tributing to the revenue? Being a superfluous expense, it is reasonable to imagine that what was rescued from the gulf of the lottery would not generally be employed in purchasing the absolute necessaries of life; and if expended on any of what may be called its luxuries, it would find its way at once into the Exchequer whether consumed in the shape of tea, or sugar, or salt, or malt liquor, or wine, or spirits, a proportion scarcely, if at all, inferior to the gains of the lottery, would still come to the service of the public, by swelling the produce of the excise; and the only difference would be, that the increase would be less easily computed; could not be so exactly marked out in a financial table; while, according to the present system, there is a tangible item, which appears as the evidence of public inconsistency, and the produce of individual misery.

The same course of argument is equally applicable to the unwillingness, sometimes secret and sometimes avowed, to diminish the number of houses licensed for the sale of ale and spirits. They promote profligacy-Granted-but they pay largely to the revenue; therefore do not discontinue them, except in flagrant cases, where public opinion is too strong to be resisted. Lucri bonus est odor, even when it rises from the sinks of debauchery. O for the political courage which shall dare to do well! or for the political foresight which shall look far enough to see that the industry of a hundred thousand heads of families must contribute more to the strength and riches of a state than the paltry consumption of a hundred gin-shops, even if their articles were the only exciseable articles! We see not how any statesman, or any political economist, but we are sure no Christian, can doubt, that if all the incentives to vice and immorality which grow out of our financial arrangements were cut off, as far as human wisdom can discover them, or even as far as experience has indicated them, and all other taxes remained the same, the Exchequer would be richer at the end of five years, and the edifice of public prosperity incomparably more secure. As, according to the paradox of financial arithmetic, multiplication does not always multiply, so neither does prudent subtraction always diminish the revenue of the state.

These errors, however, are trifling; these inconsistencies are but as specks in the political horizon, compared with the mass of evil and of danger to which the work at the head of this article refers, compared with the neglect of the National Church, and with it the neglect of religion and morals, and of all that follow these, among that part of our population which is most exposed to temptation. London and its vicinity, together with most of the great manufacturing and commercial towns, present the monstrous spectacle of 15, 20, 30, 40, or even 70,000 individuals,

accumulated together in one nominal parish, committed to the spiritual charge of one clergyman, and summoned to one parish church, which, if they attended to that summons, is manifestly incapable of containing a tenth, twentieth, or even fortieth part of their number. The evils attendant upon such an arrangement of things are evident on the mere statement, even if they were not too fatally legible in the disposition of the multitudes thus thrown upon the waves of this tempestuous world, without chart or compass, without either star or pilot to direct their voyage. The evil is pointed out, the danger is felt, the consequences are seen, and yet this monstrous state of things is suffered; session after session, year after year elapses, and no one has the zeal or courage to propose their reformation: in war, money must be otherwise appropriated; we cannot attend to the out-works while the citadel is threatened: peace ensues; there is a want of funds; the revulsion of trade has deranged our finances: in other words, Providence has saved the citadel, and we trust the out-works also 'to Providence.

Here however is the mistake, as to the real seat of the danger. What is the true citadel of the state, but the MIND of the people? The agitators know this, and are, in their generation, wiser than their political opponents: they begin by poisoning the hearts of their creatures and adherents, by mixing up ridicule and pa rody and blasphemy with all things sacred and mysterious; and when this poison has been once imbibed, they know they can depend upon its forcible operation. Their instruments are ready to their hands. But the legislature, on the contrary, looks to the stream, and passes by the source; it lops the unsound branches, but applies no remedy to the root. If an insurrection breaks out in the East, down goes a special commission to Ely: if the Luddites appear in force in the heart of the kingdom, down goes a special commission to York: if the spirit still works, and works universally, suspend the Habeas Corpus: like the unpractised boxer, in the lively image of the Athenian orator, where the blow has been given, there the hands are found—èxiσé, éiσ à xeges*-but no one looks the antagonist in the face, or attempts to prevent instead of following the blow.

In our humble judgment, if it appears that a considerable part of the population show themselves so careless of the rights of property, and so indifferent to the value of human life, as to be ready, on the slightest temptation, to violate both: if it appears that moral and religious duties have no hold upon them, and that an awful regard of a future judgment has no longer any place in their considerations; then we have a plain indication that they are insuffi ciently instructed in these duties: and the case seems to point

* Vide Demosth. Phil. i.

out, that among the consequent inquiries into the state of the district, the size of the parishes should not be overlooked; that the accommodation for public worship, and the means of religious education, should be examined: and if found deficient, provided for. It is equally easy, and equally economical, to endow a church, as to keep up a body of cavalry; and active pastors might be found, if they were encouraged, no less readily than active police officers. What then is wanting? a conviction on the part of our political leaders, that RELIGION is the strongest and surest check to profligacy, murder, and rebellion: or, in the words of Mr. Yates," That it is the basis of National welfare; a fact which is approved by reason, and declared by experience:" a fact which is elaborately shown by Warburton, and unwillingly allowed by Bolingbroke; a fact which was alike understood by the politic Numa, and the philosophical Charondas; a fact, in short, which we conceive was never denied by any legislator; but which, like other truths, is believed, and neglected; maintained in theory, but in practice forgotten.

We cannot doubt that the disorders which we daily witness are mainly to be attributed to the failure of such superintendence as our ancestors expected and provided for from our ecclesiastical establishment;-and although we have little reason to hope that the feeble voice which we are able to raise will be listened to; yet we consider that it becomes all who possess, in any degree, the channels of public opinion, to throw their proportion of weight into a scale, so big with our most momentous interests. We shall, therefore, endeavour briefly to point out the dangers with which the common safety is threatened, if the present state of things is permitted to continue; and also to prove that the remedy is much less difficult and burthensome than be generally apprehended.

may

It is agreed on all sides that there is a great disorganization of the public mind, among the lower classes in general, but particularly in those manufacturing districts where the dense population most readily excites the fermentation, and soonest spreads it through the whole mass.

"It must be allowed, and ought to obtain the most serious and prompt attention of all the friends of due subordination, domestic peace, social order, and good government,-that this successful attack of the many upon the few,-of animal and numerical strength upon the restraints of mind and opinion,-and the consequent rapid and rapacious transfer of wealth and power from their ancient possessors to hands before unused to them, have made a deep impression upon lower classes of society in this country; and that the means and instruments of delusion have now greater facilities, and greater influence upon them, than at any former period. Every street of every city and

the

populous district, the metropolis more especially, is supplied with associated clubs and organized communities, or rather bands, of mechanics, manufacturers, labourers, and servants, in which all the doctrines of dissatisfaction and disaffection, and all the recent instances of successful violence, are commented upon and diffused, with a power and effect incredible to those who look not beyond the surface of social and political concerns." (Basis of National Welfare, p. 42, 43.)

"In a state of imperfect civilization, where manufactures and trade have made so little progress as to be principally confined to the supply of domestic clothing and food, the humble artizan possesses greater mental acuteness and physical power to exercise those various arts of life which are connected with his comfortable well-being, than the maker of the most complicated machine, or the most skilful weaver of cloth. The latter knows little that is useful, beyond the art to which his attention has been confined from his childhood; though he generally acquires, in addition to the great skill in his trade, a remarkable spirit of Independence, owing to the power which he feels of commanding high wages, when he chooses to exert himself. Thus it is, that the manufacturer becomes generally the most animated of our plebeian politicians, and devotes that time to the discussion of public measures which would be better spent in the domestic duties.- -But what an inferior character is this in many respects, to the labourer or mechanic of ruder countries and more simple ages of the world!— He not only tills his own piece of ground, and takes the produce to the neighbouring town, where his faculties are sharpened by collision with his neighbours, but he builds his own cottage, and makes a part of his implements and furniture. He has so many little cares and pursuits which require constant attention and ingenuity, that he acquires habits of prudence, forethought, and moderation.-Living in the country, he feels the necessity of not only supplying his variety of wants, but also of preparing to defend his little property;—and unable to indulge his social propensities with the same convenience, or to the same extent, as the artizan in the city, by a promiscuous and extensive acquaintance, he cultivates those affections of the heart which recommend him as a neighbour, and bind the ties of kindred more strongly. Whilst, therefore, his portion of general intelligence and mental capacity exceeds that of the artizan who is employed in the most refined branch of trade or manufacture, the domestic affections stand a chance of being more exercised and improved;-and if he has less to make him proud and independent, he has more of what will render him amiable, respectable, and happy.

"Before machinery and the division of labour are carried to great perfection, all the bad passions to which man is prone, are restrained by hard labour and low diet, which give him little time or opportunity for the indulgence of them, and subdue the body so much as to check the inclination to them. The introduction of machinery produces an excess of all luxuries as well as conveniences, if the workman continues to labour as hard as he did before; or if he labours less (as is generally the case) he has much spare time, which is commonly spent in those gratifications which his passions prompt him to. In either

case, indulgence, under different forms, produces a very bad effect on his mind; and the system leads directly to vice and misery." (Ashton Yates's Letter, p. 86-89.)

These evils, arising naturally out of the state of society in which we live, are united, unfortunately, with another, which grows out of the nature of our peculiar institutions. These places of crowded, and unruly, and ill-conditioned population, are exactly the places where the Established Church has no hold on the inhabitants. The people, therefore, are either entire strangers to the restraints and comforts of religion, or they only are acquainted with religion through the medium of dissent and schism. If they have no religion, the experience of all ages proves that they are such as revolutionary leaders would eagerly select, as "fit for treason, stratagems, and spoils;

"As fellows by the hand of nature mark'd,

Quoted and signed to do a deed of shame."

If, on the contrary, they have religion, they are personally but not politically better to the state; they are more virtuous men, but not always more loyal subjects; for in their very association with dissenting teachers, they enter into a sort of opposition to the state; and in the frequent jar of interests, proceeding from the collection of tithes and other dues, a very hurtful animosity is generated between their own private attachments, and things by law established. The little intercourse, moreover, which they necessarily retain with the Church is by no means calculated to soften these feelings, or remove their prejudices. The circumstances arising out of an overgrown population, which first excluded them from the pale, now operate to prevent their re-entrance. They come there, perhaps, to be married; the service is performed to several couple at the same time, and could not otherwise be performed at all:-if their sect does not interfere, they bring their children to baptism, and partake of this sacred rite in common with a dozen other families, while all private interest is merged in the generality and bustle of the ceremony;-they attend a funeral; the corpse is not taken into the church, and that impressive lesson which raises the thoughts of the most careless beyond mortality, and affords even a popular argument against those ideas of annihilation which are at the bottom of much of the wickedness that surrounds us, that powerful reasoning of the Apostle, is never heard; and the moral effect of a neighbour's or a friend's decease is spoiled and lost by the absence of all corresponding solemnity.

"On taking for a friend in London one Sunday's duty," says Mr. Yates, "I attended at the church at nine o'clock, on account of expected marriages; the service was once performed; then the full