House was only the first of a series of bills which should concede to the Dissenters ALL their demands, except the separation of Church and State. And Lord John Russell in the Commons proclaimed the principle, that the property of the ecclesiastical bodies belongs to the nation, and that after making a provision for the ministers of religion, the remainder was at the disposal of the State. The defeat of the Whigs on the Budget, and the timber duties, in spring 1831, occasioned the desperate leap in the dark of the Reform Bill, and overturned the Constitution; the defeat at Dudley, and the narrow majority at Leeds, with the divisions on the pension list and Baron Smith, have overthrown the Church of England. A Whig leader, when he has lost the support of the Dissenters and Radicals, is comparable to nothing but an Austrian General when his flank is turned and his communications cut off. His first and only thought is to lay down his arms. The whole of that party have been so long accustomed, during their opposition campaigns, to look for support only to the populace; mob adulation, popular applause, have so long rung in their ears, that they are incapable of conducting Government on any other principle, and exhibit a degree of timidity, when assailed in rear by their former allies, which a priori would have been inconceivable in persons of their capacity. This is the only principle, and it is the most charitable one, on which we can explain the uniform abandonment of their professions to uphold the Constitution, or any part of it, the moment that matters approached a crisis. Earl Grey declared with great emphasis in the House of Peers, that he would live and die with his order; and shortly after he brought in the Reform Bill. He declared more recently, that the bill Ministers had introduced into the House of Commons redressed all the real grievances of the Dissenters; and now he suddenly abandons his former professions, and declares, that he is to concede all their demands except the separation of Church and State, which, after such concessions, will be not worth contending for.

We heard an acute Conservative predict, the moment the declarations

of Ministers in favour of the Church were made, that they were going to overturn it; and this anticipation was founded on their invariable previous custom of abandoning that part of our institutions, which they professed their intention most strenuously to support. We are inclined, however, to put a more charitable construction on their conduct. "It is a bad habit to get into," as Lord Advocate Jeffrey said of Napoleon in 1815," that of abdicating." With equal truth it may be affirmed, that the worst of habits for a Ministry in stormy times to get into, is that of abandoning their professions, the moment they bring them into danger. It at once reveals the secret of their weakness; and shews the revolutionary party how they may succeed in carrying the most anarchical designs. "Threaten! Threaten! Threaten!" that is their sole principle of action-the only requisite to ensure success. This could only be done, under the old Constitution, by open denunciations of violence and civil war; because the Legislature, being founded on the representation of the great interests in the State, was proof against any other species of intimidation, and it was accordingly liberally made use of during the Reform contest. Now, such express threats are no longer necessary. The new constituencies have established a smoother and easier method of concession. Certain monitory letters are found on the Members' tables when they come down to breakfast; a few significant hints are given to Ministers by the result of contested elections in certain populous places; they are held up to contempt in one or two divisions in the House of Commons-and instantly the whole system of Government is changed, concession becomes the order of the day; the white flag is hoisted, a bribe is offered to the enemy to postpone his attack, and a short breathing time is thus afforded to the pusillanimous garrison of the beleaguered fortress, to be improved by the enemy by doubling the number and strengthening the spirit of its assailants.

Let the Conservative party, therefore, beware of falling into the fatal error of supposing that the progress of the Revolution is stopped, or even

myself without hesitation to vote for the Ballot, Extension of Suffrage, and short Parliaments, for the abolition of every Tax on Knowledge, for the abolition of all Monopolies."

When these are the principles on which a seat in Parliament is sought in one of the richest quarters of London, it may be imagined what a prodigious advance the principles of self-government-in other words, anarchy and revolution-have made since the overthrow of the Constitution.

Nothing can be clearer, therefore, now that the result is beginning to manifest itself, than both the causes which led to a general desire for a change in the representation, and the dreadful aggravation of the existing dangers of our situation, which the Whigs occasioned by forcing through, with the whole force of the Executive, the Reform Bill. It was the vast increase of towns during the last forty years which first influenced the measures of a conceding Government, threw the Whigs into the arms of the city democracies, and produced the constant support, by popular writers, of urban interests, which so generally and fatally affected the acts of the Legislature. The adoption of these measures by Government speedily brought general distress and suffering on the industrious, and more especially the country part of the community; and the old hereditary feelings of English loyal ty by degrees melted away in a numerous and estimable class, under the combined influence of free trade, free navigation, and a contracted currency. General discontent at the existing state of the representation arose from this singular combination of circumstances in both the great divisions of society; in the towns, because excessive prosperity

had filled them with the lust of power; in the country, because excessive misery had rendered them desperate and solicitous for any change.

Still the means of salvation ́existed; by a concession of reform to the higher classes in the great towns the ferment might have been lessened; and by such allies the Conservative party in the country materially strengthened. The Tories missed it, from confounding reform in Parliament with increase of democratic power, and refusing to grant it even on principles which would have diminished that formidable force; but, after they abandoned the helm, the Constitution remained, and by a cordial union of the holders of property, the advance of revolution, might even at the eleventh hour have been checked. But, in an evil hour, the Whigs succeeded to power, through the fatal divisions of the Tories, consequent on Catholic Emancipation; and in an instant, the Constitution was scattered to the winds. With a culpable rashness, an inconceivable recklessness, a blindness to the real state of the country, which has no parallel in history, they quadrupled by the L.10 clause the forces of the towns, already too considerable, diminished by one half the forces of the country, already too small; gave 346 seats to English boroughs, and only 146 to English counties; and installed the urbaŭ democracies in such unbridled sovereignty, as has utterly prostrated the respectable classes in cities, overwhelmed in its ultimate effects the rural interests, totally changed the character of the Legislature, and exposed the nation to a deluge of changes of which no human prescience can foresee the termination.

It is a common remark, often with out discrimination, or reference to any principle of taste, that beautiful scenery must lose its charm from the contiguity of the better sort of habitations. The anathema is cast not only on the edifices, but the inhabitants, though they may be precisely the very persons most likely to be the best admirers of the landscape, the wealthy and the refined. No matter, indeed, if the surface of the country be deformed with hovels, sheds, and pigstyes, if its figures be rugged with toil, or ragged with beggary, of the parish poorhouse or asylum; but elegance, whether of persons or habitations, is denounced as an intolerable encroachment upon the "picturesque," or the "rough" of Nature.

Much of this absurdity arises from the mistaken notions of the "picturesque," and the eternal" roughness" that has been dinued into the ears, and spoiled, the eyes, in precept and worse example, of early admirers of Art and Nature; as if Nature, to be Nature, must be ever "shagg'd with horrid thorn."

As a

Clifton, for these last thirty years or more, under the most decided improvement, has been a never-failing source of lamentation with these connoisseurs of the picturesque. All cry out the place is spoiled, that its perfection was in its village state. Now, this observation, with regard to Clifton, never was true. village, it never had, nor could it well have, any beauty at all. It was always a bare hill, without variety, shade, or trees, or any thing to give it an interesting character for itself. Its merit was its position, as the very spot to be built upon, as it were the outskirt of the territory of enchantment, from which it was separated by a river, not unlike, perhaps, to that which separated Elysium from the world of care, Looking from Clifton, you might see a land of" promise," of poetry, and the glimpse was just enough to excite the imagination; this was the view to which the eye would turn, and gaze till the thoughts would seek

*

refuge or refreshment therein; and, standing or recumbent, with their feet or faces towards it, many were the figures you would see, and may now "ripa ulterioris amantes." Clifton, with its ten thousand inhabitants, presents no formidable array of invaders; it is not a permanent encampment on a hill, to overlook and bombard the territories of King Oberon. The beautiful woods still keep secure within them the hidden, the enchanted beauty, "bosomed high in tufted trees;" and many are the suitors that come, and at respectful distance fondly observe the magic circle in which she is embowered. Thus the sweetness is not "wasted on the desert air." The scenery and the buildings thus divided by the river assist each other; they are not out of character. If Clifton Hill, instead of presenting the residences of the opulent, the cultivated in taste, and the elegant arts of life, were reduced to the beggary of a few poorlooking cottages, the opposite woods, as far as might be, would be vulgarized. Now you associate with them mental refinement, music, poetry, painting, all that elevates mankind above the boor. Thus Clifton is a residence in the precincts of enchantment, and all within its ken and observation is a charmed domain. You are thoroughly rescued from the sight of unseemly toil, and thoughtless labour; for the figures you meet have the "dolce far niente" air about them.

But there are certain points it is villanous to touch. It is abominable to encroach one foot on the opposite side of the water; to quarry, bore, and gunpowder there, is carrying the. utilitarian principle to a detestable length; and to make a bridge of any kind across, would inevitably lead to other dire encroachments; and the whole dominion of beauty would be invaded. Masonry would be indeed free, and make free; and citizens' houses and slips of ribbon gardens supply the place of the queenly woods, that now make Clifton itself right worshipful. What arch could equal in beauty the woods

one

that it would doom to the axe? And what protection can there be, if the few pounds now gained by quarrying fearfully into some parts of them, is a temptation that admits a partial demolition; what proprietors would long withstand the bribe of land per foot, instead of value per acre? That incessant meddling with the rocks on the Clifton side, is a fearful thing. Still there was fine rock left, that rose an ancient, with his beard of ivy, mournful in spared, yet helpless majesty, surveying the surveyors daily and hourly approaching with their havoc and "radical reform." But little care they how they deface Nature's great temple; and the leveller and the shoveller, as other levellers and shovellers would do, have taken the crown off his head. There was some hope a few months ago, when Maga received Sketcher, No. VI., that the mischief would end here. But the spirit is for the "movement," and so a new scheme is a-foot; and Schemers, instead of building castles, must now build bridges in the air. The vile abomination is talked of again, and one Motley proposes a most solid and lasting performance, because "Motley is your only wear," and the wear is his great boast. Now, good Signor Motley, go, and by your squand'ring glances," anatomize "wise men's folly" in any city or town in Christendom, but let me not meet you" in the forest," or I shall call you a "Motley fool," though you "bask in the sun, and

rail at fortune."

When I began to speak of Clifton, to use an Hibernianism, I did not mean to speak of Clifton; only by and through it to illustrate the propriety, the positive advantage, of habitations of gentility, about, nay, even within, the choicest scenery. For such scenery is generally on a scale sufficiently large to yield admirers a local habitation. Nor is the taste of those to be applauded who would disconnect the very best landscape territory from the habits and affections of gentle humanity. Not that I would see small secluded rivers and streams that, in their passage through woods and glens, would modestly, and with entreating voice, request a pathway, however small, for the fraternity of Sketchers, to be

disfranchised of their meed of courtship and admiration, under too close appropriation of brick walls. Locks and keys, man-traps, ban-dogs, and more impertinent voices of authority, are sometimes sad accompaniments of churlish habitation.

Sketcher is a rambler, and may be allowed a rambling style. Let me, therefore, mourn over the loss of that delightful footpath, by which, many a-day, among days gone by, I have passed and repassed, sketched and painted along the little river Frome, from Stapleton to Frenchay. And a singular little river it issmall, umbrageous, winding in a dell, and amid such rocks, that here jut out, here shew the grandeur of a cavern, and there retiring sweetly among foliage and shade, seem excavated into cells, where innocence might seek repose, and lessons of wisdom from the Hermit Contemplation.

Such was Stapleton River, or, I believe, it is called the Frome, an exquisitely beautiful stream, in the part of its course I am speaking of Sad, indeed, would it be to follow that course to the utter contamination of its purity through the great city of Bristol, and it is happier to be ignorant of its exit. What that stream is now, I know not; for some years ago, I was ordered off its banks, where I had often harmlessly followed the well-known footpath— ordered off was I peremptorily, though I held a portfolio in my hand, and my paper presented a white flag of peace, and there were some unpleasant intimations of a more formidable and growling cerberus. Off I went-and the gleams of sun upon its banks have never since had the blessing of the Sketcher's eye or the courtship of his shadow. May rats besiege, and take full possession of the mansion of the uncourteous, mists be ever a veil before their eyes, and all the beauty be converted, to their vision, into fog and fen!

Protesting, therefore, against ever shutting out the pathway sides of green-banked river or mountain stream; and granting them, by "order of council," free passage for themselves and their friends, and liberty, upon the trading maxim, that "free bottoms shall carry free goods," to choose their own purveyors, company, birds, music, and en