HOUSE OF COMMONS, Feb. 8th. DURING the last hundred and fifty years, (but more especially during the last century of that period,) our national literature has been encumbered by a class of writers, who, with no other qualification than that of being able to think on paper, have aspired to be authors; men, to whom their fathers gave a good education, and left them sufficient to live in idle ness. But idleness becoming at last, as it always must do, a most laborious occupation, they turned to book-making. Instead of gossiping with their families, or neighbours, from breakfast to dinner, they made their pens familiar with their thoughts; and when they had recorded just such homely things as any man picked out of ten thousand would have written, those uncultivated reasons which are, in truth, as "plenty as blackberries," they forthwith had them printed and published. These were "the mob of gentlemen who wrote with ease," and whose "easy writing," has been pronounced "dd hard reading." Yet they enjoyed a sort of reputation, which sometimes outlived themselves, if they did not happen to be addicted to the vice of longevity; and they were be-praised too, be-rhymed, and be-flattered, as ingenious, incomparable, and inexpressibly clever persons. Enquire for them now? None but a Fellow of the Antiquarian Society, or a correspondent of Sylvanus Urban, Gent., could tell you when they died, or where they are buried. But we have also, in these our times, (and so perhaps had our forefathers, though all evidence of their existence, if there ever were any, has perished,) the "mob of gentlemen who talk with ease;" orators, who, were their physical energies equal to the task, could dribble, dribble, dribble, and still continue dribbling, (like a pump worked by an infant's arm,) from one lunar crescent to the next; -statesmen, with such a diabetes of the mind, that a continued stream of their thoughts keeps draining through their lips, with a sort of involuntary flux. At the head, the very apex of this class, meo periculo, I place Mr

Alexander Baring. I may be wrong, and I may stand alone in my opinion; but until I am convinced of the former, I shall not be disposed to relinquish the latter. Were I engaged in mercantile transactions, and wanted sound, honourable, and useful advice upon any practical points connected with them, there is no merchant in the city of London, whom I should be so desirous of consulting, as Mr Baring. But Mr Baring in his counting-house, and MrBaring in the House of Commons, are, in my estimation, two very different individuals; as different as the King at St James's, and Lord King at Westminster; or as the Duke of Wellington, field-marshal, planting the British flag upon the towers of Bayonne, and the Duke of Wellington, prime minister, striking it to Don Miguel in Downing Street.

It has happened, however, to the honourable member, as it does to most men, that those qualities, whe ther of fortune or of station, or of personal character, by which they are distinguished in one capacity, are gratuitously assigned to them in all. Mr Baring is an eminent merchant, an eminent capitalist, an eminent member of society; therefore he is an eminent politician. He has large dealings, therefore he has a large mind; vast wealth, therefore a rich judgment; a high reputation in private circles, therefore an equally elevated reputation in Parliament. He is a good man, too, as I believe, therefore, too, he is a good statesman. By the alchemy of opinion, he has undergone that transmutation which presents him to us in the likeness of himself upon the mart. In the city he is, and perhaps deserves to be,Sir Oracle; but west of Temple Bar, he is only

"Globose, a speaker in the house,

Who hems, and is delivered of his mouse."

Let one of Mr Baring's clerks stand up in his place and deliver one of his speeches, and I would not choose to be a member of a select committee appointed to enquire into, and report upon, the comparative number of ideas in the said speech, and a speech consisting of the same number

words, uttered by Mr Alderman Waithman. This may sound like heresy to some; but only to those, I am convinced, who reason from adscititious circumstances; who hold, that

A judge is just, a chancellor juster still; A gownman learn'd, a bishop what you will;

Wise if a minister; but if a king,

More wise, more learn'd, more just, more every thing."

Mr Attwood, for example, replied to Mr Baring this evening; and Mr Attwood is a shrewd, judicious man, bating a little disposition to look at every thing through the currency question, using it like a pair of green spectacles, which clothes all objects in one common hue, making them verdant and vernal alike. And how did he commence? "Agreeing with much of what has been said by my honourable friend and colleague, I cannot but the more regret some errors into which he has fallen, and which, coming with the weight which every thing said by my honourable friend carries in this House, I think it would be injurious not to explain." This is what I would call the cant of custom in this honourable House. For what was the speech of Mr Baring? Simply and solely that there were many causes for the present distress, though he was unable to find out any of them; and that they could not be traced to the Ministers, because the same distress prevailed in other countries. He said further, "it was improper for gentlemen to expect that the government alone could find a cure;" and, moreover, that it " was clear the House could not be justly charged with being inattentive to the distresses of the people;" though why the one was improper, or how the other was clear, the House and the country were left to discover by whatever process might seem best to themselves. I confess, however, it was the display which the honourable member made, when adverting to our foreign policy, that produced the most unequivocal impression upon my mind as to the quality of the honourable member's mind.

"I am anxious," said he, " before I resume my seat, to say a few words upon our foreign alliances. I see nothing in the circumstances of either this country or the continent, which

calls for the interference of our government, and therefore I trust they will not interfere." (Hear, hear, from the third treasury bench.) "I cannot see what business we have to interfere in the concerns of Bessarabia or Moldavia, or any other province with which we have nothing to do." (Hear, hear, as before.) "It is very well for honourable members feelingly to describe the diminution of our influence in foreign countries, and that we are not looked upon as of so great importance on the continent, as we have formerly been under other administrations." (A faint hear, as before, and a laugh from the rest of the house.) "It may amuse and please honourable gentlemen to be treated in a superior manner on the continent; but I think it tends neither to the honour or the interest of the country, to be interfering in every trifling squabble among foreign nations.' (A loud hear, hear, from Alderman Waithman.)" We have no business to interfere in these questions. If we were offered a portion of the Netherlands or France, I am satisfied there are not ten men in their senses in this country who would not scout the idea of accepting it; why, therefore, should we interfere thus uselessly?" (An exulting hear, hear, from Mr Calcraft, in å tone that expressed his admiring acquiescence in the logical consequence of this interrogatory.) "It is immaterial to England in the hands of what power the mouths of the Danube and Tagus are, and I am satisfied it tends to diminish the high character of this country interfering thus in every ridiculous quarrel. For my own part, I would rather see the young queen on the throne of Portugal, than the present possessor, but I can see no just ground for a continued meddling. There will be no end of our difficulties,-there will be no end of the troubles and quarrels in which we shall involve ourselves, if we are to continue to interfere in the concerns of every worthless fellow of a prince in Europe."

This is decisive language. Here we have the principle of non-interference asserted, if not with any remarkable force of argument, at least with a very remarkable force of repetition. It is clearly the honourable inember's opinion, that England, as

the phrase is, "should keep herself to herself;" in fact, that we should leave all other countries alone, as the true and only means of being left alone ourselves, and consequently of advancing our own prosperity. I will not stop to examine the wisdom of a doctrine thus luminously expounded, but proceed to shew that the honourable member's reasoning is in the predicament of Gonzalvo's Utopian scheme of government in the Tempest, where the latter end of his commonwealth forgot the beginning."

"If," continued Mr Baring, "there is any one subject more important in my estimation than another, it is the promotion of peace. Our internal interests, or our commercial, manufacturing, and agricultural interests, all unite and depend upon its continuance; and if the Right Hon. Gentleman opposite can promote peace in the South American States, [without interfering, of course,] he will do more good than by adopting any partial measures." "It is our national interest to prevent Spain [without interfering] from carrying on a constant warfare with Colombia and the other States of South America, in her attempts to recover her dominion over them." "With respect to our means of causing Spain to desist [without interfering] from her attempts, I am of opinion that one word, peremptorily said, [but without interfering,] would have the desired effect. The question of right which seems at is sue is, whether this country ever interfered between any attempt on the part of Mexico to attack Cuba. If it can be satisfactorily made out that this country did say they should not make an attack on that island, why then, the corresponding measure which is called for on our part, towards Spain, is, to say to her, you SHALL NOT make an attempt on Mexico from Cuba; for if we did one, we might with equal justice do the other.' "This country has given Spain a sufficient length of time to make her attempts for the re-establishment of her dominion; and it is now to be hoped these attempts will cease, and that the Right Hon. Gentleman will make representations to Spain on the subject of a very serious nature," [without interfering, however, or "there will be no end of our

difficulties."] "When we were engaged in our attempts to subdue our North American colonies, did Spain give us an opportunity to re-conquer them? So far from it, that she went to war with us. I am for applying the argumentum ad hominem in cases of this nature." That is, go to war with Spain, as she did with us; only take care that you do not interfere, for there would "be no end of the troubles and quarrels in which we should involve ourselves if we were to interfere in the concerns of every worthless fellow of a prince in Europe."

But

Mr Baring is a man of unimpeached and unimpeachable integrity, and utterly incapable of being influenced in his public duties by private and personal considerations. were he not thus happily placed beyond the reach of suspicion, would it be possible to forget that he has large commercial dealings with South America? That he is a loan contractor? That South American dividends are irregularly paid, in consequence, as it is thought, of the insecure position of these States? And that the Mexican mines might, perhaps, be more profitably worked, if all dread of Spanish intrusion were completely annihilated? His principle of non-interference, as regards all European governments, for European objects, and his vehement desire of interference with Spain, for South American objects, are certainly not intelligible to me; because I utterly disclaim all idea of imputing to the honourable member any private or individual motives.

February 9th.

The elephantine epistle of "dear self," the redoubted Juhun Men Shuhur, where " I was the little hero of the tale," was discussed again tonight. It is a silly and contemptible affair; and, except for the purpose of annoying a very silly and shallow person, not worth the notice which has been bestowed upon it. Mr Peel seemed to be ashamed of it; so the noble Lord's defence was consigned to Mr G. Bankes. But what defence could he make? He could not deny the fact, that such a letter was written; he could not vindicate the letter, and he was not instructed by his superior to appeal to the good-nature

of the House. When Lord Bacon, "the greatest, wisest," I will not, for the sake of antithesis, add "meanest of mankind," incurred the censure of a Stewart Parliament, he contented himself with reminding his judges that "there were vitia temporis, as well as vitia hominis ;" and in a letter to James himself, on the occasion, he said, "I am resolved, when I come to my answer, not to trick my innocency by cavillations and voidances, but to speak to them, the language that my heart speaketh to me." The noble Lord, I willingly admit, does not lie under so heavy an accusation as that which strewed with sharpest thorns the remnant of that great man's path to the grave; and being, moreover, only a Lord, and not a Bacon, he has not hesitated to "trick his innocency" with all sorts of "cavillations and voidances." These are unworthy of him. The letter was not. Mr Bankes gave a history of the transactions which led to its being written, and then said, "it was in reference to these transactions that the private and confidential letter of the noble Lord was written." Private and confidential! I could hardly trust my own ears. If ever there was a case, which in its importance as affecting the stability of our power in India, (a power that could not exist a day, after its nature and origin were made a question with the natives,) demanded an official dispatch, armed with all the authority of government in its collective capacity, it was this. And yet the noble Lord, in the fulness of his own incommunicable sufficiency as President of the Board of Control, scribbles a hasty, "private and confidential letter," with so little consciousness of the importance of the subject, and so great consciousness of his own importance, that while he informs Sir John Malcolm of what he will do, of what he has done, of what he thinks, and of what he does not think, he makes no copy, and when he sees it in print, cannot recollect whether it was what he wrote, though he has "no doubt it was written by him." This, the noble Lord admitted, in reply to a question from Lord Durham, (God save the mark! how these new lords with new names pop upon us at every turn!) in the House of Peers this evening.

But the Duke of Wellington, he

is the man to stand up for a friend. He does not mince matters. "Whatever is, is right," with him, in these cases. "For my part," said the Noble Duke, (and he looked round the House as if he felt that when he declared a thing was white, no one else must presume to call it black,) "for my part," said he, “I cannot see one derogatory word in any part of that letter! My Noble Friend certainly intended it as private and confidential. It was a correspond. ence altogether of a private nature, with a person on a foreign station; and if other persons think fit to lay hold of such letters, and make out of them what they like, I must say that public business cannot be carried on at all." Really! I "must say," my Lord Duke, that had I been one of the peers to whom you thus addressed yourself, I would have endeavoured to enlighten your Grace as to the language which a minister of the crown, a servant of the king and the nation, ought to use upon any subject which the House of Peers

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thought fit to lay hold of," adopting your own classic phraseology. I would also have laid hold “ of another private and confidential letter,

written to one Dr Curtis, a Catholic priest, and asked your Grace whether you saw one derogatory word in any part of that letter?" Or whether that, too, was to be covered by the mantle which you threw over your noble friend's letter, when you said, "he was not bound to answer for the construction which others might put upon the language contained in it, or for the sentiments of other persons upon the subject?" This defence, by the bye, was twice urged by Mr Bankes in the course of his speech. I take it therefore as a defence, whose validity is recognised by his Majesty's government. I do not quarrel with it. It is fair and reasonable. But why is it to be made a monopoly? Why are others to be denied the benefit of it? Why did not his Majesty's Attorney General, that paragon of constitutional lawyers, recognise its validity in the case of Mr Alexander, as well as his Majesty's Prime Minister, in the case of my Lord Ellenborough? I suppose, however, had this question been asked, your Grace would have met it with your standing reply,

"I do not feel myself called upon to argue that point;" or by your other standing reply, (for your oratory is copious,)" I must say I do not see the force of that argument." One word more, upon this piece of official coxcombry, and I have done with it. The story of the fleabitten traveller at Stony Stratford, must hereafter be accounted the dullest of all dull jokes, upon inconsequential reasoning. Lord Ellenborough has eclipsed it for aye. "I should suppose," said he, in reply to Lord Holland, "that I was one of the last men in the country who could have been charged with a wish to interfere with the independence of the judges." Why? Pray guess. Do you "give it up?" Listen. "The station which my noble and learned father held ought to have protected me from such a charge!!!" Lend me your ear, my lord, and let me whisper in it, your noble and learned father's title was hereditary, but not that which earned it. Shakspeare, or Milton, or Newton, might have been father to a first-rate blockhead, (Sir Thomas More was, and we remember what he said to his wife on the occasion,)-and if that same blockhead, being accused of stupidity, had replied, "The talents which my celebrated father possessed, ought to have protected me from such a charge," would not the answer have been a better certificate of his duncehood, than the unanimous decision in its favour, of a whole university? I am enough your friend, my lord, to wish that this argument had remained a CC private and confidential" opinion of your own.

Feb. 11th.

EAST RETFORD. I am no reformer. I hold in utter abhorrence the whole race, from Hunt to Burdett, from John Gale Jones to John Cam Hobhouse, and from William Cobbett to Lord Radnor. I would not pull down a matchless and venerable edifice, to get rid of a few rotten rafters, or remove, here and there, a decayed stone. would not cast away a noble inheritance, because some of the entails have been altered. I would not destroy what is good, for the chance of substituting something that may be better, with the equal or greater

I

chance of its being worse. I know the precise character and extent of the disease with which I am afflicted, but I do not know what may follow from ignorant and presumptuous quackery in its attempts to cure it. I would say of the British constitution, -the constitution as it was on the 1st of January 1829, (denying no one dilapidation that time has wrought, and admitting every thing to be improvement which speculative politicians have honestly proposed,) that,

"Take it for all in all,

We ne'er shall look upon its like again."

I am therefore no reformer; understanding by that word a person who would do the things I would not. But there are things which even I would do. To follow out my first simile, though I would not pull down a matchless and venerable edifice, to get rid of a few rotten rafters, or remove, here and there, a decayed stone; yet, if a mouldering turret were struck by lightning, or a timeeaten wall were levelled by some sudden tempest, I would seize that opportunity of repairing the building with new and solid materials, in the style of the original design. I would not patch up the breach with the same stones and timber that had already given way. This is the exact illustration of East Retford. And by these timely and progressive repairs, I should hope to preserve the whole structure from falling about my ears; for gradually, every rotten part would be removed, and the entire fabric re-assume its pristine solidity.

There are persons, and I have no right to question their sincerity, who believe, that if practical effect be given to the principle of reform, in however slight a degree, all power of checking its onward course would be surrendered; that if partial change be once admitted, the whole mass of turbulent change must follow. As his Grace of Wellington would say, "I am not called upon to argue that point now." But surely it is not from the present Ministry we can endure to be told so. It is not from the men who have betrayed the constitution; it is not from the apostates who have abjured it;-it is not from my Lord Darlington's Irish Tories, who govern us by Whig principles,