might create and sanction, was of overwhelming magnitude, should have no more voice or influence in the matter than petty villages, the riches and intellect of which were divided between the squire and the parson. This, feeling had been long growing in the minds of the people. The selfish, and in some degree cold and lifeless movements of the great Whig party, at and after the Revolution of 1688, had never been able to extinguish it. It had gone on increasing as the great towns increased, amidst the jacobite struggles and conspiracies of the time of the two first Georges, and the terrible crisis which followed upon the first French Revolution. The outbreak of that wondrous movement was a great source of rejoicing for the reform party in England. They considered, and naturally enough, that their own triumph was close at hand, that the utter abasement and overthrow of territorial influences in France could not but weaken the hopes and dismay the hearts of the Tory party in their own country. But they were disappointed. The frightful excesses of the French democrats, the utter disregard, not only of the claims of property, but of those of humanity and religion, and their attempts at propagandism, produced an instant reaction amongst the timid and lukewarm, in short, amongst all those who advocate great principles, not because of their truth or intrinsic value, but because they give occupation to their minds without endangering their worldly interests.

The outcry against reform amongst men of all classes now became, strange to say, as strong as the desire the other way had before been great. The very mob forgot the politics which are generally supposed to appertain to its condition, and joined in the cry of "Church and King," raised by the Tories and reactionaries. Dr. Priestley, a man to whom the scientific world owes an overwhelming debt of gratitude, was suspected, and with truth, of sympathising with the principles which prompted the French people to overthrow the ancient regime; his retired life amongst his books and apparatus, his unassuming manners and devotion to scientific research, did not save him from having his house sacked, and his furniture, books, and papers destroyed, by an infuriated mob. These outrages were followed up by proceedings on the part of government, which, though legal, were no less wanting in justice. Horne Tooke, Hardy, and others, whose only crime was the honest and manly expression of opinions in favour of reform in the representative system, were put on their trial, and prosecuted with terrible rigour. But even in those evil days, when the public mind was in a panic, the love of justice and fair-play, which seems inherent in the English character, had not wholly died out. No jury could be got to find these men guilty, and after a lengthened trial they were acquitted. But the measure was not wanting in effect. Long and vexatious imprisonment, the anxiety attendant on a charge which affected the lives of the traversers, and the ruinous expense, damped the ardour of the reformers, and caused lukewarm adherents to their principles to fall off entirely; and in the tremendous contest with France which followed, nothing was thought of save the humiliation of the foe. It was folly to think of putting the internal affairs of the state in order, when its very existence was threatened from abroad; 1815 brought peace, and with it came renewed agitation. The terrible pitch to which the excitement rose in 1830 is still present to the minds of most of those to whom the shifting panorama of the political world presents any interest; the monster meetings in various parts of the country; the Birmingham men, one hundred thousand strong, singing a hymn of liberty, and swearing before heaven, in an open field near the town, not to abandon the struggle until their rights were secured; the fierce struggles in the House of Commons; the obstinate opposition in the House of Lords; the king's threats to swamp them by a new creation of peers; and the final triumph of the liberal party-all these have now become matters of history.

1cchange which the Reform bill has introduced into the com 'sition of the House of Commons has now not turned out nearly so satisfactory as might be expected. The demo

cratic element has not become nearly so large as its friends expected. The large towns were enfranchised, but not to the extent that their wealth and population demanded, and throughout the counties, and in most of the smaller boroughs, the aristocracy were always able to secure the return of members of their own body through the influence they possessed over the tradesmen, who were mostly dependent on their custom and patronage, and the farmers, who held their land at their mercy. This state of things has had a powerful influence in the discussion of all questions involving an extension of popular privileges, or the acknowledgment of popular rights.

A new agitation, headed by the free-trade leaders, has therefore been springing up within the last few years, and had been so successful that Lord John Russell, when in power, although he had pronounced the first Reform Bill a "final measure," introduced a bill into the House of Commons, making some very important alterations in the distribution of the franchise. The overthrow of his cabinet in the spring of last year, of course crushed the measure in the bud, and left the Reform party to struggle on a little longer. How much longer it may last we know not, but this we know, that until the representation is placed upon a broad and comprehensive basis, there will be no real progress in England,-none that will elevate the condition of the working classes, and silence the clamours of discontent.

The House of Commons has its own history, its episodes of glory and shame, of sublime self-sacrifice and of hateful corruption. Many, very many, of the men who in modern times have filled the world with their name and works, have played their parts in feverish anxiety on its benches, and many a great thought has here borne fruit in the diffusion of happiness and the practical embodiment of great truths. With all its faults and follies, sins of omission and commission, there is much in it to be loved and admired. The present building, as, doubtless, most of our readers are aware, is a new crection, which was completed only last year; the old Houses of Pazliament having been burnt down in 1837. The new structure has cost at least two million and a half of English money, or ten million dollars.

We cannot conclude this sketch of the House of Commons without special reference to the Reporters' Gallery. Burke said there were three estates in Parliament, but in the Reporters' Gallery there sits a fourth estate, fully as important as any one of them. Thanks to reporters, the legislators no longer discuss in privacy great public questions, and the nation is not kept in total ignorance of what its lawmakers are about.

Time was, nor is the period remote, when the views and the purposes of the English legislators would not have been known except to a narrow section of the community. Yet how different is it now! Each morning the English as fully expect to have a complete record of the debates in the houses of parliament as they reckon upon finding their table spread with the morning meal; and some will, perhaps, enjoy the intellectual more even than the material repast. Running over many columns, perhaps several pages, of the broad sheet of the paper, is a full and correct account of all that transpired within the walls of St. Stephen's which is worth preservation; and many a member and a "stranger," who have been present in the evening, will gladly take up the written record, in order to obtain a clearer and more connected view of what transpired; while for those whose time is limited, a carefully digested 66 summary is provided. And how, we hear it inquired, is this effecte How is it that for the sum of fivepence so complete a record is afforded one of the position of things throughout the nation and the world, and that such an ample resumé is preserved of the proceedings of parliament? How is it that when a speech is, perhaps, not concluded till some time after the midnight hour has struck, it is lying upon the breakfast table of the manufacturer at Manchester the next morning? To a reply these questions we have now to invite the attention of the reader, and it will, we believe, be found that in expatiating

over this theme there are many incidents at once interesting and instructive to which reference is made.

The practice of parliamentary reporting is one that has so worked itself into the social system that it seems a necessity of life, and the imagination has to stretch its powers to enable it to realise the condition of things which would exist without it. Yet the period is not so very distant at which the current proceedings of the House of Commons were no more known o their constituents than are now the discussions in a cabinet council. Although accounts of single speeches, and even of entire debates, had been occasionally printed from a much earlier period, the only regular record of parliamentary proceedings which was given to the public, up to within about a century of the present time, was that contained in the "Historical Register," and another annual publication. Parliament sternly asserted its right to prohibit all promulgation of its doings through the press, at least while it was sitting; and many persons maintained that it had the power to prevent any publication of its debates even during the recess.

The

The first attempt at a monthly publication of the debates was made in an extraordinary number of the "Gentleman's Magazine" for August, 1735, which contained a report of the debate in the Lords' on the 23rd of January preceding. practice was continued in succeeding numbers. There was, however, no publication of the debates during the sitting of the houses; the session was always ended before anything which was done in the course of it was given in the magazine. Even while following at this distance, the reports were of the most timid and cautious description. The names of the speakers were indicated by the first and last letters, and in many cases no name was mentioned; all that appeared being a summary of the argument and discussion.

As time passed on, more of boldness characterised the proceedings of the reporters, and the names were printed at full length. This brought about official inquiry, and the Speaker and some members brought the matter before the attention of the House of Commons. Sir Thomas Winnington demanded the intervention of Parliament to stop such audacity. "What will be the consequence," he asked, "if you allow these reports to go on unchecked? Why, Sir, you will have every word spoken here by gentlemen misrepresented by fellows who thrust themselves into our gallery. You will have the speeches of this house every day printed, even during your session; and we shall be looked upon as the most contemptible assembly on the face of the earth!"

Not long afterwards, Samuel Johnson came to London, and was engaged by Cave to write the debates for his magazine, and the reports, from the end of 1740 to February 1743, are considered to have been entirely prepared by him. The plan adopted seems to have been for Guthrie, who had a good memory, to bring home as much as he could recollect of the debate, mending his draft by whatever other assistance he could obtain; after this, Johnson touched up the whole. At times, according to Boswell, he had no other aid than the names of the speakers, and the side they took, being left to his own resources to find the argument and language. The celebrated speech put into the mouth of Mr. Pitt, in 1741, when that distinguished orator replied to the taunts of Horace Walpole on account of his youth, Johnson afterwards declared, in the company of Francis, Wedderburn, Foote, and Murphy, that he wrote in a garret in Exeter-street. Still his reports are considered the most authentic extant, usually embodying the argument, if not the style, of the speakers.

The greatest advance in the practice of newspaper reports was made by Mr. George Woodfall, the proprietor and editor, first of the Public Advertiser, and afterwards of the Morning Chronicle. Mr. Woodfall had so retentive a memory, that it is said, he used frequently to write out the account of a whole evening's debate after having merely heard it in the gallery, and without having taken any notes. It would, however, be a mistake to suppose that the speeches thus carried away were given with anything like the fulness and accuracy of modern reports. Another inconvenience attending the employment of only one reporter for the night, was the delay which it occa

The public is indebted to the late Mr. Perry for the first suggestion and introduction of the greatly improved principle on which parliamentary reports are now conducted. It was about the year 1783, that that gentleman, on becoming the editor of the Gazetteer, proposed the establishment of a body of reporters to attend every night in succession in both houses; and the superior excellence of the reports thus obtained soon superseded the former practice.

Although the duties of reporters are, as will be readily conceived, both important and arduous, it has only been of late years that a disposition has been shown to afford them facilities for the discharge of them. Formerly, they had no means of entering the gallery of the Commons beyond those enjoyed by the public generally. The first arrangements for the express purpose of affording them adequate accommodation, were made a few years before the death of Mr. Pitt. It happened, one night, when the Premier was to make a leading speech, and the gallery was so unusually thronged, that neither by force nor entreaty could the reporters carry on their work. They took counsel together, and the result was, that next morning, instead of the rounded periods of the minister, there appeared nothing but one dire blank, accompanied by a strong comment on the grievance in which it had originated. The almost immediate result was the appropriation, under the direction of the Speaker Abbott, of the uppermost bench of the gallery to the exclusive use of the reporters, with a door in the centre, by which they alone had a right to enter. Soon after, a small room at the end of the gallery passage, which bore on its glass pannels the words "Reporters' Room"notwithstanding the standing order, which denounced penalties against any such breach of privilege-was added for the convenience of the gentlemen previous to taking their places in the gallery, and during the divisions. The Lords followed the Commons in their accommodation of the Press; but at the due distance which befitted its dignity. It was not till about thirty years ago, that a note-book might be seen at the bar of the House of Peers. The first person who ventured to rest his book on the bar is said to have been Mr. Windyer, and his example was followed. Only two sessions afterwards, the robe of Lord Eldon, while his lordship was proceeding to the bar to receive a deputation of the Lower House, having accidentally caused Mr. Windyer to drop his book within the bar, the noble earl stopped, picked up the fragments of the passing debate, and returned them, with an enjoying smile, to their possessor.*

In the session of 1828-9, during the debates on the Roman Catholic question, a portion of the space below the bar was railed off for the reporters; and a session or two afterwards, when a stranger's gallery was added to the Lord's, a seat was set apart for their use. The accommodation now provided in both houses is in every respect satisfactory-or at least, there is as much of completeness about the arrangements for their convenience as is provided for other departments in the new Palace at Westminster.

In some cases complaints have been made against the reporters by honourable members in reference to an apparently systematic neglect of their speeches. Little, however, is usually the gain made by the complainants for their trouble,

for they are politely informed by the reporter, that they have no doubt that what the honourable speakers intended to have said was very lucidly and powerfully expressed in his manuscript; but that what they did say in the House was that which was attributed to them. And this declaration, if correct, can be easily substantiated in the main by the concurring testimony of those who reported the same speech for others of the daily papers. The evidence thus afforded is conclusive. The fact is, that newspapers, and all connected with them, are too anxious to secure anything for their columns which is

Wade's British Chronology.

worth the record, to omit anything that the world would care to hear.

In July, 1833, O'Connell made an attack upon the reporters for what he regarded as a neglect of his merits, and imputed dishonourable motives to those whom he accused. He even moved that the representatives of the Times and Chronicle should be brought to the bar of the House for not reporting his speeches in full. The motion was seconded by a Mr. O'Dwyer, who, it is said, had been employed on the Times, and of whom it had been currently remarked, that he had exchanged his vocation on the ground of incompetency for the higher duties, and the statement concluded with the words, "And so, not being clever enough for the Times, they made him an M.P."

The assault thus made upon the reporters' gallery could not be replied to within the House by those attacked, though they could give a sufficiently damaging response out of doors; but there were those among the members of the Lower House who were ready to vindicate the fairness of the newspaper reports. Among these was the late Sir Robert Peel, who declared his conviction that the work was done with great fairness and impartiality; and he remarked, amidst loud cheers, that during fifteen out of those twenty years he had held office, and through the whole of that time, he had never received any communication from any person connected with the Press respecting the manner in which his speeches had been reported. He had never during that time received any solicitation for any favour or patronage from any reporter; and he believed he might say that no application had been made to any of his colleagues while he was in office for any such patronage or favour from any reporter, in consequence of his having reported their speeches fully. If, he added, he could bear his testimony to the independence of the reporters, founded, as it was, on the experience of fifteen years in office, he thought that he might challenge those who had succeeded him to say, whether they could not bear the same evidence. These sentiments were greeted by loud cries of 66 Hear, hear."

The imputations which had been alleged against the reporters by Mr. O'Connell, led them to adopt a course altogether unexpected. They drew up a statement, in which they complained that a member of the House had falsely accused them, under the shelter of the privileges of the House, of dishonourable motives; and they announced their determination not to report a line of what he said until the unjust imputation had been withdrawn.

as

Meanwhile, the friends of Mr. O'Connell mustered strongly as they could to support his motion, but they only numbered some forty-eight, while a hundred and fifty-nine voted against him.

While Mr. O'Connell was very anxious to have full publicity given to his speeches in England, he sometimes thought it advisable that some of the things he said in Ireland should not go further than the mob he addressed. An amusing story is told, which at once illustrates this fact, and indicates the readiness of wit and purpose which characterised the Irish agitator. He was on a visit to Ireland, and indulging in long speeches of a combustible character, when the Government thought fit to send over some short-hand writers to take down his harangues. The first appearance of these reporters was at a meeting at Kanturk, and they belonged to Mr. Gurney's staff. In order that all might be done in a fair and open way, they went on to the platform and introduced themselves to Mr. O'Connell. He received them with every manifestation of cordiality, and said to those around him, that "nothing could be done until those gentlemen were afforded every requisite accommodation." This was at once provided, and aaving assured Mr. O'Connell, in reply to his inquiries, that they were "perfectly ready" in every respect, he came forward to address the people, and commenced his speech, to the dismay of the English reporters, in the Irish language, of which they understood not a word. He then explained to the multitude who they were, and how he had humbugged them, and then continued in the same tongue to address to the meeting

all he had to say. The people, of course, most heartily enjoyed the joke against the English reporters, whilst in this merriment the latter very good-humouredly joined.*

A bad imitation of his father's course was made by Mr. John O'Connell in 1849, who cleared the House because he thought that his speeches were not reported at sufficient length. But, after exposing himself to the scorching ridicule of those whom he had excluded by his officiousness, he was glad to let the matter drop; and there can be no doubt, should any member of the House be foolish enough to attempt the reiteration of such a step, that parliament will at once put an end to the fictions of the matter, and give its official authorisation to the reporting of their proceedings.

The personal history of the reporters' gallery must not go unnoticed, especially as with its recollections many singular characters have been associated. One of these was Mark Suffle, who was an Irish eccentric of the first water. He was a large-boned and loud-voiced man, having in his composition more fun than he knew what to do with. After taking in an allowance of wine at Bellamy's, he went into the gallery, and reported the speeches of the honourable members with such success, that they hardly knew their own productions again, they were so much improved in the cooking. Still they had too much sense to complain of the alterations, they pocketed the affront on their eloquence, and fathered speeches which they had never made. It is said of Suffle, that his "way" was "the hyperbole, a strong view of orientalism, with a dash of the bog-trotter." He was the licensed wag of the gallery, and Mr. Jerdan declares, that, to his apprehension and recollection, he possessed more of the humour of a Dean Swift, without acerbity or ill-nature, than perhaps any individual since his date. "His drollery was truly Swiftish," he adds, "and the muddy, snuffling, quaint way with which he drawled it out, imparted an extra laughable originality all his own."

One evening Mark Suffle was at his post in the gallery, when for a moment a dead silence happened to prevail in the House. Seeing Mr. Abbot on the treasury bench, the House being in committee, he called out: "A song from Mr. Speaker!" The fierce indignation of the chair rose hotly, and was intensified by want of preparation for such an interruption and insult, while the members were convulsed with laughter; but the serjeant-at-arms was at once despatched to the gallery to take the offender into custody. Mark Suffle, however, adroitly escaped, by pointing the officer to a stout, peaceful-looking Quaker, and nodding a significant intimation that he was the culprit. The affair ended by the Quaker being turned out, despite his protestations of innocence; but he was subsequently released without having fees to pay, and the real offender, after a reprimand, acquitted.

Another oddity among this class must not go unnoticed. Mr. Proby was, as some of our continental neighbours would express it, a man unique. He had never been out of London, never on horseback, never in a boat. To the end of the time at which bag-wigs were worn, he wore one; he was the last man who walked with a cane as long as himself, which he ultimately exchanged for an umbrella, which he was never seen without, in wet or dry weather; yet he usually reported the whole debates in the House of Peers from memory, without a note, for the Morning Chronicle, and wrote two or three novels, depicting the social manners of the times! "He was a strange feeder," says Mr. Jerdan, in his Autobiography," and ruined himself in eating pastry at the confectioners' shops (for one of whose scores Taylor and I bailed him out); he was always in a perspiration, whence George Colman christened him, 'King Porus;' and he was always so punctual to a minute, that when he arrived in sight of the office window, the hurry used to begin, 'There's Proby-it is half-past two,' and yet he never set his watch. If ever it came to right time I cannot tell; but if you would ask him what a clock it was, he would look at it, and calculate something in this sort: 'I am twentysix minutes past seven-four, twenty-one from twelve-forty -it is just three minutes past three!'

Hunt's Fourth Estate.

"Poor, strange, and simple, yet curiously-informed, Proby! his last domicile was the Lambeth parish-workhouse, out of which he would come in his coarse grey garb, and call upon his friends as freely and unceremoniously as before, to the surprise of servants, who entertain an 'orrid' jealousy of paupers, and who could not comprehend why a person so clad was shown in. The last letter I had from him spoke of his having been chosen to teach the young children in the house their A, B, C, which conferred some extra accommodation upon him, and thanking me for my share in the subscription of a few pounds a-year, which those who knew him in happier days put together to purchase such comforts as his humble situation would admit."

At the present time the reports of the debates in parliament are obtained with singular success. A body of gentlemen of first-rate education, of thorough competency as writers, and of great familiarity with parliamentary men and usages, perform this work in connection with each of the great morning papers. One of these gentlemen-of whom many have risen to distinguished positions in public life-on the staff of each paper is present in the house during from half an hour to an hour, when he is succeeded by another, while he hastens back to the office to write out the portion of the debate he has brought. a way with him. A long speech may thus be said to extend from the mouth of the speaker to Printing-house-square, or wherever else the office of the paper may be. Perhaps one part is being delivered in the house-another part is traveling along the Strand1-a third is in the hands of the compositor-while the rest is printed and lying on the desk of the ed itor, who is engaged in compressing its substance into a leading article for the next morning's paper. No reporter now thinks of depending merely upon his memory: all take notes, more or less extended, though many have no regular system of short-hand. The object aimed at, is not a literal report, but a faithful abridgment of the sentiment, matter, and style of the speaker. The chief speeches are given with extraordinary correctness; of inferior ones, or those by men in whom the public feels little interest, only the principal parts are indicated, while many are consigned to a deserved

oblivion.

Many of the gentlemen occupying the reporters' gallery have been engaged in the work for considerable periods of time. "Amongst the seniors, if not the senior," says Mr. F. K. Hunt, are Mr. Dod, the author of the Peerage, and of the useful little blue-covered volume, the Parliamentary Companion, who has been in the gallery for The Times for between thirty and forty years; and Mr. Tyas, another veteran of more than thirty years' parliamentary service on the same paper. Tyas is said to have been the author of the sharp critiques on Lord Brougham's classical knowledge; and is spoken of as the author of another gallery tradition. The story runs that Tyas had been luxuriating over a glass of wine and the pages of Cicero, when the hour came, and he was due in the House. As he took his pencil, Lord Brougham was speaking, and soon the pencil of Tyas was on his track. The legal orator went on, and the mind of the reporter unconsciously kept upon the double thread of Brougham and Cicero. The scholar in the gallery, thought the scholar on the floor of the House, would remember a fine illustrative passage in the Roman orator; but he passed it and concluded his harangue. Tyas went to work to write out his notes, and when the arguments required it, he put in nearly a page of Cicero. Brougham reprinted the speech, adopting, without remark, the whole of the interpolated matter."

If the reader of our parliamentary reports were never to enter the Houses of Parliament, he might live under the impression that all its members were orators; that they had but to ope their mouths, and that there issued forth, almost without an effort, a train of clear, consecutive thoughts, clothed in appropriate language. But let the halls of our senators be visited, and it will be found how much is due to the reporters of the speeches there delivered, how much of tuttering, hesitation, and re petition is omitted, and how true is

the remark made by a distinguished member of the Lower House, that the average of the speaking there is only "good after-dinner talk."

Efforts have been made once or twice to obtain verbatim reports of the speeches in parliament, and thus when the New Times was started, this was attempted, but it is said that, within a week, the proprietors were threatened with actions for damages, for burlesquing the speeches of the honourable gentlemen. The Times tells us that Mr. Sadler, Mr. Trant, and some other members, dissatisfied with the meagre reports of their speeches in the daily papers, engaged Mr. Hodge to report them in full. On reading the speeches so reported, they were found such sheer nonsence, that the practice was incontinently abandoned.

Mr. Angus B. Reach, well known as the author of many literary sketches of men and manners, who is an experienced reporter, has given a facetious, but, on the whole, a truthful delineation of the scene presented by the reporters at their posts, with which we shall conclude. He tells us that on the little door opening, he stood in the reporters' gallery, the back of the Speaker's ugly Gothic chair being below; the senators, with their hats on, were sitting, standing, walking, lolling lazily on either side; while the clerk's table, with the mace, and the shiningly bound volumes of the statutes at large, filled up the picture in the body of the house.

"The hon. member for Fortywinks was on his legs, although his luminous remarks could only be heard amid the buzz of about a hundred and fifty distinct conversations going on around. But the hon. member had got his speech by heart, and was speaking to his constituents through the reporters' gallery. Hapless man! The Times reclined gracefully back, and amused himself by sharpening his pencils. The Chronicle was talking to The Herald about Alboni. Morning Post was drawing caricatures in his note-book; and The Morning Advertiser was musing on what he would have for supper. So the hon. member talked, and no one heeded him.

The

"They are waiting,' replied our Mentor, they are waiting till he makes a point; papers have no room for flourishes. Imagine the consequence were every word spoken in the House of Commons set down in cold-blooded type exactly as it is uttered! What a huge conglomeration of truisms, absurdities, bad taste, wretched taste, and worse grammar! Depend upon it, sir, literally-reported debates would infallibly disgust the nation with representative government.'

"Then you pick and choose,' we interrupted.

"Yes; we are the winnowers in this great granary of words. Men there are who, when they speak, drop from their lips ripe wholesome grain; but from the mouths of most come flying empty torrents of mere husks and chaff. It is ours to wait, and watch, and sift out the scattered globules of fact or argument, and enshrine them in printer's ink.'

"But you do not,' we said, 'arrogate the right of it in judgment on the soundness of an argument, or the authenticity of a fact?'

666

'Clearly not,' says the reporter, we record all arguments, good, bad, or indifferent; we set down all facts, certain or dubious. But ours is to separate the arguments and facts from the words-the mere empty verbiage in which they are oftentimes all but smothered. How many inaccuracies do we not patch up! How many inelegances do we not lick into graceful form! How many unfinished sentences do we not file up and round off! How many slovenly speeches do not appear shortened one hundred, and improved two hundred per cent., by passing through the alembic of this little gallery!'"

GEOFFREY CHAUCER is one of the triumvirate of great poets who flourished in the middle ages. The other two were Italians, Dante and Petrarch. The British bard is justly styled the father of English poetry; but in order to justify his title to that glorious distinction, and to trace his influence on our literature, it is necessary to glance at its condition in the times previous to the age in which he lived. Mr. Wright, in his recent work, "The Celt, the Roman, and the Saxon," has thrown some new light on the sources of the English language, as well as on the races which make up our present cosmopolite population, probably the most mixed in the world. During the long dominion of the Romans, the upper classes of the towns consisted of Roman legionaries, who settled here when their term of service was ended. Of these there was a constant succession. They came from all parts of the empire; from Asia and Africa as well as the south of Europe. They mingled with the mass of the Celtic population, and their practice of polygamy enabled them to diffuse foreign blood extensively through the social system. The Roman towns, the bulk of whose inhabitants must have been Britons, who improved rapidly by contact with the civilised settlers, retained their municipalities after the fall of the empire, and there municipalities survived even under the feudalism of the Saxons and Danes,-who themselves preferred a country life, and despised the urban industry by which they profited. Hence the fact recorded by Mr. Wright, that the "Antiquities of Anglo-Saxon Paganism are derived almost entirely from their graves.” This would not have been so if their power predominated in the towns.

The Venerable Bede states that three languages were spoken in England in his time, the Latin, the British, and the AngloSaxon. Had the Romans been a majority in the towns, the Roman dialect, a corruption of the Latin, must have prevailed here as well as in the south of France. Instead of this, Latin enters into our language only in single words, which conform to the regimen of the stock on which they are grafted. That stock is the Saxon, but greatly modified by the British. It has been satisfactorily shown that the English language has characteristics to which no analogies can be traced in any Latin or German dialects, but which are found in the modern Breton, Gaelic, and Manx, and are thus proved to be of British origin. The predominance of the Saxon element in our language is accounted for by the fact that the British, long a subjugated race, had no taste for the cultivation of literature. During the three centuries of Roman domination no author of eminence appeared among them-a striking proof of the debasing effect of conquest-for the genius of a nation perishes with its independence and its freedom.

It was different with the conquering and ruling Saxons, whose life of wild adventure and free enjoyment was powerfully calculated to excite the passions, whose appropriate language is poetry. For, in the ruder ages of the world, minstrelsy has ever been the handmaid of heroism. Where great deeds are done, they are sure to be sung. The muses are hero-worshippers. Next in honour to the chief was the minstrel who celebrated the exploits of his ancestors, already clothed in a mythic garb, and admitted to a supernatural hierachy, in which it was the great ambition of their living representative to win the place promised him in the flattering strains of the poet, who, with his harp, soothed or excited at will the passions of the warriors who surrounded him in the festive hall. The minstrel, indeed, was their only educator and historian, and from him they learned to speak in poetry. "The poet or minstrel," says Mr. Wright, "was held in high esteem among the Saxons. His genius was looked upon as a birthright, not an acquired art, and it obtained for him everywhere the respect and protection of the great and the powerful. His place was in the hall of princes, where he never failed to earn admiration and applause, attended generally with advantages of a more substantial nature." There the chief joy was the wonted minstrelsy, the absence of which was a

un

sure sign of sorrow and distress. In the words of Beowulf, "There is no joy of the harp-no pleasure of the musical wood." Sometimes the "glee-men" went about wandering through many nations, telling their tales of wonder, singing their songs of praise, and ever meeting with some noble thane, sparing of gifts." They celebrated the virtues of courage, generosity, and fidelity, pouring their denunciations without stint on the coward, the niggard, and the traitor, and always mentioning woman with the tender respect never wanting in the heart of the true poet.

Such was the literature which the Saxons brought to England, which found here a genial soil. The subjects of their songs were either mythological or historical facts. The songs were committed to memory, and handed down from age to age, forming a body of mythological poetry, which held the same place in our national literature that the Iliad or Odyssey did in Greek literature.

This literature was superseded, to a large extent, in the public mind by the religious poetry introduced by the Mission naries; of which, however, no manuscripts in the Saxolanguage are found earlier than the reign of Alfred the Great, in the middle of the ninth century. Though delighting in the Latin language, which they carefully cultivated, the Christian teachers availed themselves diligently of the Saxon, in order to instruct the people. For two centuries before the Norman conquest this language underwent little change. After that great revolution, its use, as a written language, was superseded, partly by the Latin introduced by the foreign ecclesiastics, some of whom were highly distinguished for their learning; and whose successors maintained it in a flourishing condition till the thirteenth century. But the vernacular dialect of the conquerors was Anglo-Norman, or corrupted French, which was not laid aside till the middle of the fourteenth century,— when Chaucer began to write. Owing to these influences, the Saxon language had degenerated, through neglect, and was treated with contempt as the vulgar dialect of the "rascal Englishry"-the vile commonality who had ben reduced to serfdom and slavery. In the middle of the thirteenth century, the pure Saxon was scarcely understood, and the language that had taken its place in common use, has been called Semi-Saxon;" while that which prevailed from this period till Elizabeth's reign, has been called "Middle English."

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One great cause of the decline of the Norman was the separation of England from Normandy, by the conquests of Philip Augustus. Norman poets, and literary men, from that time began to pay less frequent visits to the English court. As soon, also, as a taste for literature began to spring up among the lower classes, the burgesses and priests, they were driven to cultivate the Saxon tongue, from the difficulty they experienced in expressing their ideas in a language which was not their own. These authors, drawn from the lower classes, were distinguished by their esteem for the labouring classes, peasantry, millers, or innkeepers. The Norman minstrels, on the other hand, treated men of this class with the utmost contempt. Their heroes were all puissant barons, noble dames, gentle knights and damsels. The English, on the contrary, took plebeian adventures for the subject of their tales, such as those of Peter Ploughman. Chaucer was one of the principal poets of this class. Their leading characteristic was hatred for the Norman language, and for those who used it. In the romance of Arthur and Merlin, this is expressed as follows:

"Right is that Inglishe, Inglishe understond
That was born in Englond:
Freynshe use this gentilman

As everich Inglishe can."

Chaucer also contemptuously contrasts the French which the Norman nobles spoke,- antiquated, uncouth, and impure --with the graceful French spoken at Paris.

"And French she spake full fayre and fetisly
After the scole of Stratford atte Bowe,
For French of Paris was to hir unknow."