162 The Rev. Mr Irving's Orations. not written many admirable booksbooks which belong to the classical literature of England-books which bear the impress of original and masterly genius-books which live, and which cannot die? This is the true question; and it being answered in the affirmative, as it must be by every man who knows anything whatever about our literature and our poetry-by every man who has ever had head enough and heart enough to understand a single page of such works as Thalaba, that exquisite etherial romance or the life of Nelson, that specimen of chaste and nervous biography-that gem of English patriotism-or the sublime poem of Roderick-in a word, by every man who knows anything at all about what Mr Southey has done-This being answered in the affirmative, and it being moreover remembered, that Mr Southey is not only one of the very first order of living scholars and authors in England-indisputably so-but that he is also," his enemies themselves being judges," a man who has through a life, not now a short one, discharged every social and moral duty of an English GENTLEMAN, with uniform and exemplary propriety-All this being kept in mind and it being also kept in mind, that Mr Edward Irving is a young, raw Scotch dominie, who probably never sat in the same parlour for five minutes with any man worthy of tying the latchets of Mr Southey's shoes-a person who has done nothing as yet, and who very probably never will do anything, that can entitle him to any place at all in the higher ranks of intellect-a vain green youth, drunk with the joy of a novel, and, in all likelihood, a very transitory notoriety -All these things, we say, being calmly had in mind, and this precious paragraph read over again, we really do not hesitate to say, that we cannot conceive of there being more than one opinion as to who is the most dauntlessly and despicably arrogant person now living in England. We confess that such [Aug. a measure of self-conceit and self-ignorance-such a total negation of diffidence and of delicacy, to say no more about the matter, inspires us with many doubts as to Mr Irving-doubts of rather a more serious nature than we are at present disposed to enlarge upon. gard to this base outrage upon the deSuch are our serious feelings in recorum of the pulpit, and the rights of genius and virtue. Nevertheless, taking a lower, and perhaps a more suitable view of this Mr Irving's case, and considering him merely as a young adventurer, who wants to make a noise, we certainly do not advise him to deliterary allusions and personalities. He sist from seasoning his discourses with may depend upon it, that the more personal his allusions are, the more alluring and delectable will they be found by "the more learned, imaginative, and accomplished classes;" and he is probably sufficiently aware already, that there is no vehicle in which they may be more safely and conveniently conveyed to such classes, than the Sermon-we beg pardon-the Oration. Why not review Don Juan in that form? We venture to promise a crowded auditory of both Whigs and Tories, matrons and maids, the day for which that Oration is announced. Let the clerk read the extracts, if Mr Irving feels fatigued. He really has had the merit of hitting upon one good new idea; and by all means let him make the most of it. And, by the way, since he has laid aside altogether the name of sermon, why keep up the farce of sticking texts from the Bible It would be well, we think, to try the to the beginning of his productions? effect of a neat little text from some popular work of the day." In the Book of Blackwood, in volume the cond, and there the first paragraph, page the you will find it written," &c. This would certainly produce a sensation among the more imaginative classes. column the se A VISIT TO SPAIN IN 1822 AND 1823.* THIS is a manly and intelligent account of the remarkable proceedings which drew the general eye on Madrid and the South of Spain during the latter part of 1822, and the commencement of 1823. The Journal occupies only seven months, but those were seven months of revolutionary and royalist agitation-perhaps the most stirring political period that had happened to Spain since the suppression of the Cortes by Charles the Fifth. The agitation of the Peninsular war bore the character of the time; it was warlike, a great swell and heave of popular indignation against a national enemy-a noble and vindicatory revolt of human nature against a fraudulent, insulting, and homicidal tyranny. The pressure of this supreme hatred and abhorrence crushed all the little local influences for the time;-a great combat was to be fought, from whose muster nothing could be spared for petty passions and individual objects; and in the vigour of this universal feeling, as in the confidence and leading of a sign from Heaven, Spain conquered. But the fall of Napoleon was to Spain what the ruin of Carthage was to Rome. In the loss of that salutary terror, it lost the great teacher of those virtues which are the food and spirit of national eminence, and, in their own good season, of solid, prosperous tranquillity. They thought their task was ended, when it was scarcely more than begun. The expulsion of the French should have been hailed, not as the signal of rest, but of labour unincumbered, free to choose its ground, and putting its hand to the plough with the nerve of recent success. A constitution, founded on the ancient forms of the country, with whatever of utility and civilized fitness there was to be found in the wisdom of modern times, ought to have been the first and the holiest work of the noblest minds of Spain. Whatever spoils of battle they might have borne to their temple of victory, this work of peace would have outshone them all. The most glorious record of their triumph would have been a charter, securing liberty to all ranks of the generous population of Spain. The return of Ferdinand extinguished the Cortes-a feeble, ignorant, and corrupt cabal, who degraded the name of patriots and of statesmen. The populace, disgusted with faction, huzzaed after the King's wheels, as he drove over the mutilated body of this charlatanism. No man in Spain was found public-spirited enough to demand freedom for the nation, or wise enough to propose a rational scheme of freedom. Thus the great chance was cast away. A prejudiced King on the one side, an unadvised people on the other-the throne without a heart, and the people without a head—all the elements were prepared that wreck nations. To minds looking on those things from that distance of place and feeling, which allows of the truest political view, Spain was on the verge of convulsion. The revolt of the troops decided the question, and those military legislators virtually made a cypher of the crown. But, once again, the apathy of the national character became the national safeguard. The army conquered the King, and then rested on its arms. A knot of city politicians, refugees, and mendicants, took up the game, when the men of the plume and the bayonet had fallen asleep beside the board. The terrors of a military struggle subsided into the squabbles of the gown; and Spain, by nature and habit the enemy of France and Republicanism, saw itself governed under the name of national freedom by the code of a Parisian Democracy. Our first curiosity is of course excited, like that of the writer, to see the forms of this strange legislation. "One of the first places to which I bent A visit to Spain, detailing the Transactions which occurred during a Residence in that Country in the Latter Part of 1822, and the first Four Months of 1823. With an Account of the Removal of the Court from Madrid to Seville; and General Notices of the Manners, Customs, Costume, and Music of the Country. By Michael J. Quin, Barrister at Law, and Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature. Hurst, Robinson, and Co. London; and A. Constable and Co. Edinburgh. 1823. my steps was the Hall of the Cortes. 1t is of an oval form, and has very much of a scenic appearance. The throne is at one extremity. It consists of a chair of state, supported by two bronze gilt lions; the back is composed of standards, made in the form of the Roman fasces. On the top is placed a Baronial helmet, adorned with a large ostrich feather, which droops over the seat. Above the chair is the inscription, "Fernando VII. Padre de la patria." On each side of the chair are Cary atides, the one representing South America, the other the Peninsula, which support a square canopy, &c. The throne is elevated upon a platform. One step below this there is another platform, on which stands an oblong table, for the President and six Secretaries of the Cortes. The Pre sident sits with his back to the throne, the Secretaries occupy the sides of the table. At the end opposite to the President stands a silver crucifix. A small silver bell is placed at his right hand, which he rings when he feels it necessary to call any of the members to order. Copies of the Evange lists, the Constitution, the Decrees of Cortes, and books of authority, are arranged upon the lower end of the table," &c. "There are twenty-two benches for the deputies, arranged in equal numbers at each side of the hall, cushioned and covered with purple velvet. The floor is carpetted, and mats are placed for the feet. A considerable segment of the oval is railed off for the bar, the floor of which is covered with green baize. In the centre are two marble pedestals, which support two large and beautiful bronze lions couched. Those grasp in their fore-claw, a thick gilt rod, which is removed when the King goes to Cortes, but on no other occasion. Below the bar are a lofty pair of folding doors, through which his Majesty, the royal family, and the officers of state enter. During the sittings, those gates are guarded on the inside by two sentinels, dressed in silk and gold-lace, hats and drooping feathers, in the style of the ancient Spanish costume. They hold gilt maces in their hands, and are relieved every hour; they look more like a pair of stage mutes than the officers of a senate. The hall is hung with six large lustres, whose tin sconces mar the elegance of the glass manufacture. Immediately before the throne are four bronze figures, sustaining sockets for wax-lights. There are also several side lustres; they are seldom used, as the Cortes rarely sit at night. "The decorations consist principally of a number of casts from statues, which are well executed. Two, representing Genius and Honour, stand at the sides of the throne, and four-the cardinal virtues are placed, two at each side, lower down. There are affixed to the wall several marble slabs, on which are written, in letters of gold, the names of Alvarez, D. Felix Acevedo, D. Luis Daois, D. Pedro Velardo, D. Juan Diez Porlier, D. Luis Lacy, and D. Mariano Alvarez, by their exertions for liberty. On the men who have distinguished themselves front of the lower gallery the third ar ticle of the Constitution is inscribed : "The sovereignty resides essentially in the nation, and therefore to it belongs exclusively the right of making its fundamental laws." the bar, nor into the space appropriated Spectators are not admitted below provided for in two large galleries, one to the Deputies; but they are amply extremity of the hall, opposite to the over the other, which are at the lower throne. On the right of the throne, half way between the floor and the ceiling, there is a tribune for the ambassadors, opposite to which is a similar recess for the use of the officers of the guard attendant on the Cortes. In the central part of the hall, nearly on a level with the floor, is a tribune for the ex-Deputies, into which the Deputies have the privilege of introducing their friends. A similar tribune, opposite to this, is occupied by the short-hand writers to the Cortes. It is the duty of those gentlemen to take down every word that is spoken, both in the public and the private meetings. it for granted, abandoned to the use of All this apparatus is now, we take the moths, and other Spanish devastators of cloth and velvet. But as Spain will have, in some way or other, a representative body, let the war turn as it may, this description holds good for the next meeting of the King and the Cortes. Those who have heard of the perpetual sittings of the British House that the Spaniards "have their moof Commons will be inclined to think ther's spirit in them still," and will be but lazy politicians to the last. "The Cortes begin their debates usually unless some very important subject occuat half-past eleven in the forenoon, and, pies them, they seldom sit beyond three their places, and generally without the aid o'clock. The Deputies rise and speak from of notes. There is a handsome rostrum on each side of the chair, but those are resort ed to only when a member has to submit a proposition to the Cortes, when any of the Secretaries has to make a communication, or when official documents are to be read. The Constitution provides, that ministers shall not have seats in the Cortes; but this body is authorised to demand the presence of any member of the cabinet, or of all the mein bers, as often as they think expedient. When a question is put to the vote, those who are for the affirmative stand up in their places; those against it remain sitting. During a division, strangers are not excluded. When the question is one of great importance, the names of the members voting are taken down." We now come to that which is less permanent than benches and curtains, and which, unlike them, will probably never share the revival of easy debates, and the presence of majesty ;-the reputations and offices of the Liberal ministry. The writer speaks like an impartialist; and his opportunities seem to have allowed him a sufficient knowledge of the men and things that turned the helm of Spain. In the rapid alternations of democracy, the chief point of address is to " catch the Cynthia of the minute." The lords of the ascendant this hour are below the horizon the next-some never to rise again. We have here the portraiture of the cabinet for November. "The ministry of Martinez de la Rosa having lost its moral influence in the country, in consequence of a general, though perhaps unjust suspicion, that they favour. ed the meeting of the Royal Guard on the 7th of July, 1822, a new ministry was formed, composed of men marked out for their determined zeal in support of the constitution. At the head of the new ministry is Evaristo San Miguel. He was chief of the staff in the army of the Isla, and per formed his duties in a blameless manner. After this, he became one of the principal members of the party of freemasons, to which he owes his elevation." This minister is described in rather unpromising colours, as irritable and impatient of censure; a proof that he would not answer for an English treasury bench; as partial in his distribution of patronage, and as unproductive of manly and original measures. One of the most curious traits of modern revolution is, its connexion with public journals. All the French demagogues were, in some mode or other, allied to the press, some of the chief were actually editors. Spain, in her remoteness, has learned this suspicious step to public honours, and a consider able number of her more active disturbers have dipped their pens in editorial ink, as a preparative for the dictatorship, and other absurdities of democracy. San Miguel, soldier as he was, found it expedient to advance to supremacy by the ordinary way of the Brissots and Marats. He was one of the editors of the journal called the Espectador immediately before his elevation to office; and unless the Duc d'Angouleme has prohibited him the exercise of his ingenuity, he is probably, at this moment, translating Berenger or Voltaire for the future hopes of Spain and freedom. Lopez Banos, a name unmusical to Sir Robert Wilson's ears, was the minister of war, a soldier, and rather suspected, from his tardy junction with the insurrection of the Isla. Gasco, the Minister of the Interior, an intelligent, manly personage. He was an advocate, and obscure. Revolution is tempting to men of this class and fortune. He is a Liberal, and yet considered as not quite liberal enough. This is probably since he has felt the comforts of place. In power every man is an aristocrat. Gasco is looked on as not " up to the age." Navarro, the Minister of Justice, is" the declared enemy of the usurpations" of the court of Rome. He is well versed in the canon law, and 66 more of a logician than a statesman ;" characters so seldom joined, that we feel no great surprise at the writer's deeming them nearly incompatible. The panegyric of the Finance Minister, Egea, is pronounced briefly, modern science of political economy as but conclusively. "He considers the a mere farce." Tell not this in the land of the Edinburgh Review. The Spaniard must be a man of sense. The ministry of Martinez de la Rosa and his party were aristocratical. They were called the Anilleros, the ring-wearers, like the ancient Equites, and numbered many of the higher noblesse. Among their lazy dreams of renovation, was a Chamber of Peers. But they were, on the 7th of July, turned out by men less asleep, and on their pillows rose the Communeros, the friends of the sovereignty of the people; a willing, yet somnolent copy of the Parisian party of the Sections. Ballasteros, Romera Alpuente, and other nameless patriots, were its leaders. The Freemasons, headed by Arguelles, Galiano, Isturiz, &c. were the original conspirators, and, by the help of the military, they were masters of the throne and the people for their day. This is all a curious counterpart of the French Revolution. The same selfishness, the same light and ready usurpation of hollow patriotism, the same division of the spoil; the picture is still more curious, from its qualified and Spanish hue. The canvass, that in France was painted with flame and blood, is pale and watery in Spain. Revolution in France was a volcano in full eruption; in Spain the volcano is cold; the whole preparation and conformation of ruin is before the eye, but it is overlaid with ashes. There are few more convincing instances of the folly of reasoning from similar causes to similar effects in politics. The men of the Convention plunged into the temptation at once, and rebelled in the spirit and malignity of Satan. Their later followers gave way, in the rashness of the human appetite for power, but they could not altogether divest themselves of human nature. Their overthrow of the throne was the most bloodless of all rebellions. Men have been slain in battle, but the scaffold has been scarcely trodden;-in the midst of a fierce and haughty conflict of new passions, the civil sword has been but half-drawn; and the constitution, mad and fruitless as it is, has been almost without the stain of Spanish gore. The suppression of the convents is touched on by the writer with good sense and feeling. After observing on the rashness of the measure, and its consequent unproductiveness, he alludes to one of those instances, which must not have been unfrequent in a lonely and pastoral country like Spain. "The convent of the Battuecas was situated in a wild, mountainous country, where the population is scattered in little hamlets. The people seem, from the simplicity and innocence of their manners, to belong to the primitive ages of the world. Few of them have ever gone beyond the precincts of their peculiar territory; their days pass away in pastoral occupations, and their evenings are usually closed by works of piety, intermingled occasionally with such enjoyments as they can derive from a rude knowledge of the tambour and the guitar. The convent was their principal source of religious information, of spiritual assistance, and of medicinal relief. It was occupied by fifteen monks, who, it was asserted, and the assertion was not contradicted, spent their whole time in religious exercises and works of practical virtue, never hesitating, at any hour of the night, to traverse the coldest mountains, to administer the consolation of their saposition to mingle in the civil war which cred functions. They never evinced a disafflicted the country; the ruggedness of the territory in which the convent was placed, was a security that it could never be fixed on as an asylum for arms and provisions of the factious. The locality of the establishment, the thousand recollections by which it was endeared to the simple around it, and its acknowledged utility in such a situation, were, however, pleaded in vain for its continuance. It was subjected to the rigid law of suppression. It was the first public calamity which the people of the Battuecas experienced. It was not doubted that they would, one and all, resent it, as a wanton act of hostility on the part of the government." In this excursive manner the writer passes through the principal points that make the charge against the democratic sovereigns of Spain. Violence against the weak, timidity and tardiness against the strong, a determination to overthrow things venerable and dear to the national feeling, a rash passion for useless novelty in legislation; their iaw caprice; their finance bankruptcy, and their war non-resistance, confusion, and perpetual retreat-the Spanish Jacobins shewed themselves incompetent to everything that the world had been taught to expect from the firmness and dignity of the native mind. The rebellious cup that had made France mad, had only made them drunk. Their revolt was a parody upon the French Revolution. The public reading of the celebrated notes of the allies gives room for some striking sketches of Spanish deliberation. "The government, having taken some days to consider the foreign dispatches, which had been communicated to it, and of the answers proper to be returned to them, resolved on laying the whole of the documents before the Cortes, in a solemn public sitting. This was not one of those points which necessarily required the cognizance of the Cortes; but the ministers believed they should be wanting to those sentiments which united them with the Congress, if they did not place the matter before them. Besides, the government of France had taken care to publish the in |