The Sun.
London, England, 1844-10-05 00:00:00

that unanimity of feeling. pervaded all around.—
(Cheers.) The time of evening was come when length-
ened orations would not be appropriate ; and it was diffi-
cult to enter upon that large question of general
education and the diffusion of knowledge without dwel-
ling longer upon their attention than he was entitled to
em, and rendering himself liable to the charge of re-
peating what bad been already better said than he could
say it by speakers that had preceded him. There was
one point, however, upon which he would touch, viz.,
the effect which the public taste for literature had upon
authors. The author now rested, not upon the patron-
age of the great, but on the solid rock of public
opinion. It was now no longer necessary to court
the great by servile dedications, as in the days of
Dryden—literary works were launched upon the world
depending on nought but their own merits. They
w ere addressed to that best of tribunals—public opinion ;
‘, hose permanent approval would only fall on those
works which deserved to be enduring.—(Cheers.) The
Athenaeum, whose interest they were met to support,
was- an institution eminently calculated to diffuse a taste
for literature and science amongst its members. Its in-
fluence must be beneficial.—(Cheers.) Many of their
educational institutions had not succeeded to the extent
which could be wished.—(Hear.) Some did not much
serve the class for whom they were intended, though
otherwise beneficial—as the mechanics' institutes—to
hich few mechanics belonged.—(Hear.) Others had
allowed themselves to be diverted from the object for
wilich they were established. The Manchester Atha-
mum was secure from most of the dangers which had
visited many kindred institutions.—(Hear.) It had
t prung from the spontaneous exertions of its first sup-
porters. It leaned not on the frail reed of patronage—
(Cheers)—but on the independent spirit, the energies of
its own members.—(Cheers.) That was the solid foun-
dation which would render its structure permanent.
The constitution of the Athenaeum, to use the words of
the excellent report which had been read, was demo-
cratic.—(Hear.) The members had the government of
the society to which they belonged—the library was
c-pen to works of varied kinds, science and literature, the
gravest and the lightest. Some other institutions were
managed by strangers ; their libraries were restricted to
particular works to suit the taste or caprice of persons
an authority ; the subscribers had not the free choice of
the books they might desire to peruse. All these re-
strictions were adverse to the full benefit which society
would derive from better and more liberal organiza-
tions. How many of our charitable endowments had
been permitted to be misapplied—(Loud cheers)—and
classes had the benefit of endowments they were never
intended to enjoy.—(Cheers.) It was, however, a happy
reflection that the prejudice against education and the
diffusion of knowledge amongst the humblest classes
was passing away. If we search the records of the past
what strange jealousies have existed upon the subject of
the spread of learning ! those jealousies have found place
in minds of the most exalted as well as the most humble.
—(Hear, hear.) We find men of high degree despising
knowledge, because it might be accessible to all—(Hear,
tear)—and the humble, from some indefinable dread re-
jecting the teaching of the schoolmaster. Shakspeare
well described these feelings when he makes Jack Cade—
( A laugh)—say to Lord Say, " Thou hast most trai-
t .rously corrupted the youth of the realm in creating a
fi rammar-school ;—(Laughter)—and, whereas, before,
our forefathers had no other books but the score and the
tally, thou has caused printing to be used ; and, contrary
to the King, his crown, and dignity, thou hast built a
piper-mill."— (Laughter.) Those days have passed
a way. —(Cheers.) The men of all political and religious
creeds now argued the refining influence of intellectual
pursuits, and with education we shall become a better
gild a happier people.—(Cheers.) He cordially wished
jrosperity to the Manchester Athenaeum. Might similar
institutions spring up over the length and breadth of the
I ,nd, extending their benefits to the remotest districts.
Let us hope that with the progress of education there will
1. e aroused a desire to acquire knowledge amongst all
classes, and that the humblest artisan and the rudest
peasant may be brought under the humanizing influence
cif intellectual and moral culture. Then will the sacred
maxim " honour all men" be a livinc, reality—(lfear)
and England will become as remarkable for the mutual
r spect, gentle maneers, and social happiness pervading
her families, from the exalted to the lowly, as she is now
e Anent fur that manufacturing skill and commercial en-
ti-rprise which has placed her in the elevated position
v, Inch she now holds amongst the nations of the earth.

Mr. D'lsitaELl then rose and said—My Hon. Friend
who last addressed you has dilated very justly upon the
advantageous position which modern authors occupy in
c ntradistinct:.on to those who flourished a century back.
We are honoured to-night by the presence of the youngest
aad not the least successful of the authors of the new
vt,neration.—(Cheers.) He is the last literary Knight
t. at has entered into the tilt. lam sufficiently ac-
cuainted with his opinions to know that he prefers very
imch the modern practice to the old one. lie has almost
ti.is moment arrived among us, and quitted the Continent
I,r the pleasure of making your acquaintance. I have
.)W the pleasure of introducing to you
Mr. SMYTHE, M.P., who said—lt is with no ordinary
4iffidense that I venture to address you upon this occa-
eon. It would be at all times a difficult matter to speak
t-) an assembly thus attended by distinguished men, thus
II resided over by genius, and thus superintended by
L.:auty.—(C heels.) But lam less unnerved by the ex-
., rnal splendour of this fair pageant than by the thought,
vle idea, the elevated principle of which it is the ex-
vession. You represent a great necessity. It seems to
r,e that you, the men of Manchester, have determined
to do honour to literature, in a land where literature
Las too long been neglected. It seems to me that with
a spirit worthy of a younger and freer age, you have
2-• solved to proffer to the author and the man of letters
a reward of a simpler and less sordid character than the
uty of this newspaper or the hire of that review. Or
ith yet more profound and far-sighted intentions you
may have resolved to redress the anomalies of a
c,untry, which is governed by its journals, but where
the names of its journalists are never mentioned ; of a
country where by the most unhappy of conversions it
is the inventions which make the fortune, and it is
the inventors who starve.—(Great cheering.) Of a
country where, if a man of science aspires to its highest
is incurs—the suffrages of his fellow-citizens—that man
el' science will poll by units, where the mere politician
pills by hundreds.—(Cheers.) And it seems especially
meet, and right, and fitting, that you, the men of Man-
chester, should correct these evils, because there is an
old, an intimate, and natural alliance between literature
and commerce.—(Cheers.) It is in virtue of this affi-
ance that you cannot but regard with sympathy the ho-
mage which you see done by foreigners to letters. Why,
the very Ambassadors whom they send to this Court are
so many reproaches to our neglect of them. Who is the
.Ambassador from Russia ? A man who has risen by
his pen. Who from Sweden ? The historian of Bri-
tish India.—(Cheers.) Who from Prussia ? A pro-
f( ssor. Who from Belgium ? A man who has risen by
literature. Who from France ? An author and an his••
torian.—(Cheers.) Who from America ? An author
5-id professor.—(Cheers.) But it requires no extraor-
dinary spell of divination to prophecy to the literature
wnich shall derive its impulse from such a meeting as
the present—which shall result from such incentives—
% hich shall be fostered an encouraged by such sympathy
_a yours, a destiny yet more lasting and auspicious, be-
cause as it will not be patronised by monarchs, nor
fashioned by nobles, nor confined by prejudice, so it will
b•. free, independent, universal, and tolerant commerce.
.---(Loud cheers.) It is, therefore, only natural,
tbat with this idea of this meeting, I should
feel a diffidence, and, when I find myself, as it
were, face to face with a great thought, which carries
ale down among future generations into the very pre-
,' ace of immortality, that with that there mingles
something of astonishment. My feelings, to compare
mnall things to great, are those which David Hume
describes-in ,his remarkable letter to Gibbon, on reading
Dis hittory :—" Forgive me," he says, "if I have read
raw work with as much surprise as admiration; because
at has appeared to me that, while we in Scotland have
d me great things for literature, you in England have
surrendered yourselves to absurd and barbarous factions."
--(Cheers.) This meeting is an earnest and a guarantee
that these absurdities shall cease, and these barbarities
have an end.—(Loud cheers.) But here, even in this
pleasant hour of convivial intercourse, when men of all
parties and all shades of opinion are met to interchange
the amenities, and courtesies, and fair civilities of life, it
is impossible not to remember how many and how illus-
trious have been the victims of these absurdities,
these barbarities,—or, what is worse, these vulgarities
of our party warfare. Remember the fate of our last
'peat man. Remember how he was proscribed as an
ec;venturer, because he was born to no hereditary fortune;
and then, when the gentle judging and the generous—
when men with large thoughts and fine feelings—when
the few rallied round him against the many—he was
again branded and proscribed, because they were a few,
as a eaballer and intriguer. Remember how in high
lire his views were thwarted, his spirit cowed, his
'wart broken—how he hasted to his grave—
mid then you will understand how, through
calumny and misconstruction--through such men's envy,
surd the insults of men yet smaller—he must often have
pined for some such neutral ground as this, to which his
• rimed spirit might have flown away, and been at rest.
And how, in the prospect of a happier hour, of advanc-
ing toleration, such as this meeting affords—even with
ouch eloquence as we have heard to-day—there are few
among us, now that fifteen years have passed over his
grave, who will hesitate to exclaim with me—" Oh, for
one hour of George Canning !"—(Loud cheers.) But
en en among those who hear me there may be some who
ti ink that I am stating results too grave and too im-
p rtant to this meeting in thus speaking of advancing
toleration ; there may be some who argue it a mere
• mmunication, and nothing more. Such I think no
thoughtful opinion ; because it is impossible to study
our history for the last half-century, and not perceive
that Manchester has always been foremost in the great
pork of national advancement. It is not because you
did as much, perhaps, as all our subsidies, or all our arms,
in our long war with Napoleon—it is not because, since
tie peace, you have done far more than all our Mi-
nisters to promote the common wealth—but it seems
to me that you who have carried
.your national tri-
unphs to the remotest corners of the earth, have yet
remembered that there was another world to conquer.
.Nor will your triumphs in the spiritual world be less
remarkable. Because, that same creative power which
in the world of action is called invention, and minis-
ters to man, this same creative power in the world of
)12Flit is called genius, and governs and provides for man.
131, t in either sphere, whether of thought or action, it is
• high and holy mission to benefit mankind.—
mere is nothing small, nothing selfish,
nothing exclusive in the temper of
;ree.—(Cheers.) It was out of a spirit as
the humanities first sprang.. It will be out
less Catholic that here, in the metropolis
Tprise, great things will again be done.-
411
:en at the risk of fatiguing you I will
~,,meaning. There is a city which is the
e of free commerce and free litera-
eo=los
lasi iiitriVayeace, in a time of darkness and op-
iate;

pression, that a simple citizen arose—strong in the
might of justice, strong in the despair of the many,
strong in the very wickedness of the Jew—to confront
the knightly highwaymen who exacted toll upon every
article that passed through their domains. That simple
citizen was seconded by an enlightened sovereign—
pledged to just principles of trade. That simple citizen
and that enlightened sovereign prevailed. They laid the
foundations of free commerce—l use the ord in no
party sense—the foundation of the Rhenish and the
Hanseatic leagues ' • and the ruins of those mighty
fortresses upon the borders of the Rhine, still inform the
traveller what is the fate of the unjust.l(Cheers.) But
what followed? Out of the spirit thus awakened—out of
the light thus kindled—out of free commerce have
sprung free letters.(Cheers.) In the same Mayence
Guttenberg discovered printing.—(Cheers.) Thus the
destruction of monopolies in trade proved the destruction
of monopolies in knowledge.—(Cheers.) Here, then, in
a country ruled over by an enlightened Sovereign, not
less alive, let us hope, than his Lordship of Hapsburg, to
the misery of her poorer subjects—here, with merchant
princes around—here, animated by an inspiration not
less magnificent than was Walpolden—there shall be for
Manchester the renown which was of old for Mayence.
Because your ships and vessels are laden not alone with
bales of cloths and cottons, but with goods which have
neither a declared nor an official value, you carry with
you truths from this free island which tend to elevate
the character of man. You carry with you principles
which tend to unite all nations in one fair confraternity
of reciprocal assistance.—(Cheers.) And when, out of
a spirit thus Catholic, out of a power thus universal,
that old world shall have received another of those moral
shocks which, like printing and steam, threw it onwards
on its career ; when it shall be one stage nearer its
goal ; when civilization shall be one hour from its me-
ridian, it will be remembered that this meeting had its
share in the work of progress.—(Cheers.) For here,
too, at this very moment, we are publishing the banns
for a marriage which represents the primeval alliance
between the matter and the spirit. For this too is a
bridal between matter and spirit ; between the industry
which has overspread the earth, as the waters cover the
seas, and that intellect which is young, and which, by
God's blessing, shall remain pure.—(Loud cheers.)
The CHAIRMAN next proposed the health of Mr. Row-
land Hill, the author of the penny postage, which was
drunk with cheers, and responded to by that gentleman,
who proposed the health of the President of the Athe-
' tueum, Mr. Atherton, and the two secretaries, Messrs.
Berlyn and Watkin, who had done so much to promote
the interests of the institution.
Mr. TORRENS M'CULLOCH seconded the motion, in
doing so he congratulated the meeting upon the fact,
that instead of complimenting the late Dr. Dalton by
erecting a monument to his memory, they were going
to expend the money in founding a professorship in that
science of which that great man was so distinguished
an ornament.

The resolution having been unanimously carried,
Mr. WATKINS returned tnanks, and moved that Mr.
Atherton, President of the Athenmum, take the chair.
Mr. Atherton, having taken the chair,
The Mayor of MANCHESTER (Mr. Alexander Kay)
rose to propose a vote of thanks to Mr. Disraeli. He
knew not, he said, in what terms to express his thanks
to that distinguished gentleman. He could only entreat
of the meeting that they would, by their loud acclaim,
satisfy him that they, at least, offered their thanks with
the utmost sincerity. however much their mouthpiece
had failed in giving expression to their feelings. He
hoped that in some of the works which would doubtless
proceed from their gifted chairman, he would, in some of
his philosophical discussions, bring out this remarkable cir-
cumstance—that, at this era, large assemblages of peo-
ple could be collected together for literary objects, when,
if mere singing and dancing were presented as the prin-
cipal attraction, they would hardly have seen as many
hundreds.—(Hear, hear.) He was the more induced to
allude to this point when he referred to Mr. Disraeli's
works in 1834, in which he laid it down that " the Phi-
losophical Society of Manchester was in a state of ambi-
guous existence." If this could be said of the Manches-
ter Philosophical Society in 1834, when Dr. Dalton was
its president, it was a peculiarly fortunate circumstance
that Mr. Disraeli was present that he might ascertain the
effects which had since been produced, and which might
hereafter be expected. He begged to propose that the
marked and most cordial thanks of the meeting be given
to Mr. Disraeli for his kindness in taking the chair, and
he would take the liberty of adding, for the able manner
in which he had discharged the duties devolving upon
reat cheers.) _ _

Mr. JAMES HEYWOOD seconded the motion. Ile con-
sidered that thanks were due to Mr. Disraeli from the
whole community of Manchester, to whom he had given
such valuable information that evening. lie reminded
the meeting that in the pages of " Coningsby" Mr. Disraeli
had represented the manufacturer as a person to be
honoured and respected, and he contended that that
gentleman had raised himself on the mystic ladder to
which he had himself alluded, and placed himself above
the ordinary race of men.—(Loud cheers.)
The rote of thanks was carried by acclamation, Mr.
Cobden acting as fugleman, and the entire meeting
rising and giving nine enthusiastic rounds of applause.
Mr. ATHERTON, in. acquainting Mr. Disraeli with the
nature of the compliment just paid him, said that that
gentleman had the thanks of the whole body of directors
and subscribers to the Athenmum for his kindness in
presiding, and his ability in discharging his onerous
duties, and that the kind suggestions and recommenda-
tions of the various speakers would receive the most
careful consideration of the committee.

Mr. DISRAELI rose amid loud cheers to reply. He
said he had to offer them his thanks for the distinguished
manner in which they had paid him this high compli-
ment. It was, in his opinion, the greatest distinction
that man could receive when he received the approbation
of a refined community of his fellow-citizens. He aspired
to no more. He desired no more. He thought if he
had attained that result, he had attained a great prize.
And, far from believing that he was entitled to it, all
that he would say was, that he was determined to en-
deavour to deserve it.—(Cheers.) He remembered with
the deepest interest the casual circumstances under
which they first made each other's acquaintance. He
was deeply sensible of the honour which they had done
him in requesting that he would preside over their
meeting that evening ; and in offering him their
thanks for the manner in which he had ful-
filled the duties of that office, they had conferred
upon him an honour and an obligation that, when
he returned to his home, he should cherish—which, in
public life, he should often recur to for animation and
support—which he never should forget—and which, he
trusted, might inspire him to conduct that would never
forfeit their regard and their respect.—(Great cheering.)
Mr. COBDEN then rose and said, that they were
honoured on that occasion with the presence of their
worthy Chairman's lady, and he thought, in the name of
the ladies present, he might call upon the gentlemen to
rise and give three cheers for Mrs. Disraeli.
The call was enthusiastically responded to, Mrs.
Disraeli rising and repeatedly acknowledging the com-
pliment.
Mr. DISRAELI said he was very sorry indeed to tres-
pass upon the meeting again. He thought a year at
least might transpire before he should have had that
honour. But Mrs. Disraeli, who was extremely grati-
fied with the distinguished honour, desired him to say,
that there was only one circumstance could gratify her
more, and that was, that they should clear the room as
soon as possible, and commence dancing.—(Laughter.)
The room was accordingly cleared, and dancing was
continued until a late hour.

Within the last week an occurrence which, as yet,
would not properly come under the head of "fighting in-
telligence,' for it was all on one side, came off at a pretty
little town in this county, which is at present the country
quarters of a company or detachment of the Regi-
ment, and which, as it has created rather a " sensation "
in that neighbourhood, we give the particulars of, as we
received them from a correspondent, on whose accuracy
we can place perfect reliance. They are briefly these:—
A short time since a gallant son of Mars, distin-
guished by a purely Milesian patronymic, was stationed
with part of his regiment at a country town some thirty
miles from our "beautiful city," and it appears had been
paying marked attention to a young lady there for a
considerable time, but had recently discontinued his
visits, which, up to that period, had been unremitting.
The regiment soon after left that town for another, not
far distant, and the inconstant one having taken himself
off sans ceremonie, considered, most probably, that the
matter was at an end. Not so, however, with some of
the young lady's friends, for on Tuesday last her bro-
ther, passing in the streets of a locality rendered famous
in song and story, met the quondam suitor on horseback,
and immediately formed the intention of, in the words of
our informant, " horsewhipping him at the most conve-
nient opportunity." The desired " opportunity" soon
presented itself in the hotel, when Mr. -- addressed
the gallant sans collate, and without waiting for a reply,
laid on with his whip, and " continued to belabour him,"
until he managed to make his way into an adjoining
room. So the matter remains, says our informant, and
no further steps have been taken in it by either party.—
Cork Southern Reporter.
CHATHAM DOCK-YARD, OCT. 4.—Yesterday the
following removals and promotions were received at the
office of the Captain-Superintendent, Capt. William
Henry Sherriff, from the Admiralty, commencing first
with Mr. J. Fincham, master shipwright of this yard,
who is appointed master shipwright of Portsmouth yard,
vice Blake, superannuated ; Mr. W. Edge', master ship-
wright at Davenport, appointed master shipwright at
Chatham, vice Fincham ; Mr. C. Willcox, master ship-
wright's assistant of this yard, is appointed to the same
office in Deptford yard, and Mr. 0. Lang, junior acting
master shipwright's assistant at Deptford, appointed
master shipwright's assistant at this yard. Mr. W. M.
Rice, foreman of this yard, is appointed master ship-
wright's assistant at Portsmouth, vice Sturdie, superan-
nuated. Mr. Babb, acting foreman of the yard at De-
vonport, is appointed foreman of this Dock-yard at
Chatham, vice Rice, promoted. Mr. J. Wyatt, acting
foreman of this yard, is appointed foreman, vice Reed,
promoted to assistant foreman at 'Woolwich-yard, vice
Abethell, promoted to master shipwright. The Thunder,
surveying vessel, Commander Barnett, is taken into
dock again to complete making good her defects, and
fitting for sea. The Duck has been re-coppered, and
defects made good, and was put out of dock on Tuesday,
and sailed this day with stores for Woolwich and Dept-
ford yards. _

Thy grave is gathering home the last few remnants
of the Revolution! Colonel George Gill, of Chester
district, S.C., breathed his last on Monday the Bth of
July last, and was buried with the honours of war, at
Fishing Creek Church. Many companies of infantry
and cavalry turned out in full uniform, to participate in
paying the last sad tribute of respect to the departed
hero. Colonel Gill was enlisted in the public service
by his cousin, Colonel Archy Gill, in the year 1799,
being then about eighteen or nineteen years of age.—
Neu) York Tribune. _ .

_
M. Van de Weyer, the Belgian Minister, transacted
business yesterday at the Foreign-office.

SPIRIT of the PUBLIC JOURNALS.
FROM THE EVENING PAPERS Or YESTERDAY.
GLOBE.—We see with unfeigned satisfaction the
sort of revival which seems taking place, in the sense
of social relations between the wealthier classes in the '
country and its peasantry. An instance of this will
be found in our columns in the meeting at Ongar,
addressed by Mr. Raikes Currie. We cannot,
however, dissemble to ourselves that there are
lions in the path to a more healthy harmony
between lower and higher classes. That the
atmosphere, in some way or other, will at
length clear itself, cannot be doubted; but that
it will clear itself without storms, we dare not pre-
dict. There is so much to readjust, after so long an
artificial regimen, and so little certainty, at any time,
amongst mankind, of vigorous measures of improve-
ment from higher quarters, and definite and moderate
views in lower ones—or rather, there is so complete a
certainty, at all crises, of more or less deficiency in
both—that, while we rejoice in the evidences of an
improved spirit, we cannot but rejoice with trem-
bling. This is the way to be dubbed alarmists
—a charge for which we care very little. Those
who can view without alarm the incongruities of our
present situation, and the provocations to criticism of
that situation administered from higher quarters to
multitudes, who were never so expressly called on to
canvass their condition before—those who can look
upon all this, and remember that, whoever may stir
social questions, there are always aspiring or embit-
tered spirits in society eager, in great numbers, to
work them, and to possess the people, called to
discuss those questions, with belief in the efficacy
of only such measures as only men malcontent with
the whole order of things would propose—but which
must find a fearfully sympathetic chord in breasts
enduring hardships under that order—those who can
regard these commencements, and contemplate those
hardly to be shunned consequences, without alarm—
shall be welcome to call us alarmists, without
ruffling our equanimity. The truth is, that
the higher order of men (we mean higher
placed socially) whom awakened feelings of social
relations prompt to express generous sentiments
to those classes which have least reason for attach-
ment to their existing state, and perhaps a little too
apt to enjoy the pleasurable novelty of their own
posture, without fully appreciating the claims and
responsibility which must ensue. We consider
Young England, in some of its abler organs, a little
in this predicament. A gentle glow of enthusiasm in
the privileged may pass by a too easy transition
into a fierce and uncontrollable fanaticism in the
unprivileged. The labouring people are little ac-
customed to excitement on social questions ; but let
them be once fairly excited on them, and we de not
think a second Coningsby, or a second Bolingbroke
(see Smythe's " Historic Fancies"), will prove their
congenial or lasting orders. For such reasons, or
under such impressions as we have slightly indicated,
what we most desiderate at the present crisis are two
things—sobriety and decision. Sobriety in the
sentiments which are now so widely ventilated on
social themes—decision, and self-sacrifice, in the
measures of practical improvement. These may be too
much for our hopes, but they are net too much for our
needs. We are deeply persuaded that sanguineness
in words, and selfishness in acts, will soon come to a
settling day. Poets and novelists may excite agree-
ably " the new generation ;" but excitement of suf-
fering men will be no poetical or imaginative matter.
Stern realities must either be soberly and unsel-
fishly dealt with by our statesmen ; or sterner
realities will spring out of that very awakening
which has now begun amongst gentlemen. Generous
sentiments are a luxury ; indolent ease is a
luxury too. The utterance of the one, and indul-
gence of the other combined—will be public ruin.
It is, therefore, we read with particular pleasure
speeches like these of Mr. Raikes Currie ; and we
entirely agree with him in regarding religion as the
great principle of social harmony. But then it must
be social religion—it must be something really bind-
ing and connecting classes. It will no longer do
to recommend religion, like cheap soup, as an excel-
lent thing for the poor. The sense of religion
must he shown in public action ; not in mere
preachments. In holding out to the peasantry the
consoling prospect of a future life, gentlemen must
deal with the affairs of the country, and with their
own, so as to show that their own souls are not
swallowed up in the present. Inequalities involving
miseries must be mitigated—those of style and station
excite no envy amongst the masses, because they do
not stand near enough to them. The enviers of these
are a rather higher class ; though it may happen, as
formerly it has happened, that the "proud man's con-
tumely," galling those just below, may supply leaders
for the more substantially suffering multitudes.
STANDARD.—We copy from the Times a long,
and not very temperate, article upon some recent
transactions in the island of Jersey. We do not pin
our faith, as it is pretty well known, upon the accu-
racy of all our Morning Contemporary's statements;
nor are we very confident in the candour with
which it reasons, even from facts which it
states accurately. Upon the merits of the par-
ticular case referred to, therefore, we offer no
opinion. Still there is enough in the anomalous
condition of the Channel Islands to suggest a
suspicion that some great change in that condition
is required, not only for the good of the empire
generally, but for the benefit of the islanders them-
selves, and particular inquiries have led us to the
conviction that in Jersey, at least, scarcely any
change can be made which must not be an improve-
ment. We are no admirers of innovation, and
hold still, as we have always held, that existing
institutions have this twofold presumption in their
favour—that they have obtained the approbation of
the good and wise of successive generations, and
that society has commonly, so adapted itself to these
institutions as to render a violent revulsion from them
likely to produce as much evil as good. But this
presumption, of course, involves the qualification that
the institutions have really been approved of by free
agents, and that the social state has not outgrown
them, instead of adapting itself to them. Now this
qualification applies, as we think, fully to the state of
Jersey (we confine ourselves, as far as possible to that
among the Channel Islands, as the one to which our
investigation has been most particularly directed)
The constitution of government in the island is a
singularity in the whole civilised world, the sole exist-
ing remnant of the political system of the eleventh
century. Now, to believe that this constitution has
had the deliberate approbation of the Jersey people
for eight centuries, is to suppose that the inha-
bitants of the island differ from all the rest of
mankind. The history of the island, however, at-
tests the fact, that the people of Jersey have not
been free agents in the matter, if by free agency we
are to understand the exemption from a sinister
influence, as well as from brute force. The history of
the island tells why the Jersey people have rejected
the benefit of English law, and the honour of consti-
tuting an integral part of the metropolitan state
of this great empire ; or, if history do not give
full satisfaction upon the point, perhaps the matter
will be found fully elucidated in the records of the
Customs' Board. And how has this political isolation
operated upon the people of Jersey ? Good laws are
among the first wants of a people, and what sort
of laws have they in Jersey ? The old Norman code,
the old martial law of a purely military age—the
law which has been rejected by all the nations
of Europe that ever submitted to it, and to which in
its extent England never would submit. The Con-
tumier is still the " institute" of Jersey law, and even
its language is preserved in legal proceedings five
centuries after that language has been rejected from
our English courts. " The common law of England,"
that wisest code that ever was framed by hu-
man wisdom, because resting upon the primary
principles of justice ; which few and plain principles
were, by the provisions of our Saxon ancestors,
adapted to the equal benefit of all classes of the
people—the common law of England, the basis of
our own legal constitution, and the basis of tha
constitution of the United States as well as of the
Code Napoleon, by which so much of Europe is
now governed—the common law of England has
no place, never had any place, in Jersey.
In England men are sure of having justice adminis-
tered in consonance with equity and reason ; in the
United States also, and in France, we meet only the
principle of our common law, but between the shores
of France and England, and in the dominions of
Queen Victoria, we find a law which no Englishman
can fully understand, and which, as far as
it is intelligible, fills one with disgust. The
Englishman on one side and the Frenchman on the
other have spurned this most absurd law (most
absurd as applied to our age) ; but it is the law of a
British island, but a few leagues from London,
according to our present rate of travelling not
above 10 or 12 hours' journey from Westminster
Hall. If this were simply absurd, that would be
bad enough, for absurdities cannot be safely in-
dulged in matters of government; but it is now
greatly worse than absurd. The Channel Islands,
hitherto and still of little value to the empire, may
be made of great importance in the new mili-
tary and commercial relations which Europe
has been made to assume by the introduction of
steam navigation. But, in order to obtain this
importance, they must be made rich ; and to be
made rich they must be made thoroughly and in
all respects English—English in language as they are
already in habits and interests ; subject to English
lav‘s and to the English system of revenue. Rich the
islands will never be while Englishmen fear to trust
their property, and even their persons, to the mercy
of the local laws. In such case the highest
destiny of the islands must be to con-
stitute a refuge for insolvents and an en-
irepot for smugglers. Surely the inhabitants will
be ambitious of a higher destiny.' Private interests
will of course excite an opposition to such a reform,
but it cannot be that the mass of men living
within sound of British law, and having it offered

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