pay very high rents in Glasgow some from L.80 to L.100 a-year, or even more. Taking a medium, it may fairly be presumed that the average rent of these spirit-shops is L.25.

The profits earned by each spiritdealer at an average, may be taken at double the rent, or L.50 a-year. We are aware that many of the respectable dealers, who make thousands a-year in this great and flourishing line of business, will smile at the idea of the average being struck so low, but we wish to be within the mark. It may safely be asserted, that if the average profit of the spirit-dealer, divided between himself and the landlord, is L.75, the gross sales in wholesale and retail which must be effected to produce that profit, must be at least four times that amount, twentyfive per cent being about the average profit of that class of dealers. Thus it may safely be concluded, and in the most moderate estimate, that the calculation will stand thus, viz.Rent of 3000 spirit-dealers, L.25 each on an average, L.75,000 Net profits of 3000 spiritdealers, at L.50 each on an average,

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orderly and comfortable as their immediate superiors, and, like them, become fit to be entrusted with public duties and legislative powers. It is in vain to say the operatives have not money to ac◄ complish these ends. The money exists in ample quantity-all that is wanted is to alter its direction. The three thousand spirit-shops, and six hundred thousand pounds needlessly wasted every year by the working-classes on ardent spirits in Glasgow, furnish a black monument, alike decisive of the ample amount of means which they have at their disposal, and of the deplorable use which they at present make of them.

We have no wish-we never had a wish to cast a shade upon the character of the working-classes. We fully and gratefully acknowledge the great number of meritorious persons to be found among them. We admit that their labour is the great source both of national subsistence and wealth; and we do not believe that there exists in the world a class of labourers of more upright and virtuous habits, than those engaged in agricultural employments. If the working-classes even in manufacturing towns will confine themselves to their proper sphere, and direct the vast efforts of which they are capable, to the attainment of practical objects of real reform they will always find us the first to give them our support. Let them direct their exertions to the alleviation of the exhausting labours of the factories, by a ten hours' bill; let them unite with the worthiest of the community in labouring for the extension of an ecclesiastical Establishment-the real church of the poor; let them petition Government for the immediate duplication of the duty on spirits, and the removal of the taxes on soap, paper, and other articles which contribute to their comfort, innocent enjoyment, and recreation ; let them contribute a large portion of their earnings to saving banks, life insurances, and other objects of real and permanent benefit to themselves and their families; let them aim at eradicating from the New Poor-Law of England the harsh and unjust features by which it is stained, without seeking to return to the abuses of the old system, which were not less pernicious to themselves than to the classes who bore the assessment; and they will find not only ourselves, but the

whole Conservative party, anxiously devoted to their support. But when, instead of this, they surrender themselves to the guidance of mountebanks and demagogues; when they unite in fierce demands for political privileges which their habits prove that they are wholly unfit to be entrusted with, and indignantly demand the mastery of others when their conduct demonstrates they are not able to govern themselves; when they abandon their only real friends, the moral and religious portion of the community, and range themselves under the ban ners of their real enemies, the demagogues, who seek to screen themselves from insolvency by the aid of their passions; they necessarily unite the whole strength and property of the state, in a compact phalanx, against their efforts, and voluntarily destroy their own cause. They may be assured that they never will prevail against such an alliance-it was not by the conquest, but by the infatuation and weakness, of the middle classes, that the French Revolution was triumphant. They have probably by this time found, at all events they will soon find, that the middle classes of England are formed of very different stuff, and that they will neither fly their country, nor desert their property at the waving of the Chartist torch., By continuing in their present headlong course of iniquity, the Chartists may ruin themselves and their families; but they will neither

break down the Constitution of the - country, nor gain, by the aid of conflagration and plunder, one iota of additional power in its Government. A great reform is indeed wanted before they can be entrusted with any share in the administration of affairs; - but it is required not in the institutions of the State, but in their own hearts.

Lord John Russell has told us, in his late speech in Parliament, what is the main cause to which the present lamentable condition of the working

classes is to be ascribed.

"In certain portions of the country the condition of the manufacturing population was not only lamentable, but appalling, (hear, hear,)—and unhappily this population

existed in those districts without the usual concomitants of a densely peopled regionwithout sufficient means of instruction, without sufficient places of worship, without the presence of a sufficient number of

persons of property and influence, and without that subordination of rank usually existing in other conditions of society. The mass of the people there consisted of one great working-class, and of the few individuals by whom they were employed, and who had but little connexion with them of the sort calculated to produce that species of subordination which prevailed in other communities. In those districts of the country there were not sufficient schools or churches; there were not those means of religious and moral instruction which were required for knitting men together in society; hence, then, there was a material

difference in their constitution and condition from that which distinguished British society in other parts of the empire, and which even marked those parts of the country in past times."

fect which has resulted from Chartist Here, then, is at least one good efrebellion-one lasting instruction which has been obtained from the experiment of attempting to improve the people by intellectual education and political agitation, without any regard to their spiritual or moral improvement. The bubble of intellectual education has effects of political passion have recoiled now completely burst; the ruinous political excitement to lead the workingupon its authors. The tendency of classes into the most ruinous excesses, the utter inefficacy of secular education to check the progress of evil, is now loudly proclaimed both in the Lords and Commons by the leaders of the least one great gain effected by the liberal Administration. Here, then, is at progress of liberal measures. Truth is bought experience of error-the prinforced upon the country by the dearciples for which we, with the whole Conservative party, have all along strenuously contended, and which the Liberals every where resisted to the death, are now loudly proclaimed from the seats of the liberal Administration. Let us hope that the lessons taught by the flames of Birmingham will not be lost; that Government will act upon the principles which are now extorted from their mouths; and that, laying aside the selfish and perilous pursuit of political excitement, they will at length become sensible that the only secure. foundation for either national security or welfare, is to be found in the extension of the means of religious instruction to the great body of the people.

To the Conservatives also, recent events afford a lesson of no ordinary

importance. They may now see that the ancient safeguards of order are now no longer sufficient in the realm, and that with the altered state of society, and the passions consequent upon it which the Reform Bill has induced, more powerful securities for life and property have become indispensable. It is no doubt an interesting theme for the moralist or historian to contemplate the period when the interposition of a stipendiary force was not required for the suppression of riots in the realm of England-when the unpaid magistrate discharged the judicial functions-when the village constable was the only conservator of the peace, and the largest of our seditious assemblages melted away before the sight of the justice's wand. These beautiful features must be numbered with the things that have been. The vast extension of manufacturing establishments throughout the country-the infatuated neglect of our religious institutions by the Tories when in power-the obstinate resistance to all attempts at their enlargement by the Whigs, since they have been in office-the unbounded expectations which, for selfish purposes, the leaders of the Liberal party excited in the country during the progress of the Reform mania-the bitter disappointment of all these expectations since the new constitution came into operation-the atrocious wickedness of the leaders of the Chartist rebellion-and the wide-spread discontent arising from some of the harsh and unnecessary features of the New PoorLaw Bill, have now brought the country into such a state, that the old safeguards of order are utterly inadequate, and the general establishment of a stipendiary force has become indispensable for domestic safety. That such an establishment is the first step towards a more stringent and despotic frame of Government, may be perfectly true. But what then? Without it, life and property cannot be preserved.

It is of great consequence to the cause of truth and the enlightenment of the world in future times, to observe that this deplorable downward progress, which all men now see and lament, was distinctly foreseen and emphatically foretold at the outset of the Re

form mania in this country, not merely by the philosophic writers who had turned their attention to this subject in other states, but by the political journalists which, in the outset, opposed the general madness which prevailed in this country. We shall content ourselves with referring to three passages from different authors, illustrating this position in the most remarkable manner.

"The Legislature in France, which the middle classes had themselves appointed," said Thiers in 1825,

"became from the very first the ob.

ject of the dislike and jealousy of the lower; and the history of the Legislative Assembly is nothing more than the preparations for the revolt which overthrew the monarchy. This is the

natural progress of revolutionary troubles. Ambition, the love of power, first arises in the higher orders; they exert them. selves, and obtain a share of the supreme authority. But the same passion descends in society; it rapidly gains an inferior class, until at length the whole mass is in movement. Satisfied with what they have gained, all persons of intelligence strive to stop; but it is no longer in their power, they are incessantly pressed on by the crowd in their rear.

Those who thus

endeavour to arrest the movement, even if they are but little elevated above the lowest class, if they oppose its wishes, are called an aristocracy and incur its odium."** "It is the middling ranks," said Mr Alison in 1830,

"who organize the first resistance to Government, because it is their influence only which can withstand the shock of established power. They, accordingly, are at the head of the first revolutionary movement. But the passions which have been awakened, the hopes that have been excited, the disorder which has been produced in their struggle, lay the foundation of a new and more terrible convulsion against the rule which they have established. Every species of authority appears odious to men who

have tasted of the license and excitation of a revolution; the new government speedily becomes as unpopular as the one which has been overthrown; the ambition of the lower orders aims at establishing themselves in the situation in which a successful effort has placed the middling. A more terrible struggle awaits them, than that which they have just concluded,

* Thiers' French Revolution, II., 7.

with arbitrary power; a struggle with superior numbers, stronger passions, more unbridled ambition; with those whom moneyed fear has deprived of employment, revolutionary innovation filled with hope, inexorable necessity impelled to exertion. In this contest, the chances are against the duration of the new institution, unless the supporters can immediately command the aid of a numerous and disciplined body of men, proof alike to the intimidation of popular violence and the seduction of popular ambition."*

"The next Revolution,"

-vice, reckless ambition, daring selfishness, will rise from the lower orders of society; philosophic enthusiasm will instantly be annihilated by vulgar ambition. The property of the Church will be the first victim; the regenerators of society will declare that they take the public worship under the safeguard of the state, and they will perform their promises, by giving their ministers, as they did in France, L.40 a-year each.

"The national debt will be the next object of attack; the people will find it intolerable to pay the interest of burdens which they had no hand in imposing; the

said Blackwood's Magazine, in Febru- public creditors will be swept off, and the ary 1831,


"which Great Britain undergoes, if so deplorable an event ever shall occur, will not be long headed by the higher orders; it will not follow the guidance of the Lords and Commons-it will not be directed to the establishment of any civil immunities. Power, not freedom, will be its object; it will be directed against both Lords and Commons-it will aim at the destruction of all influence save that which emanates from the lower orders of society. will be a general insurrection of the lower orders against the higher; an effort of the populace to take the powers of sovereignty into their own hands, and divide among themselves all that is now enjoyed by their superiors. It will be followed by the consequences which attend. ed similar efforts in the neighbouring kingdom. It will, in the first instance, be loudly praised, and it will excite the most extravagant expectations; it will be headed by many good men, warm in their hopes of human felicity, ardent in their expectation of the regeneration of society. Speedily their ascendant will be at an end

industry of the people relieved by destroying the accumulation of a thousand years. The estates of the nobility will then become an eyesore to the purifiers of society; land will be viewed as the people's farm; the public miseries will be imputed to the extortions of these unjust stewards, and a division of the great properties will be the consequence. In the consternation occasioned by these violent changes, commercial industry will come to a standagricultural produce will be diminishedthe employment of capital will be withdrawn- famine, distress, and want of employment, will ensue the people will revolt against their seducers-more violent remedies will be proposed-stronger principles of democracy maintained. In the struggle of these desperate factions, blood will be profusely shed. Terror, that destroyer of all virtuous feeling, will rule triumphant. Another Danton, a second Robespierre, will arise; another Reign of Terror will expiate the sins of a new revolution, and military despotism close the scene.Ӡ

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THERE is no indication of the health and usefulness of any institution more certain, than the virulence with which it is attacked. In proportion to the good is the evil that is set against it. When it would live in and by its own strength, it must be strangled. Let it sleep, doze, and be bedridden, and it may be allowed to live unheeded. It has been the unceasing energy, the daily increasing usefulness, of the Church of England in Ireland, that determined the Papists to deal to it the "heavy blow." It is the present great and manifest advancement of Art in the Academy, and by means of the Academy, that causes the bitterness, envy, and active malevolence against it.

This ill-natured warfare is of the old sore, that still festers in the human heart. It is but as it was-" When they had commanded them to go aside out of the council, they conferred among themselves, saying, What shall we do to these men? for that indeed a notable miracle hath been done by them is manifest to all them that dwell in Jerusalem; and we cannot deny it. But that it spread no further among the people, let us straitly threaten them." Annihilate if we can; if we cannot do that, we will threaten and harass them year by year. Such are the honourable, the liberal proceedings adopted, and to be strenuously pursued, towards the Royal Academicians, who, perhaps more than any other set of men, for the proper prosecution of their studies, and consequently the general advancement of Art, require, and have a right to demand, from the public, an absence of all molestation.

The case of the Academy is simple enough. It was founded seventy years ago under the patronage of George III., who gave them apartments in his own palace, and for a time grants out of his privy purse. The members have been in undisturbed and undisputed possession of these apartments from the time of their foundation, until their location in the New Academy in Trafalgar Square. When, for the When, for the public advantage, Old Somerset House was pulled down, the King stipulated that his Academy should have rooms in the New Buildings; in accordance

with which stipulation, he, the King, delivered with his own hand the key of these apartments to the Academicians. Thus, if he had a right to give them apartments in the Old Somerset House, by the stipulation he had the same right to give them apartments in the New Buildings; and the Academy accepted them as a personal boon and gift from the King, whose property they were, as the first rooms were; and the title of the Academy is in nowise altered in the change-and this is admitted. If any thing, then, in this stage of the question can be disputed, it must be the original power in the King to grant, which circumstance at once transfers the dispute from the Academy to the Crown. They who received the keys from the Royal hands, cannot deliver them back into any other. Nor can they, without Royal permission, disclose to any other authority any of their concerns; for, according to the nature of their foundation, their concerns have become a part of the private Royal Establishment.

Accordingly the Academy, with the Royal permission, in 1834, made ample disclosures both as to their general management and of their funds; in 1835, they underwent a strict examination before the Committee on Arts and Manufactures, from which every information that the most curious public might require, was voluntarily and undisguisedly given. No candid mind can read the Report of that Committee, and remain dissatisfied with the pecuniary management of the Royal Academy. They had accumulated large funds, which they employed, not for their own benefit, by any distribution among themselves which they might have made, but for the advancement of Art. They have accordingly formed schools of painting, and distributed in charity £30,000. And that their charity at least did not begin and end at home, may be seen from the evidence of their secretary before the Committee of the House of Commons-" It is not true that the members of the Royal Academy devote a larger portion of the funds to the necessities of their own body than to those of art

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