sure for extending the privileges of election to several places not previously possessed of them, were required by a just and liberal policy; but assuredly, the bill was itself defended by its parliamentary supporters upon grounds which displayed an utter misconception of the true peculiarities of our constitution.Events have since shown too forcibly to need any commentary, that the much abused rotten boroughs were really a valuable provision in our representative system; and the peril which, at this hour, menaces the House of Peers-a peril which could never have existed under the Old Sarum Constitution-sufficiently demonstrates that these representatives of the aristocratic interest were (to adopt a mechanical metaphor) the buffers that perpetually broke the violence of the colliding parts of the political machine. England, which, like every very limited monarchy, is substantially a republic (endowed with advantages which a professed republic could never attain or preserve,) perpetually wavers between the aristocratic and democratic genus of republics. Its history, since the birth of its liberty, consists of the con flict of these elements; and its perfection is to reconcile them. The close boroughs, without being directly intended for the purpose, went far towards solving this difficulty; whether design will ever afford any means of doing so, equal to this creation of accident, may perhaps be the subject of hope, but can scarcely be that of expectation.

The history of the French elective system is a striking instance of the short-sightedness of theorists in their calculations of political provisoes.After the Revolution, it was determined that the whole nation should concur in the nomination of representatives; and primary assemblies were appointed to nominate the electors who were to select the members of the legislature. After some time, it was found that this apparently satisfactory scheme wholly failed in attaining its object. The people perceived that their indirect nominees neither knew them nor were known by them, and that their "sovereignty" over public affairs, was reduced to nothing. Of this sovereignty each individual was entitled to six-millionths; he soon found that even this fraction of control was substantially lost. After the restoration, the system of direct election was adopted; and in order to give such

value to the suffrage as would make it of some importance to its possessor, the qualification was fixed at 300 francs of taxes. This arrangement, which seemed calculated to produce general acquiescence, has, however, fared so ill, that an abatement of the qualification to 200 francs was universally demanded at the revolution of the Three Glorious Days," and a still greater extension of suffrage is now the object of the popular clamour in France as well as among ourselves; an extension of which it is difficult to speak with decision; for while some consider it calculated to produce a still more complete obstruction of the influence of the reasoning minority of the community, others consider it peremptorily demanded by the democratic distribution of property in France. The only maxim in the theory of election that seems to us to afford a rock of snpport amidst all these varying tides of opinion, is the principle that interests and opinions are the real subjects of representation, not numbers and places; and that the latter really obtain a representation only in virtue of the former. Numbers will of course come into consideration under this calculation of interests; for every man is concerned in his own interest and the interest of the class to which he belongs; but numbers will not be the only subjects of representation, inasmuch as it may happen that a body not numerically equivalent to a fifth of any body in the state may possess interests of five times as great political importance as any other class whatever. We have mentioned interests and opinions. By the adequate representation of the former, all parties are secured against neglect or oppression; by that of the latter, provision is made for the perpetual progress, political and moral, of the country; if both could be secured, (and, as we before observed, the representation of interests will always be nearly equivalent to that of opinions,) the scheme of a Representative Assembly would be perfect.

M. de Sismondi explains at great length the principles which should regulate the association of the Democratic Element in the legislative, executive, and judicial powers; a participation which, he contends, is indispensably necessary, in order to secure the mass of the population from actual oppression, from mental debasement, and even from the liability to revolu tionary excitation which the absence

of all popular interest in the national institutions presents as material for the ambition of the demagogue to operate on. With regard to legislative and executive powers, he would resort to the instrumentality of the communes and municipalities, continually connected with the central power of the state; and for the exercise of judicial privileges, to such institutions as our invaluable trial by jury, on which he passes an encomium warm enough to satisfy the most resolute admirer of this jewel of the British Constitution. In the Essay immediately succeeding the one to which we have just been referring, M. de Sismondi proceeds to the consideration of a problem, not less abstruse than any of the former, and indeed closely connected with them all,-namely, the means by which the National Reason may be summoned to the National Sovereignty. This we have before noticed as forming the great end of legislative policy. The National Reason is to the state what the presiding principle of Wisdom and Intelligence is to the individual; and, as the latter requires to be purified and exalted by long and careful contemplation, above the conflicts of passion and interest-so must the former, to deserve its character and title, be the elaborated product of universal discussion; and thus, by the gradual, but certain supremacy of truth over error, succeed in eliminating from its pure and perfect essence every intrusive tincture of prejudice and precipitation :

"It is only after the tempests of public opinion have been calmed, after its dissensions have been conciliated, after

its flashes have been condensed into a

single light, vivid, calm, and equable, that the National Reason pronounces, and that its sentence ought to be law."*

The great introductory consideration, therefore, is the formation and development of this public opinion, of which the National Reason is the last and most perfect refinement. In all free states this process is effected by the spontaneous discussions of all who are interested in public affairs, by the earnest intercourse of private circles, the animation of public meetings,—by the journals

and pamphlets of the day,-by all that diversified machinery of political excitement, which our age and country assuredly do not require to hear more copiously described. It has the advantage, says M. de Sismondi, of at once appearing to be the work of all society, and, nevertheless, being only the expression of its most intelligent portion. Discussions of this kind precede and enlighten the more regular official debates of political questions; while, on the other hand, the theoretical representations of speculatists are tried and corrected by the more experimental spirit of the Chamber or the House,-the conjectures of a Montesquieu by the experience of a Député du peuple, and the philosophical calculations of a Hume by the arithmetical ones of his modern parliamentary namesake.

In arranging the representative sys. tem the great point to be attained is obviously-that the deputy may be at once thoroughly impregnated with the wants and the wishes of his constituents, and at the same time sufficiently independent of their control to bring to the assembly of the nation, not the unalterable vote of a pledged partizan, but the dignified candour of a deliberative councillor. To the entire system of PLEDGES, antecedent to election, we confess ourselves strongly opposed.† We are opposed to it, not so much on account of its direct practical results, as on account of its inconsis tency with the true spirit of our constitution, and consequently, its indirect whole nature of our political system. and ultimate tendency to alter the which these pledges are exacted are It is true that the great questions upon usually so vigorously agitated outside the walls of parliament, and previously to its meeting, that little can be expected from subsequent parliamentary debate, of a nature so forcible as to alter opinions formed from this wide extra-mural discussion. It is true, that we are not so chimerical as to expect that any eloquence of any speaker could proselytize (for instance) Mr. O'Connell to the cause of British connexion, or reconcile Lord John Russell to the existence of the Irish church. Such conversions are beyond the ora

tory of a Cicero,-perhaps beyond that of a Melbourne. It is not, therefore, in the expectation of such possibilities as these, that we abjure the fetters of the pledge. But it is because such a practice habituates the people to a false view of the nature of the House of Commons, by familiar izing them to regard it as a purely democratic convention, assembling because it is not convenient for the people themselves to assemble, and presenting the verdict of the multitude as ambassadors whose powers are limited to announcing decisions already definitively concluded. The wildest theorics of republicanism never contemplated anything so monstrous as this, so adverse to national advancement, and by destroying all the real advantages of a representative assembly, so calculated to crush, under the torrent of vulgar prejudice, every development of public wisdom. A dignified position, truly, for the national deputies! Invested with a power of attorney," by a constituency, the blind proxies of an electoral majority, a sort of parliamentary automata, differing little from that obedient " Speaking Machine" which, as we remember, the ingenuity of an accomplished professor present ed, not long since, to the curiosity of a Dublin audience;-yet, assuredly, this is the ideal contemplated by the advocates of the pledge. For our part, when we accept the office of senatorial machine, we are resolved at least to make one condition, that we receive some hire for our vicarious labour; as certainly, if we are but to think and speak as we are bid, it would be sadly unreasonable that the LEGAL advocate should be paid for vindicating the follies of a client, and the parliamentary one be unrewarded for vindicating the absurdities of a district. In both instances there is the simple transmission of a case previously settled; and in both alike, or in neither, there ought to be a remuneration for the very troublesome, and often very inglorious, task of stating and enforcing it.

It is obvious that there are two ways of considering the English House of Commons ;-as an assembly of councillors, deputed to consider for the public weal, or as an assembly of agents, deputed to signify the will of the majority in their respective constituencies. The latter supposition is refuted by the whole spirit and nature of its proceedings; the very formula of convocation is sufficient to prove

that they are meant to be, not delegated verdicts, but deliberative discussions. From this theory of the House of Commons it will follow that, the deliberative character being essential to membership, whatever destroys that character may be said virtually to destroy the membership itself, and therefore may be considered as diminishing the number of members comprehended in the House by every instance in which it occurs. That is to say-the system of pledged votes terminates— not merely in contradicting the spirit of the English polity, but in directly violating its letter. It is not merely unconstitutional, it is illegal.

As this subject is one of great present interest, and one continually involved in perplexity by the shallow casuistry of our democratic statists, it may be well to advance a step farther in its consideration. No question is oftener proposed, than the course of conduct befitting a representative who discovers that his conscientious vote must differ from the opinions of the constituency (that is, of that majority of the constituency) which has returned him. Instant resignation, is the cry of the republican politician; the moment that the representative ceases to be the exponent of his constituent majority, his right to represent it ceases. If he vote in its favour he is a hypocrite; if he vote against it he is an apostate: let him cease then to vote! Utterly erroneous! reply the opposite party: the constituency has made its bargain, and must abide by it. It has undertaken the changes and chances of political life, and it must be prepared to meet them. Such conversions can happen but seldom; but when they do, they are necessarily irremediable, until the dissolution of parliament has restored the power of choice and of rejection.

The truth is not fully declared by either party; but it certainly is approached more nearly by the latter of the two. The first duty of a member, compared to which all others are subordinate,—is to consult and vote for the public good. If he vote at all, there ought to be no question that this consideration ought to take precedence of the wishes, expressed or implied, of any constituency,- -or of the world. The arguments of a constituency may influence a decision; their wishes, ncver. But under the supposed case of a discrepancy, ought he to vote at all? To this we reply by a simple

distinction. If he be expressly and verbally pledged to resign, his course is obvious; he was indeed grossly culpable in admitting an unconstitutional obligation, but once subjected to it, he cannot escape its control without violating every principle that regulates the intercourse of men. But if he be not expressly and verbally pledged to resign; if he have only declared to the electoral body that his opinions (at the time of declaration) were of a certain caste, and have left to them to conclude for themselves as to his stability, he is not only not bound to resign, but would err in resiguing. In voting according to his convictions, he has fulfilled his duty, and his whole duty. If any other covenant were understood, it was illegally and unconstitutionally understood. To this view there is one apparent objection. Why, it may be asked, declare opinions at all on the hustings; and why labour with such energy to demonstrate their accordance with those of the constituency, if the candidate be not substantially pledging himself to represent them in the most literal sense of representation? The answer is simple. Opinions are declared, not that the constituency may select an agent to transmit their irrevocable decisions, but that they may select a wise and competent public councillor. Now, as every elector's individual opinions must be the ultimate standard to which he refers in order to determine the wisdom of others, he will (disturbing influences apart) select the candidate who most closely expresses them; and thus the number will ultimately "represent" the wishes of the constituency, just as if the constituency (which it does not) recognized his election for the sole purpose of representing them. The declaration of opinions is not to establish his ability to "represent," but to establish his character as a legislator; and the latter will necessarily rise in the opinion of the constituency, in proportion as it approximates to the former. From this general coincidence arises, on the one hand, the vul

gar confusion of the two; and on the other, the necessity of showing their relative priority in rank, whenever, as in the case above cited, they appear to conflict. We repeat that, according to all just views of the nature of the House of Commons, we are warranted to say-not that the candidate is bound to vote in any given way, because a certain constituency have elected him,— but that a certain constituency have clected him because he was likely so to vote. We must, however, relinquish a subject which its great approaching importance could alone have induced us to prolong to this extent.

And with this topic we must, for the present relinquish M. de Sismondi's volume. We may return to it again ; for our space has not allowed us to present in these remarks anything approaching to a continuous account of its entire contents. If we should be prevented from doing so, we shall have at least offered our attestation to the variety and the wisdom of one of the few political dissertations of our times which a philosopher may peruse with, approbation, and a philanthropist with pleasure. "La politique est une science que je crois avoir achevée," was the cool boast of the Abbé Sieyes; M. de Sismondi will scarcely echo the presumptuous vaunt of the sophist of the revolution. He has too much knowledge not to know its bounds; but he may console himself with the reflection that, if he has not attained to the imaginary omniscience of the French politician, he has proved no slight contributor to the progress of that real and attainable knowledge, which, we may hope, will at length pervade the whole of society, and, by bestowing on all classes a distinct perception of the true aims and ends of political institutions-what they can do, and what they can never hope to do,—aid in setting the public welfare beyond the interested efforts either of agitation to endanger in its boisterous tempest, or of corruption to impair in its sluggish and deceitful calm.

Or spiritual knowledge there are two great branches, which, though seemingly remote in character, are yet by a most beautiful series of common principles and profound coincidences to be traced to the same origin, and to lead to the same conclusions. Of these, the first in order of time, but not of design, is that evidence of a creative intelligence, to be derived from a scientific observation of nature. The second, the revelation which God has actually made of his own design and law-thus supplying that more important and practical knowledge, not otherwise even to be remotely conjectured. This, though last in order, will, upon reflection, appear the indispensible preparation for the former. It is now, we believe, generally felt that metaphysical speculations, commencing with ill-defined assumptions, proceeding on premises merely verbal, and ending in the most remote and incomprehensible inferences, are as little to be depended upon in theology as they have been found in all other subjects of human enquiry and as such reasonings have hitherto failed to add to our knowledge of things which are within our compass of observation, so they are still less likely to be very profitable when applied to the nature and attributes of God. To be sensible of this the reflecting reader has ouly to recollect the confused chaos of religions and theologies, which have been the result of human speculation in every age and nation, until we reach the confines of probability in the page of Scripture. In laying aside the amazing subtleties of the ancient philosophy, or of the metaphysical Christian divines of the a priori school, the Christian student will ever approach the simpler and clearer light of that Word which has made foolish the wisdom of this world, with the feeling of one who has been through outer and through middle darkness borne," when he first gains a prospect of the "Holy light-purest of things first-born-of the eternal, coeternal beam."

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It is not until the design and moral attributes of God are known from his word, that they can be traced with reasonable certainty in the world which he has created for purposes which do not appear distinctly trace

able on the surface. To human eyes but a little portion is seen, of a plan which is based upon infinity and built for eternity. A depth too unfathomable for the sounding line of human reasonings, expands more broadly before us as we look with more intentness upon it, with the purpose of tracing analogies between the known and unknown realms of truth or discovering final purposes within our shallow compass and depth.

But let the purpose be known; let the scheme of God's dealings be laid before us; and although our reasonings must still be confined to one aspect of our Creator; yet there immediately may be looked for, a correspondent system of indications, by which one separate part of the same general design may be found connected in principle with the other. And further, there may also be found those correspondencies of plan which two distinct works of the same author may be expected to exhibit.

Furnished with these principles of observation, the true analogies of Natural Theology commence with the sacred philosophy of the Christian mind, which alone converses with a divine being, not purely imaginary; neither the phantasm which poetry conjures up from human conceptions, nor the verbal abstraction of idealess metaphysics, but the creator of all worlds, who, having made man responsible, has given him laws of action-and having made him for a purpose, which im. plied some knowledge of his maker, has imparted that knowledge on authority of the most unequivocal and unquestionable kind. Such is the first step, and not as it is sometimes fancied, the conclusion to be looked for in the study of natural theology.

This key to the true comprehension of the natural world being obtained, the actual methods of the creative mind in one clear instance being placed in our possession, a deep and varied region of analogies starts to the thoughtful from every scene of animate and inanimate nature. That there may be discovered many features of such an analogy between the revealed word— its moral plan, the scheme of redemption, on one hand: and the systeins which are to be traced in the social