POLITICAL PARTIES IN ENGLAND. It is only a few weeks since Lord John | Russell, in reply to Mr. Disraeli, very sensibly remarked that it was hard if, in the face of a European revolution, he was expected to provide not only an efficient government, but an efficient opposition also. His Lordship is likely soon to have the latter labor taken off his hands. The opposition is already organized in the press. If that portion of English society which is represented by a daily contemporary till lately eminent for Whig doctrine, finds any echoes in Parliament, the government will before long be confronted with an opposition as able, as active, as virulent as the famous" Consersative opposition" of 1836-41; and (we may add) infinitely more factious. The peculiar character of this phenomenon is fraught with especial instruction to the politicians who have hitherto chuckled over the decline of party government. Those sages have obstinately denounced government by party as a device for cheating the nation to the profit of a few great families; and their reward is now to see English public life retrograding to precisely the same ignominious position which it held towards the close of the last century. At the opening of the reign of George the Third, a great onslaught had been made on the system of party government. The result was that, in addition to the Rockingham Whigs and the Tories (who occupied respectively the positions of the present Ministerial party and the Protectionists,) the political arena was scoured by free corps of Bedfords, Grenvilles, Grenville-Temples, Shelburnes, all composed of politicians powerless in themselves, who reckoned on fetching a higher market price by adhering to the standard of some eminent man, than by joining either of the great political connections. This is exactly our present position. Parliament is split up into various inefficient sections of Peelites, Spoonerites, Smith O'Brienites, John O'Connellites, till we descend to the infinitesimal atom, the molécule politique, in the shape of the Anstey-Urquhartites. But it is with the Peelites that our present business lies, and this coterie bids fair to become a public nuisance. For it assumes the functions, and makes no pretence to the claims that alone justify the action, of an opposition. The recognized and daily task of its representative in the press is to discredit and criticise the Queen's responsible ministers; yet we are left without the least assurance that if it should We are attacked for assuming that the daily newspaper to which we have referred is the organ of this section of politicians. We are accused of violating professional courtesy, of unwarrantably lifting the visor of a political adversary, of rending from him unfairly his " armor of impersonality," and of a great many similar offences. We do not understand these charges. In the remarks which have given offence we limited ourselves strictly to public matters, to what our contemporary daily does his best to make notorious to all men, to what he that runs may read. We imputed no "base" motives, nor made allusion to any private or personal concerns. To our contemporary belongs the merit or the vulgarity of doing this, whatever it may be. We spoke simply of 66 a creed" of faith in certain public men which we now see daily put forth, and which we believe to be fraught with mischief to the public interests. We will now tell our contemporary why we think so. We are far from saying that the line of action we just now indicated-the legitimate province of a parliamentary opposition is in itself dangerous or objectionable. If a party condemns on principle the policy of an existing Government, it is not only its right, but its duty, in every way to hamper them till it clears the ground for the policy on which it thinks that the affairs of the nation ought to be conducted. Such, for example, was the conduct of the Conservative opposition from 1836 to 1841. We believe that opposition to have been unfair and spiteful. But we cannot plead that it exceeded its legitimate sphere of operations. It professed to dread the democratic spirit of Lord Melbourne's Government, and was ready to go many lengths to eject it from office. But the present opposition, represented by our contemporary, has no such justification. It does not affect any difference of opinion from the Ministerial Whigs. It is, if anything, more democratically inclined than they are. It professes no doctrine from which Lord John Russell would theoretically dissent, save that of exclusive devotion to Sir Robert Peel. Yet it is for this that a Liberal Government is pursued with unrelenting hostility, and we are to join in a chorus of triumph over the expulsion of party spirit by means of the substitution of naked faction. The Peelites are indeed so conscious of their 46 utter want of any decent pretext for this confederacy, that they are reduced to attempt its justification as a move in opposition to the engrossing family spirit and the alleged exclusiveness of the Whigs. To disseminate this idea, they are lavish in the use of such phrases as the Governing family," "the Great Whig houses," "the Revolution families," and the like. That this excuse should be adopted for a moment is only an example how securely the most unscrupulous libellers may rely on the short memory of the English people. The very first act of Lord John Russell's official career, was to break through the trammels of Whig hereditary connection by offering seats in his Cabinet to Lord Lincoln, Lord Dalhousie, and Mr. Sydney Herbert. Lord John Russell, in the true spirit of party government, considered that identity of feeling on political questions constituted, on the one hand, a claim to be admitted to official coöperation, and, on the other, an obligation to serve the country at the expense of private friendship and ties that were purely personal. The three gentlemen to whom he addressed himself, however, showed their superiority to the vulgar crime of party spirit, by factiously refusing their assistance to a statesman with whose views their own had become identical. They bound themselves instead to the personal fortunes of Sir Robert Peel. Lord Dalhousie has since then reconsidered his determination. But Lord Lincoln and Mr. Sydney Herbert have allowed their inaction to quicken into opposition; and, as far as the tone of their friends in the press can be supposed to indicate their own, are canvassing for public favor on the singularly shameless plea of the oligarchical exclusiveness of the Prime Minister, who seriously of fended his more radical supporters by his willingness to share his power with these Right Honorable malcontents. of the Reform movement, it is just possible that Sir Robert Peel might have succeeded in coaxing the Troy lords into granting, and the people into accepting, some emasculated modification of the Reform Bill. Unless the Whigs had steadily reminded the public of the perfidy with which the authors of the increased Maynooth grant of '45, and the Corn Law repealers of 46, had formerly roused the popular feeling against the allies of O'Connell and the imaginary foes of the Agricultural Interest, there is no improbability in supposing that Sir Robert Peel might have maintained himself for a year or two at the head of his "strong government," by the support of the extreme Liberals. The Whigs thwarted both these attempts, and they need not expect to be forgiven for it. This is literally the rationale of the attack now made on the "exclusive " politicians, with whom in '46 the Minor Peelites refused to coöperate. The struggle is now before the country, and (perhaps from the chances which Lord George Bentinck's death affords for a reconciliation of the Protectionists with their former chief) signs are not wanting that it will soon be transplanted from the press to the House of Com mons. We have no misgivings of the issue, relying on the good sense and grateful discrimination of our countrymen; nor do we believe that this wretched used-up cry of oligar chical ambition will weigh very seriously against the Government. We do not expect to see them cashiered, even if it be their infelicity that they, like their fathers and grandfathers before them, have stood through their whole lives at the head of our intellectual progress, and consistently maintained the historical liberties of England.—Examiner. THE WAR PRISONS ON DARTMOOR. By stern captivity; protracted 'till At eve the exile stretch'd him on his couch, And, while the tear stood trembling in his eye, How silent that proud pile where England held We need not seek far for an explanation of Within her victor-gripe the vanquish'd foe! the discipline which Sir Robert Peel thus enO, here full many a blooming cheek was blanch'd, forces on his friends. We can find it in the, here full many a gallant heart was quell'd briefest retrospect of his antecedents. His aim, like that of his predecessors, Pitt and Canning, has uniformly been to force himself into power by conciliating the passions, and affecting to share the prejudices, of the vulgar great. Like Pitt and Canning, he trusted to his own genius for being able, when once in office, to school those who placed him there into something like generosity and common sense. The Whig party, valuing the purity of our public life above the interested ambition of one man, have been the great obstacles to the successful issue of this scheme. But for the boldness with which, in 1831, the Whigs put themselves at the head Yet, a desperate race, and song, The jest obscene, the eager bet, the dice -Carrington's Dartmoor. Translated for the Daguerreotype. LIFE IN BOHEMIA. - A SCENE IN PRAGUE. BY GUSTAV KÜHNE. The Wyschehrad is the cradle of Prague. It was on a cold, stormy day that I ascended this acropolis of the old heathen dukes of Bohemia. The heavy clouds swept over the city in black masses, and the rough wind seemed at one moment to drive them together in wild confusion, and at another to scatter them asunder. Yet the envious rain would not descend upon the thirsty fields, and at intervals the sun could be discerned through a cloud of fleecy vapor. In such a storm, thought I, was born the destiny of Bohemia; her history has been just such a conflict between heaven and earth. The Wyschehrad was formerly a whole town. Now Austria has her barracks and military hospitals on the spot where Tschech built his castle, and where stood the temples. of the heathen gods. Of the fifteen churches which the Hussites burnt, one only has been rebuilt, for which Swantowid, the Sclavonic war-god, has become a Saint Vitus (Sanct Vit). There is something dreary and ominous in the aspect of the dark gray rocks which border the banks of the Moldau; you can almost persuade yourself that Tschernebog, the night-god of the heathens, the black god of destruction, still lurks among their clefts. Half way down the bank of stone are some massive ruins; they are the remains of the 'Bath of Libuscha." This citadel has, in times past, been the seat of love; there are love-songs of the Wyschehrad still extant, and the name of Libuscha is, in her own language, the Lovely." But, in this land of terrors, violence mingles even with the sweetest joys. Here Libuscha, when she grew tired of her lovers, hurled them through a trap-door into the dark stream that flows beneath. bath, the scene of love and gaiety, was also the place of execution for the lovers of this female Bluebeard. And this Bluebeard was the renowned "Mother of Prague," the proph-ed the termination of the hard contest. etess of Bohemia's greatness, who bears the name Vutes Libussa. She chose Przemysl to be the founder of her race; she selected him from the midst of the people, and called him from the plough to share her throne. He, with wise forethought,-his name signifies the "provident,"-built the castle on the rock; his wife founded the city of Prague, at the threshold of the mountain. Praha is Bohcmian for " threshold." It is pleasant to find that old legends are preserved in the mouths of the people, to hear a peasant-girl singing a song of the knight Horomir and his steed Schemich, or a ballad of which the Woiwode Bretislaw is the hero. But it is not well when a people has forgotten the real heroes of its history. In all Bohemia there is no song of Huss, no memorial of him, not a stone or a picture to recall him to the mind. And instead of occupying themselves with the life of that hero, the learned men write thick volumes to make the world believe that Faust and Gutenberg, the inventors of printing, were Bohemians. In the same manner they claim also Mozart, which, considering their love for him, is excusable. For Wlasta, "the imperious," whose praises have been sung by modern poets, it may be claimed, that she was the first "emancipated" woman mentioned in history. At the death of Libuscha, the maidens of Bohemia contended for the love of the widowed Przemysl, and Wlasta, who had been the favorite attendant of the deceased, boldly demanded his hand and heart. 66 The "provident" duke wisely rejected her offer, whereupon Wlasta, "the imperious," assembled the daughters of the country under her banner, and commenced the terrible war of the Bohemian maidens. They built a castle on the Moldau, exactly opposite to the Wyschehrad, and made devastating expeditions through the country. They put to death without mercy every adult male who fell into their hands, and cut off the thumbs of the boys, in order to incapacitate them from wielding the sword. They were not subdued until after a long and bloody war-a war of exterHermination between the sexes, which more resembled a fight between different races of wild beasts. The maidens' castle was taken after infinite trouble, and no joyous carousal celebratThe Bohemian men threw the "free maidens" out of the windows. This was the first occurrence of this action, which since that time has figured in almost every great epoch of Bohemian history. I slowly retraced my steps to the town, and was tempted to enter into one of the coffeehouses. In all parts of the Austrian dominions, coffee-house life is an important development of national character. If you travel hence to northern Germany, the change is very striking, and you miss the frankness and communicativeness which are here so universal. Dresden, for instance, as compared with Prague, appears to be a city of prudes and exclusives. Esthetical beings have their tea-drinking coteries; but it is only in southern Germany that all ranks mix together in convivial intercourse. A degree lower than the coffeehouses, as to refinement, and a degree higher as to poetry, are the beer-houses. No scandal, no calumnious anecdotes are heard; it is but seldom, and that only where newspaper writers congregate, that politics are discussed. Women, as well as men, frequent the beer-houses, and enjoy the cool draught from the deep cellar, with laughter and social conversation. I entered one of these houses, and found myself in the midst of a gay crowd of men, women, and children. Green fir-trees made the large hall appear like a living grove, and in the place of birds were heard the droning of the bag-pipes, or the sound of several voices singing to the accompaniment of fiddles. The boughs emit a balsamic odor, the juice of the hops is refreshing and strengthening, the music excites high hopes of joys to come in the young, and awakens sweet recollections of past pleasures in the old. When a national air is sung, the whole company join in, even the busy waiting-maid, in the midst of her dishes and bottles. "Yes, sir, yes," she an"Yes, sir, yes," she answers, with a friendly nod, and goes on singing Love on the Wyschehrad." Yes, sir, yes," and of 46 "In Libuscha's golden bower, In our fathers' lofty tower, Where the rocks rise high and steep, Where the stream flows dark and deep," "Yes, sir, yes, directly." "Love knows of joy and pleasure there, Knows of death and sad despair." deepest melancholy and the wildest indulgence in sensual pleasures. I contemplated the female figures by which I was surrounded. Is the beauty of the Bohemian women a German or a Bohemian beauty? Here we approach the great question of races. Those large dark eyes cannot be considered to be what we mean by the word Germanic. Might not those strong, thick-set figures, with that bold outline of the limbs, act the part of Amazons? Yonder maiden, with that scornful expression of countenance, and that ruddy glow upon her dark face, might she not be another Wlasta, and proclaim war against all men? Or might not the prophetic glance of Libuscha lurk behind the thick black eyebrows of yonder proud peasant-girl? The Bohemian men are all either very handsome or very ugly. Among the women there are two distinct races. One of these is of that stout, short make, which prevails in countries that possess a mixed Sclavonic and German population, such as Lusatia; these mostly have a peevish and dissatisfied expression, which, however, speedily gives place to one of great excitement and pleasure, when they engage in the dance, and their sluggish blood becomes heated. More rare, but of wonderful beauty, is the other race; of a tall, graceful, and almost majestic figure, with an oval face, and soft lustrous eyes; pride and strength, energy and daring, seem to be slumbering under the patient expression of their features. The old faith, virtue and courage of the people appear to have found a quiet asylum in the hearts of the women, and to be there waiting for a call to arise once more. Among the men these qualities have degenerated into vice and idleness. It is always among its women that a degenerate people preserves some few remains of its former greatness. In Bohemia each individual, as well as the people collectively, has lost all self-esteem, all faith and confidence in "Here, damsel; beer!" "Yes, sir, com- itself. The corruption of morals, which in ing." "Knows not love those rocky heights? Knows it not that deep, dark stream? Yet man must drink of love's delights, Or all too dull the world will seem!" Suddenly the vesper-bell pealed forth from the neighboring convent, like a warning of death in the midst of the joyous sounds. The men held their hats before their faces, the women murmured their prayers, made genuflections, and crossed themselves. Single groups remained motionless, as if they were enchanted, and those around the picture of the Virgin had fallen upon their knees. What a change from gaiety to gloom! almost as striking as it it is in the Pole, who oscillates between the Vienna and Prague is loosening all the bands of society, has its origin in the consciousness of crippled energies, which has rendered the men weak and powerless, unable to take a part in the great destiny of their age. It is only in the hearts of the women that there remains yet something of the strength of former times. There is the best possible evidence of the beauty of the sex in times past. The female figures in Titian's paintings are generally sup posed to be Venetian beauties. This is a mistake; it was among the women of Bohemia that he found the glory of womanly strength, majesty, and courage, which he has personified in a Judith. Titian passed five years at the court of Charles V., and it was from the women of Prague that he borrowed his ideas of female beauty. The guests were muttering their evening prayers, as I pursued these reflections, and I observed that several were stealthily watching me, because I continued to sit upright in my chair. In Catholic countries I never conceal that I am a heretic. In the churches, with the incense burning, and the music sounding through the aisles, and the beauty of old pictures dazzling my eyes, I am apt to forget myself, and to bend my knees. But in the tavern, with a can of beer before me, I like to show the people that I am a heretic. I like to argue with them, not in order to convince them of absurdity, and to prove the excellence of my own belief, but simply in order to explain to them, in spite of my own reason, the poetry of their faith, and to give some sense to their dull, unmeaning words. I think that if they will but engage in controversy, and begin to comprehend the poetical, symbolical import of their profession, they will soon learn to separate the chaff from the sound, wholesome grain. But in Catholic countries one finds either a timid reserve, which is only capable of the blindest idolatry, or else that frivolous indifferentism which has thrown off entirely the ties of religion. Among Catholic priests I have found the worst disciples of Voltaire, ridiculing the forms of religion, but imposing them as a yoke upon the people, because they do not believe in the efficacy of any other means for holding society together. In Protestantism they see nothing but a searching criticism, which would expose to the people the fallacy of what they teach. Opposite to me at the table sat a man with a strange countenance, who was anything but zealous in the performance of his devotions, and who seemed to observe with a malicious kind of pleasure that I took no part in the praying. He had an old, wrinkled, weatherbeaten face, with bristly hair, and deep-set, twinkling eyes. There was a kind of crafty delight in the look with which he continued to regard me; he seemed to rejoice in the presence of a heretic, and yet to despise him. As I examined him more minutely, I said to myself," If there were but a Teniers here;" the whole figure of the old man, with his filthy face, matted beard, and ragged smock-frock, was a genuine type of the Sclavonic character, a true national model for a picture in darkbrown dingy colors; at his feet was lying a huge mastiff, apparently asleep. He drank glass after glass, but remained quite sober, and as he continued to flx his eyes upon me, I began to fear that I had given offence by not observing the usual form of praying, and said in you stare a low voice, "Well, neighbor, why do thus; did you never see a heretic before?" The old man grinned at me, and said, thoughtfully, "A heretic! what is a heretic? 66 Yes, thought I, that is the great question; which of us is the heretic before God, you or I? "You must surely know," I replied, "what a heretic is; a man who drinks wine at the communion, and yet believes in God." The old man started up wildly; "who," he cried with a loud voice, who has drunk the wine in the cup?" He stood there like a lion ready to defend itself against an attack; the mastiff, believing his master in danger, had started up, and was growling at me, and the other guests looked on with surprise and curiosity. Fortunately, the music struck up in the adjoining room for the dance, and the scene came to an end amidst the tumult of laughing, singing, romping and waltzing, and the loud tones of fiddles and trombones. "I did not mean any offence," said I to the old man. I felt certain that I saw before me one of the sect of Utraquists, who receive the Lord's Supper in both kinds. He sat down, and I contined, "I had no thought of disturbing you; I am of the same faith as yourself." The old man uttered something which was, I suppose, Bohemian. "Are you a Protestant?" I asked, in a low voice—“ a Lutheran ?-a Calvinist?" He shook his head scornfully. "Are there yet Hussites among you?" I asked eagerly; "it is said that there is still in Bohemia even a secret sect of Adamites, so-called, Red Brethren, who instead of wine drink blood from the sacramental cup." "Who drinks?" cried the old man again; and the dark vein swelled once more upon his brown forehead. "Heretics drink of the cup," I answered, not knowing what to make of the man; "but heretics may be as good Christians as those who do not drink." 66 'If they drink because they are thirsty, they may do it if they please; but if they drink as heretics, God may punish them, as he will; but no man can help being thirsty." He emptied his tankard, and violently slammed down the lid. "I should not have thought," I observed, looking at him with surprise, "that you would entertain such harsh sentiments of heretics, and think that only Roman Catholics can be saved. I was mistaken in you." 66 "What of heretics and Roman Catholics ?" he muttered, peevishly; "it is all one." All one! I had indeed mistaken the man. Now I plainly discerned in his countenance the old sulky indolence which distinguishes |