Chapter XII (6)

My Dear Brother Admiral,--Here's a row! here's a kick up!
here's a pretty commence! We have had a revolution in the
College Green, and I have been turned out of doors in a
wet night. Lo and behold! even like my own brothers, I am
penniless. It was late in the evening; the wind blew and the
rain fell, and I had walked from Bath in the morning. Luckily,
my father's old greatcoat was at Lovell's; I clapt it on,
swallowed a glass of brandy, and set off. I met an old drunken
man three miles off, and was obliged to drag him all the way to
Bath, nine miles! Oh Patience, Patience! thou hast often helped
poor Robert Southey, but never didst thou stand him in more
need than on Friday the 17th of October 1794.

Well, Tom, here I am. My aunt has declared she will never see
my face again, or open a letter of my writing. So be it. I do
my duty, and will continue to do it, be the consequences what
they may. You are unpleasantly situated, so is my mother, so
were we all, _till this grand scheme of Pantisocracy flashed
upon our minds, and now all is perfectly delightful_.

Open war--declared hostilities! The children are to come
here on Wednesday, and I meet them at the Long Coach on this
evening. My aunt abuses poor Lovell most unmercifully, and
attributes the whole scheme to him: _you know it was concerted
between Burnett and me_. But of all the whole catalogue of
enormities, nothing enrages my aunt so much as my intended
marriage with Mrs Lovell's sister Edith: this will hardly take
place till we arrive in America; it rouses the whole army of
prejudices in my aunt's breast. Pride leads the fiery host, and
a pretty kick-up they must make there....

_Everything is in the fairest train._ Favell and Le Grice, two
young Pantisocrats of nineteen, join us; they possess great
genius and energy. I have seen neither of them, yet correspond
with both. You may, perhaps, like this sonnet on the subject
of our emigration by Favell." [We skip the sonnet. It seems to
have been held sufficient testimonial for his qualifications
as an emigrant.] "This is a very beautiful piece of poetry;
and we may form a very fair opinion of Favell from it. Scott,
a brother of your acquaintance, goes with us. So much for news
relative to our private politics.

This is the age of revolutions, and a huge one we have had on
the College Green. Poor Shadrack is left there, in the burning
fiery furnace of her displeasure, and a prime hot berth has he
got of it: he saw me depart with astonishment. 'Why, sir, you
be'nt going to Bath at this time of night, and in this weather!
Do let me see you sometimes, and hear from you, and send for me
when you are going.'

We are all well, and all eager to depart. March will soon
arrive, and I hope you will be with us before that time.

Why should the man who acts from conviction of rectitude,
grieve because the prejudiced are offended? For me, I am fully
possessed by the great cause to which I have devoted myself: my
conduct has been open, sincere, and just; and though the world
were to scorn and neglect me, I should bear their contempt with
calmness. Fare thee well.

Yours in brotherly affection,
ROBERT SOUTHEY."

"It might have been hoped," continues the editor, "that this storm would have blown over; and that, when Pantisocracy had died a natural death, and the marriage had taken place, Miss Tyler's angry feelings might have softened down; but it was not so--the aunt and nephew never met again!"

To describe this "natural death of Pantisocracy" is hardly necessary. When the expense of a passage to America presented itself as a serious obstacle, the scene of the experiment was shifted to Wales, evidently a mere stage in the natural process of dissolution. Brought from America to Wales, the scheme looked even still more hopeless, and was finally abandoned. Mr Cuthbert Southey, in the preface to his work, says, speaking of his father--"the even tenor of his life, during its greater portion, affords but little matter for pure biography." That portion of his father's life with which he was personally acquainted, exhibited, no doubt, this even tenor; but there are few men whose lives will, upon the whole, afford more striking materials for the future biographer. He who passed the day so evenly and uniformly at Keswick, amongst his books, and with his ever-busy pen, had experienced some of the most startling vicissitudes of life, and could recall scenes in which the very strongest passions of our nature must have been called into play.

What a singular and dramatic position--how full of agitating emotions--is that which next in order reveals itself! Pantisocracy is relinquished; but he is engaged to be married. Aunt Tyler is unmitigable. What is to be done? His uncle Hill comes to the rescue. He is chaplain to the English Factory at Lisbon; is at present on a visit to England, and will shortly return. Apparently he has never interfered, by any useless remonstrances, with his nephew's proceedings; he now invites him to return with him to Lisbon. Here, at all events, is an asylum for the present; here he may enjoy an interval of quiet thought, may study Portuguese and Spanish if he will, may see a foreign country; above all, may pursue his cogitations remote from republican associates--so thinks the uncle--and from Miss Fricker. Southey accepts the invitation. But whatever may become of his political opinions, he is resolved to put it out of his power to commit any inconsistency towards Edith Fricker. As soon as the day was finally fixed for his departure, he also fixed his marriage-day. On the 14th of November 1795, he was married at Radcliffe Church, Bristol. "Immediately after the ceremony, they parted. Edith wore her wedding-ring hung round her neck, and kept her maiden name till the report of the marriage had spread abroad." Writing to his friend Bedford, he says, with truth and feeling--"Never did man stand at the altar with such strange feelings as I did. Can you, Grosvenor, by any effort of imagination, shadow out my emotion?... She returned the pressure of my hand, and we parted in silence."

We cannot look upon his conduct on this occasion in any other light than as the natural course of a noble and generous nature. There was nothing in it unfair to the uncle. The uncle had speculated on the probability that separation would weaken his attachment; but the nephew had never stipulated that it should have this effect. The uncle had also anticipated that a change of scene would cure him of his democratic politics, but this did not put the nephew under any obligation to renounce his politics, or to submit them as fully as possible to the experiment to be made on them. One motive for his hastened marriage, he tells us, was, that in the event of his death at Lisbon, or on the voyage, his widow might have some claim on the protection of his own relatives, some of whom were wealthy. But on these relatives he threw no unwarrantable burden--no burden whatever--unless such as pure generosity might feel. There was no young family to be provided for. He would have left behind him a widow, whose prospects in life could not have been injured by merely having borne his name for a few months. Southey was of a confident nature, conscious of his own great abilities, of habitual and indomitable industry. Notwithstanding some occasional and very natural fits of depression, he must have felt persuaded that, sooner or later, in one way or the other, he should secure for himself a respectable position in life. He was engaged to Edith Fricker, and he was determined she should share that position with him, and that, in the mean time, she should at all events have no other doubts or fears than what the inconstancy or perversity of fortune might suggest.

Of this, his first visit to Lisbon, very little is recorded. His mind underwent no perceptible change. We have only two letters written by him at this period to his friends in England. From the last of them, he appears to have been impatient to return. It is dated thus--"Feb. 24, 1796, Lisbon, from which God grant me a speedy deliverance!"

He returned the same man, and returned to the same perplexities. Full of his poetry, occupied incessantly with literary projects, he has not yet the courage to trust to his pen for the necessary supplies. He will enter the profession of the law. From this he will extract that needful revenue which shall one day establish him in his country house, with his Edith, and amongst books of every description--except the legal.

Here follows a chapter in his history which, we think, is one of the most instructive of the whole; certainly not the less instructive because many others have been, and many others will be, submitted to the same trials. If Southey had fulfilled his design, and completed his own biography, it is probably upon this interval, between his first and his second visit to Lisbon, that he would have thought it necessary to dwell with the greatest minuteness.

"My father," says the son, "continued to reside in Bristol
until the close of the year 1796, chiefly employed in working
up the contents of his foreign note-books into _Letters from
Spain and Portugal_, which were published in one volume early
in the following year. This task completed, he determined to
take up his residence in London, and fairly to commence the
study of the law, which he was now enabled to do through the
true friendship of Mr C. W. W. Wynn, from whom he received,
for some years from this time, an annuity of L.160--the
prompt fulfilment of a promise made during their years of
college intimacy. This was indeed one of those acts of rare
friendship--twice honourable--'to him that gives and him that
takes it;' bestowed with pleasure, received without any painful
feelings, and often reverted to as the staff and stay of those
years when otherwise he must have felt to the full all the
manifold evils of being, as he himself expressed it, 'cut
adrift upon the ocean of life.'"

He was fairly to commence the study of the law, but he had not the least idea of renouncing his poetical and other literary labours. If the passion of authorship had been felt by Southey only in a slight degree--if it had been _a little book_ he wanted to write, just to "exhale his soul," and then to sober business--this scheme would have been rational enough; but authorship, with its love of fame, had become the master passion of his mind--his second nature. Of "little books" Southey never thought--all his designs were vast, and they were innumerable. His whole life was already pledged. He was then upon _Madoc_, with _Thalaba_ looming in the horizon. He is writing to his friend Bedford, just before he proceeds to London to commence the study of the law; and only note the sort of _impedimenta_ he carries up with him, and the very auspicious temper in which he enters on the campaign.

"I want to write my tragedies of 'The Banditti.'

Of 'Sebastian.'

Of 'Iñez de Castro.'

Of 'The Revenge of Pedro.'

My Epic poem, in twenty books, of 'Madoc.'

My novel, in three volumes, of 'Edmund Oliver.'

My romance of 'Ancient History of Alcas.'

My Norwegian tale of '---- Harfagne.'

My Oriental poem of 'The destruction of the Dom Daniel.'

And, in case I adopt Rousseau's system, my '---- Pains of
Imagination.'

There, Grosvenor, all these I want to write....

The law will neither amuse me, nor ameliorate me, nor instruct
me; but the moment it gives me a comfortable independence--and
I have but few wants--then farewell to London. I will get
me some little house near the sea, and near a country town,
for the sake of the post and the bookseller.... And perhaps,
Grosvenor, the first Christmas-day you pass with me after I am
so settled, we may make a Christmas fire of all my law-books.
Amen, so be it."

He goes to London, and is admitted of Gray's Inn, Feb. 7, 1797. A few days afterwards, he writes in a graver mood to his early and staunch friend Joseph Cottle.

"I am now entered on a new way of life, which will lead me to
independence. You know that I neither lightly undertake any
scheme, nor lightly abandon what I have undertaken....

As to my literary pursuits, after some consideration, I have
resolved to postpone _every other till I have concluded Madoc_.
This must be the greatest of all my works. The structure is
complete in my mind; and my mind is likewise stored with
appropriate images....

On Tuesday we shall be settled; and on Wednesday my legal
studies begin _in the morning_, and I shall begin with _Madoc
in the evening_. Of this it is needless to caution you to say
nothing, as I must have the character of a lawyer; and though
I _can_ and _will_ unite the two pursuits, no one would credit
the possibility of the union."

What follows shows, nevertheless, the folly of attempting to combine things utterly incongruous, and the mischief that may ensue from the attempt. It was very little that Southey could have studied the law, but the effort to force his attention to one subject, while his mind was really absorbed in another, and the perpetually intruding and distracting thought that he _ought_ to be studying the law, was very nearly ruining his health irretrievably, and converting one of the most buoyant hilarious of men into the confirmed hypochondriac.

It was in February he came to London. The spring no sooner appeared than he began to pine for the country; he felt his spirits exhausted; he thought his legal studies could be as well pursued at the sea-side as in the smoke of London; he goes to Burton in Hampshire. There, or elsewhere in the country, he spends the whole summer. In December he returns to London, but "remains there only a very short time." He takes a cottage in the pretty village of Westbury, there to prosecute his legal studies. He stays a twelve-month at Westbury; nor does he again return to London to reside. He had attributed his ill-health to the smoke and confinement of the metropolis, but it is after his escape from London that his health becomes seriously deranged. He had not escaped from his legal studies, or rather from the sense of obligation constantly impending over him to pursue them, and the occasional attempts to compel his attention to the repulsive task.

The law cannot be accused of having encroached seriously on time that would have been else devoted to literature. He took long vacations, when the hated text-book and the detestable reports were banished entirely from his mind. Speaking of his residence at Westbury, he says, "it was one of the happiest portions of his life: he had never before or since produced so much poetry in the same space of time." But still the profession hung over him, urging, from time to time, its distracting obligations. Having escaped from the smoke of London, he now attributes his shattered nerves to the climate of England. But it was as little the climate of England, which his constitution afterwards endured very well in the cold and rainy regions of Cumberland, as it was any fair amount of intellectual labour, that was undermining his health. It was the sense of an _unperformed_ task, and that compulsory and distracted attention, one half hour of which more tries and fatigues the brain than a whole morning spent in willing harmonious effort.

Bearing these observations in mind, the following letter will be read with peculiar interest:--

"TO GROSVENOR C. BEDFORD, ESQ.
_Kingsdown, Bristol,
Dec. 21, 1799._

Grosvenor--I think seriously of going abroad. My complaint--so
I am told by the opinion of many medical men--is wholly a
diseased sensibility, (mind you, physical sensibility,)
disordering the functions, now of the heart, now of the
intestines, and gradually debilitating me. Climate is the
obvious remedy. In my present state, to attempt to undergo
the confinement of legal application were actual suicide. I
am anxious to be well, and to attempt the profession: _much_
in it I shall never do: sometimes my principles stand in the
way, sometimes the want of readiness, which I felt from the
first--a want which I always know in company, and never in
solitude and silence. Howbeit I will make the attempt; but mark
you, if by stage-writing, or any other writing, I can acquire
independence, I will not make the sacrifice of happiness
it will inevitably cost me. I love the country, I love
study--devotedly I love it; but in legal studies it is only the
subtlety of the mind that is exercised.

* * * * *

I am not indolent; I loath indolence; but, indeed, reading law
is laborious indolence--it is thrashing straw. I have read,
and read, and read; but the devil a bit can I remember. I
have given all possible attention, and attempted to command
volition. No! The eye read, the lips pronounced, I understood
and re-read it; it was very clear; I remembered the page, the
sentence--but close the book, and all was gone!

I suffer a good deal from illness, and in a way hardly
understandable by those in health. I start from sleep as
if death had seized me. I am sensible of every pulsation,
and compelled to attend to the motion of my heart till that
attention disturbs it. The pain in my side is, I think,
lessened, nor do I at all think it is consumption: organic
affection it could not have been, else it had been constant;
and a heart disease would not have been perceived _there_. I
must go abroad, and recruit under better skies."--(Vol. ii. p.
33.)

He reads and reads, and he comprehends, but he does not remember. It would have been marvellous if he did, reading always with a divided attention. He never could bring all his mind to this task. "I would rather," he says in one place, "write an epic poem than read a brief." And in the most self-congratulatory moment, when he is the most reconciled, or in the least bad humour with the law, he writes thus: "I advance with sufficient rapidity. _Blackstone_ and _Madoc_! I hope to finish my poem and begin my practice in about two years. I am clearing a farm; I am painting a landscape that shall rival Claude Lorraine!"

Southey had resolved to be poet and lawyer both. If he had really delighted in both studies--as Sir William Jones seems to have done--he might, like Sir William, have attained a certain degree of excellence in both. We have a living example before us of a judge who has written a far more beautiful poem than half-a-dozen Sir Williams could have indited. But with Southey one of these studies was not only indifferent but intolerable, whilst the other was most delectable. Under these circumstances, the attempt to unite them was ruining one of the best constitutions that a student was ever blest with by nature. We have no doubt that, if he had much longer seriously persisted in this attempt, there would have been a general wreck and ruin of mind and body both.

"My health," he says, writing to Mr May, "fluctuates, and the necessity of changing climate is sadly and sufficiently obvious, lest, though my disease should prove of no serious danger, the worst habits of hypochondriasm fasten upon me, and palsy all intellectual power." He took the wisest resolution the circumstances of the case admitted of--he embarked for Lisbon. He threw off entirely--at all events for a season, perhaps, in secret, for ever--the anxious burden of the law. He gave his whole soul to poetry; rode about in the paradise of Cintra, and wrote the concluding books of his _Thalaba_. So was he rescued from the fate of a nervous hypochondriac patient.

It is a piece of advice we would give to every man, but especially to the student. Harmonise your labours. If ambition prompt you to mingle two conflicting studies that will not accord, that breed perpetual civil war in the mind, we charge you to fling away ambition. If the higher, and more ambitious, and more beloved study--be it science, or poetry, or philosophy--will not yield, then choose at once for it and poverty, if such must be the alternative. Better anything than a ruined disordered mind; or, if you prefer the expression, than a confirmed cerebral disease.

Very pleasant was the life that Southey led at Lisbon and at Cintra, and very agreeable are the letters that he writes to England during this second visit to the Peninsula.

"You would be amused," he says in one of them, "could you see
Edith and myself on ass-back--I sitting sideways, gloriously
lazy, with a boy to beat my Bayardo, as well adapted to me as
ever that wild courser was to Rinaldo. In this climate there
is no walking, a little exercise heats so immoderately; but
their cork woods, or fir woods, and mountain glens, and rock
pyramids, and ever-flowing fountains, and lemon-groves ever in
flower and in fruit, want only society to become a paradise.
Could I but colonise Cintra with half-a-dozen families, I
should never wish to leave it. As it is, I am comfortable, my
health establishing itself, my spirits everlastingly partaking
the sunshine of the climate. Yet I _do_ hunger after the
bread-and-butter, and the fireside comforts, and the intellect
of England."--(Vol. ii. p. 109.)

On his return to England we hear no more of the law, or we hear only that it was entirely abandoned. We find him writing to Bedford (p. 159) about one solitary remaining law-book--"my whole proper stock--whom I design to take up to the top of Mount Etna, for the express purpose of throwing him down straight to the devil."

His sojourn in the Continent had led him to think that some foreign consulship would not be unacceptable. No appointment of this kind, however, offered itself. That of private secretary to Mr Corry, Chancellor of the Exchequer for Ireland, was proposed to him, and he accepted it. "This had been brought about," says the Editor, "through his friend Mr Rickman, who was at that time secretary to Mr Abbot, and in consequence residing in Dublin--an additional inducement to my father to accept the appointment, as he would have to reside there himself during half the year."

He went to Dublin to take possession of his new office, but soon after returned to London, where the Irish Chancellor of the Exchequer was in the habit of residing during the winter portion of the year. Mr Corry is described as a man of mild unassuming manners; and "the Chancellor and his scribe" got on very well together. But the Chancellor discovered that he had nothing to do for his very clever secretary. Having no sufficient official employment, he proposed to him to undertake the tuition of his son. This "was not in the bond," nor at all suited to Southey's habits and inclinations. To use his own words, he therefore resigned "a foolish office, and a good salary."

This was the last serious attempt he made to obtain the necessary supplies from any other source than his pen. He betook himself steadily to reviewing and other literary work. The _Annual Register_ offered him constant employment till the _Quarterly_ was established. For his residence, he thought first of Richmond, on the Thames; then of the Valley of Neath in Wales; finally, he established himself at KESWICK.

We have thus brought down his biography to the period when, his political opinions considerably modified, and his literary avocations clearly defined before him, he takes up his residence at that place which will for ever be associated with his name, and assumes that character and position in which he was so long known and honoured by his contemporaries. Before leaving England, on his second voyage to Lisbon, he had written _Madoc_, (that is, in its rough state,) and had composed the greater part of _Thalaba_. The concluding books of _Thalaba_--that charming episode of _Laila_--were written amongst the hills and the cork forests of Cintra. The completed manuscript was sent to England, and was published soon after his own return. _Madoc_ there received its last corrections and additions. The time is now come when we can take a glance at these and other poetical works, which were, and still are, the basis of his fame. The author is now himself moored safely in still waters, and his life henceforth is little more than the history of his writings, of his mind, his opinions, and his acts of beneficence; for these last occupy no small space in it. No relative can put in a claim to his assistance but it is granted to the utmost of his power, and often beyond such restrictions as prudence, and a regard to nearer claims, would suggest. He is open to the very enthusiasm of friendship, and prepared for any self-sacrifice that the most romantic sense of duty can demand. Nor is there any young poet struggling with that world which his love of letters has made appear so harsh and cruel, to whom Southey does not extend his sympathy, his guidance, and his aid. But as the remaining portion of our task would occupy more space than we could assign to it, and as we have arrived at a fair halting-place, we will here break off for the present.

THE MINISTRY AND THE AGRICULTURAL INTEREST

In the Speech delivered from the Throne at the opening of the present Session of Parliament, the following passage will be found:

"Notwithstanding the large reductions of taxation which have been effected in late years, the receipts of the Revenue have been satisfactory. The state of the Commerce and Manufactures of the United Kingdom has been such as to afford general employment to the labouring classes. I have to lament, however, the difficulties which are still felt by that important body among my people who are owners and occupiers of land; but it is my confident hope that the prosperous condition of other classes of my subjects will have a favourable effect in diminishing those difficulties, and promoting the interests of agriculture."

Without attaching too much importance to the phraseology of this Address, it will, we think, be admitted by every one who recollects the dissensions of last year, that her Majesty's Ministers, by inserting in the royal Address this acknowledgment of the difficulties under which the owners and occupiers of land are labouring, have virtually abandoned their ground; and are not now, as formerly, prepared to maintain that agricultural depression, arising from low prices, is to be considered simply as an accident, and not as the result of legislation. Last year we were told, on high Ministerial authority, that the low prices then current were merely exceptional, and could not continue; and that a signal check had been given to the importation of foreign grain. "Therefore," said Sir Charles Wood, "the farmer need not apprehend that ruin from the operation of Free Trade, which he at present anticipates from prices under 40s. a quarter." But time, more infallible than Sir Charles Wood, or any other Chancellor of the Exchequer, has proved that all these notions are fallacies. The importation continues, and prices droop. During the twelve months which have elapsed, there has been no symptom of rallying; and it is now almost universally admitted, that the depreciation of the value of agricultural produce is permanent, and must so continue in the absence of a protective duty.

We are always glad to see a fallacy cleared out of our path. The idea that high-farming can ever be made an adequate substitute for protection, was exploded last year; and now the efforts of the Whigs to demonstrate that importations cannot continue, have been abandoned. The state of the case is precisely that which we laid before the public in January 1850; and no one thinks of denying it. Even those journals, which, from time to time, have hazarded vaticinations as to rises in the value of produce, are compelled to acknowledge their fallibility, or drop their pretensions to the mantle of the gifted seer.

The matter is, therefore, very materially simplified. We are justified in holding that henceforth, under the system of free ports, the average price of the quarter of wheat in England will not exceed 40s., and may possibly be much lower when the resources of the Continent and America, both aware of their market, are fully developed. In Scotland, the average must necessarily be two or three shillings less. A corresponding fall has taken place, and will continue, in all other kinds of cereal crop and of provisions. If these data are admitted--and a very short period will now suffice to establish or refute their accuracy--the agricultural question may be discussed without any specialities whatever. Every man throughout the country will have the means of forming his judgment upon the actual working of the measure, and its effect, both direct and indirect, upon all branches of British industry. It is most desirable, on every account, that there should be no mistake as to this. Our opponents--perhaps naturally enough exasperated at the prolongation of a combat in which they have been uniformly worsted when the weapons of argument were employed, and being moreover aware, from symptoms which are everywhere, manifested, that the period of delusion is nearly gone by--have over and over again charged the country party and its chiefs with a desire to cut short the experiment, before its results were sufficiently apparent. We need hardly say that the charge is utterly unfounded. We have no wish to precipitate matters, or to effect by a _coup-de-main_ that alteration which never can be permanent unless based on the conviction of the majority of the constituencies of the Empire. We have no desire to take a leaf from the book of recent statesmen, and to induce members of Parliament to act contrary to those declarations on the faith of which they were returned. But we are entitled--nay, we are bound--to watch the experiment as it proceeds, and ever and anon to declare our honest and sincere opinion as to the nature of its working. We cannot shut our eyes to the vast injury which it is causing, and has already caused, to a most important and numerous class of our fellow-countrymen; we cannot reconcile ourselves to the operation of a system which has undoubtedly disappointed the expectations even of its founders. We have, therefore, whenever that was needful, expressed our opinion without any reservation whatever; and we shall continue to do so, not the less confidently because the views which we entertain are now openly adopted and received by many who were heretofore unwilling to disturb a course of legislation which had been deliberately sanctioned by the State.

We beg to assure the Free-Traders that we never, for one moment, underestimated the advantages of their position. At the commencement of this Parliament, they had a majority large enough--supposing that their cause was good, and their boasted experiment successful--to render all idea of a return of protection perfectly futile and hopeless. And, therefore, we were told, day after day, and month after month, that it was in vain for us to struggle against the tide--that a course of policy such as this, once commenced, must be regarded as irrevocable--and that we were merely losing time in demonstrating, what latterly was hardly denied, that the agricultural interest could not maintain itself under the pressure of the growing competition. But those who held such language seemed to have forgotten that the experiment, upon the success of which they had staked their reputation for sagacity, was all the while progressing before the eyes of the nation. Had its progress been successful and satisfactory, the country party must long ere this have dwindled away into nothing. Can our opponents not see that it is the failure of Free Trade alone which constitutes our strength? In the late debate upon Mr Disraeli's motion, Sir James Graham, who is certainly not apt to exaggerate the power of his opponents, spoke as follows: "I see very plainly that we are on the eve of a great and serious struggle. I see a party of gentlemen in this and the other house of Parliament, powerful in numbers, powerful in the respect in which they are held for their personal and hereditary virtues, having great influence in the country, and great possessions. They are an interest which, up to the present moment, has commanded great influence with the Government; and, with the main body of the community at their back, they exercise a power upon any question that is irresistible.... With such opponents it behoves us to gird up our loins. I know not whether the watchword, 'Up, guards, and at them!' may not already have been given. It is clear to me that the opponents of protection must prepare for a severe contest. They must stand upon the defensive. They must stand to their arms, and close their ranks, and prepare for a firm, manly, and uncompromising resistance!" Now, considering that not more than two years have elapsed since it was the fashion of the Liberal journals to aver that the country party was all but extinct, helpless in the House of Commons, and unsupported beyond its doors, this estimate of Sir James Graham is undoubtedly remarkable. We are naturally led to inquire how it is that the cause of protection has made so prodigious a stride--why it should now appear so formidable in the eyes of an old and experienced statesman? No other reason can be assigned than the justice of the cause which the country party have maintained, and the failure of the experiment to which their adversaries were pledged. If there are any new "opponents" to Free Trade within the House of Commons, they have either been sent there by constituencies since the present Parliament was summoned, or they have become convinced of the error of their former views, and seceded from the Ministerial ranks. If, beyond the House of Commons, men are changing their opinions to that extent which Sir James Graham indicates, surely that is no argument in favour of the party which still is dominant--no testimony which can be adduced to support the wisdom of their policy. Rather should it be to us a great encouragement to persevere as we have begun, for it conveys a direct acknowledgment of the truth of those arguments which we have all along maintained.

Very absurd indeed is the accusation, that the Protectionists will not allow fair play to the progress of the experiment. Hitherto the promoters of the experiment have had it all their own way, and have been allowed to go on without any check or impediment. They profess themselves to be extremely well satisfied with the result; and yet, singularly enough, whenever a division occurs upon any point arising from their policy, they find their boasted majority becoming less and less. The conduct of the Protectionist party has indeed been marked by an extraordinary degree of forbearance. But the supporters of the cause without the walls of St Stephen's have full reliance on the integrity and the discretion of their champions within. They have not forgotten the distinct announcement of Lord Stanley that, "it is not in the House of Lords, nor in the House of Commons, but in the country at large that the battle must be fought, and the triumph achieved;" and they have no desire, through rash impatience, to endanger the coming victory. But, whilst refraining from a direct attack upon the principles of the Free-Trade system, our representatives in Parliament are by no means oblivious of their duty. The peculiar burdens on land and agricultural property and produce have not been removed, notwithstanding the promises which were made; and as the Chancellor of the Exchequer announced that he had a surplus of revenue in hand, the Government very naturally been called upon to consider, whether that surplus should not be applied to the alleviation of the distress among "the owners and occupiers of land," admitted, in the Royal Speech, to exist; and whether, in fact, they have not a righteous claim to a considerable reduction of their burdens?

Such was the tenor of Mr Disraeli's motion, which was negatived, in a crowded house, by a majority of only FOURTEEN. In the proposal itself there was nothing unreasonable--nothing which even faction could lay hold of. The difficulties of one class in the community were admitted by Ministers, and contrasted by them with the general prosperity which was assumed as the condition of all others. It was not denied, but rather stated as matter of exultation, that this general prosperity arose from the same cause which had occasioned the depression--that the same fountain had given forth both sweet and bitter waters, refreshing and enlivening on the one side, whilst, on the other, it spread decay. Under these circumstances, it will not be denied, by any unprejudiced person, that it was the bounden duty of Her Majesty's Ministers--not to come forward voluntarily with any remission to the suffering class, which might be construed as a favour--but seriously to consider whether or not the statement preferred on the part of the agriculturists, that they were unjustly and unequally burdened and restricted, was true; and if it were true, then to accord relief in a fair and equitable manner. Sorry are we, indeed, to say, that neither her Majesty's Ministers, nor such of the supporters of the late Sir Robert Peel as spoke and voted on the motion, had the courage to face openly this question of abstract justice. It was enough for them that the proposition was made by a leader of the country party, and that it was generally supported by those opposed to their commercial policy. These circumstances were of themselves sufficient to secure its rejection, even had the discussion of it not involved points to which no Free-Trader has ever yet ventured to address himself.

What these points are, we shall presently examine. But first let us go back for a little to what are matters of history.

In the first speech which he delivered in the House of Commons, during the eventful Session of 1846, the late Sir Robert Peel, while paving the way for the introduction of his Free-Trade measures, made the following remarks with regard to the peculiar burdens upon land:--"Further, it may be said that the land is entitled to protection on account of some peculiar burdens which it bears. But that is a question of justice, rather than of policy: _I have always felt and maintained that the land is subject to peculiar burdens_; but you have the power of weakening the force of that argument by the removal of the burden, or making compensation. The first three objections to the removal of protection are objections founded on considerations of public policy. _The last is a question of justice, which may be determined by giving some counter-balancing advantage._" Further, on the very same evening, the present Premier, Lord John Russell, thought fit to read to the House of Commons a letter which bad been addressed by him to Her Majesty, of which the following is an extract:--"The measures which Sir Robert Peel had in contemplation appear to have been--a present suspension of the duties of corn--a repeal of the Corn Laws at no remote period, preceded by a diminution of duties--_relief to the occupiers of land from burdens by which they are peculiarly affected_, so far as it may be practicable. Upon full consideration of these proposals, Lord John Russell is prepared to assent to the opening of the ports, _and to the fiscal relief which it was intended to afford_." On that evening, (22d January 1846,) Lord John was in a peculiarly communicative mood; for, besides the letter of 16th December 1845, of which the foregoing is an extract, he read to the House another epistle, dated the 20th, informing Her Majesty that he had found it impossible to form an Administration. That letter, moreover, contains a sketch of what the noble lord proposed to have done, provided it had been possible to procure the aid of that galaxy of talent with which he is now surrounded. "Lord John Russell would have formed his Ministry on the basis of a complete free trade in corn, to be established at once, without gradation or delay. _He would have accompanied that proposal with measures of relief, to a considerable extent, of the occupiers of land, from the burdens to which they are subjected._"

Now, we beg the reader distinctly to mark the character of these several admissions made by Sir Robert Peel and by Lord John Russell. They were made five years ago--are quite unequivocal--and demonstrate the opinion of both, that, _in justice_, no alteration should be made in the laws which regulated the admission of foreign grain, without granting to the occupiers of the soil a relief from their peculiar burdens. This is a matter which it is very necessary to keep in view, inasmuch as we cannot compliment Lord John Russell on his general ethical perceptions. He has an odd way of addressing the whole agricultural body as if they were liable for the consequences of the rejection or acceptance of certain proposals, which, in office or out of it, he thought proper to make to certain members of Parliament--a mode of dealing which, in our humble mind, is more suitable to a sharp attorney than to a wise and enlightened statesman.

What followed is well known to every one. The Free-Trade measures proposed by Sir Robert Peel were carried, and Lord John Russell succeeded him in office; still, however, not one word was heard about the promised relief to the agriculturists. It is quite true that there was no explicit bargain, but justice is independent of bargains. Both Ministers had expressed their opinion that, in the event of the repeal of the Corn Laws, it was not only reasonable, but JUST, that the agriculturists should be relieved from certain burdens peculiar to them alone; and yet neither of them took one step in the direction of justice. At that time it was notorious that neither of them contemplated the disastrous effects of their measures upon the landed interest. They imagined--foolishly enough, it is true, but in accordance with the false data on which they proceeded--that very limited supplies of grain would be thrown into this country, and that consequently prices could not be affected to any large degree. We cannot read the different speeches of Sir Robert Peel, guarded as they were, without concluding that he never contemplated a permanent fall in the price of wheat below 50s. per quarter, if he even expected it to drop so low; and yet, these being his calculations, he admitted that it was not just to expose the agricultural body to that contingency, without giving them a measure of relief. We all know what has occurred. An average of 40s. is now considered a high price in England, as markets go; and in Scotland we are settling down to 36s.; yet still the preliminary measure of justice, which, according to both Ministers, ought to have accompanied the repeal of the Corn Laws, is withheld. With a surplus in their hands, Ministers refrain from applying it to the discharge of the just debt and when the debt is claimed--as it was the other day by Mr Disraeli, in terms not less distinct than forcible--they give it the go-by, and commence declaiming on the impolicy of a return to protection--a point which was not before them!

It is difficult, indeed, to observe the limits of conventional decorum while commenting on conduct like this. Had Mr Disraeli demanded the re-imposition of a duty, whether fixed or variable, we should of course have expected that, however strong his case, he would be met by strenuous opposition. The Whigs have committed themselves so far that, were it proved to them that in the course of a single year, the whole agricultural interest must perish unless their whole system of commercial policy were changed, we should not expect them to step in and offer to stay the calamity. In this line of dogged inaction and obstinacy they would probably receive the congenial support of the small rump of Conservative renegades, who follow them rather through the necessity of their degraded position, than from any abstract love they bear to the Whig dominant faction. But Mr Disraeli asked nothing of the kind. He simply pointed out the fact, which could brook no denial, that certain burdens and restrictions were still imposed upon the agriculturists, which prevented them from entering on anything like, equal terms, into that course of competition which is the glory and essence of Free Trade. He demanded the removal of these, or, at all events, all impartial adjustment of them, in order that the British agriculturist might have fair play, and not be brought into the field loaded and oppressed by a weight which no other class of the community is called upon to bear. It was no question of countervailing duties to put the British on a level with the foreign producer: it was simply a question of home taxation between class and class, and between man and man. Under the system of protection, burdens had been laid largely upon the land, and the land alone; restrictions had been laid upon the occupiers, forbidding them to grow certain valuable crops, in order that the revenue might be maintained by fixed custom-duties, levied on the same articles when imported from foreign countries; and certain other produce was placed under the fetters of the Excise. The system of protection fell, but the burdens and restrictions remain. Apart altogether from the foreign question--apart from considerations whether the owner and occupier of land in Britain can compete with foreigners in his own market on equal terms whilst the burden of British taxation remains undiminished--lies the question of fair and equal adjustment of taxation among ourselves. It may be that this is difficult--it may even prove to be impossible. The state of the public revenue may be such, that no Government can accord to the occupiers of land their natural right of producing what crops they please, or abrogate the laws which have the effect of restricting certain kinds of produce to very narrow limits. It may be that human ingenuity cannot devise a method for setting agricultural industry free in all its branches, and allowing that open competition which is not withheld from any kind of manufacture if so, that is the strongest of all arguments in favour of protection, and it were well if it were thoroughly understood. And understood it is by many, though some of those who understand it find it convenient to do their utmost to perpetuate an act of injustice. Sir James Graham, Mr Cobden--ay, twenty more of those who either spoke or voted against Mr Disraeli's motion, have declared themselves hostile to the continuance of the malt-tax, and yet we see the result. But there are, according to the recorded admissions of both Sir Robert Peel and Lord John Russell, burdens from which the agriculturists ought in common justice to be freed--or rather, from which they ought to _have been_ freed long ago; and yet even this poor modicum or instalment of justice is denied. And when is it denied? At the very time when the Ministry boast of the general prosperity of the country, with the exception of one single class, at whose expense, they allow, this general prosperity has been gained! At the very time when they are in possession of a surplus of revenue, part of which is to be applied to a remission of duties on foreign timber!

We rejoice that the question has been brought forward fairly, manfully, and openly. The division, and still more the tone of the debate, must show the agriculturists how hopeless it is to expect any redress from her Majesty's present advisers. No one speaker attempted to meet Mr Disraeli on the ground to which he strictly confined himself. "If I am asked," said he, "what is my remedy for the difficulties of the owners and occupiers of land, my answer, on the part of those who sit around me, is brief. It is--We want justice. We ask that you shall not prohibit or restrain our industry. We ask that you shall not levy upon us direct burdens for public purposes, to which very few other classes contribute. We ask that you shall not throw upon us, who, according to your own account, are the only class that is in a state of prolonged distress, the burden of your system. That is what we ask. We say--remove this enormous injustice, and let us be fairly weighted in the race. We shrink not from the competition which you have thought fit to open to our enemies; but do not let us enter into the struggle manacled." Was there anything in this discordant with the theories of Free Trade? Was there any claim advanced for the maintenance or the imposition of burdens pressing upon the rest of the community to the advantage of the agricultural class? Nothing of the kind. It was, on the contrary, a demand which, if the Free-Traders had an atom of principle, could not be refused, unless they were prepared to maintain that they alone had a right to immunity of taxation. So strong was Mr Disraeli's argument--so irresistible were his conclusions, that no one orator on the other side ventured to meet him fairly. The Chancellor of the Exchequer brought forward statistics, letters, reports, newspaper articles, and all the other gallimaufry which elaborate subordinates are expected to supply on such occasions, for the purpose of showing that trade was in a healthy condition, exports increasing, and what not;--things, even supposing them to be true, quite as relevant to the matter in dispute, as if he had read a statistical account of the commerce of China. One point he certainly did touch, and that was the saving clause in the Speech from the Throne, expressing "my confident hope that the prosperous condition of other classes of my subjects will have a favourable effect in diminishing those difficulties, and promoting the interests of agriculture." Upon this text Sir Charles Wood chose to dilate, asking, "Is it possible that the agricultural interest can stand so much separated from the rest of the community as not to be benefited by their prosperity, and derive advantage from the great and increasing demand for their produce which that prosperity must create?" _Great and increasing demand_ FOR THEIR PRODUCE!! Why, according to the same authority, the prosperity of the said classes has been created, or, at all events, augmented, by their deriving their supplies abroad, from the foreign producer who can afford to undersell the overburdened British farmer! Something like ten or twelve millions of quarters of grain are now annually forced into this country, whatever be the quality of the harvest; as also provisions enough to feed the army, victual the navy, and supply the sea-coast towns; and live cattle innumerable are shipped for our eastern ports. And this, according to Sir Charles Wood, is to create a great and increasing demand for British agricultural produce! We may say frankly, that although we never entertained a high estimate of the intellectual powers, acquirements, or sagacity of this member of the Cabinet, we should not have ventured to accuse him of such sheer imbecility as this speech of his betrays, save on his own evidence. We believe him to be perfectly sincere. Even had he the desire to practise it, nature has fortunately denied him the possession of the talent of casuistry. His optics are like those of the owl in daylight, utterly irreconcilable with the common standard of vision, and therefore we need not wonder if, ever and anon, he dashes himself unconsciously against a tree.