shown

the very rag—yes, this was the rag;—and the powder? yes, it was red and

black. What scorn and bitterness must have mingled with the agony of the

Jewish physician!

Amidst all this we hear the scourge and miserable chant of the

Flagellants, stirring up the people to fresh persecutions, and infecting

their minds with a superstition as terrible as the vice it pretended to

expiate. This was not, indeed, their first appearance in Europe; nor did

the Flagellants do more, at the commencement, than exaggerate the sort

of piety their own church had taught them. Happily, as their fanaticism

rose, they put themselves in opposition to the hierarchy, and were thus

the sooner dispersed. In their spiritual exultation they presumed to

reform or to dispense with the priesthood. They found themselves,

therefore, in their turn subjected to grave denunciations, and

pronounced to be one cause of the wrath of Heaven.

All this time what were the physicians doing? In the history of the

plague, written by a physician, the topic, we may be sure, is not

forgotten. But the information we glean is of a very scanty,

unsatisfactory character. As to the origin of the plague—“A grand

conjunction of the three superior planets, Saturn, Jupiter, and Mars, in

the sign of Aquarius, which took place, according to Guy de Chauliac, on

the 24th March 1345, was generally received as its principal cause. In

fixing the day, this physician, who was deeply versed in astrology, did

not agree with others; wherefore there arose various disputations of

weight in that age, but of none in ours.” The medical faculty of Paris

pronounced the same opinion. Being commissioned to report on the causes

and the remedies of this Great Mortality, they commence thus: “It is

known that in India, and the vicinity of the Great Sea, the

constellations which emulated the rays of the sun, and the warmth of the

heavenly fire, exerted their power especially against that sea, and

struggled violently with its waters.” Hence vapours and corrupted fogs;

hence no wholesome rain, or hail, or snow, or dew, could refresh the

earth. But notwithstanding this learning, quite peculiar to the age,

they were not more at fault than other learned bodies have been in later

times, in the practical remedies they suggested against the disease.

They were not entirely occupied in fixing the day when Jupiter, Mars,

and Saturn, had combated the sun over the great Indian Ocean. “They

did,” as Dr Hecker says, “what human intellect could do in the actual

condition of the healing art; and their knowledge of the disease was by

no means despicable.” When fevers have attained to that malignancy that

they take the name of plagues, they have escaped, we suspect, from the

control of the physician;—just as when fires take the name of

conflagrations, you must devote all your efforts to the saving of what

is yet unconsumed, and checking the extension of the flames.

Amongst the consequences of the plague, Dr Hecker notices that the

church acquired treasures and large properties in land, even to a

greater extent than after the Crusades; and that, on the subsidence of

the calamity, many entered the priesthood, or flocked to the

monasteries, who had no other motive than to participate in this wealth.

He adds, also, that,—

“After the cessation of the Black Plague, a greater fecundity in women

was everywhere remarkable—a grand phenomenon, which, from its

occurrence after every destructive pestilence, proves to conviction,

if any occurrence can do so, the prevalence of a higher power in the

direction of general organic life. Marriages were, almost without

exception, prolific, and double and treble births were more frequent

than at other times; under which head we should remember the strange

remark, that after the ‘great mortality’ _the children were said to

have got fewer teeth than before_; at which contemporaries were

mightily shocked, and even later writers have felt surprise.

“If we examine the grounds of this oft-repeated assertion, we shall

find that they were astonished to see children cut twenty, or at most

twenty-two teeth, under the supposition that a greater number had

formerly fallen to their share. Some writers of authority, as, for

example, the physician Savonarola, at Ferrara, who probably looked for

twenty-eight teeth in children, published their opinions on this

subject. Others copied from them without seeing for themselves, as

often happens in other matters which are equally evident; and thus the

world believed in a miracle of an imperfection in the human body,

which had been caused by the Black Plague.”

That a fresh impetus would be given to population seems to us quite

sufficiently accounted for, without calling into aid any “higher power

in the direction of general organic life.” Men and women would marry

early; and the very fact of their having survived the plague would, in

general, prove that they were healthy subjects, or had been well and

temperately brought up. There would be the same impetus to population

that an extensive emigration would cause, and an emigration that had

carried away most of the sick and the feeble. The belief that double and

treble births were more frequent than at other times, may perhaps be

explained in the same manner as the belief that there were fewer teeth

than before in the human head. No accurate observations had been at all

made upon the subject.

We come next in order to _The Dancing Mania_—an epidemic of a quite

different character. Not, indeed, as the name might imply, that the

convulsive dance was a very slight affliction—it was felt to be quite

otherwise; but because it belongs to that class of nervous maladies in

which there is great room for mental or psychical influence. Such

disorders spring up in a certain condition of the body, but the form

they assume will depend on social circumstances, or the ideas current at

the time. And thus Dr Hecker finds no difficulty in arranging the

_Convulsionnaires_ of France, or the early Methodists of England and

Wales, in the same category as the maniacal dancers of Germany. It was

in all the cases a physical tendency of a similar character, brought out

under the influence of different ideas.

Dr Hecker mentions a case which, from the simplicity of the facts, would

form a good introduction to others of a more complicated character. In

the year 1787, at a cotton-manufactory at Hodden Bridge, in Lancashire,

a girl put a mouse into the bosom of another girl, who had a great dread

of mice. It threw her into a fit, and the fit continued, with the most

violent convulsions, for twenty-four hours. On the following day three

other girls were seized in the same way; on the day after six more. A

report was now spread that a strange disease had been introduced into

the factory by a bag of cotton opened in the house. Others who had not

even seen the infected, but only heard of their convulsions, were seized

with the same fits. In three days, the number of the sufferers had

reached to twenty-four. The symptoms were, a sense of great anxiety,

strangulation, and very strong convulsions, which lasted from one to

twenty-four hours, and of so violent a nature that it required four or

five persons to prevent the patients from tearing their hair, and

dashing their heads against the floor and walls. Dr St Clare was sent

for from Preston. Dr St Clare deserves to have his name remembered. The

ingenious man took with him a portable electrical machine. The electric

shock cured all his patients without an exception. When this was known,

and the belief could no longer hold its ground that the plague had been

brought in by the cotton bag, no fresh person was affected.

If we substitute for the cotton bag a belief in some demoniacal

influence, compelling people to dance against their will, we have the

dancing mania of Germany. Unhappily there was no St Clare at hand, with

his electrical machine, to give a favourable shock to body and mind at

once, and thus disperse the malady before it gathered an overpowering

strength by the very numbers of the infected.

“The effects of the Black Death,” writes Dr Hecker (whose account of

the disorder we cannot do better than give, with some abridgments),

“had not yet subsided, when a strange delusion arose in Germany. It

was a convulsion which in the most extraordinary manner infuriated the

human frame, and excited the astonishment of contemporaries for more

than two centuries, since which time it has never reappeared. It was

called the Dance of St John, or of St Vitus, on account of the

Bacchantic leaps by which it was characterised, and which gave to

those affected, whilst performing their wild dance, and screaming and

foaming with fury, all the appearance of persons possessed. It did not

remain confined to particular localities, but was propagated by the

sight of the sufferers, like a demoniacal epidemic, over the whole of

Germany and the neighbouring countries to the north-west, which were

already prepared for its reception by the prevailing opinions of the

times.

“So early as the year 1374, assemblages of men and women were seen at

Aix-la-Chapelle, who had come out of Germany, and who, united by one

common delusion, exhibited to the public, both in the streets and in

the churches, the following strange spectacle. They formed circles

hand in hand, and, appearing to have lost all control over their

senses, continued dancing, regardless of the bystanders, for hours

together, in wild delirium, until at length they fell to the ground in

a state of exhaustion. They then complained of extreme oppression, and

groaned as if in the agonies of death, until they were swathed in

clothes, bound tightly round their waists, upon which they again

recovered, and remained free from complaint until the next attack.

This practice of swathing was resorted to on account of the tympany

which followed these spasmodic ravings; but the bystanders frequently

relieved patients in a less artificial manner, by thumping or

trampling upon the parts affected. While dancing, they neither saw nor

heard, being insensible to external impressions through the senses,

but were haunted by visions, their fancies conjuring up spirits, whose

names they shrieked out; and some of them afterwards asserted that

they felt as if they had been immersed in a stream of blood, which

obliged them to leap so high. Others, during the paroxysm, saw the

heavens open, and the Saviour enthroned with the Virgin Mary,

according as the religious notions of the age were strangely and

variously reflected in their imaginations.”

The disease spread itself in two directions. It extended from

Aix-la-Chapelle through the towns of the Netherlands, and also through

the Rhenish towns. In Liege, Utrecht, and many other towns of Belgium,

the dancers appeared with garlands in their hair, and their waists

already girt with a cloth or bandage, that they might receive immediate

relief on the attack of the tympany. It seems that the crowd around were

often more ready to administer relief by kicks and blows than by drawing

this bandage tight. The most opposite feelings seem to have been excited

in the multitude by these exhibitions. Sometimes an idle and vicious mob

would take advantage of them, and they became the occasion of much riot

and debauchery. More frequently, however, the demoniacal origin of the

disease, of which few men doubted, led to its being regarded with

astonishment and horror. Religious processions were instituted on its

account, masses and hymns were sung, and the whole power of the

priesthood was called in to exorcise the evil spirit. The malady rose to

its greatest height in some of the towns on the Rhine. At Cologne the

number of the possessed amounted to more than five hundred, whilst at

Metz the streets are said to have been filled (numbering women and

children together) with eleven hundred dancers. Even those idle

vagabonds who, for their own purposes, imitated their convulsive

movements, assisted to spread the disorder; for in these maladies the

susceptible are infected quite as easily by the imitation as by the

reality.

The physicians stood aloof. Acknowledged as a demoniacal possession,

they left the treatment of the disease entirely to the priesthood; and

their exorcisms were not without avail. But it was necessary to this

species of remedy that the patients should have faith in the church and

its holy ministers. Without faith there would certainly, in such a case,

be no cure; and, unhappily, the report had been spread by some

irreverend schismatics that the disorder itself was owing—to what will

our readers suppose?—to an imperfect baptism—to the baptism of children

by the hands of unchaste priests. Where this notion prevailed, the

exorcism, we need not say, was unavailing.

The malady first bore the name of St John’s Dance, afterwards that of St

Vitus’s. This second name it took from the mere circumstance that St

Vitus was the saint appealed to for its cure. A legend had been framed

with a curious disregard—even for a legend—of all history and

chronology, in which St Vitus, who suffered martyrdom, as the church

records, under the Emperor Domitian, is described as praying, just

before he bent his neck to the sword, that he might protect from the

Dancing Mania all those _who should solemnise the day of his

commemoration_, and fast upon its eve. The prayer was granted; a voice

from heaven was heard saying, “Vitus, thy prayer is accepted.” He

became, of course, the patron saint of those afflicted with the dancing

plague. But the name under which it first appeared, of St John’s Dance,

receives from Dr Hecker an explanation which points out to us a probable

origin of the disease itself, or of the peculiar form which it assumed.

“The connection,” he says, “which John the Baptist had with the

dancing mania of the fourteenth century, was of a totally different

character. He was originally far from being a protecting saint to

those who were attacked, or one who would be likely to give them

relief from a malady considered as the work of the devil. On the

contrary, the manner in which he was worshipped afforded an important

and very evident cause for its development. From the remotest period,

perhaps even so far back as the fourth century, St John’s day was

solemnised with all sorts of strange and rude customs, of which the

original mystical meaning was variously disfigured among different

nations by superadded relics of heathenism. Thus the Germans

transferred to the festival of St John’s day an ancient heathen

usage—the kindling of the ‘hodfyr,’ which was forbidden them by St

Boniface; and the belief subsists even to the present day, that people

and animals that have leaped through these flames, or their smoke, are

protected for a whole year from fevers and other diseases, as if by a

kind of baptism by fire. Bacchanalian dances, which have originated

from similar causes among all the rude nations of the earth, and the

wild extravagancies of a heated imagination, were the constant

accompaniments of this half-heathen, half-christian festival.”

In a note at a subsequent page Dr Hecker cites some curious passages to

show what in the middle ages took place at “St John’s fires.” Bones,

horns, and other rubbish were heaped together to be consumed in smoke,

while persons of all ages danced round the flames as if they had been

possessed. Others seized burning flambeaus, and made a circuit of the

fields, in the supposition that they thereby screened them from danger;

while others again turned a cartwheel, to represent the retrograde

movement of the sun. The last circumstance takes back the imagination to

the old primitive worship of the sun; and perhaps the very fires of St

John might date their history from those kindled in honour of Baal or

Moloch. Dr Hecker suggests that mingling with these heathen traditions

or customs a remembrance of the history of St John’s death—that dance

which occasioned his decapitation—might also have had its share in

determining the peculiar manner in which this saint’s day should be

observed. However that may be, as we find that the first dancers in

Aix-la-Chapelle appeared with St John’s name in their mouths, the

conjecture is very probable that the wild revels of St John’s day had

given rise, if not to the disease, yet to the type or form in which it

appeared.

At a subsequent period, indeed, when the disorder had assumed, if we may

so speak, a more settled aspect, the name of St John was no otherwise

associated with it than the name of St Vitus. People danced upon his

festival to obtain a cure. And these periodical dances, while they

relieved the patients, assisted also to perpetuate the malady.

Throughout the whole of June, we are told, prior to the festival of St

John, many men felt a disquietude and restlessness which they were

unable to overcome. They were dejected, timid, and anxious; wandered

about in an unsettled state, being tormented with twitching pains, which

seized them suddenly in different parts; they eagerly expected the eve

of St John’s day, in the confident hope that, by dancing at the altars

of this saint, they would be freed from all their sufferings. Nor were

they disappointed. By dancing and raving for three hours to the utmost

scope of their desires, they obtained peace for the rest of the year.

For a long time, however, we hear of cases which assumed the most

terrific form. Speaking of a period which embraced the close of the

fifteenth century, Dr Hecker says:—

“The St Vitus’s dance attacked people of all stations, _especially

those who led a sedentary life_, such as shoemakers and tailors; but

even the most robust peasants abandoned their labours in the fields,

as if they were possessed by evil spirits; and thus those affected

were seen assembling indiscriminately, from time to time, at certain

appointed places, and, unless prevented by the lookers-on, continuing

to dance without intermission, until their very last breath was

expended. Their fury and extravagance of demeanour so completely

deprived them of their senses, that many of them dashed their brains

out against the walls and corners of buildings, or rushed headlong

into rapid rivers, where they found a watery grave. Roaring and

foaming as they were, the bystanders could only succeed in restraining

them by placing benches and chairs in their way, so that, by the high

leaps they were tempted to take, their strength might be exhausted.”

Music, however, was a still better resource. It excited, but it hastened

forward the paroxysm, and doubtless reduced it to some measure and

rhythm. The magistrates even hired musicians for the purpose of carrying

the dancers the more rapidly through the attack, and directed that

athletic men should be sent among them, in order to complete their

exhaustion. A marvellous story is related on the authority of one Felix

Plater: Several powerful men being commissioned to dance with a girl who

had the dancing mania till she had recovered from her disorder, they

successively relieved each other, and danced on for the space of four

weeks! at the end of which time the patient fell down exhausted, was

carried to an hospital, and there recovered. She had never once

undressed, was entirely regardless of the pain of her lacerated feet,

and had merely sat down occasionally to take some nourishment or to

slumber, and even then “the hopping movement of her body continued.”

Happily, however, this mania grew more rare every year, so that in the

beginning of the seventeenth century we may be said to be losing sight

of it in Germany. Nor shall we follow out its history further in that

country, because the same disorder, under a different form, made its

appearance in Italy, and we must by no means neglect to notice the

dancing mania which was so universally attributed to the bite of the

tarantula. Whatever part the festival of St John the Baptist performed

in Germany, as an exciter of the disease, that part was still more

clearly performed in Italy by the popular belief in the venom of a

spider.

We shall not go back with Dr Hecker into the fears or superstitions of

classical times as to the bite of certain spiders or lizards; we must

keep more strictly to our text; we must start from the period when men’s

minds were still open to pain and alarm on account of the frequent

return of the plague.

“The bite of venomous spiders, or rather the unreasonable fear of its

consequences, excited at such a juncture, though it could not have

done so at an earlier period, a violent nervous disorder, which, like

St Vitus’s dance in Germany, spread by sympathy, increasing in

severity as it took a wider range, and still further extending its

ravages from its long continuance. Thus, from the middle of the

fourteenth century, the furies of _The Dance_ brandished their scourge

over afflicted mortals; and music, for which the inhabitants of Italy

now probably for the first time manifested susceptibility and talent,

became capable of exciting ecstatic attacks in those affected, and

thus furnished the magical means of exorcising their melancholy.”

Does the learned doctor insinuate that the Italians owed their natural

taste for music to this invasion of Tarantism?

“At the close of the fifteenth century we find that Tarantism had

spread beyond the boundaries of Apulia, and that the fear of being

bitten by venomous spiders had increased. Nothing short of death

itself was expected from the wound which these insects inflicted; and

if those who were bitten escaped with their lives, they were said to

be pining away in a desponding state of lassitude. Many became

weak-sighted or hard of hearing; some lost the power of speech; and

all were insensible to ordinary causes of excitement. Nothing but the

flute or the cithern afforded them relief. At the sound of these

instruments they awoke as if by enchantment, opened their eyes, and

moving slowly at first, according to the measure of the music, were,

as the time quickened, gradually hurried on to the most passionate

dance. It was generally observable that country people, _who were rude

and ignorant of music, evinced on these occasions an unusual degree of

grace_, as if they had been well practised in elegant movements of the

body; for it is a peculiarity in nervous disorders of this kind that

the organs of motion are in an altered condition, and are completely

under the control of the overstrained spirits.”

This increased agility and grace of movement is by no means to be

discredited by the reader. It is a symptom which distinguishes one class

of epileptic patients. Some have attributed it to an over-excitement of

the cerebellum. However that may be, there are greater wonders than this

contained in our most sober and trustworthy books on the disorders of

the nervous system. We continue the account:—

“Cities and villages alike resounded throughout the summer season with

the notes of fifes, clarinets, and Turkish drums; and patients were

everywhere to be met with who looked to dancing as their only remedy.

Alexander ab Alexandro, who gives this account, saw a young man in a

remote village who was seized with a violent attack of Tarantism. He

listened with eagerness and a fixed stare to the sound of a drum, and

his graceful movements gradually became more and more violent, until

his dancing was converted into a succession of frantic leaps, which

required the utmost exertion of his whole strength. In the midst of

this overstrained exertion _of mind and body_ the music suddenly

ceased, and he immediately fell powerless to the ground, where he lay

senseless and motionless until its magical effect again aroused him to

a renewal of his impassioned performances.”

We have put the expression “mind and body” in italics, because we may as

well take this opportunity to observe, that although convulsions of this

kind are excited, and assume a certain form on account of the

predominance of some idea, yet, when once called forth, they are almost

entirely mechanical in their nature. Mere animal excitability—what is

called the reflex action, or other automatic movements quite as little

associated with the immediate operations of “mind”—carry on the rest of

the process. And it is some consolation to think that the appearance of

pain and distress which marks convulsive disorders of all descriptions,

is, for the most part, illusory. The premonitory symptoms may be very

distressing, but the condition of the patient, when the fit is on, is

that of insensibility to pain.

The general conviction was, that by music and dancing the poison of the

tarantula was distributed over the whole body, and expelled through the

skin; but, unfortunately, it was also believed that if the slightest

vestige of it remained behind the disorder would break out again. Thus

there was no confidence excited in a perfect cure. Men who had danced

themselves well one summer watched the next summer for the returning

symptoms, and found in themselves what they looked for. Thus—

“The number of those affected by it increased beyond belief, for

whoever had actually been, or even fancied that he had been once

bitten by a poisonous spider or scorpion, made his appearance annually

whenever the merry notes of the Tarantella resounded. Inquisitive

females joined the throng and caught the disease—not indeed from the

poison of the spider, but from the mental poison which they eagerly

received through the eye; and thus the cure of the _Tarantati_

gradually became established as a regular festival of the populace.”

It was customary for whole bands of musicians to traverse Italy during

the summer months, and the cure of the disordered was undertaken on a

grand scale. This season of dancing and music was called “The women’s

little carnival,” for it was women more especially who conducted the

arrangements. It was they, too, it seems, who paid the musicians their

fee. The music itself received its due share of study and attention.

There were different kinds of the Tarantella (as the curative melody was

called) suited to every variety of the ailment.

One very curious circumstance connected with this disease must not pass

unnoticed—the passion excited by certain colours. Amongst the Germans,

those afflicted by St Vitus’s dance were enraged by any garment of the

colour of red. Amongst the Italians, on the contrary, red colours were

generally liked. Some preferred one colour, some another, but the

devotion to the chosen colour was one of the most extraordinary symptoms

which the disease manifested in Italy. The colour that pleased the

patient he was enamoured of; the colour that displeased excited his

utmost fury.

“Some preferred yellow, others were enraptured with green; and

eyewitnesses describe this rage for colours as so extraordinary that

they can scarcely find words with which to express their astonishment.

No sooner did the patients obtain a sight of their favourite colour

than they rushed like infuriated animals towards the object, devoured

it with their eager looks, kissed and caressed it in every possible

way, and, gradually resigning themselves to softer sensations, adopted

the languishing expression of enamoured lovers, and embraced the

handkerchief, or whatever article it might be which was presented to

them, with the most intense ardour, while the tears streamed from

their eyes as if they were completely overwhelmed by the inebriating

impression on their senses.

“The dancing fits of a certain Capuchin friar in Tarentum excited so

much curiosity that Cardinal Cajetano proceeded to the monastery that

he might see with his own eyes what was going on. As soon as the monk,

who was in the midst of his dance, perceived the spiritual prince

clothed in his red garments, he no longer listened to the tarantella

of the musicians, but with strange gestures endeavoured to approach

the cardinal, as if he wished to count the very threads of his scarlet

robe, and to allay his intense longing by its odour. The interference

of the spectators, and his own respect, prevented his touching it, and

thus, the irritation of his senses not being appeased, he fell into a

state of such anguish and disquietude that he presently sunk down in a

swoon, from which he did not recover until the cardinal

compassionately gave him his cape. This he immediately seized in the

greatest ecstasy, and pressed, now to his breast, now to his forehead

and cheeks, and then again commenced his dance as if in the frenzy of

a love fit.”

Another curious symptom, which was probably connected with this passion

for colour, was an ardent longing for the sea. These over-susceptible

people were attracted irresistibly to the boundless expanse of the blue

ocean, and lost themselves in its contemplation. Some were carried so

far by this vague passionate longing as to cast themselves into the

waves.

The persuasion of the inevitable and fatal consequences of being bitten

by the tarantula was so general that it exercised a dominion over the

strongest minds. Men who in their sober moments considered the disorder

as a species of nervous affection depending on the imagination, were

themselves brought under the influence of this imagination, and suffered

from the disorder at the approach of the dreaded tarantula. A very

striking anecdote of this kind is told of the Bishop of Foligno. Quite

sceptical as to the venom of the insect, he allowed himself to be bitten

by a tarantula. But he had not measured the strength of his own

imagination, however well he had estimated the real malignancy of the

spider. The bishop fell ill, nor was there any cure for him but the

music and the dance. Many reverend old gentlemen, it is said, to whom

this remedy appeared highly derogatory, only exaggerated their symptoms

by delaying to have recourse to what, after all, was found to be the

true and sole specific.

But even popular errors are not eternal. This of Tarantism continued,

our author tells us, throughout the whole of the seventeenth century,

but gradually declined till it became limited to single cases. “It may

therefore be not unreasonably maintained,” he concludes, “that the

Tarantism of modern times bears nearly the same relation to the original

malady as the St Vitus’s dance which still exists, and certainly has all

along existed, bears, in certain cases, to the original dancing mania of

the dancers of St John.”

In a subsequent chapter, our author informs us that a disease of a

similar character existed in Abyssinia, or still exists, for the

authority he quotes is that of an English surgeon who resided nine years

in Abyssinia, from 1810 to the year 1819. We cannot pretend to say that

we have ever seen the book, which the learned German has, however, not

permitted to escape him—we have never seen the _Life and Adventures of

Nathaniel Pearce_, written by himself; but, judging by the extract here

given, Nathaniel Pearce must be a person worth knowing, he writes with

so much candour and simplicity. The disease is called in Abyssinia the

Tigretier, because it occurs most frequently in the Tigrè country. The

first remedy resorted to is the introduction of a learned Dofter, “who

reads the Gospel of St John, and drenches the patient with cold water

daily.” If this does not answer, then the relations hire a band of

trumpeters, drummers, and fifers, and buy a quantity of liquor; all the

young men and women of the place assemble at the patient’s house, and

she (for it is generally a woman), arrayed in all the finery and

trinkets that can be borrowed from the neighbours, is excited by the

music to dance, day after day if necessary, till she drops down from

utter exhaustion. The disease is attended with a great emaciation; and

the doctor says “he was almost alarmed to see one nearly a skeleton move

with such strength.” He then proceeds to recount his own domestic

calamity in a strain of the most commendable candour:—

“I could not have ventured to write this from hearsay, nor could I

conceive it possible until I was obliged to put this remedy in

practice upon my own wife, who was seized with the same disorder. I at

first thought that a whip would be of some service, and one day

attempted a few strokes when unnoticed by any person, _we being by

ourselves_, and I having a strong suspicion that this ailment sprang

from the weak minds of women, who were encouraged in it for the sake

of the grandeur, rich dress, and music which accompany the cure. But

how much was I surprised, the moment I struck a light blow, thinking

to do good, to find that she became like a corpse; and even the joints

of her fingers became so stiff that I could not straighten them.

Indeed, I really thought that she was dead, and immediately made it

known to the people in the house that she had fainted, but did not

tell them the cause; upon which they immediately brought music, which

I had for many days denied them, and which soon revived her; and I

then left the house to her relations, to cure her at my expense. One

day I went privately with a companion to see my wife dance, and kept

at a short distance, as I was ashamed to go near the crowd. In looking

steadfastly upon her, while dancing or jumping, more like a deer than

a human being, I said that it certainly was not my wife; at which my

companion burst into a fit of laughter, from which he could scarcely

refrain all the way home.”

The capability of sustaining the most violent exercise, for a long time

together, and on very little food, is not one of the least perplexities

attendant upon these nervous or epileptic diseases. The partial

suspension of sensation and volition, by sparing the brain, may have

something to do with it. But into scientific perplexities of this kind

we cannot now enter. One plain and homely caution is derivable from all

these histories. Good sense is a great preservative of health. Do not

voluntarily make a fool of yourself, or your folly may become in turn

the master of your reason. Epilepsy has been brought on by the

simulation of epilepsy. We doubt not that a man might dance to his own

shadow, and talk to it, as it danced before him on the wall, till he

drove himself into a complete frenzy. A sect in America thought fit to

introduce certain grimaces, laughing, weeping, and the like, into their

public service. It was not long before their grimaces, in some of their

numbers, became involuntary; the muscles of the face had escaped the

control of the will. A decided _tongue-mania_ was exhibited a short time

amongst the Irvingites. Happily, in the present state of society, men’s

minds are called off into so many directions, that a predominant idea of

this kind has little chance of establishing itself in that tyrannous

manner which we have seen possible in the middle ages. But it is better

not to play with edged tools. If people will stand round a table, fixing

their minds on one idea—that a certain mysterious influence will pass

through their fingers to move the table—they will lose, for a time, the

voluntary command over their own fingers, which will exert themselves

without any volition or consciousness on their part. They are entering,

in fact, into that state which, in the olden time, was considered a

demoniacal possession; so that, speaking from this point of view, one

may truly say that “Satan does turn the table,” but it is by entering

into the table-turner. When we have been asked whether there is

_anything_ in mesmerism, we have always answered—a great deal more than

you ought, without medical advice, to make trial of. Nor do we at all

admire the performance of the so-called electro-biologist. Experiments

in the interest of science are permissible; but is it fit that any one

should practise the art of inducing a temporary state of idiocy in

persons of weak or susceptible nerves, for the purpose of collecting a

crowd, and passing round the hat?

The subject of the third treatise of Dr Hecker is the _Sweating

Sickness_. This third part is more miscellaneous than its predecessors,

and we have no space to do justice to its varied and sometimes

disputable matter. Dr Hecker describes the sweating sickness as a legacy

left us by the civil wars of York and Lancaster. It first developed

itself in Richmond’s army, which had been collected from abroad,

over-fatigued by long marches in a very damp season, and probably ill

supplied with rations. Its rapid extension through the cities he

attributes to the intemperance of the English, to their overfeeding, and

the want of cleanliness in their houses. Gluttony, and the filth of the

rush-covered floors, he detects even amongst the wealthiest of the land.

For a minute description of the disease, and the Doctor’s investigation

into the nature of it, we must refer to the book itself.

On the physicians, and the manner in which they addressed themselves to

the encounter of this strange calamity, there is a passage which it may

be instructive to peruse:—

“The physicians could do little or nothing for the people in this

extremity. They are nowhere alluded to throughout this epidemic, and

even those who might have come forward to succour their

fellow-citizen, had fallen into the errors of Galen, and their

dialectic minds sank under this appalling phenomenon. This holds good

even of the famous Thomas Linacre, subsequently physician in ordinary

to two monarchs, and founder of the College of Physicians in 1518. In

the prime of his youth he had been an eyewitness of the events at

Oxford, and survived even the second and third eruption of the

sweating sickness; but in none of his writings do we find a single

word respecting this disease, which is of such permanent importance.

In fact, the restorers of the medical science of ancient Greece, who

were followed by all the most enlightened men in Europe, with the

single exception of Linacre, occupied themselves rather with the

ancient terms of art than with actual observation, and in their

critical researches overlooked the important events that were passing

before their eyes. This reminds us of the later Greek physicians, who

for four hundred years paid no attention to the smallpox, because they

could find no description of it in the immortal works of Galen!”

Who shall say, in reading such passages, that the _New Philosophy_ of

Bacon, which reads now like old common-sense, was not sadly wanted, if

the learned physician, while feeling his patient’s pulse, could see only

with the eyes of Galen? In the fourteenth century we see the physician

busied with his astrology, and laboriously fixing the day when Saturn,

Jupiter, and Mars, did battle with the sun over the great Indian Ocean;

in the sixteenth we find him, with quite dialectic mind, absorbed in the

study of his classical authorities; at the present time we may truly say

that there are no inquiries conducted with a more philosophical spirit,

or with greater zeal and energy, than those which relate to the human

frame, its functions and its diseases. The extreme complexity of the

subject renders our progress slow. And yet progress can hardly be said

to have been slow. Let any one take up that admirable little manual on

_The Nervous System_, by Dr Herbert Mayo, and compare it with any work a

hundred years old: it is a new science; and that not only from the new

facts which a Robert Bell and a Marshall Hall, and other distinguished

men in France and Germany, have added to our knowledge, but from the

fine spirit of philosophical inquiry which presides over the whole. We

have not only left astrology behind, we have not only left behind the

undue reverence to classical authority, but we have thrown aside that

dislike and depreciation of physiology which the metaphysician had done

his part to encourage, and have entered, as with a fresh eye and a

beating heart, upon the study of the wonders of the human frame.

THE SONG OF METRODORUS.

Παντοίην βιότοιο τάμοις τρίβον. εἰν ἀγορῇ μέυ

κύδεα καὶ πινυταὶ πρήξιες. ἐυ δὲ δόμοις

ἄμπανμ’. ἐν δ’ἀγροῖς Φύσιος χάρις. ἐν δὲ ζαλάσση

κέρδος. ἐπὶ ξείνης, ἢν μὲν ἔχης τι, κλέος.

ν δ’ ἀπορὴς, μόνος οἶδας. ἔχεις γάμον; οἶκος ἄριστος

ἔσσεται. οὐ γαμέεις; ζης ἔτ’ ἐλαφρότερον.

τέκνα πόζος. ἄφροντις ἄπαμς βίος. αἱ νεότητες

ῥωμαλέαι. πολιαὶ δ’ ἔμπαλιν εὐσεβέες.

οὐκ ἄρα τῶν δισσῶν ἑνὸς αἵρεσις, ἢ τὸ γενέζαι

μηδέποτ’, ἢ τὸ ζανειν. πάντα γὰρ ἐσζλὰ βίῳ.

* * * * *

Metrodorus was a rare old blade,

His wine he drank, his prayers he said,

And did his duty duly;

But with grave affairs of Church and State

He never fretted his smooth pate,

For he said, and he said full truly,

If a man about and about will go,

To mend all matters high and low,

He’ll find no rest full surely.

In his chair of ease a thorn will grow,

The gall will in his bladder flow,

Thick seeds of sorrow he will sow,

And make his dearest friend a foe,

And go to the grave prematurely.

One day he sate beside the fire,

With all things square to his desire

—A wintry day, when Boreas blew

Through the piping hills with a halloo—

Just after dinner, when the wine

On the tip of his nose was glowing fine.

A pleasant vapour ’fore him floats,

The logs are blazing brightly,

And in his brain the happy thoughts

Begin to move full lightly.

He never wrote a verse before,

Though now he counted good threescore,

And scarcely knew what poets meant,

When in their high conceited bent

They talked of inspiration.

But now his soul a fancy stirred;

He trilled and chirped like any bird;

His bright imagination

Poured forth a pleasant flowing verse,

Which, if you please, I will rehearse

For gentle meditation.

’Twas Greek of course, but by the skill

Made English, of my classic quill,

As good, or better, if you will,

In this my free translation.

1.

They may rail at this world, and say that the devil

Rules o’er it, usurping the mace of the Lord;

In my soul I detest all such impious cavil,

While I sit as a guest at life’s bountiful board.

I was young; I am old, and my temples are hoary,

On Time’s rocking tide I have gallantly oared;

This wisdom I learned, ’tis the sum of my story,

With blessings God’s earth like a garner is stored.

2.

You blame your condition; by Jove I was never

So placed that I could not with pride be a man;

At rest or afloat on life’s far-sounding river,

Content was my watchword, enjoyment my plan.

Where busy men bustle, to elbow and jostle

What sport! then at home how delightful repose!

What comfort and pleasure your body to measure

At large in the elbow-chair, toasting your toes!

3.

A soldier? how gallant through smoke and through thunder

To ride like the lightning, when Jupiter roars;

A farmer? to gaze on the green leafy wonder

Of April how sweet, and to think on the stores

Of golden-sheaved autumn!—to dash through the billow

Is dear to the merchant who carries his gains;

How sweet to the poet on green grassy pillow,

To lie when spring zephyrs are fanning his brains!

4.

When you find a good wife, Nature urges to marry;

But art thou a bachelor, never complain;

Less sail you display, but less burden you carry,

And over yourself like a king you may reign.

’Tis pleasant to hear children prattling around you,

Thank Heaven you’ve arrows enough for your bow;

But if you love quiet, they’ll only confound you,

So if now you have none—may it ever be so!

5.

Art young? then rejoice in thy youth,—give the pinion

Of passion free play—love and hate like a man;

And gather around thee a mighty dominion

Of venturous thoughts, like the crest-waving van

Of a conquering host. Art old? reputation

And honour shall find thee and pleasures serene,

And a power like to Jove’s, when the fate of the nation

Shall wait on thy word in the hall of the queen.

6.

Blow hot or blow cold, with hearty endeavour

Still witch out a virtue from all that you see;

Use well what you get, giving thanks to the Giver,

And think everything good in its place and degree.

I’ve told you my thoughts, and I think you’re my debtor,

And if you don’t think so, I wish you were dead;

The sooner you rot on a dunghill the better,

You’re not worth the straw that they shake for your bed.

THE NEW REFORM BILL.

We feel compelled to address ourselves to an ungracious and disagreeable

task. At this moment but one thought ought to be encouraged throughout

the British empire—that of encountering and beating back the new and

formidable aggressor on the liberties of Europe. We shall not enter now

upon the history of past transactions. We shall not stop to inquire

whether the Ministry acted foolishly or not in allowing themselves, in

spite of repeated warnings and most pregnant instances, to be deceived,

cajoled, and outwitted by the agents of Russian diplomacy. It is enough

for us that the war has, to all intents and purposes, begun—that we are

sending forth our armaments and making our preparations for such a

struggle as has not been known during the lifetime of the present

generation—and that we have, directly, the most colossal force in Europe

to cope with, to which possibly may be united a central power of the

Continent, with an army at its disposal more than twice as numerous as

our own.

Gladly do we hail the spirit which at present animates the nation. It

assures us that we have not degenerated during the long period of peace

which we have enjoyed. It shows that we are still alive to our dignity

as a people, to our duty as the enemies of outrage and aggression—that

we have heart enough and will enough, at any sacrifice, to maintain our

high position—and that the love of Mammon has not so occupied our souls

as to render us insensible to the part which we are bound to take, as

the freest state and most advanced community in Europe. We deny, on the

part of the people of Great Britain, that they have either been rash or

headstrong in this matter; they have submitted, with remarkable

patience, to negotiations protracted beyond hope, and with advantage to

the enemy; and, so far from being precipitate or impetuous towards war,

they have urged nothing upon the Ministry until, after unparalleled

vacillation, the latter have been compelled to see that no other course

was open to them but a final rupture with Russia.

This session of Parliament began as leisurely and lazily as though there

were no combustible elements visible in Europe—as though there had been

no aggression—as though no severe blow had been struck by Russia at

Turkey, almost in the presence of and in defiance of our fleet. Had we

been at peace with all the world, Ministers could not have shown less

symptoms of excitement. The meeting of Parliament was postponed to the

last day; possibly on account of negotiations still pending, after

Wallachia and Moldavia had been occupied by the Russian troops—after

engagements had taken place upon the Danube—and after a Turkish fleet

had been assailed and annihilated within the Turkish harbour of Sinope.

Negotiation is long-lived. The Premier has even now such faith in

protocols that he professes to believe the peace of Europe maybe

preserved—an opinion, the gallantry of which cannot be questioned,

inasmuch as he stands alone; and for which he will certainly be entitled

to immortal credit, if the Czar chooses to yield and withdraw after all

that has taken place. But with Lord Aberdeen’s opinions or convictions

we have nothing, at the present moment, to do. We think that,

considering the important nature of the crisis, and the vastness of the

interests at stake, it was the duty of Ministers to have advised an

earlier meeting of Parliament, so that the natural anxiety of the nation

might not be prolonged, nor any feeling of distrust engendered. Such a

step would at all events have been satisfactory to the public, as an

implied assurance that it was intended to obliterate, by a decided

course of action, the memory of the apathetic indifference and

vacillating policy of the latter half of the bygone year.

Pass we from that, however, to the actual meeting of Parliament. No

sooner were the members assembled, and, as it were, shaken into their

places, than Lord John Russell, a Cabinet Minister, announced that it

was his intention to move for leave to bring in a bill for amending the

representation of the country; and, notwithstanding the urgent

dissuasions both of friend and foe, grounded upon the exceeding

impolicy, under present circumstances, of forcing on a measure for which

there has been no call or necessity, he, on the evening of the 13th

February, proceeded to develop his scheme.

Now, it is perfectly true that, in the course of last session, Lord John

Russell, and, if we mistake not, Lord Aberdeen, stated that it was the

intention of Ministers to bring forward some measure of the kind. It is

true also that the former seems resolved, with characteristic obstinacy,

to effect some great change in the representation, and that his

resolution is not of yesterday’s date; for in 1852, just two years ago,

he obtained leave to bring in a bill for the same object, but with

provisions and machinery entirely different from this. It is not our

intention in the present paper to compare the two schemes propounded by

this consistent statesman for amending the representation. Whether,

however, the present bill is insisted on or not, we certainly shall take

an opportunity of instituting such a comparison, were it merely for the

purpose of exposing, beyond the possibility of refutation or defence,

the reckless, inconsistent, and almost crazy tamperings of the noble

Lord with the fabric of our constitution. We shall not judge him by any

other test than his own words and his own measures. He must either

admit—and we shall challenge his warmest adherent or advocate to deny

this—that he regards the British constitution as something that may be

altered and adjusted to suit special circumstances and party ends; or

that, in 1852, he, then First Minister of the Crown, introduced, with

culpable want of consideration, a measure, the details of which he now

repudiates. It has been the fashion, on the strength of a flippant

saying of the late Sydney Smith, to talk of Lord John Russell as a man

adequate, in his own conceit, to the conduct of any affair or

enterprise, and rigidly and unalterably wedded to his own opinions. We

cannot give him even that dubious credit now. He either committed a

gross blunder in his former bill, which is no slight imputation upon the

judgment of a Prime Minister, or he is acting just now under the direct

dictation of others. Nothing has occurred, during the last two years, to

make the Reform Bill of 1854 totally and entirely different, not only in

details, but in principle, from that which was proposed in 1852; and yet

the new measure is utterly inconsistent with the older one. We all

remember that, in 1852, Lord John failed to engage the public

support—can it be that he is now playing the bad and unpatriotic game of

which he was formerly suspected—that he is bidding for popularity and

party power, irrespective altogether of the true interests of the

country?

That comparison, however, we shall reserve for a future article. We have

said already that it was intimated last session, on the part of the

Ministry, that a bill for amending the representation would be

introduced. The question now is, whether it is for the advantage of the

country that such a resolution should be adhered to. That Ministers

ought to keep faith with the public is a proposition which we shall

never question. If it can be shown that the public, in any proper sense

of the term, has become aware of the existence of a grievance, and has

demanded a remedy or relief; and if, therefore, Ministers, toward the

end of a session, have admitted the justness of the demand, but have

been necessitated to postpone the remedy, they are certainly, under

ordinary circumstances, bound to come forward and redeem their pledge.

But, even in such a case as that which we have supposed, when

non-fulfilment of the pledge would naturally create dissatisfaction,

circumstances may arise to justify Ministers in declining, on public

grounds, to pursue a line of action which otherwise they would willingly

adopt. The present is not even a case of that kind. There was no demand

at all upon the part of the nation for any immediate measure of reform

of representation; and although, beyond all question, there are serious

points yet to be settled—for example, the relative representation of

Scotland as compared with England—Ministers were not urged to undertake

any specific measure, and the responsibility of having done so must rest

entirely on themselves.

But we ask, in the name of common sense, is this a time to breed

dissension in the country? Set aside such matters as this, which are not

clamoured for in any way, and there is absolutely no party feeling among

us. All that has been absorbed in the national and British feeling; and

we are now sending forth our navy and our army—parting with our sons and

our brothers—not knowing whether they may again return to us, but

believing that they have gone to support a just cause, and knowing that,

in the worst event, they will be mourned by more than ourselves. We

shall be called upon, and we are ready, one and all, to submit to

increased taxation, and to perform the part which our fathers performed

when the integrity of the land was threatened. But is it the part of

Ministers, _now_, at the very opening of the campaign, to do all in

their power to excite angry feelings among us, to awake party

jealousies, and to rouse antagonism between town and country?

In England, the proposed disfranchisement of nineteen boroughs,

returning twenty-nine members, and the reduction of thirty-three others,

now returning two, to one member each, will, beyond all question, excite

a vast deal of animosity and discussion. We are not by any means so

bigotted or besotted in our admiration of the present system as to deny

that a plausible argument maybe maintained in favour of much of this

disfranchisement and reduction; for the old Reform Act was eminently a

party measure, and dealt tenderly with existing interests whenever these

belonged to the Whigs. But when we look to the simple facts, that our

system and arrangements for the distribution of the franchise, such as

they are, stood the triumphant test of 1848, when every other state in

Europe was rocking before the whirlwind of revolution—and that no

clamour has been heard for their alteration—we humbly venture to think

that this is not the time for any extensive experiment. Nor are we by

any means convinced that the suppression of small constituencies in

favour of larger ones which are already represented, would be a

practical improvement. We would much rather see large existing

constituencies subdivided, so that no elector should be allowed to vote

for more than one member. This might very easily be effected. Edinburgh,

for example, would still return two members, but these would be elected

by two distinct bodies of voters in different wards. In like manner,

where there are two or more members for a county, these should be

returned by separate votes in three departments or districts of

parishes, which, indeed, would be simply an extension of the system now

followed in the larger English counties. This would at once supersede

the necessity of having recourse to such ridiculous and fantastic

devices as “the representation of minorities,” which is contemplated by

the present bill, and which is grossly unfair, inasmuch as its operation

is only practicable in the case of constituencies returning three

members. From what we have seen of their working, we are not at all

enamoured of large constituencies. They have at present more power than

they are entitled to; for we maintain it to be contrary to the just

principle of representation that any elector should have more than one

representative. If the other system, which Lord John Russell practically

advocates, is a good one, why should not the three Ridings of Yorkshire

be united, so that electors in the county might vote for six

representatives? It is just as easy to divide a town as a county. The

machinery is already supplied by the municipal arrangements; and if that

system were to be adopted—and we earnestly recommend it for

consideration—we should hear nothing more of the tyranny of majorities.

Until some such plan, founded on principle and recommended by reason, is

matured, we oppose the disfranchisement of any of the boroughs. But let

us again revert to the time which has been selected for propounding

these sweeping changes.

We have been told, in ridiculously pompous language, that Great Britain

will present a magnificent spectacle to the world, if, while engaging in

a deadly struggle with the most colossal power of Europe, she applies

herself, at the same time, to the remodelment of her own constitution.

With all deference to the speaker, we never listened to more atrocious

nonsense. What should we think of the sanity of the man who, at the very

moment when his house was attacked from without, should set fire to it

within, for the purpose of exhibiting the “sublime spectacle” of

simultaneous external defence and internal extinguishment? Of course we

should consider him as mad, clap a blister on his head, and have him

instantly conveyed to bedlam. And yet that is, just now, the precise

language of Ministers. We really are surprised that any of them should

have the audacity to hazard such an argument; if, indeed, that can be

called an argument which is no better than a preposterous hyperbole.

They know, perfectly well, that this measure of theirs cannot be

persevered in without exciting very general dissatisfaction in various

parts of the country—that it must necessarily lead to protracted

discussion, and a strong demonstration of party feeling in both Houses

of Parliament; that if they are unsuccessful in carrying it through,

they will have weakened their own influence at a time when it is most

desirable that the hands of Government should be strengthened; and that

if, on the contrary, they are successful, an immediate dissolution of

Parliament, and new general election, must take place. These are the

obvious and inevitable consequences, if they persist in their present

course; and we hesitate not to say that faction, in its worst spirit,

could devise no more dangerous scheme for disturbing the unanimity of

the country. “But,” say some of the Whig and Liberal journals, “it is

obvious that the present move is a mere indication of what may take

place hereafter. Lord John Russell has no serious intention of pushing

through this bill at the present time, nor would his colleagues permit

him to do so—this is merely to be regarded as the fulfilment of his

pledge, and in due time it will be withdrawn.” If we are to take that as

the true interpretation of the business—if we are to suppose that this

measure has been introduced as a sham, without serious intentions of

carrying it into execution, the sooner Lord John Russell retires from

public life the better for his own reputation. Sham bills, we are aware,

are not novelties. Of late years we have seen, with infinite sorrow and

disgust, this species of deception practised upon the public, but never

at such a time and under such circumstances as now. It is no valid

excuse to say that this is the mere redemption of a pledge, and that

Lord John Russell could not act otherwise with honour. What is Lord John

Russell, that considerations personal to him should be allowed to

disturb the unanimity of the British people at such a crisis; or that

his gratuitous pledges and random promises should interfere with the

public weal? If such a step, in such a juncture, had been taken by a

Tory instead of a Whig minister, the offence would not have been

allowed, even on the first night, to pass without a storm of

reprobation. Lord John himself would have risen, with an unblushing

front, and a total disregard of antecedents, to prove from Whig

tradition that any attempt to divide the country, at the moment when it

was collecting its energies for action, was a crime worthy of

impeachment. Mr Macaulay would have been hurried from his books at the

Albany to explain, in sonorous language, what course would have been

taken by the Roman senate, in regard to any one who might have proposed,

when the Gauls were at the gate, to undermine the Roman constitution;

and the Tarpeian rock would, doubtless, have been suggested as the

proper punishment. Sir James Graham would have started up to protest

that this was not the time for “pottering” over constitutions, or

revising constituencies, and have insulted the parent of the bill with

the imperious airs of a Commodore Trunnion. Sir Charles Wood—but we

shall not pursue the imaginary case further, because the name we have

last cited is suggestive of a counting-out. What we mean to convey is,

that the political changes contemplated by this bill, without reference

to minor details, such as lowering of the franchise, &c., are so

serious, that the Ministry, if they really intend, or intended, to carry

them through, could not, by possibility, have selected a worse or more

injudicious time; and that they are, by persevering, abusing the

confidence of the country. If, on the contrary, this measure is to be

regarded as a sham, or merely tentatory, then we say that the country

has excellent reason for feeling indignant and disgusted that, under

present circumstances, such a hoax should be practised upon it.

Lord John Russell is unfortunate in his experiences. By accident rather

than by choice—for he was then no eminent political character—his was

the hand to open the floodgates more than twenty years ago. He heard the

roaring of the pent-up waters, pouring down as if in jubilee, and his

soul was big with triumph. Since then, he has heard nothing of the kind;

but still his memory lingers on the far-off Niagara roll, and he wishes,

before he dies, to have the sound repeated. Hence he is perpetually

prowling about the locks of the constitution, devising schemes for

another flood, just as the schoolboy, who has assisted at the sluicing

of one dam, is energetic for a repetition of the experiment, regardless

altogether of the havoc he may be making below. His Nemesis—as it is the

fashion now to call it—has been more decided and humiliating than that

of any public man of our age. He has sunk from a Premier to a

subordinate, under the command of a chief to whom, for the better part

of his life, he was diametrically opposed in politics. He was not even

allowed to remain long as a recognised subordinate. He descended to the

rank of an attaché, in which situation he now remains. He has affected

partial retirement from politics, but, at best, he is only half a

Cincinnatus. We do not know accurately what were the farming

capabilities of the conqueror of the Volsci; but we know, accurately

enough, what are the literary achievements of Lord John Russell. We

regret, very sincerely, that he has not been able to establish for

himself a name in letters; because, if he had done so, we might have

hoped to get rid of him as a politician. But that remorseless public,

upon whose fiat all authors and editors are dependent, stood in the way;

and decreasing sales bore a lamentable evidence to the noble Lord’s

decreasing literary popularity. In order, if possible, to redeem his

reputation, he touched, with doubtful gallantry, the shield of the most

aged antagonist in the lists; and the result was that, like the Admiral

Guarinos in the Spanish ballad, the old warrior—though in bad case and

wretchedly battered armour—spurred out, and overthrew him in a canter.

Nettled at this discomfiture, he comes back to politics; and—availing

himself of his position, which the Premier cannot well gainsay, inasmuch

as he has no sure hold on the affections of the leading Whigs, who would

pitch him over, if an opportunity were afforded, as freely as ever

hencoop was given to the waves—he propounds a project of further reform,

for which, we doubt not, he is frightfully objurgated by some of his

associates in the Cabinet. But, let them say their worst, he knows that

he is still in power—that he can threaten them, in one way or another,

with active opposition—and therefore they are constrained to let him

appear as the author of a new Reform Bill; and although in their hearts

they curse his recklessness, they dare not, in as many words, repudiate

his false position. Such are the national advantages and inevitable

results of that species of combination known as a “Coalition Ministry.”

Let us now see what changes are to be made in the electoral body. These

are various and complicated, but we shall state them in order; and

first, as to the new qualifications. The following are to be entitled to

enrolment, either in town or country:—

1. All persons having salaries of £100 a-year, derived from public or

private employment, provided they are paid by the half-year or

quarter.

2. All persons in receipt of £10 a-year, derived from dividends from

property, either in the Funds, or in bank for East India

Company’s stock.

3. All persons paying income or assessed taxes to the yearly income of

40s.

4. All graduates of any university in the United Kingdom.

5. All persons who, for three years, have had a deposit of £50 in a

savings’ bank.

So there is an end at once of property and occupancy as the basis of the

electoral franchise. If you have five sons, and wish to qualify them for

voting, you have simply to deposit £50 in name of each in a savings’

bank, and in three years’ time they will be placed on the register. And

remark this, that, once on the register, there they abide for ever; for

Lord John distinctly tells us, “we make the register of votes final.” So

that, on the day after your son is placed on the roll, you may reclaim

your money with interest! Happy graduates of universities! They are

entitled to the franchise in virtue of the magical letters appended to

their names; and they may flit about from place to place, the adornment

of twenty registers, because the register is to be final. Take out a

game-certificate, and you may not only shoot partridges for the year,

but may vote at elections in perpetuity! Any person who wears

hair-powder, keeps a terrier, and has a crest engraved on his seal, for

which valuable privileges he pays £2, 8s. 8d. of assessed taxes, is

henceforward a voter! We are not joking. Such are absolutely the

provisions of this precious Reform Bill, the result, as we are told, of

the deliberate and collective wisdom of the Ministry!

Faintly, and like a dream, the recollection of the beautiful old Whig

moral sentiments steals upon our memory. We remember the touching

pictures, limned some twenty years ago, of the industrious man working

his way to the rank of the ten-pounders, in order to attain the glorious

privilege of the franchise. We were told then that it was most desirable

to have a distinct property qualification, in order that men might exert

themselves to attain it, and by their exertions stimulate others in the

like course of frugality and perseverance. Is that to be the case in

future? Certainly not. Every common carrier who pays for his van £2, 6s.

8d. yearly, as the tax on an implement of trade, is to be as politically

powerful as the acred squire, or the manufacturer who gives employment

to thousands—every horse-dealer, dog-breaker, and tavern-keeper may vote

in virtue of the assessed taxes—every clerk in a shop who has £100

a-year, and every warehouseman, who has either saved or succeeded to

£50—are to be entitled to vote either in town or county. We said, long

ago, when the Whigs were lauding their earlier measure as a grand

incentive to industry, and as a splendidly devised scheme for

stimulating deserving operatives, that before many years were over the

same party would attempt to lower the qualification, so as to embrace

all who were likely to forward and promote their designs. Our prophecy

is now demonstrated to be true. We showed that, after the first

successful attempt, there never can be an end of swamping, or, at all

events, of proposals to swamp. The ten-pound householders, then in the

full enjoyment of their monopoly, did not seem to believe us. Somehow or

other they had been impressed with the idea that the Whigs were the

devoted friends of the “middle classes”—that they had a firm faith in

what was termed “shopocracy”—and that they never would attempt to

supplant the power which they had created. And, certainly, the

ten-pounders have done nothing to merit this treatment at the hands of

the Whigs. They have clung to them, especially in the large towns, with

a fidelity which we cannot but respect, and, in spite of occasional

scurvy treatment, have shown themselves the most zealous of partisans.

But the time has now arrived when their ascendancy is to give way.

Respectability is no longer the fashion. If the ten-pounders, indeed,

had been able to give the Whigs a large majority in Parliament, and to

have insured their continuance in power, matters might have been

different. There would then have been no occasion for lowering the

franchise; because the Whigs, ever since they have been a party (which

is now an old story), have never taken a single step except as means

towards an end; and they would not, but for party necessity, have

attempted to swamp their friends. But the old Reform Bill, though

devised especially for the purpose of securing to the Whigs an unlimited

range of power, did not succeed in its object. It was based essentially

upon property, and, by degrees, property and Conservatism came to a

common understanding. The Whigs lost ground every year: partly because

their champions were either effete or insincere; partly because they

were foolish enough to presume on their new ascendancy, and to insult

the rooted Protestantism of the country; and partly, because they showed

themselves in their arrangements grasping, greedy, and nepotical, to a

degree never yet paralleled even in a corrupted state. They wanted to

make, and did in fact make, with scarce an exception, the Cabinet a mere

family Junta. They married and forwarded marriages on the strength of

political connexion, and jobbed out public employment accordingly. Grey,

Russell, and Elliot, were the three names preferred; and Heaven only

knows what amount of perquisites was absorbed by the scions of these

illustrious races. Such things cannot be done in a corner, so secretly

as to escape observation. The popular ire was roused at such an

exhibition of awful selfishness, and the Whigs declined in character.

Had Sir Robert Peel not been the Minister and type of expediency, he

might have gained an easy and lasting victory over them; but

unfortunately, both for the party which he then led and for himself, he

had a weak perception of principle. The two rivals sate, on opposite

sides of the table, watching each other at the game of popularity, but

never for a moment reflecting that, in any event, Great Britain had to

pay the loss. The game, though it had continued a great deal too long,

was somewhat abruptly terminated. Those who had supported the Baronet

while he played fair, withdrew their confidence; and the noble lord was

left in possession of the field. Did he maintain it? By no means. He

juggled and traversed until every one was weary of him, and at last he

was ejected. The election of 1852 showed that parties were very nearly

balanced; so nearly indeed that, but for the union of the Peelites with

the Whigs, Lord Derby would have had a majority in the House of Commons.

This state of things may be embarrassing to politicians, but it does not

justify a violent change in the Constitution. However desirable

majorities may be to either party, an attempt to obtain ascendancy by

means of legislative enactment and tampering with the franchise, is so

very reprehensible that it amounts almost to a crime.

But we must not lose sight of the bill by indulging in remarks upon the

past. Its object is to swamp the present class of voters by a wholesale

admission of others who have not been able to raise themselves to the

enviable level which is the limit of the existing qualification. The

bill is ingeniously devised. Let it pass, and every tradesman will

consider himself sure of three or four votes which he can direct.

Because, of course, the clerk, with £100 a-year, dares not vote against

his master; and, even if he is entitled, after dismissal, to remain on

the register, the mere privilege of voting, perhaps once in seven years,

will be a poor compensation for the immediate loss of employment. Can

you call a clerk or book-keeper, with a bare £100 a-year, independent?

To do so is a mere perversion of terms. He is more liable even than the

operative to the influence of his employer, inasmuch as the nature of

his employment is more precarious. We heard a great deal last year about

Government influence being used among the persons employed in the

dockyards, and it was gravely proposed by some of the leading Whig

journals, that all such should be disfranchised, as they could not be

expected to vote independently. But a Government official, however

zealous and unscrupulous he may be, is amenable to public opinion and

public censure, and cannot exercise the same stringent means of

compulsion which are open to the tradesman or the attorney.

Then as to bribery: the tendency of lowering the franchise must be to

increase that to a very great extent. In many places, even under the

present system, votes are bought and sold; but if this bill is carried

into effect, the corruption will become enormous. Experience has shown

us, very clearly, that there is a large class in this country by whom

votes are considered in the light of marketable commodities, and this

bill seems specially framed for the purpose of adding to their numbers.

The possession of £50 in a savings-bank is by no means a guarantee that

the depositor will be inaccessible to the influences of a bribe. But

besides the other changes which we have discussed, it is proposed that

residence of two years and a-half in a house rated at £6 in a municipal

borough shall confer the right of voting, and that previous payment of

rates and taxes is to be no longer required! Can any one for a moment

doubt that the consequence of this will be to render constituencies

venal to an extent never yet known in this country? If even under the

present system it is found that bribery prevails, will not the offence

become much more rank and general when you enfranchise a class

peculiarly liable from their position to such influences? And remember

this, that candidates or their agents are not always, nor indeed in the

majority of cases, the tempters. Enough has been revealed to show us

that, in a very large number of the English towns, there exist regularly

organised clubs or societies of voters, who force their terms upon

candidates. These fine patriots do not concern themselves much with

party politics. They do not object to one man because he is a Tory, or

to another because he is a Whig. Pledges as to future conduct are not at

all in their line: they much prefer the immediate tender of a crisp

bank-note or of a few shining sovereigns. They have their agents and

their office-bearers, and must be bought in the lump. Let this bill

pass, and there will hardly be an urban constituency in this kingdom

without such a club. Is that a state of things to be envied? Is it fair

to the honest and upright voter that he should be swamped by organised

rascality, and that his privilege should be rendered of no avail? We can

hardly express ourselves too strongly on this subject, for the

provocation is very great. The Whig party, for years past, have affected

to mourn over the corruption of the constituencies, and yet here is

their accredited leader bringing in a bill which must necessarily have

the effect of increasing that corruption tenfold!

But we have not yet quite done. Lord John Russell proposes to give 46

new members to the English counties; but then the county constituency is

not to remain as before. Occupiers, not proprietors, of £10 a-year are

to have votes in counties; and it is by no means contemplated that the

house occupied by the voter should be of that value. “We propose,” said

Lord John Russell, “with respect to the county right of voting,

that—with the exception of a dwelling-house, which may be of any value,

provided the voter lives in it—in all other cases the building must be

of the value of £5 a-year. Supposing there is a house and land, the

house may be rated at £1 or £2 a-year, provided the voter resides in it;

but if the qualification is made out by any other building—a cattle-shed

or any other building of that kind—then we propose this check, that such

building shall be of the value of £5 a-year. This, then, is the

franchise we propose to give in counties for the future; and the House

will see that it has a very considerable bearing upon the question of

the increase of number of members which I have stated we propose. Out of

the whole number I have mentioned I shall propose that 46 members shall

be given to counties; but as these counties will hereafter include the

£10 householders, it is obvious that the constituency will be less of a

special character. It does seem to me that all the endeavours made to

run down the agricultural interest, or to run down the manufacturing

interest, are totally foolish and absurd, and that there can be no

better system of representation than that which takes into consideration

the whole of the great interests of the country, which contribute to its

glory and prosperity.” We have thought it right to insert these

paragraphs, because they contain a doctrine quite new to statesmen, and

one which has hitherto been unbroached. There is certainly a little

obscurity in the language, but not enough to conceal the true nature of

the sentiment. What Lord John Russell means to say is this:—It is absurd

any longer to maintain the special character of constituencies—absurd to

make distinctions between agriculture, manufactures, or any branch of

industry—absurd to frame your system so that one member shall represent

agriculture, another commerce, and another manufactures, because you

should in every case combine the whole of the great interests of the

country. Carry that doctrine into effect, and the distinction between

counties and towns ceases altogether. But how can you bring it fairly

into effect? In the towns which have the privilege of returning members,

agriculture is not, and cannot be, represented at all. The urban voters

are all engaged in other pursuits, and they send to the House of Commons

members to represent that branch of industry which is their staple. From

the towns, therefore, the territorial interest, which is in reality the

greatest and most enduring in England, never can be adequately

represented. You may, however, easily enough, swamp the agricultural

interest in the counties, and that by the method which Lord John Russell

proposes, namely, of admitting to the county-roll ten-pound occupiers

from the towns, which do not send a representative to Parliament. It has

often been remarked, as a special defect in the Act of 1832, that it

allowed in many cases the votes of small proprietors in villages and

towns to swamp the votes of the agriculturists; and in several counties

in Scotland this is notoriously the case. The manufacturing towns in

Forfarshire, in Roxburghshire, and in Fife, furnish so many votes, that

the landed interest is entirely unrepresented; and as new seats of

manufacture are laid down, the evil is always progressive. There can be

no doubt that in the instances which we have referred to, the landed

interest is incomparably greater than all the others; and yet, in so far

as representation goes, it has virtually no voice at all. It has been

proposed, more than once—and the scheme carries reason with it—that

these anomalies should be removed by the attachment of the unrepresented

boroughs to the nearest ones which have representation; thus increasing

and consolidating a class of voters who have a distinct common interest.

If this were done, and the counties freed from an incubus, there might

be no objection to the lowering of the agricultural tenant’s

qualification, so that the man who paid £20 of yearly rent might be

entitled to admission to the roll. But Lord John Russell takes exactly

the opposite view. He wants to swamp the country constituencies

altogether, and he proposes to effect that by letting in every man from

the villages who pays £10 of rent! He himself admits that by this

arrangement, persons occupying houses not rated at more than £1 or £2

a-year—in fact, mere hovels—may become county voters, and this he

considers a fitting method of combining “the whole of the great

interests of the country!” And yet, mark his inconsistency. By the same

bill which proposes this amalgamation of interests in the counties, it

is provided that University representation shall be extended, and that

special members shall be allotted to the English Inns of Court. Surely

there cannot be a more direct recognition of separate and exclusive

interests than this; and yet, in counties, the agricultural interest is

to be put down.

We have not the least fear that the law will be so altered; but that

such proposals should emanate from a Ministry, is, we think, a

disgraceful and a lamentable fact. They are no doubt entitled to have

their opinion. They may think, though on what grounds we cannot divine,

that it is good policy not to maintain any balance in the constitution,

and that the franchise in town and country should be made the same. They

may consider it advisable that small manufacturing towns, too

unimportant to return members of themselves, should be allowed to

furnish the majority of county voters, and that, virtually, the land

should cease to have any representatives. If they think so, it is much

to be regretted that they do not say so openly, so that we might have

the opportunity of doing battle in a fair field. But this measure of

theirs is intended to be deceptive, and convey a false impression that

they are dealing impartially with all classes. In the first place, they

take from the smaller boroughs no fewer than 66 members. Their principle

is, that no borough having less than 300 electors, or less than 5000

inhabitants, ought to return a member; and that no borough having less

than 500 electors, or less than 10,000 inhabitants, should return two

members. Let us, for the sake of argument, admit the justice of this

proposition. Does it therefore follow that it was wise to disfranchise

such boroughs? That is by no means a necessary consequence. If the

constituency is at present too small, extend it by all means. Wherever

practicable, join these boroughs together; where that cannot be done,

take an increased constituency from the nearest unrepresented town,

until you reach the magic number which is to be the minimum of

representation. Bring in fresh blood, which it is quite easy to do,

without exciting the clamour and dissatisfaction which the abolition or

curtailment of a privilege long enjoyed is sure to create. It cannot be

denied that there is plenty of material at hand. There is also

Parliamentary precedent and usage; for in Scotland, at the present

moment, groups of small burghs return a single member, and some of these

burghs are infinitesimally small. We have them so low, in point of

voters, as 12, 14, and 22. Yet they are not disfranchised. They share

their peculiar privilege along with others, making in the aggregate very

respectable constituencies. Surely such an arrangement as that would be

preferable to the Government proposition, which does wanton violence to

constituencies against which no accusation has been made. We fear,

however, that the disfranchisement of the smaller boroughs was

considered an indispensable preliminary to the grand attack upon the

counties.

Having thus secured the disposal of sixty-six seats, the Government come

forward with an immense show of liberality, and offer forty-six of these

to the counties. But then it is only on condition that the counties will

allow themselves to be swamped. Nine large towns are each to have an

additional member; there are to be five new borough seats; the Inns of

Court are to have two, and the London University one member; the

remaining three seats are to be given to Scotland.

This brings us to a point which we are absolutely bound to notice,

because it serves as a further illustration of the impropriety and folly

of bringing forward such a bill at such a time. If the Emperor Nicholas

had the direction of our internal affairs, he could not have devised a

more notable plan for fomenting dissension among us; and it is but right

to show that this measure, if pushed on, must excite an angry feeling in

the country. We, who are opposing any change in the electoral franchise

at the present time, mainly because we think it an unhappy and dangerous

juncture for making experiments, cannot be blamed if we state our own

views of what is really required when the proper time shall arrive for

making a readjustment of the representation. We do not wish, by any

means, to argue the question at present: we state it simply to show the

extent of the disagreement which may arise, if this measure is to be

prosecuted just now.

Independent of the wholesale disfranchisement of English boroughs, which

must necessarily excite great disgust and dissatisfaction, we take leave

to tell Lord John Russell, and the other members of the Cabinet, that

this bill of theirs is not likely to meet with any favour in the eyes of

the Scottish people. The question of adequate representation has been

mooted, discussed, and is now thoroughly understood by us; and we are

determined, in the event of a change, to insist that our rights shall be

recognised and allowed. This new bill, proposing to give us three

additional members, whereas in respect either of population or of

taxation we are entitled to twenty, cannot be satisfactory. It is not

only right, but necessary, that our English friends should know the

feeling in Scotland. We are not represented on the same scale or in the

same manner as England is, and we complain of the inequality. We ask a

common standard and a just proportion. Now, it does not appear that, by

the present bill, the existing anomalies are to be removed, although, by

the disfranchisement of so many boroughs, it would have been easy to

have given Scotland her just share of members. If there be any reason

why Scotland should have fewer proportional representatives than

England, let it be boldly stated. If there is no reason at all, then let

justice be done to us. We do not wish at present to go into

details—indeed, that would be premature, until the new Scottish Reform

Bill is before us; but as it is quite plain that the aggregate number of

the House of Commons is not to be augmented, and as Lord John Russell

proposes to give only three additional members to Scotland, we are

perfectly entitled to enter our emphatic protest against a measure which

has no solid principle for its foundation. The first point for

consideration, in a redistribution of the representation such as is now

contemplated, was undoubtedly the number of members which England,

Scotland, and Ireland are entitled respectively to return. Lord John

Russell either does not see the principle, or he refuses to acknowledge

it. Now, this is a matter which will cause much excitement, and create

not a little angry feeling in Scotland; and it is as well that our

English friends should be made aware of it. We are, of course, anxious

for a proper increase of national representatives, and we are perfectly

aware that we cannot attain that object without a general measure for

altering and abolishing constituencies. But this measure, while it is

sure to create a turmoil in England, hardly professes to benefit us at

all, and avoids the principle for which the Scottish people are

contending. Any arrangements which may be made as to the future

distribution of the representation, ought to be well weighed,

considered, and matured; for this country will not submit to the

confusion of a new reform bill once in every three or four years. This

measure seems to us to be utterly deficient in these respects, and to be

so loosely conceived as to give some colour to the prevalent opinion

that it furnished an agreeable relaxation to the noble Lord between the

intervals of his more serious editorial labours.

In Scotland, therefore, the bill will be considered highly

objectionable, as evading the only popular demand from that portion of

Great Britain. Beyond an increase of numbers, we have no desire for any

change—Whigs, Tories, and Radicals, being for once agreed.

But we are not so unreasonable as to wish to fight that battle now. We

earnestly deprecate anything like internal discord, for we have other

battles to fight, and the people of Great Britain ought now, if ever, to

be cordially united in sentiment. Therefore, although we think that we

are not altogether fairly treated, and that we have not only a strong

case, but an absolute right to claim redress, we shall not be guilty of

the lamentable folly of urging our claims for increased representation

at such a time. We believe that to be the general feeling of the people

of Scotland; but then their forbearance is entirely contingent upon the

course which the Government may pursue in respect to this measure. There

may be, and probably will be, agitation hereafter; but there need be

none now, at least on the score of representation, if the Ministry will

but tacitly acknowledge their error, and remove this source of

dissension.

There are several other points in this bill which are not only open to

comment, but, as we think, decidedly objectionable. We shall merely

refer to two of these. The first is, the preposterous notion of giving a

member to minorities. The more we consider this plan, the more

egregiously absurd does it appear. Why, in the name of all that is

rational, should minorities be represented? And if that question can be

answered satisfactorily, there is still another beyond it:—Why should

only a limited number of constituencies be put in possession of such a

privilege? But it may be worth while to suppose the new system in

operation.

Manchester, under the new bill, will have three members. At present it

has two, and these two are Liberals. On the hypothesis of Lord John

Russell, though that by no means follows as a matter of course, the

third, or minority member, will be a Conservative. What does that amount

to but the cancelling, on any great political occasion, of two of the

members for Manchester? The Conservative pairs off with one of the

Liberals, or they go into the opposite lobby, which is exactly the same

thing, and the opinions of Cottonopolis are only represented and

enforced on a division, by a single member! We suspect that the present

electorate of Manchester is much too shrewd and far-sighted to accept

any arrangement of the kind; and that they would much prefer having two

members whose votes tell on each division, to having nominally three,

but, in reality, only one. Suppose that a minority member dies during a

session of Parliament, or accepts the Chiltern Hundreds, how is his

place to be supplied? Is there to be an election with three candidates

in the field, and is the lowest to be proclaimed the victor? If not,

what becomes of Lord John Russell’s “principle?” Then observe that,

setting aside its absurdity, this crotchet would establish a new

relation between representatives and represented. At present, the choice

of the majority is recognised by all, and in matters of business there

is free communication between the electors and the member, irrespective

altogether of their party tendencies. This is a great privilege, and a

great advantage. It has done much to soften acerbity, and, in some

instances, has reconciled powerful parties to acquiesce in the return of

a good and energetic member, albeit he might support a different policy

from that to which they were inclined. But now the majority is to have

its members, and the minority is to have its member, and the House is to

be divided against itself. We seriously aver that we do not remember to

have ever heard of a proposal more singularly silly, or more utterly

absurd; and if this really be, as we are told, the keystone of the New

Reform Bill, we may be allowed to express a hope that Lord John Russell

will, for the future, desist from all architectural experiments.

We have barely space or time to advert to one other portion of this

Bill—namely, that whereby it is proposed that members accepting office

under the Crown should not vacate their seats. So far from being

inclined to approve of that proposition, we condemn it utterly. The

existing rule is a safeguard, and a most valuable one, against

profligacy in high places, and ought not, by any means, to be abolished.

It is rather amusing to see that Lord John Russell has been compelled to

reflect upon his own measure of 1832, in order to make a rational excuse

for his new proposal. He says—“In those times, when a seat could always

be found for any person for whom it was required, Ministers suffered

little inconvenience from the Act of Anne; but when the principle of

popular representation was introduced into all our elections, the

statute created difficulties which were hardly compensated by the

advantage of having new elections.” What difficulties? There were no

difficulties of any kind. If an honest man, with a clear conscience, who

was the choice of a constituency, accepted office, he was sure to be

returned again, and almost always without opposition; if, on the

contrary, his conscience was not quite clear, he had to undergo a

wholesome ordeal. But perhaps we owe this proposal to the clause about

the minority members, since it is plain that an unfortunate senator in

that position need not go down to his constituency unless, as we have

already said, provision is made for his being returned, in virtue of his

being lowest on the poll.

Whether the Ministry collectively have acted wisely or not in allowing

this measure to be brought forward, we cannot say. They may have reasons

which are not apparent to us. They may, for example, wish to allow Lord

John Russell to expose himself, preparatory to some new arrangement. He

is evidently a dangerous member of the Cabinet; for, while the Prime

Minister is maintaining that there is still a chance of avoiding war

with Russia, it is intolerable that a subordinate should use language of

the most unguarded and opprobrious nature in respect to the Emperor. It

is just a repetition of the offence of which both Sir James Graham and

Sir Charles Wood were guilty in respect of Louis Napoleon; and although,

in this case, the commentary may be just enough, we cannot but deplore

such exhibitions on the part of Ministers. But if the Ministry intend

seriously to proceed with this bill, at the present time, we shall be

compelled to draw upon the noble lord, for terms sufficiently severe to

express our indignation at their conduct.

_Printed by William Blackwood & Sons, Edinburgh._

-----

Footnote 1:

_The Right Honourable Benjamin Disraeli, M.P.: a Literary and

Political Biography, addressed to the New Generation._ Bentley,

London. 1854.

Footnote 2:

The following general order, published in the _Wallachian Moniteur_

(the Russian Official journal), about the end of January last, shows

the sort of protection which the Principalities enjoy, and the manner

in which the Moldo-Wallachians are taught to love their

protectors:—“_Ordered_, 1st, That all men from the age of eighteen to

forty years, married or unmarried, and whatever their profession may

be, are required by the generals, colonels, or commanders of corps to

do service for the Russian army; 2d, That horses, waggons, oxen or

other beasts of burden, may be required for the same service; and, 3d,

That all boats, barks, or floats, now on the Danube, are seized from

the present moment, for the service of the Russian army. This decree

is applicable to all Wallachian subjects—those who attempt to evade

its execution _shall be tried by court-martial_.”

Footnote 3:

_Poems._ By MATTHEW ARNOLD. A New Edition. London: Longmans. 1853.

_Poems, Narrative and Lyrical._ By EDWIN ARNOLD, of University

College, Oxford. Oxford: Francis Macpherson. 1853.

Footnote 4:

“Cash and Pedigree,” in _Blackwood’s Magazine_, No. CCCCXIV., for

_April 1850_.

Footnote 5:

_Agricultural Labourers as they were, are, and ought to be, in their

Social Condition._ By the Rev. HARRY STUART, A.M., Minister of

Oathlaw.

Footnote 6:

The following excerpts from the reports of the clergy of Morayshire

indicate how entirely they anticipated the views of Mr Stuart, and how

much they were alive to the necessity of such a movement as that which

Mr Stuart has been instrumental in originating. “I would add,” writes

one clergyman, “that as the moral condition of frail beings such as we

are is often powerfully affected by circumstances of comparatively

trifling amount, if masters attended a little to the physical comforts

of their servants, by providing them with fire and light, &c., (when

they live in bothies), by means of a female servant, having their room

in readiness when they leave off work, instead of allowing them to go

to a bothy, cold and comfortless, they would be less induced to resort

to ardent spirits, or to wander from home in search of company and

comfort.” Another reverend respondent says: “The greatest desideratum

in respect of this class, and which would tend more than any other

temporal means to their improvement, is the adoption by the landed

proprietors and by agricultural societies of the plan of rewarding

servants of long-established good character, by affording them

facilities for becoming occupiers of small farms themselves.”

Footnote 7:

_Poems by Alexander Smith._ 12mo. David Bogue, London.

Footnote 8:

_The Epidemics of the Middle Ages_, from the German of J. F. C.

HECKER, M.D., translated by B. G. BABINGTON, M.D., F.R.S.

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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

1. Typos fixed; non-standard spelling and dialect retained.

2. Used numbers for footnotes, placing them all at the end of the last

chapter.

3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.