with a most edifying heartiness of hatred. On this subject we will give him one word of parting advice. If he raves in this way to ease his mind, or because he thinks that he does himself credit by it, or from a sense of religious duty, far be it from us to interfere. His peace, his reputation, and his religion are his own concern; and he, like the nobleman to whom his treatise is dedicated, has a right to do what he will with his own. But, if he has adopted his abusive style from a notion that it would hurt our feelings, we must inform him that he is altogether mistaken; and that he would do well in future to give us his arguments, if he has any, and to keep his anger for those who fear it. MIRABEAU. (JULY 1832.) Souvenirs sur Mirabeau, et sur les deux Premières Assemblées Législatives. Par ETIENNE DUMONT, de Genève : ouvrage posthume publié par M. J. L. Duval, Membre du Conseil Représentatif du Canton du Genève. 8vo. Paris: 1832. THIS is a very amusing and a very instructive book: but, even if it were less amusing and less instructive, it would still be interesting as a relic of a wise and virtuous man. M. Dumont was one of those persons, the care of whose fame belongs in an especial manner to mankind. For he was one of those persons who have, for the sake of mankind, neglected the care of their own fame. In his walk through life there was no obtrusiveness, no pushing, no elbowing, none of the little arts which bring forward little men. With every right to the head of the board, he took the lowest room, and well deserved to be greeted with-Friend, go up higher. Though no man was more capable of achieving for himself a separate and independent renown, he attached himself to others; he laboured to raise their fame; he was content to receive as his share of the reward the mere overflowings which redounded from the full measure of their glory. Not that he was of a servile and idolatrous habit of mind:-not that he was one of the tribe of Boswells,-those literary Gibeonites, born to be hewers of wood and drawers of water to the higher intellectual castes. Possessed of talents and acquirements which made him great, he wished only to be useful. In the prime of manhood, at the very time of life at which ambitious men are most ambitious, he was not solicitous to proclaim that he furnished information, arguments, and eloquence to Mirabeau. In his later years he was perfectly willing that his renown should merge in that of Mr. Bentham. The The services which M. Dumont has rendered to society can be fully appreciated only by those who have studied Mr. Bentham's works, both in their rude and in their finished state. difference both for show and for use is as great as the difference between a. lump of golden ore and a rouleau of sovereigns fresh from the mint. Of Mr. Bentham we would at all times speak with the reverence which is due to a great original thinker, and to a sincere and ardent friend of the human race. If a few weaknesses were mingled with his eminent virtues,—if a few errors insinuated themselves among the many valuable truths which he taught,-this is assuredly no time for noticing those weaknesses or those errors in an unkind or sarcastic spirit. A great man has gone from among us, full of years, of good works, and of deserved honours. In some of the highest departments in which the human intellect can exert itself he has not left his equal or his second behind him. From his contemporaries he has had, according to the usual lot, more or less than justice. He has had blind flatterers and blind detractors-flatterers who could see nothing but perfection in his style, detractors who could see nothing but nonsense in his matter. He will now have judges. Posterity will pronounce its calm and impartial decision; and that decision will. we firmly believe, place in the same rank with Galileo. and with Locke, the man who found jurisprudence a gibberish fact, that, in the reign of George the Third, there had been a man called Bentham, who had given hints of many discoveries made since his time, and who had really, for his age, taken a most philosophical view of the principles of jurisprudence. and left it a science. Never was there | profitable vegetation, "wherewith the a literary partnership so fortunate as reaper filleth not his hand, neither he that of Mr. Bentham and M. Dumont. that bindeth up the sheaves his bosom." The raw material which Mr. Bentham It would have been with his discoveries furnished was most precious; but it as it has been with the “ Century of was unmarketable. He was, assuredly, Inventions." His speculations on laws at once a great logician and a great would have been of no more practical rhetorician. But the effect of his logic use than Lord Worcester's speculations was injured by a vicious arrangement, on steam-engines. Some generations and the effect of his rhetoric by a vi- hence, perhaps, when legislation had cious style. His mind was vigorous, found its Watt, an antiquarian might comprehensive, subtle, fertile of argu-have published to the world the curious ments, fertile of illustrations. But he spoke in an unknown tongue; and, that the congregation might be edified, it was necessary that some brother having the gift of interpretation should expound the invaluable jargon. His oracles were of high import; but they were traced on leaves and flung loose to the wind. So negligent was he of the arts of selection, distribution, and compression, that to persons who formed their judgment of him from his works in their undigested state he seemed to be the least systematic of all philosophers. The truth is, that his opinions formed a system, which, whether sound or unsound, is more exact, more entire; and more consistent with itself than any other. Yet to superficial readers of his works in their original form, and indeed to all readers of those works who did not bring great industry and great acuteness to the study, he seemed to be a man of a quick and ingenious but ill-regulated mind,-who saw truth only by glimpses, who threw out many striking hints, but who had never thought of combining his doctrines in one harmonious whole. Many persons have attempted to interpret between this powerful mind and the public. But, in our opinion, M. Dumont alone has succeeded. It is remarkable that, in foreign countries, where Mr. Bentham's works are known solely through the medium of the French version, his merit is almost universally acknowledged. Even those who are most decidedly opposed to his political opinions-the very chiefs of the Holy Alliance-have publicly testified their respect for him. In England, on the contrary, many persons who certainly entertained no prejudice against him on political grounds were long in the habit of mentioning him contemptuously. Indeed, what was said of Bacon's philosophy may be said of Bentham's. It was in little repute among us, till judgments in its favour came from beyond sea, and convinced us, to our shame, that we had been abusing and laughing at one of the greatest men of the age. M. Dumont was admirably qualified to supply what was wanting in Mr. Bentham. In the qualities in which M. Dumont might easily have found the French writers surpass those of all employments more gratifying to perother nations-neatness, clearness, pre-sonal vanity than that of arranging cision, condensation,-he surpassed all works not his own. But he could have French writers. If M. Dumont had found no employment more useful or never been born, Mr. Bentham would more truly honourable. The book before still have been a very great man. But us, hastily written as it is, contains he would have been great to himself abundant proof, if proof were needed, alone. The fertility of his mind would that he did not become an editor behave resembled the fertility of those cause he wanted the talents which vast American wildernesses in which would have made him eminent as a blossoms and decays a rich but un-writer. The Persons who hold democratical opi- | directors. Then, again, directors were nions, and who have been accustomed deposed by the legislative councils. to consider M. Dumont as one of their Elections were set aside by the execuparty, have been surprised and morti- tive authority. Ship-loads of writers fied to learn that he speaks with very and speakers were sent, without a legal little respect of the French Revolution trial, to die of fever in Guiana. France, and of its authors. Some zealous in short, was in that state in which reTories have naturally expressed great volutions, effected by violence, almost satisfaction at finding their doctrines, always leave a nation. The habit of in some respects, confirmed by the tes- obedience had been lost. The spell of timony of an unwilling witness. The prescription had been broken. Those date of the work, we think, explains associations on which, far more than every thing. If it had been written on any arguments about property and ten years earlier, or twenty years later, order, the authority of magistrates rests it would have been very different from had completely passed away. what it is. It was written, neither power of the government consisted during the first excitement of the Revo- merely in the physical force which it lution, nor at that later period when could bring to its support. Moral the practical good produced by the force it had none. It was itself a goRevolution had become manifest to the vernment sprung from a recent convulmost prejudiced observers; but in sion. Its own fundamental maxim was, those wretched times when the enthu- that rebellion might be justifiable. Its siasm had abated, and the solid advan- own existence proved that rebellion tages were not yet fully seen. It was might be successful. The people had written in the year 1799,-a year in been accustomed, during several years, which the most sanguine friend of to offer resistance to the constituted liberty might well feel some misgivings authorities on the slightest provocaas to the effects of what the National tion, and to see the constituted authoAssembly had done. The evils which rities yield to that resistance. The attend every great change had been whole political world was "without severely felt. The benefit was still to form and void"'-an incessant whirl come. The price-a heavy price-had of hostile atoms, which, every moment, been paid. The thing purchased had formed some new combination. The not yet been delivered. Europe was only man who could fix the agitated swarming with French exiles. The elements of society in a stable form fleets and armies of the second coali- was following a wild vision of glory tion were victorious. Within France, and empire through the Syrian deserts. the reign of terror was over; but the The time was not yet come, when reign of law had not commenced. There had been, indeed, during three or four years, a written Constitution, by which rights were defined and checks provided. But these rights had been repeatedly violated; and those checks had proved utterly inefficient. The laws which had been framed to secure The dying words of Madame Rothe distinct authority of the executive land, "Oh Liberty! how many crimes magistrates and of the legislative as- are committed in thy name!" were at semblies-the freedom of election-the that time echoed by many of the most freedom of debate—the freedom of the upright and benevolent of mankind. press-the personal freedom of citizens M. Guizot has, in one of his admirable were a dead letter. The ordinary pamphlets, happily and justly described mode in which the Republic was go-M. Lainé as "an honest and liberal verned was by coups d'état. On one occasion, the legislative councils were placed under military restraint by the "Confusion heard his voice; and wild uproar Stood ruled: " when, out of the chaos into which the old society had been resolved, were to rise a new dynasty, a new peerage, a new church, and a new code. man, discouraged by the Revolution." This description, at the time when M. Dumont's Memoirs were written, would tion was actually taking place, regarded it with unmixed aversion and horror. We can perceive where their error lay. We can perceive that the evil was temporary, and the good durable. But we cannot be sure that, if our lot had been cast in their times, we should not, like them, have been discouraged and disgusted-that we should not, like them, have seen, in that great victory of the French people, only insanity and crime. have applied to almost every honest | convinced us that very great indulgence and liberal man in Europe; and would, is due to those who, while the Revolubeyond all doubt, have applied to M. Dumont himself. To that fanatical worship of the all-wise and all-good people, which had been common a few years before, had succeeded an uneasy suspicion that the follies and vices of the people would frustrate all attempts to serve them. The wild and joyous exultation, with which the meeting of the States-General and the fall of the Bastile had been hailed, had passed away. In its place was dejection, and a gloomy distrust of specious appearances. The philosophers and philanthropists had reigned. And what had their reign produced? Philosophy had brought with it mummeries as absurd as any which had been practised by the most superstitious zealot of the darkest age. Philanthropy had brought with it crimes as horrible as the massacre of Saint Bartholomew. This was the emancipation of the human mind. These were the fruits of the great victory of reason over prejudice. France had rejected the faith of Pascal and Descartes as a nursery fable, that a courtezan might be her idol, and a madman her priest. She had asserted her freedom against Louis, that she might bow down before Robespierre. For a time men thought that all the boasted wisdom of the eighteenth century was folly; and that those hopes of great political and social ameliorations which had been cherished by Voltaire and Condorcet were utterly delusive. It is curious to observe how some men are applauded, and others reviled, for merely being what all their neighbours are,-for merely going passively down the stream of events,-for merely representing the opinions and passions of a whole generation. The friends of popular government ordinarily speak with extreme severity of Mr. Pitt, and with respect and tenderness of Mr. Canning. Yet the whole difference, we suspect, consisted merely in this,-that Mr. Pitt died in 1806, and Mr. Canning in 1827. During the years which were common to the public life of both, Mr. Canning was assuredly not a more liberal statesman than his patron. The truth is that Mr. Pitt began his political life at the end of the American War, when the nation was suffering from the effects of corruption. He closed it in the midst of the calamities produced by the French Revolution, when the nation was still strongly impressed with the horrors of Under the influence of these feelings, anarchy. He changed, undoubtedly. In M. Dumont has gone so far as to say his youth he had brought in reform bills. that the writings of Mr. Burke on the In his manhood he brought in gagging French Revolution, though disfigured bills. But the change, though lamentby exaggeration, and though contain-able, was, in our opinion, perfectly naing doctrines subversive of all public tural, and might have been perfectly liberty, had been, on the whole, justi- honest. He changed with the great fied by events, and had probably saved body of his countrymen. Mr. Canning, Europe from great disasters. That such on the other hand, entered into public a man as the friend and fellow-labourer life when Europe was in dread of the of Mr. Bentham should have expressed Jacobins. He closed his public life when such an opinion is a circumstance Europe was suffering under the tyranny which well deserves the consideration of the Holy Alliance. He, too, changed of uncharitable politicians. These with the nation. As the crimes of the Memoirs have not convinced us that Jacobins had turned the master into the French Revolution was not a great something very like a Tory, the events blessing to mankind. But they have which followed the Congress of Vienna turned the pupil into something very | that they did not want to go to school to the English. Their debates consisted like a Whig. So much are men the creatures of cir- of endless successions of trashy pamcumstances. We see that, if M. Dumont had died in 1799, he would have died, to use the new cant word, a decided "Conservative." If Mr. Pitt had lived in 1832, it is our firm belief that he would have been a decided Reformer. The judgment passed by M. Dumont in this work on the French Revolution must be taken with considerable allowances. It resembles a criticism on a play of which only the first act has been performed, or on a building from which the scaffolding has not yet been taken down. We have no doubt that, if the excellent author had revised these Memoirs thirty years after the time at which they were written, he would have seen reason to omit a few passages, and to add many qualifications and explanations. He would not probably have been inclined to retract the censures, just, though severe, which he has passed on the ignorance, the presumption, and the pedantry, of the National Assembly. But he would have admitted that, in spite of those faults, perhaps even by reason of those faults, that Assembly had conferred inestimable benefits on mankind. It is clear that, among the French of that day, political knowledge was absolutely in its infancy. It would indeed have been strange if it had attained maturity in the time of censors, of lettres-de-cachet, and of beds of justice. The electors did not know how to elect. The representatives did not know how to deliberate. M. Dumont taught the constituent body of Montreuil how to perform their functions, and found them apt to learn. He afterwards tried, in concert with Mirabeau, to instruct the National Assembly in that admirable system of Parliamentary tactics which has been long established in the English House of Commons, and which has made the House of Commons, in spite of all the defects in its composition, the best and fairest debating society in the world. But these accomplished legislators, though quite as ignorant as the mob of Montrueil, proved much less docile, and cried out phlets, all beginning with something about the original compact of society, man in the hunting state, and other such foolery. They sometimes diversified and enlivened these long readings by a little rioting. They bawled; they hooted; they shook their fists. They kept no order among themselves. They were insulted with impunity by the crowd which filled their galleries. They gave long and solemn considerations to trifles. They hurried through the most important resolutions with fearful expedition. They wasted months in quibbling about the words of that false and childish Declaration of Rights on which they professed to found their new constitution, and which was at irreconcilable variance with every clause of that constitution. They annihilated in a single night privileges, many of which partook of the nature of property, and ought therefore to have been most delicately handled. They are called the Constituent Assembly. Never was a name less appropriate. They were not constituent, but the very reverse of constituent. They constituted nothing that stood or that deserved to last. They had not, and they could not possibly have, the information or the habits of mind which are necessary for the framing of that most exquisite of all machines-a government. The metaphysical cant with which they prefaced their constitution has long been the scoff of all parties. Their constitution itself,-that constitution which they described as absolutely perfect, and to which they predicted immortality, disappeared in à few months, and left no trace behind it. They were great only in the work of destruction. The glory of the National Assembly is this, that they were in truth, what Mr. Burke called them in austere irony, the ablest architects of ruin that ever the world saw. They were utterly incompetent to perform any work which required a discriminating eye and a skilful hand. But the work which was then to be done was a work of devasta |