opportunities for war and its rare occasions of offence. It conquers and annexes to the best of its ability in its own continent; and so far is it from holding Mr Bright's principle of non-interference with the affairs of others, that it presumptuously sports the Monro doctrine, by which all Powers but itself are forbidden to make any settlement in the New World! And the American "people," as is well known, not only back their republican rulers in all such courses, but on every occasion of slightest offence, or of difference with a foreign Power, cry out in most preposterous fashion for war. Or let Mr Bright look at home. It was only by the help of the aristocracy that Walpole was able to stand out at first against the popular clamour for war with Spain, the nobles were for peace, the people for war; and when the march of events at length beat Walpole, and war was reluctantly declared, the bells peeled from every steeple, and bonfires blazed in the streets, to express the popular exultation. The war with France, reluctantly engaged in by Mr Pitt, was energetically opposed by the great Whig families, the most powerful section of the aristocracy. And when Mr Bright inveighs against Lord Palmerston's policy in the Pacifico affair, has he forgotten that it was in the House of Lords that that bellicose policy was condemned, and that in the House of Commons it was expressly supported his war-loving Tories being on the side of peace, and his peaceful Liberals and Radicals backing up the bellicose Minister! Finally, to come down to the present day, was it not the working-classes and the House of Commons who were the most ardent advocates and supporters of the war with Russia? Nothing could exceed the reluctance of our rulers to engage in that war. They sought by every means in their power to keep out of it; whereas "the people" resolutely, and even fiercely, demanded that the Czar should not be allowed to trample under foot the law of nations. You were consenting parties to that war," said Mr Bright himself, scolding the working-classes in his Glasgow letter,-" your voice was in favour of

the war." Yet no sooner does he find it necessary to hold up an imaginary tableau before the men of Birmingham, than he ignores alike history and his own words, and exclaims how peaceful would be the policy of this country if the workingclasses had the supreme power in the State! To such nonsense does Mr Bright's crotchet carry him,-to such absurd drivel does his oratory descend.

If the working-classes are very lambs and Quakers in Mr Bright's opinion, the aristocracy, on the other hand, are in his eyes a cruel and iniquitous set of men, who have a selfish desire to keep the country constantly engaged in war. We have already shown that the facts are quite opposed to this hypothesis; but we can also show that self-interest must ever impel the aristocracy to a policy of peace. Does not history tell us that in almost all wars the aristocracy are the greatest losers,-losing the most lives, and bearing the chief burdens? In proportion to their numbers, war costs them far more lives than it costs any other class in the community. It has been so from the days of Cannæ and Pharsalia down to present times. The old patrician families of Rome were almost annihilated in the desperate wars which preceded and made possible the imperial despotism of the Cæsars. The wars of the Roses, and again the wars of the Commonwealth, had a similar effect upon the old nobility of England. The wars of the Crusades impoverished and decimated the general nobility of Europe. And as the nobles lost ground by these wars, the power of the commonalty was increased. Let Mr Bright turn to any historian he pleases, whether of our own or of other countries, and he will find that war has been the great destroyer of the old houses, and an important elevator of the power and influence of the people. Every war throws our great houses into mourning to a far greater degree than any other section of the nation; and every war elevates a number of commoners to the ranks of the aristocracy. The British aristocracy are not a class of idlers. The elder sons apply themselves to agriculture and

the management of the land, quite as thoroughly and ably as Messrs Bright and Cobden to manufactures; and we should think the manage ment of the land is quite as difficult a thing, and as important to the nation, as the superintendence of a flannel or cotton mill. The cadets join the army or navy,-preferring these services not certainly from any pecuniary motives, but because they are most congenial to the chivalrous spirit natural to all aristocracies. Mr Bright" does " political economy, as well as history, for himself; but if he would turn to M'Culloch and other authorities in this science, he would find that the chief characteristic of the military service is the small pay attached to it, compared to the dangers and hardships of that profession. Were our aristocracy drones, they would stay at home, and simply seek to live comfortably upon their money. But, far from doing so, they are to be found in every regiment and in every campaign, bearing every hardship and confronting every danger with the high spirit of their race. "There goes ten thousand a-year!" was the remark overheard in the Peninsula as a young ensign, in one of the Duke's rapid marches, appeared dragging himself painfully along by the side of his wearied regiment. The eulogium of the old French general to his regiment of Scottish gentry at Roussillon "Le gentilhomme est toujours gentilhomme, et se montre tel dans besoin et dans le danger"-is as true now as at any period of our history. On the bleak plateau of Sebastopol, or in the dripping perilous trenches of that twelvemonth's leaguer, as now under the torrid sun of India, the gentry of England have been ever foremost in the fray, most patient under suffering, and have fallen most thickly in the red harvests of death. And what do they seek to gain by this strange sacrifice of ease and life? Is it the ensign's £96 a-year that attracts our gentry-those "greedy, selfish aristocrats " of friend Bright's vocabulary? Is it the captain's meagre half-pay, after twenty years' of service, for which they toil as soldiers? No, truly. It is the high spirit of their race that impels

them to the service; and if they look for reward at all, it is in the voice of fame, and in the thanks of their country. Despite Mr Bright, they will not look for it in vain. The nation, he says, lives in the cottage; but there is not a cottage in the land that does not now echo the acclaim that "the great houses have borne them well in the fight."

The impulsiveness and imprevoyance of the lower classes make them as prone to rush recklessly into war, as the wider vision and habitual self-control of the upper classes tend in the other direction. But the different manner in which war-taxation affects the upper and lower classes is of itself a strong reason for the former being generally (as we find them to be) on the side of peace, and the latter on the side of war. Who but the upper classes bear the chief burdens of war? Who but they have that reserve wealth, from which all taxation is chiefly drawn, and upon which in extraordinary emergencies taxation falls exclusively? Even in time of peace (if we except the self-imposed taxes on tobacco and strong drinks), the working classes contribute a very small proportion of the national burdens; and in war the extra revenue is raised chiefly by the Income-tax, from which the lower classes are specially and entirely exempt. War, in fact, is a time when large sums are drawn from the upper classes, and spent among the lower. Where did the eighty millions sterling spent in the late war go to? Only a small portion of it was spent abroad in the vicinity of the seat of war; ninetenths of it were spent among ourselves. The shipping-trade and shipbuilders prospered amazingly; so did the iron-trade in all its branches, from the pits and furnaces of Wales and Scotland, to the cutlers and gunmakers of Sheffield and Birmingham, and the cannon-founders in our arsenals, so did the woollen-factories of Manchester, Leeds, Galashiels, and even Hawick, not forgetting the coal-trade and colliers, who found a new market opened to them for the supply of the large steam-marine required in the work of war and transport. In fact, labour itself of

all kinds rose in value all over the country. And wages ever must so rise in times of war, when so many extra millions of money are spent by Government amongst the industrial classes, and when the labour market is thinned by the extra drafts of men for the army and navy. Mr Bright, we believe, has a woollenfactory if he fared like his neighbours, he must have made a pretty good thing of it during the war, getting back in profits much more than he paid in extra taxes; and if he acted like his neighbours (as we doubt not he did), the workers in his employ would likewise profit by the high wages of the time. On all these accounts, it becomes him to revise his theories on this subject before he again comes before the public with the parade of an in

structor.

At no time in the world's history could Mr Bright's theory as to the essentially pacific temper of the masses have been so entirely out of place as at present. "War is a game which, were the people wise, kings would not play at," said the poet of old. The people, says the poet, were not wise in those days: no one doubts that they are much wiser now,-yet the only difference in their conduct in this respect is, that they now take war as a game which they desire to play at themselves. War-making nowadays is more in vogue with the people than with their rulers. The kings and governments of Europe at present desire peace above all things. With Napoleon III. as peace-maker general (though his conduct in the Charles-et-George affair has somewhat detracted from his honours in this respect) the various powers are as diligent as may be in cultivating a good understanding with one another. In truth, despite Mr Bright's theories, it is not from kings at all that the impulse to war is nowadays to be apprehended, but from the "people." The next war that comes is to be looked for not from the rulers, but from the ruled. The fires of disunion and revolt are smouldering all throughout Turkey, and at no distant date that wide empire threatens to fly to pieces like an exploding bombshell. The peace of France

trembles on the life-thread of one man. Popular discontent and warlike aspirations seem to grow rifer in Italy. At Venice lately, when Ristori as Judith declaimed the words, "Tell your children that every war is sacred which is waged in defence of your native land," the whole theatre, under the very eyes of the Austrian authorities, rose in tumultuous applause. The spark once struck, there are other countries which will catch fire; and the result of these revolutionary risings can hardly fail to be a war of appalling magnitude. It is surely symptomatic of monomania that Mr Bright should think the best way to keep this country clear of such "European complications" is to give the workingclasses a predominant power in the State! On the other hand, Mr Bright's friend, Mr Dunlop, M.P., sees the absurdity of this, but makes a similar demand for an extensive franchise for the purpose of compelling our Government to abandon its system of non-intervention, and to adopt one of active support to the "nationalities." He says we should have helped Hungary against Russia and Austria, Rome against France, &c.; and adds, "There is no result of the extension of the franchise in which I should more heartily rejoice than this, that it would force our Government into a different course of policy than any party of our statesmen have hitherto pursued, ... taking up its ground as the steady supporter of liberty in every part of Europe, that all freemen may rely on us to give them moral weight and confidence, and, if circumstances favoured, material help." There is no doubt that Mr Dunlop is right, and Mr Bright entirely wrong, in his interpretation of the popular sympathies, and of the effects which would follow a great lowering of the franchise; but we opine that the change which the member for Greenock desires to produce in our foreign policy, is quite as far wrong on the one side as Mr Bright's is on the other. We thank God there is throughout our people a keen patriotism and ardent hatred of despotism and oppression everywhere: but it is a force to be hus

banded, not wasted. A steam-engine will do little if its steam is constantly blowing off. And it is only when guided by calm statesmanship, and when controlled by the due fear of war-taxes on the part of the upper and middle classes, that the generous but unreflecting war-passions of the masses can be kept within due bounds, and directed to the most useful results.

Although all is quiet on the surface at present, there are trying times coming for this country, and we will need wary and resolute pilots at the helm of affairs. Nothing happens by mistake; and since the last war closed, it has often seemed to us that, among other purposes of Providence, that war was sent to awake this country betimes from the long sleep and false dream of peace and security into which it had so complacently sunk. That war was brief, like a prelude, yet so sharp and severe as to warn us of the tremendous military power and ability of the Continental States. It came, as it seems to us, to arouse our nation to the increasingly momentous aspect of foreign politics, and to the obvious deficiency in our own means of defence, in order that, when a still greater war comes upon Europe, our cradle-isle of freedom may be bulwarked for the contest, and not in that state of woeful lethargy and helplessness in which the outbreak of the Crimean war found us. It will not do to say that, as almost every war has found us unprepared at the outset, and yet we generally did well in the end, therefore we may safely allow the same thing to happen again. Every year the engines of war grow more powerful, and the means of concentration and attack more rapid and effective; so that the tardiness which was but costly and damaging to our prestige in former times, may now prove all but fatal. There is no undue war-spirit in our Government or our aristocracy compared with the other classes of the nation, it is entirely the other way. And if Mr Bright be really desirous of inculcating his doctrines, let him go amongst the Continental Powers, and preach disarmament to them. If we are to

be safe without an army at home, and have no more Crimean wars, we must witness a great change in the condition of the Continent. Look at the map of Europe. There is Russia-a wide sea of soldiers, ever encroaching on her neighbours both in Europe and Asia. There are Austria and Prussia, both essentially military powers,-the one a military despotism by necessity of her internal condition-the other, military in self-defence. And close to our own shores is France-an empire of the sword, backed by Mr Bright's favourite system of universal suffrage. In the face of these things, and in the face of a future which by no means looks peaceful, it becomes Great Britain to be most circumspect in her policy, and to look well to her defences. Taken in connection with the signs of the times, the warnings in Montalembert's recent work are not to be disregarded. Whether or not he is right in his estimate of our means of defence, he at least expresses the views and sentiments entertained of this country by Continental statesmen. And of these views we submit the following, for the consideration, not only of Mr Bright, but also of those who think very differently from him on the subject of the national defences:—

"England's danger is not from within. It is from without that she is menaced by the real perils to which she may succumb, and with respect to which she entertains an unfortunate delusion. At the close of the first Empire, Europe, with the exception of France, cherished an intimate accord with England, penetrated, moreover, as it then was, with the recent victories of the armies of the longer so to-day. The English army has latter in Spain and Belgium. It is no indubitably lost its prestige. Again, the gradual progress of liberal ideas in England, and the retrograde march of the great Continental States for some years back in the direction of absolute power, have marshalled the two political systems on two roads altogether different, but running parallel to each other, and sufficiently near to admit of a conflict taking place from day to day. There minds of many, a moral repulsion, which exists, besides, against England, in the of itself alone constitutes a serious danger.

"The horror and spite with which the spectacle of her enduring and prosperous

liberty fills servile souls, have created in Europe a common ground of animosity against her. It will be easy for any one who may wish to turn to good account this animosity, and to profit by it for the purpose of engaging England in some conflict, out of which she runs a great risk of issuing either vanquished or diminished. It is then that the masses, wounded in their national pride by unforeseen reverses, may raise a storm of which nothing in her history up to this can give an idea. To prevent this catastrophe, it concerns her not to blind herself any longer as to the nature and extent of her resources. Her military strength, and, above all, the acquirements in mili tary science of her generals and officers, are evidently unequal to her mission. Her naval strength may be, if not surpassed, at least equalled, as it once was by our own under Louis XIV. and Louis XVI., as it will again, if our honour and our interest should require it. She confides too much in the glory of her past, in the natural courage of her sons. Inasmuch as she is essentially warlike, she considers herself, wrongly, on a level with modern progress in the art of war, and in a position to resist superiority in numbers, in discipline, and in camp experience. Because in 1848 the bravest and best-disciplined armies did not save the great Continental monarchies from a sudden and shameful fall before an internal enemy, she chooses to doubt that a good and numerous army constitutes the first condition of safety against an enemy from without. For the very reason that she is free, she believes, and wrongly, that she has nothing to fear from the enemies of liberty. No! her institutions are not an impregnable bulwark, as Mr Roebuck unreflectingly termed them on his return from Cherbourg. Alas! all experience of ancient and modern times proves that free nations may succumb, like others, and even more rapidly than others. Liberty is the most precious of treasures, but, like every other treasure, it excites the envy, the covetousness, the hatred of those men, especially, who do not wish that others should possess an advantage which they themselves have neither known how nor wished to possess. Like every other treasure beauty, truth, virtue itself-liberty requires to be watched over and defended with a tender solicitude and an indefa

tigable vigilance. All the inventions of which modern science is so proud, are as useful to despotism as to liberty, and even more so. Electricity and steam will ever lend more force to strong bat

talions than to good reasons. By substituting mechanical contrivances for man's individual energy, these powers invite and second the establishment of the empire of might over right. This is what the friends of England and of liberty ought never to lose sight of."

Mr Bright in his dreams regards steam and electricity as powers whose only mission is to drive factory-mills and transmit with lightning speed the price of cotton and suchlike. But his friend and colleague in "Reform," Mr Roebuck, thinks very differently. He has seen Cherbourg, his long-shut eyes havebeen suddenly opened, and he has declared that the first duty of our Government, in the present aspect of affairs, is to see that our Isles are made secure against attack. It will be a curious sight, accordingly, in the next session, to see Bright and "Tear-em" trying to run in couples.

We are now done with Mr Bright and his many delusions for the present. With all respect for his general integrity, we cannot conceive that he was perfectly honest in his Birmingham orations, otherwise monomania itself would be required to account for all his absurdities. It seems to us that in his frenzied desire to get up an agitation for revolutionary reform, despite the general content that pervades the nation, he had recourse to his fervid oratory to conjure up a series of imaginary tableaux, which he held up to the sturdy gunmakers as the world in which they lived, in order that he might thereafter call upon them to arise and overturn the present order of things. In executing this oratorical legerdemain, he had to perpetrate a hundred inconsistencies, but he never flinched. What are we to think of a man who denounces our aristocracy as the promoters of a war-policy, yet quotes as on his side Fox, Walpole, Grey, and Aberdeen (four of the most aristocratic statesmen of the last hundred years, and each of whom was strongly supported by the great houses), leaving the great commoners, Cromwell and the two Pitts, to be quoted against him? What are we to think of a man who says that forty thousand officers and soldiers per