with respect to individuals, in his famous poem of "Retaliation," where in so masterly a manner he sketches Burke, Reynolds, Garrick, and the

rest.

The poet proceeds to notice the evils which prevail in Italy, as those which are left behind by departed opulence, and shows in a few lines of great force the fugitive nature of commercial wealth, and the splendid desolation which succeeds when commerce has departed :—

"Till more unsteady than the southern gale,
Commerce on other shores display'd her sail;
While nought remain'd of all that riches gave,
But towns unmann'd and lords without a slave;
And late the nation found, with fruitless skill,
Its former strength was but plethoric ill."

It is curious and mournful to see that notwithstanding the distinct lesson which history teaches of the migratory character of commercial greatness of the certainty that it will not make any quarter or kingdom of the earth its permanent abiding place-still we find legislatures and nations ready to act as if history taught no such lesson. We still find men of great powers of observation and reflection willing to sacrifice every precaution which ought to be taken against the evanescence of commercial superiority, and to make all the higher interests of a nation dependent, not on its own resources, but its profitable intercourse with other kingdoms. In this matter even the Chinese are wiser than

we, and the result is that the Chinese empire endures, while others which began their race when it was old, have gone down the stream of time, and exist only in the page of history.

The poet turns his eye to Switzerland, and his language seems to soar like the mountains of the land he contemplates :

"Where the bleak Swiss their stormy mansions tread, And force a churlish soil for scanty bread."

How exquisite the well-known allusion to their climate:

"No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array,
But winter ling'ring chills the lap of May:
No zephyr fondly sues the mountain's breast;
But meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest."

After a charming and a much too favourable description of the lives of the Swiss peasantry(the scoundrel armies of the French Revolutionists had not, however, overrun and polluted Switzerland in Goldsmith's time)—he proceeds with the following noble poetry :

"Thus every good his native wilds impart
Imprints the patriot passion on his heart;
And e'en those hills that round his mansion rise
Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies;
Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms,
And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms;
And as a child, when scaring sounds molest,
Clings close and closer to the mother's breast,
So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar,
But bind him to his native mountains more."

Goldsmith, however, is too keen an observer,

and too scrupulous a lover of truth, to omit the darker side of the Swiss picture. He dwells upon the coarseness of their social enjoyments, and then proceeds to higher matters :

-

"But not their joys alone thus coarsely flow;
Their morals, like their pleasures, are but low;
For, as refinement stops, from sire to son,
Unalter'd, unimproved, the manners run,
And love's and friendship's finely-pointed dart
Falls blunted from each indurated heart.

Some sterner virtues, o'er the mountain's breast,
May sit like falcons cow'ring on the nest,

But all the gentler morals, such as play

Through life's more cultured walks and charm the way,
These, far dispersed, on tim'rous pinions fly,
To sport and flutter in a kinder sky."

The kinder skies to which the poet turns are those of France, but his remarks are devoted almost solely to the people and not to the climate. The people of France, their circumstances, their manners, their very temper and disposition, have been so changed by the terrible social tempest of fifty years ago, and the events that followed it, that we fear few modern observers of France and the French would subscribe to the accuracy of Goldsmith's sketch ;"Gay, sprightly land of mirth and social ease, Pleased with thyself; whom all the world can please."

It is well known that Goldsmith-himself, by the way, one of the easiest-tempered of men -pleased the French by playing on the flute for them. They danced, and fed, and lodged the musician :

"And haply though my harsh touch, falt'ring still,
But mock'd all tune and marr'd the dancer's skill,
Yet would the village praise my wondrous pow'r,
And dance, forgetful of the noontide hour,
Alike all ages;-dames of ancient days

Have led their children through the mirthful maze;
And the gay grandsire, skill'd in gestic lore,
Has frish'd beneath the burden of threescore;
So blest a life these thoughtless realms display,
Thus idly busy rolls their world away."

Revolution, and fierce wars, and shedding of blood, and habits of licensed robbery in foreign kingdoms, avaient changé tout cela. Goldsmith lays down" honour" (which he somehow or another seems to confuse with love of applause) as the primum mobile of French society in his time. It is now a strange mixture of ferocity and extravagance, which they call gloire.

Our poet thus alludes to their excessive itch of praise :

"For praise too dearly loved, or warmly sought,
Enfeebles all internal strength of thought;

And the weak soul, within itself unblest,
Leans for all pleasure on another's breast;
Hence ostentation here, with tawdry art,
Pants for the vulgar praise which fools impart;
Here vanity assumes her pert grimace,
And trims her robe of frieze with copper lace;
Here beggar pride defrauds her daily cheer,
To boast one splendid banquet once a year;
The mind still turns where shifting fashion draws,
Nor weighs the solid worth of self-applause."

From France the poet turns to Hollandnot rich, one might suppose, in subjects for description-and yet his description of the

country is exquisitely beautiful and strikingly true. Upon the people we think he is more severe than he need have been; but certainly there is little in ordinary Dutch temper with which the graceful and merry mind of Goldsmith would be likely to sympathise.

GOVERNMENT.

THEY who give themselves up to the consideration of politics on a very large scale, especially patriotic porkmen, liberal leather-cutters, and the like, are very apt to think more than they ought to think, of the importance of this or that abstract rule or principle of government. The truth is, that man is a conformable sort of animal; and be the rule of government what it may, if it be but distinctly declared, and steadily adhered to, without fear or favour, the people may get on pretty well. That which most interferes with the reasonable tranquillity of society, and most seriously wars against real freedom, is uncertainty as to the conduct of Government. When men know what is to happen they make provision accordingly. If the rule be too hard to bear they remove themselves. But where there is perpetual change, or fear of change, there also there is disquietude, and disquietude begets conspiracy, and conspiracy begets tumult, and society is torn to pieces.