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cessantly, only that the sop may be thrown to keep them quiet. On the other hand, a truly moderate politician will command respect from the most despotic monarch, and the most profligate minister: for they will see in him the real guardian of the laws and constitution; they will feel that his hostility cannot be incurred without danger, nor his friendship gained without deserving it.

Such then is spurious, and such is genuine moderation. But our meaning may, perhaps, be made clearer by an illustration. We shall select one from ancient times; both because it is apposite in itself, and because a modern instance might rouse party feelings without necessity or cause. Among the characters, which were distinguished amidst the last convulsive throes of the Roman Republic, our readers can hardly have forgotten the names of Atticus and Cato. We propose the former as an example of spurious, the latter of genuine, moderation.

Atticus is, perhaps, too favourable an instance. There is, at least, a light thrown around his memory by the friendship of Cicero, and the wealth and worldly prosperity which attended him. But he will suit us better on that account, as the choice will demonstrate, that we are not among those who judge merely from success.

Atticus was a man, who seems peculiarly to come under the malediction, which evinces so deep a knowledge of the human heart: "Cursed are you, when all men shall speak well of you." He was a man who contrived not only to retain his life and his possessions during a long and sanguinary civil war; but to keep on good terms with the very men, who had caused, and who were waging, it. He was a man, who could hold out one hand to Cæsar and the other to Pompey, at the moment when they were both tearing the bowels of their common country. He could treat Brutus as a friend, and receive Mark Antony with courtesy. He could enjoy his ease at his own villa, while Rome was bleeding at every pore; he could forget, or view without indignation, or compassion, or horror, the daily and hourly parricides which were committed around him; he could live in careless tranquillity and splendid affluence amid the woes, and troubles, and approaching servitude of the land

which gave him birth; without taking a single step either to extricate her from her miseries, or to perish in her ruins.

And this is the man who has been lauded and extolled, and held out as a model for imitation. This is the man who has been styled moderate. He might be an elegant scholar, a hospitable landlord, an agreeable companion; but, in his public character, he was utterly and altogether despicable. He was unworthy of freedom; his life, for many years, was one continued treason: and we had almost said that his name ought to have been inserted in every proscription which was issued.

How different was Cato! We have always considered him the finest character of all antiquity. He hated Cæsar; and he suspected Pompey: but, when the civil war broke out, he could not stand neuter and indifferent; he threw himself on that side which still possessed the remnant of lawful authority, and the shadow of free government. He disdained to be at ease when the republic was in danger: he could not be happy while she was overwhelmed with calamity. He followed the fortunes, not of Pompey, but of Rome. He mounted the vessel when there was no prospect save of tempest and wreck. Rome perished, and Cato could not survive. His career was troubled but glorious; and he taught the moral lesson by his end, that a patriot must not live longer than the liberty of his country.

Cato, then, is the example which we should choose, not only of godlike public spirit, but of true and exalted moderation. And where is the man in whom the spark of honourable feeling is not extinct, who would not prefer the perils and reverses, and death of Cato, to the wealth, and tranquillity, and infamy, of Atticus? For ourselves we can never read without a glow of admiration those passages of Lucan, in which, after describing in magnificent language, the character and achievements of Pompey and Cæsar, he makes us feel that Cato was infinitely superior to them both; when he exhibits him radiant in the sublimity of moral grandeur, and invests him with the halo of unfading glory, which must ever beam upon the brow of real and unambitious virtue.

To return. It is now evident, we trust, that genuine

political courage can never be repugnant to genuine political moderation. They are indeed necessary to each other. Moderation, without courage, would want activity and energy. Courage, without moderation, might rush headlong into unadvised and unseasonable attempts; and plunge a whole kingdom into commotion. Moderation, we need hardly add, can have nothing in common with that false and fatal courage which is the mere desperate hardihood of men alike bankrupt in fame, fortune, and hope; the men, who will put every thing to hazard, because they have nothing to lose. It can only be connected with the fortitude of those, who feel the sacrifices which they make ; who, believing and acknowledging that their country has the first and paramount claim, will surrender for its sake even their private friendships, and their early connexions, with the fortitude of patriots, and, if need be, with the constancy of martyrs.

But we must conclude. We have now stated what we understand by the four terms-political honesty-political consistency-political courage-and political moderation. We have mentioned the general and practical misconception of these terms: and we have only to add, that a real Constitutionalist will be honest without rashness-consistent without obstinacy-bold without intemperanceand moderate without lukewarmness.

or

We trust, that, although we avow ourselves to be Constitutionalists in principle, we shall not be accused, suspected, of the egregious presumption of professing that we are all which we have described. We have written rather what we could wish to be, than what we are. We have proposed a model to ourselves as well as to our readers. We have been at more pains, too, in delineating the character of a Constitutionalist, and representing in what spirit he will pursue his objects, from observing the manner, in which this term, as well as others, has been. abused and misapplied. Many men have assumed the title who are enemies to all established government; and, in some cases, by a strange perversion of language, the word Constitutionalist has been almost made synonymous with the term rebel. In general, however, it has been set in oppo

sition to two appellations which have a certain similarity in meaning, as well as sound, namely, "Loyalist" and "Royalist." Now, with regard to this country, at least, such an application of the term is either extremely mischievous, or extremely absurd. No principles can be constitutional, unless they are loyal at the same time; and as long as the office of Royalty remains a part of our constitution, who can pretend to be a Constitutionalist without supporting to his utmost the prerogatives, the respectability, and the dignity, of the Crown?

PRIVATE THEATRICALS.

To the President and other Members of the Council of T'en. GENTLEMEN,

Your Council, it appears to me, has done well in turning its attention to the influence of the stage. There are few questions, perhaps, in the solution of which all civilized nations are more interested; and, perhaps, not even one, which is more worthy the deliberation of men, who profess to engage in the useful and exalted pursuits of political and social philosophy. You will, I trust, proceed manfully in your task; and give a more particular application to your arguments by examining the present state of the acted drama in England and throughout Europe. This you must be aware, is an investigation of far more practical importance than any other which regards the theatre :-to this investigation the disputations, which you have already held, may be very fit and proper introductions-but I can esteem them as nothing more.

I have neither time nor inclination to trouble you with any remarks upon the general question. As an ardent admirer of the stage, I could hardly enter upon it with temper. For, although I could wish to believe otherwise, the conviction forces itself upon me, that the influence of the drama has been hitherto pernicious on the whole, to the peace and morals of society; and that our national theatres, as at present constituted, are little better than temples of licentiousness, from which the managers and

conductors take pains to keep away the decent and respectable part of the community by the encouragement which they afford to prostitutes and debauchees. But I must leave it to your Council to repress, or at least, denounce, the follies which disgrace, and the impurities which pollute, the scene; and to cleanse, if you can, the Augean stable of the saloon. It would be truly an Herculean labour.

It is my intention to pass over in entire silence the public spectacles of the metropolis; and simply offer a few observations in a more contracted sphere. Permit me therefore, Gentlemen, to direct your thoughts to one branch of the subject, which seems to have escaped your notice. I mean, the exhibitions of amateur performers, which ge nerally go by the name of "private theatricals.”

Private theatricals are of two kinds. In the first place, it is a foolish practice in many schools to get up a play before the holidays. You have yourselves remarked-and in my opinion with justice-upon the loss of time, and other probable evils, which are occasioned at Westminster by such a custom. You can hardly be ignorant, that something very similar is done in private academies; where it becomes infinitely more ridiculous and more mischievous. It is more ridiculous, because, in such a school as Westminster, and considering the trouble, which is taken about the business the chances are that the scenes of Terence will be tolerably well represented; whereas, in a "seminary for young gentlemen," the execution is generally as puerile and contemptible as the design itself is absurd -it is more mischievous, because a boy at Westminster is much less likely to be puffed up with extravagant notions of his histrionic powers; and, if he makes a fool of himself, will, in most cases, pay the penalty of his folly, in being heartily laughed at by his old comrades: but, in an academy, where the audience is almost wholly composed of the parents and friends of the "young gentlemen," applause and compliment and flattery are matters of course; a sound judgment is next to impossible, and a harsh judgment would be cruel. Thus the youthful candidate for histrionic fame may be filled with an egregious vanity, until he fancies himself a rising Roscius at the least: he may be infected