waggons with coals, and dragged them with their own hands through the neighbouring counties, by way of exciting compassion, and one party of them approached in this fashion within a short distance of London. But by the interference and advice of the magistrates, they were easily persuaded to return; and the whole disturbances in that district terminated without giving rise to any scene of bloodshed. The county of Cambridge was not restored to tranquillity on such easy terms. At the town of Littleport in the Isle of Ely, (the peculiarly distressed situation of which district we have already detailed,) the popular discontent broke out at last in a shape of alarm which might at length entitle it to the name of an insurrection. The judicious conduct of Sir Henry Dudly, Bart. (who is both a clergymen and a magistrate) was mainly instrumental in putting an end to the scene of outrage which had thus commenced. The most resolute offenders were selected for punishment, and several of them underwent the last severity of the law by a sentence of a Court of Special Commission, which sat immediately afterwards at Ely.

At Merthyr Tydvil, an immense establishment of iron works in the county of Monmouth, at Leicester, at Birmingham, but most seriously of all at Nottingham, the spirit of riot manifested itself in the course of the summer and autumn. In the last mentioned place, and its vicinity, the atrocious and destructive system of framebreaking, of which something had been exhibited in the preceding year, was now renewed, under an apparently more regular plan of organization. There, too, the minds of the common people were inflamed by seditious harangues delivered in public meetings; harangues, in which every argument likely to operate upon vulgar and ignorant minds, was repeated over and

over by men almost as ignorant as those to whom they addressed themselves. The exertions of the magistrates, and the timely interference of the military, were sufficient, nevertheless, to check, for the present, the symptoms of mutiny and disaffection which had begun to mingle too visibly with other criminal motives in the minds of the rioters at Nottingham. In the annals for the succeeding year, we shall have the unwelcome task of describing far more violent ebullitions of the same evil passions in that vicinity, attended with yet more destructive consequences, both to the victims, and the perpetrators of the enormities to which they gave rise.

In the metropolis itself, towards the close of the season, there occurred a scene of riot more alarming than any thing which had appeared there for many years; and which, had it not been met by the active prudence of the government, might not unprobably have terminated more fatally than even the great riot of Lord George Gordon in 1780. On the 13th of November, there took place in Spa-fields one of those huge and motley meetings to which we have already alluded, where the populace, after listening for some time to the pernicious nonsense of some of their vulgar orators, at last assented to the propriety of embodying, in a petition to the Prince Regent himself, a statement of all those grievances under which they conceived themselves to be suffering, from the wretched system of government to which these islands had been subjected by him and his ministers. This notable petition, abounding in every species of rudeness, insolence, and presumption, was entrusted to the hands of the principal orator of the day, one Hunt, a person already well known in the western counties of England, as a noisy and turbulent, but happily, a very stupid assertor of the same doctrines which had been preach

ed with greater ability, in the same quarter, by Mr Cobbett. The petition was to be carried by Hunt to the Prince in propria persona; but the orator found, on application at Carlton House, that he must begin with submitting it to the inspection of the Secretary of State. Lord Sidmouth received the document, and forthwith sent it back to Mr Hunt, assuring him, that the terms in which its petitions were couched, put it entirely out of his power to forward it to its destination. A second meeting of the same mob was, in the meantime, about to be held at Spafields, for the purpose of receiving from this ambassador the tidings of his mission. It so happened, that a public execution had taken place in the city on the morning of the day appointed for this second assemblage, and Hunt, on his arrival at the scene of action, had the satisfaction to find his audience swelled by the addition of all the rabble which usually attend upon such terrible scenes in the metropolis, with any feelings rather than those of salutary terror. The orator made his approach in a waggon, drawn by some of his most trusty adherents. He was preceded by a multitude of trumpeters, bearing banners embroidered with sedi tious mottos; but neither the least remarkable, nor the least intelligible of his ensigns, were the tri-coloured flag, and the bonnet-rouge,-emblems borrowed from those worthies of Paris, Marseilles, and Lyons, whom Hunt, and such as he, are content to consider as illustrious predecessors in the great cause of liberty.

The account which the orator gave of the success of his embassy was received with shouts of indignation by the multitude, and commented upon in the most inflammatory terms, both by Hunt himself and two of his associates a father and a son of the name

of Watson. From the closing part of the scene Hunt was shrewd and cunning enough to withdraw; but the rabble proceeded, upon their dispersion, to reduce to practice the lessons he had been teaching them, under the guidance of his less prudent co-adjutors the Watsons. The mob marched into the city, and commenced their operations by rifling a gunsmith's shop, where young Watson shot a person who opposed some resistance to their measures. Having procured some arms, they advanced to the Royal Exchange, where they were met by the mayor and aldermen, who in vain attempted to disperse them by means of persuasion. A few of the most audacious forced themselves into the Exchange, and the gates being immediately closed by command of the mayor, were secured by the officers in attendance. Their companions endeavoured to procure their release by firing over the gates upon the magistrates; but before they had leisure to effect their purpose, a body of horse and foot were marched into the city, and the mob was obliged to disperse. Before the evening came on, they made several attacks upon houses where arms were supposed to be kept, in various parts of the city; but the military were sufficiently numerous, and sufficiently vigilant, to prevent them from obtaining any considerable supply. The government had, indeed, received sufficient warning from the events of the first meeting; and the measures which they adopted in consequence, were such as completely to overawe the insurgents, and restore the metropolis to tranquillity before the end of the day. In the meantime, young Watson, the most daring criminal of the scene, contrived to procure for himself some refuge or disguise, under the protection of which he eventually eluded all attempt at discovery.

His father, and some others of his as sociates, were less prudent or less for

tunate.

The events of this day, and those of nearly the same complexion occur. ring in different parts of the country, were perhaps regarded in rather too dark a point of view by some of the political writers of the time; but by others they were more certainly extenuated in a tone of ridicule, little fitting such an occasion in such a country as England. To the ignorance of the lower orders, even when that ignorance leads to acts of outrage a gainst the peace of general society, the compassion of their superiors in information, and, so far as is possible, the forbearance of the executive power, should most assuredly never be refu sed. But the mode in which the ig. norance of the common people is abused by those vile panders to their bad passions, the orators of Spa-fields and Palace-yard, and the Common-Council room a species of enemies to the general peace, whereof, till now, our country has for some centuries had little experience-and the still more incessantly pestiferous action of those vulgar journals which advocate the same cause these are things which, in spite of all the cries of bigotry and intolerance which may be raised by interested partisans, those whose love of their country is founded upon know. ledge as well as feeling, cannot fail to contemplate with an ever increasing seriousness of concern. The distress felt at this period by many of the lower, and by not a few of the higher orders, was the result, in a very great measure, of natural causes, and of other causes, almost equally removed from the cognizance of those who now presumed to condemn, rather than to

investigate them; we have seen with what a becoming spirit of calmness and humility the origin of the temporary calamity was discussed in parliament; and we may form no absurd estimate of the comparative good sense and good faith of the demagogues who harangued upon them without, by contrasting their furious and thorough-going confidence with the humility and diffidence of our senators. For the present, however, we forbear from entering upon this fruitful subject, because, in our annals of the succeeding year, we shall be compelled to recur to it at great length, when far more alarming effects of the same lamentable delusions shall pass under our review.

In the midst of these distresses, the nation derived much gratification from the conclusion of a treaty of marriage between the Princess Charlotte Augusta, the daughter of the Regent, and presumptive heiress of the throne, and Prince Leopold, a younger son of the house of Saxe-Cobourg Saalfield.* The hopes which the people reposed in this young princess were mingled with more than an usual proportion of tenderness and affection; for every circumstance of her demea nour, which had reached their knowledge, had tended to represent her character as one of singular artlessness, frankness, and benevolence. The me mory of two of the most splendid reigns in English history served, moreover, to awaken, in regard to her future life, expectations well calculated to endear the princess in the hearts of a patriotic people. The rupture of a match proposed for her Royal Highness with the heir of the kingdom of the Netherlands, as we have already had occasion to see, had been received

with indifference, if not with satisfaction, by the British public; because the national pride disclaimed any idea of a marriage of aggrandisement for the heiress of England, and the national principles and feelings all tended to render the people anxious chiefly, or only, that the marriage of their princess might be one agreeable to herself, and therefore promising a life of domestic felicity and honour to their future queen. The Prince Leopold of Saxe-Cobourg had greatly distinguished himself in the campaigns preceding the first abdication of Buonaparte, and had attended the allied sovereigns on their visit to England in the summer of the year 1814. Being introduced, amidst the gaieties of that festal season, to the young Princess of Wales, it was understood that he had been regarded by her with singular interest, and that the impression made upon her by his appearance and manners had greatly contributed to determine her in her final rejection of the suit of the Prince of Orange.

The proposed alliance was communicated to the House of Commons in the spring of the present year, and received by them with the utmost cordiality and satisfaction. They immediately granted an income of 60,000l. to the royal pair, making provision, that in case Prince Leopold should survive his consort, 50,000l. should be continued to him. The marriage ceremony was performed at the Queen's Palace on the 2d of May, in the presence of the Regent, the Queen, and the rest of the royal family. From them, through every gradation and rank, an universal feeling of joy spread throughout the whole body of the people. In the ardent expressions of this general congratulation, the minds. of good citizens found comfort to counterbalance not a little of the pain occasioned to them by the scenes of

tumult which we have just been de scribing; they perceived, that in spite of temporary or superficial fretfulnesses, the hearts of the people were still right towards their happy constitution, and its legitimate authorities; and that, although Englishmen have no occasion to study the character of their future sovereigns with the same anxious scrutiny which might be natural among the subjects of a despotic throne, there exists between the king and the people of a free state, a tie, that is not the weaker because it is formed more out of the hope of mutual good than the fear of possible evil. Alas! we have too soon before us the task of commemorating still more affecting tokens of the same sentiments of loyal sympathy-expres sions not indeed more sincere, but invested with a greater depth of power, by reason of the more solemn circumstances in the midst of which they were evoked. In the meantime, the interest which the people already felt in the fate of the young princess, was kept up and strengthened, from day to day, by every circumstance of her opening character, as developed in the deportment of her married life. Transferred at once from a state of comparative seclusion into the full eye of the people, she met their gaze with a native gracefulness and unaffected benignity, which excited in her favour a mingled sentiment of respect and attachment. She mixed in the amusements, the occupations, the devotions of the people, and in every thing she endeared herself by shewing that her thoughts were cast in the same mould with theirs. But much as she delighted them by her public appearances, the privacy of her habitual existence, and the belief that this privacy was the tribute and token of her conjugal love, awoke the deepest feeling of affection for the princess. The people rejoiced in seeing that the first

gentlewoman of England appreciated and exemplified the purity of the domestic morals and the domestic happiness of her country.

Shortly after this marriage, another occurred in the royal family, between the Princess Mary, daughter of the King, and her cousin the Duke of Gloucester.

The domestic history of this year cannot be closed without mentioning the death of an individual, who, although he had for some time ceased to be a member of the senate, or to be regarded as adding strength to any party in the state, had, by the exertions of his earlier life, won for himself a right to a high place both in the political and in the literary history of his country, and whose death, there fore, was of right regarded as a public event by his surviving contemporaries. Richard Brinsley Sheridan was descended from a family, in whom genius appears to have been a hereditary possession, and whose representatives have enjoyed uninterruptedly, for the last hundred years, the privilege of living in intimate friendship with the most remarkable men of their country. He was himself designed originally for the profession of the law, but this he soon quitted for the drama, in which he met with immediate and splendid success. But by accident becoming known to Mr Fox, he was induced by him to turn his views towards political life, and having secured a seat in parliament, his powers of wit and eloquence soon raised him to a high re

putation, at a period when the public admiration was already shared by a since unequalled constellation of illustrious orators and statesmen. It is not necessary to allude to the long series of splendid appearances by which he supported this high character for many successive years. In the decline of his age, however, habits of dissipation and extravagance, which had not been able to check his career when in the full vigour of manhood, seem to have gathered round him in additional strength, and to have not only rendered him useless as a statesman, but utterly unhappy, and alas! far less respectable than he should have been in his private life. Having exhausted every means of credit, his closing scene was embittered with sorrows of a nature to which men of his high station are in general strangers; even the aid of his friends, it would appear, had been denied or rejected, for although his remains were followed to the grave by a long procession of princes and nobles, he died amidst the wretchedness, almost the squalor of poverty. Born with very amiable dispositions, and with a genius of the most happy or der, and favoured with opportunities such as have fallen to the share of few, such was the end of Sheridan-a severe, but it may be a salutary lesson, how vain it is, with the most splendid endowments and successes, to expect true felicity even in this state of existence, without fixedness of principle and simplicity of life.