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There are many better papers in the volume; otherwise, we should set down the Author as more a Jew than a conjuror. We select as a specimen the following lively remarks on Society in London.

What is meant by an agreeable man?'

In Spain an agreeable man is he who is possessed of a good person, and an incessant flow of talk. The science of conversation is there in its infancy, and no distinction is made between him who talks much and him who talks well. The leading topic of a bel esprit is women ; and the language itself is so formed as to confine praise or blame entirely to their bodily qualities. Es buena moza, literally she is a good girl," means she is a pretty girl. Tiene merito, she has merit," means she has some good points in her face or figure. Besides being able to decide the proper degree of merit which every woman possesses, the Spanish agreeable man is able to cover obscenity with the veil which is just thick enough to make it admissible in good company, though even that is sometimes thrown aside like those which are worn on the Alameda. From this source he derives the principal fund of his conversation, and makes amends for a total ignorance on every kind of literature and politics. But then, he also knows the plays which are to be acted for the next month, and can tell, to a tittle, if a single indecent posture has been omitted in the fandango.

The agreeable man in Germany is quite a different sort of person. He is a gentleman who endeavours to make wit and gallantry after the most approved models of the age of Louis XIV. But his specific gravity being much greater than that of the French nation, he is, in fact, as little like M. de Coulanges or St. Evremont as can well be imagined. His little anecdotes are drawn from the Roman history, or, at best, from the Seven Years' War; his remarks and observations are conscientiously sincere, but insufferably dull; and his wit always disposes to melancholy.

In Italy an agreeable man is a much pleasanter person: his manners are particularly civil; he often has a good taste in the fine arts and in polite literature, and, perhaps, an agreeable talent for music; but there is a feebleness and effeminacy in his tone of thinking, which finally wearies; and his conversation is the pace of a manège horse, trained till he has lost all freedom of action.

Yet, it must be owned, that there are a great many young men who are exceptions to this rule; it is easy to see, however, that they are exceptions. Their long dishevelled hair, their wild rolling eyes, their vehement action, their loud harangues in society, their unusual language, and more unusual opinions, show at once that they are not formed after the general rule of national character.

If we go from Italy to England we shall find that the agreeable man gets more reputation, more eating, and more drinking, in return for his talk than anywhere else. He is perpetually invited to dinner, where from ten to five-and-twenty people are invited expressly to meet him; and, after all, it often happens that he is sullen or unwell, and will not speak a word from the beginning of dinner till the end. But if he should happen to be in spirits, he often talks so loud, or so

disputatiously, that you are forced to bow to his opinions till after coffee. But if a rival wit has been asked to meet him, there generally arises a furious contest for superiority; each tries to gain a hearing for himself only, and each attacks his opponent with arguments too important for the hour of digestion.

France, perhaps, affords the best models of an agreeable man. In them we see the most refined politeness towards others, mixed with a most perfect confidence in themselves-a sprightliness which enlivens all around, and produces as much light by reflection as by radiation-a skill in placing every topic in the situation which alone can make it amusing in conversation-a grace in treating the most frivolous matters, a lightness in touching the most serious, and a quickness in passing from one to the other, which to all other Europeans must seem quite unattainable. They console themselves by saying the French are frivolous, by which they mean that they interest them. selves in little frivolous concerns; but they forget to mention that they are the same people who marched into Lisbon and Moscow, and perfected the discoveries of Newton.

Such are the prominent characters in the conversation of their respective countries. But it may happen, that, although individuals may exist in a society, endowed with every power of entertaining and enlightening, yet the forms of society may be such that it is very difficult to obtain the full advantage of their superior qualities. This difficulty is the misfortune of London, where there are more men of cultivated understanding, of refined wit, and literary or political eminence, than in any metropolis of Europe. Yet it is so contrived, that there is little freedom, little intimacy, and little ease in London society."To love some persons very much, and see often those that I love," says the old Duchess of Marlborough, "is the greatest happiness I can enjoy." But in London it is equally difficult to get to love any body very much, or to see often those that we have loved before. There are such numbers of acquaintances, such a succession of engagements, that the town resembles Vauxhall, where the dearest friends may walk round and round all night without ever meeting. If you see at dinner a person whose manners and conversation please you, you may wish in vain to become more intimate; for the chance is, that you will not meet so as to converse a second time for three months, when the dice-box of society may, perhaps, turn up again the same numbers. Not that it is to be inferred that you may not barely see the same features again; it is possible that you may catch a glimpse of them on the other side of St. James's Street, or see them near to you at a crowded rout, without a possibility of approaching. Hence it is, that those who live in London are totally indifferent to one another; the waves follow so quick that any vacancy is immediately filled up, and the want is not perceived. At the same time the well-bred civility of modern times, and the example of some very popular people," have introduced a shaking of hands, a pretended warmth, a sham cordiality, into the manners of the cold and the warm alike—the dear friend, and the acquaintance of yesterday. Hence, we hear continually such conversations as the following:"Ah! how d'ye do? I'm delighted to see you! How is Mrs.

M

?"" She is very well, thank you."-"Has she any more children ?" Any more! I have only been married three months. I see you are talking of my former wife-she has been dead these three years." Or "My dear friend, how d'ye do,-you have been out of town some time-where have you been-in Norfolk ?"" No, I have been two years in India." pp. 75-80.

It has been said very justly of science, that the profound 'discoveries of the greatest philosophers of one age, become the elements of knowledge to the youth of the next:' the Author remarks, that nearly the reverse is the case with conversation.

The anecdotes which form the buz of card parties and dinner parties in one century, are in the lapse of a hundred years, and sometimes less, transplanted into quarto volumes, and go to increase the stock of learning of the most grave and studious persons in the nation; a story repeated by the Duchess of Portsmouth's waiting woman to Lord Rochester's valet, forms a subject of investigation for a philo. sophical historian; and you may hear an assembly of scholars and authors, discussing the validity of a piece of scandal invented by a maid of honour more than two centuries ago, and repeated to an obscure writer by Queen Elizabeth's housekeeper.

'The appetite for remains of all kinds, has certainly increased of late to a most surprising extent; every thing which belongs to a great man is eagerly hunted out, and constantly published. If Madame de Sevigné wrote some letters when she was half asleep; if Dr. Johnson took the pains of setting down what occurred to him before he was breeched, this age is sure to have the benefit of seeing these valuable works on hot-pressed paper: all that good writers threw by as imperfect, all that they wished to be concealed from the world, is now edited in volumes twice as magnificent as their chief works. Still greater is the avidity for ana: it is a matter of the greatest interest to see the letters of every busy trifler. Yet who does not laugh at such men? To write to our relations and friends on events which concern their interests and affections, is a worthy employment for the heart and head of a civilized man; but to engrave upon the tittle-tattle of the day, with all the labour and polish which the richest gem could deserve, is a contemptible abuse of the pen, paper, and time which is on our hands.

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It must be confessed, however, that knowledge of this kind is very entertaining; and here and there amongst the rubbish, we find hints which may give the philosopher a clue to important facts, and afford to the moralist a better analysis of the human mind, than a whole library of metaphysics.' pp. 85-87.

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The desultory thoughts about Political Economy, while they exhibit no great depth of reflection, are the remarks of a shrewd observer, and contain much good sense. Political Economy,' he remarks, is an awful thing. It is appalling to think that 'the Legislature is often called upon to decide questions which involve the immediate happiness, perhaps the very existence, ' of millions of the people by the rules of a science which changes

from day to day.' After referring to the opposite doctrines of Adam Smith and Lord Lauderdale, M. Say and M. Sismondi, on certain points, he adds: These opinions may be knowledge in the making, as Bacon finely calls the opinions of enlightened inen, but, until it is made, one would hesitate to stake the hap'piness of a nation upon them.' This is very just, but there are circumstances under which a Legislature may be called to take some active measures, and those measures must be regulated by some principles either correct or erroneous; and the worst is, that those individuals who shew the greatest contempt for abstract principles and what they deen visionary theories, are often the most tenacious of their own unwritten systems, and discover the most slavish adherence to their favourite authorities. It is, however, a good sign, when there exists a pretty brisk conflict of opinions among political writers: it shews that knowledge is making. The remark with which the chapter concludes, is, we think, worth transcription.

'Government will always be conducted for the benefit of those who govern. If the few alone govern, the interests of the few only will be provided for; if the people themselves have a share in the government, the interests of the many will be consulted.'

We have been much pleased with some of the remarks in the paper on Marriage. The longest and most carefully written essay, however, is that on the State of the English Constitu'tion,' which we can cordially recommend to the perusal of our readers. It contains a dispassionate review of the events of the late reign, as they bear upon our constitutional liberties.

In reckoning up what the crown has gained upon liberty during this reign,' remarks the Writer, we must take into account its two wars, American and French, and the increase of public debt and establishments. In estimating, on the other hand, what new securities liberty has gained, we must put into the balance Mr. Fox's law of libel, the resolution against general warrants, and the vast increased weight of public opinion; and this again leads us to the alarms and restrictive measures.

Whatever may have been the reasons, good or bad, which induced the government of this country to undertake a war against the insurgent colonies of America, and whatever may have been the policy, or even the necessity of entering into a contest with the French republic, it cannot be denied that the object of both these wars was to oppose popular revolution, and that their spirit was contrary to popular principles. It may be said, indeed, that both of these wars were supported by the full concurrence of the people of this country. But this objection takes away nothing from the weight of the observation which I wish to make. It must be recollected, that a high-spirited nation is easily incited to take arms; and, whether they do so, in a cause congenial to freedom, depends entirely upon the occasion which presents itself, and the use which is made of it by those whose talents

qualify them to direct public opinion. Now the occasions upon which both of the wars before alluded to, arose, were the resistance of a people to its government; and the arguments adopted to induce this country to declare war, were chiefly an appeal to its insulted dignity, and to its feelings of loyalty and piety. During a long period of this reign, comprising more than half of its extended duration, no attempts have been wanting to inflame the public mind, daily and hourly, against the rebellious subjects of our own king, and against a neighbouring nation, which deposed and executed its sovereign. It is impossible but that these invectives must have had their effect, and it can create surprise in no one that a country so excited, so taught, and so inflamed, and that too by one of the most eloquent writers, and one of the most eloquent speakers whom England has produced, should become at last extremely alive to every supposed misdemeanour against prerogative, and completely dull and insensible to any violation of constitutional rights. Nor will those escape blame in the page of history, if any such there were, who led the people on by exaggerated representations of facts; who inflamed their imagination by highlycoloured pictures of carnage and of murder, and endeavoured to put a stop to internal and civil bloodshed in one nation, by extending slaughter and desolation to every state in Europe, and every region of the globe. The example of the French Revolution, however, has had an influence still more direct on the progress of our affairs: the French Revolution is ascribed to every thing, and every thing is ascribed to the French Revolution. If a book is written containing new opinions on subjects of philosophy and literature, we are told to avoid them, for to Voltaire and to Rousseau is to be ascribed the French Revolution. If an ignorant cobler harangues a ragged mob in Smithfield, we are told that the state is in danger, for the fury of a mob was the beginning of the French Revolution. If there is discontent in the manufacturing towns, we are told that the discontent of the manufac turing towns in France was the great cause of the French Revolution. Nay; even if it is proposed to allow a proprietor of land to shoot partridges and hares on his own ground, we are told that this would be to admit the doctrine of natural rights, the source of all the evils of the French Revolution.

• It is in vain that these absurd clamours are repeatedly refuted; it is in vain that it is shown that the French Revolution arose from one simple cause, the discordance of a brave and enlightened people with a corrupt, bigoted, and despotic government; it is in vain that the atrocities of the revolution are shown to have been owing partly to the cruel character of the people, and partly to the alarm excited by foreign interference.

It is to no purpose that it is observed, that no comparison can be drawn between a country which had no constitution and no freedom; and one which has a constitution, and where the whole people are free.

The voice of reason is not listened to; the whole precedent is taken in the gross as a receipt in full for every bad law; for every ancient abuse; for maintaining error, and applauding incapacity. It is as if a patient were worn out with bad fare, and exhausted with debility,

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