Those who come to see come likewise to be seen, and will, for many hours before the procession, enjoy the eyes of innumerable gazers. Nor will this be the last or the longest gratification; those who have seen the coronation, will have whole years of triumph over those who saw it not. They will have an opportunity of amusing their humble friends and rustic acquaintances with narratives, often heard with envy, and often with wonder; and when they hear the youth of the next generation boasting the splendour of any future procession, they will talk with contemptuous superiority of the Coronation of George the Third.)

ESSAY XV.

ON NATIONAL CONCORD.(2)

As you seem by your writings to have a just regard and filial affection for your country, and as your monthly lucubrations are widely diffused over all the dominions of Great Britain, I take the liberty to communicate to the public, through your channel, a few loose thoughts upon a subject, which, though often handled, has not yet, in my opinion, been fully discussed: I mean national concord, or unanimity, which, in this kingdom, has been generally considered as a bare possibility, that existed no where but

(1) ["I am going to let London cool, and will not venture into it again this fortnight. O! the buzz, the prattle, the crowds, the noise, the hurry! If I was to entitle ages, I would call this 'the century of crowds.' For the coronation, if a puppet-show could be worth a million, that is. The multitudes, balconies, guards, and processions, made Palace-yard the liveliest spectacle in the world: the hall was the most glorious. The blaze of lights, the richness and variety of habits, the ceremonial, the benches of peers and peeresses, frequent and full, was as awful as a pageant can be ; and yet, for the king's sake and my own, I never wish to see another."Horace Walpole, Sep. 24, 1761.]

in speculation. Such an union is, perhaps, neither to be expected nor wished for, in a country whose liberty depends rather upon the genius of the people than upon any precautions which they have taken in a constitutional way, for the guard and preservation of this inestimable blessing.

There is a very honest gentleman with whom I have been acquainted these thirty years, during which there has not been one speech uttered against the ministry in parliament; nor a struggle at an election for a burgess to serve in the House of Commons; nor a pamphlet published in opposition to any measure of the administration; nor even a private censure passed in his hearing upon the misconduct of any person concerned in public affairs-but he is immediately alarmed, and loudly exclaims against such factious doings, in order to set the people by the ears together at such a delicate conjuncture. "At any other time," says he, "such opposition might not be improper, and I do not question the facts that are alleged; but at this crisis, Sir, to inflame the nation!—the man deserves to be punished as a traitor to his country." In a word, according to this gentleman's opinion, the nation has been in a violent crisis at any time these thirty years; and were it possible for him to live another century, he would never find any period at which a man might with safety impugn the infallibility of a minister.

The case is no more than this: my honest friend has invested his whole fortune in the stocks, on government security, and trembles at every whiff of popular discontent. Were every British subject of the same tame and timid disposition, Magna Charta (to use the coarse phrase of Oliver Cromwell) would be no more regarded by an ambitious prince than magna fta, and the liberties of England expire without a groan. Opposition, when restrained within due bounds, is the salubrious gale that ventilates the opinions of the people, which might otherwise stagnate into

the most abject submission. It may be said to purify the atmosphere of politics; to dispel the gross vapours raised by the influence of ministerial artifice and corruption, until the constitution, like a mighty rock, stands full disclosed to the view of every individual who dwells within the shade of its protection. Even when this gale blows with augmented violence, it generally tends to the advantage of the commonwealth; it awakes the apprehension, and consequently arouses all the faculties, of the pilot at the helm, who redoubles his vigilance and caution, exerts his utmost skill, and becoming acquainted with the nature of the navigation, in a little time learns to suit his canvas to the roughness of the sea, and the trim of the vessel. Without these intervening storms of opposition to exercise his faculties, he would become enervate, negligent, and presumptuous; and in the wantonness of his power, trusting to some deceitful calm, perhaps hazard a step that would wreck the constitution. Yet there is a measure in all things: a moderate frost will fertilize the glebe with nitrous particles, and destroy the eggs of pernicious insects that prey upon the fancy of the year but if this frost increases in severity and duration, it will chill the seeds, and even freeze up the roots of vegetables; it will check the bloom, nip the buds, and blast all the promise of the spring. The vernal breeze that drives the frogs before it, that brushes the cobwebs from the boughs, that fans the air and fosters vegetation, if augmented to a tempest, will strip the leaves, overthrow the tree, and desolate the garden. The auspicious gale before which the trim vessel ploughs the bosom of the sea, while the mariners are kept alert in duty and in spirits, if converted to a hurricane, overwhelms the crew with terror and confusion. The sails are rent, the cordage cracked, the masts give way; the master eyes the havoc with mute despair, and the vessel founders in the storm. Opposition, when confined within

its proper channel, sweeps away those beds of soil and banks of sand which corruptive power had gathered; but when it overflows its banks, and deluges the plain, its course is marked by ruin and devastation.

The opposition necessary in a free state like that of Great Britain, is not at all incompatible with that national concord which ought to unite the people on all emergencies in which the general safety is at stake. It is the jealousy of patriotism, not the rancour of party; the warmth of candour, not the virulence of hate; a transient dispute among friends, not an implacable feud that admits of no reconciliation. The history of all ages teems with the fatal effects of internal discord; and were history and tradition annihilated, common sense would plainly point out the mischiefs that must arise from want of harmony and national union. Every schoolboy can have recourse to the fable of the rods, which, when united in a bundle, no strength could bend; but when separated into single twigs, a child could break with ease.

There are certain constitutional periods at which this national union ought to appear in full force, particularly at such a delicate conjuncture, when a young prince, whose amiable character hath kindled the most agreeable hope in the breasts of the people, ascends the throne of his ances tors, and succeeds at once to the management of a sceptre, which he has not been gradually accustomed to wield. The crown devolves upon him with such additional weight as requires the full exertion of royalty to bear; and perhaps he inherits a scheme of politics, which even though he should disapprove of the system, he cannot suddenly renounce with any respect to the faith of treaties, with any regard to the honour of the nation. The work of reformation cannot be finished in a day, nor even begun before the preparative steps have been taken, unless he risks the authority of the crown, or the security of the commonwealth. Even an

alteration of measures must be gradually introduced, in order to avoid the violent shocks of state convulsions. A sudden change of system might be as dangerous to the community as an attempt to stop the course of a vessel under the impulse of a leading gale with all her canvas out, and her motion greatly accelerated. In this situation, to turn her head to the wind, and throw all her sails aback of a sudden, would be a desperate step that might send her to the bottom in the twinkling of an eye.

But if national union be necessary at all constitutional periods for the preservation of our liberties, it more especially becomes our duty towards our sovereign, at the accession of a prince whose conduct hath been hitherto without reproach, whose character seems to promise the most scrupulous attention to the interest and happiness of his people. Let us not be so unreasonable as to entertain doubts where there are not the least grounds for suspicion, and deny our sovereign the justice which the law allows to the meanest subject, the justice of being deemed innocent, until some presumption of the contrary shall appear. Let us discard every suggestion of that fatal jealousy which tends only to the poisoning of our own peace; that domestic fiend which delights in raising unreasonable clamour, in exciting the rage of civil dissension, impeding the wheels of government, and giving every handle of advantage to the external and internal enemies of Great Britain. (1)

(1) [“There is much dissatisfaction in the ministry. The Duke of Newcastle has threatened to resign on the appointment of Lord Oxford and Lord Bruce without his knowledge. But it is unpardonable to put an end to all faction, when it is not for factious purposes. When the last king could be beloved, a young man with a good heart has little chance of being so. Moreover, I have a maxim, 'that the extinction of party is the origin of faction.'"-Horace Walpole to G. Montagu, Dec. 11, 1760.]