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being. Hence the law of self-preservation and self-enjoyment, without any restraint imposed by a regard for the good of our neighbours, is the great law of nature. The natural rights appertaining to the person of man are the intellectual rights, or the rights of the mind, and the right of acting as an individual for his own comforts and happiness.

Such are the natural rights which a beneficent Creator gave to his creatures; he made all equally responsible to him, and each equal to the other. In no country, however, has it ever happened that mankind long exercised these rights; they soon perceived that it would conduce more to their comforts as a body, render them happier, and enable them the more easily to provide for their immediate and pressing wants, if they threw, as it were, a portion of the rights inherent in them into a common stock. The consequence of this deposit was a division of the land and its products in such a way that each depositor should have a portion for his exclusive use and enjoyment, and a guarantee from the united power of the whole, that he should be protected in the enjoyment of his share. This we conceive to have been the origin of society, and of the civil rights of man. Civil rights are thus the offspring of natural rights, and every civil right must have its existence from some pre-existing natural right. For instance, the civil rights-security and protection-arise from the natural law of self-preservation, which each individual was not capable of having the full enjoyment of in a state of nature, and therefore deposited it in the common fund of society, which in return gave him security to his property, and protection to his person:-Society therefore gives nothing to mankind. "Every man"-says a writer on this subject"is a proprietor in society, and draws on the capital as a matter of course." From civil rights, or society, arose property; one man, in consequence of his greater industry, superior ability and stricter frugality than that of his neighbour, came into possession of more of the good things of this world; and thus labour of one sort and another was the basis of property.

Having taken this short sketch of civil rights, let us endeavour to apply them and their principles to government. The great sources of all governments are superstition, military power, and reason. The early governments of Greece and Rome were of the first class. Designing men pretended to hold intercourse with the Deity. Oracles were consulted, and whatever they were made to say, at first through the influence of fear, afterwards of belief, became law, and was obeyed as such. How many a country, as well as private individual, has been ruled by the goddess of the Ephesians, and truly might the inhabitants of Ephesus exclaim-" Great is Diana!" From an attentive perusal of various and authentic accounts of travels among and descriptions of savage countries, we learn, that even now superstition, and of a far more gross and debasing character than that above referred to, is the great and prevailing agent therein, through which subordination and obedience is maintained to the despotic rulers of barbarous kingdoms. But governments of this description will, let us hope, soon disappear from among the nations' by the extermination of ignorance, which is the chief spring from which these rivers of barbarism flow.

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Military power, as was already stated, was another, and by far a more extensive source of authority-indeed, after a moment's reflection, we cannot help coming to the conclusion that, since the downfal of the Roman Empire, it has been, in Europe, almost the only original source of government. And without travelling from home let us consider it as it relates to our own country. Passing over the Saxon and Danish usurpations, which are now only subjects of antiquarian research, we arrive at the conquest of, and consequently the government founded in, England by William Duke of Normandy, which was one of power, when might prevailed against right, and the sword assumed the sceptre. Although Harold had no hereditary title to the throne, and it has been questioned by some historians whether the crown was hereditary at that period, he had a far more stable one-the choice and affections of his people.-The fictitious and insolent claim of the cruel and haughty William of a testamentary disposition of the Crown in his favour by Edward the Confessor was, in all probability, a base fabrication, intended as a cloak to hide the enormity of his attempt, and well worthy of the infamous source from which it arose. But even admitting the fact, that Edward had devised the Crown to William, the aggression was equally shameful, as Edward had not power so to do, and must have acted through compulsion, while residing at the hospitable court of William in Normandy, and the people confirmed the choice of the Nobles assembled in the Witten'agenot, or council of wise men, by obeying Harold. The subjection of England by the Conqueror was only excelled, in the baseness of the principles which originated it, by the horrid cruelties which he committed in making his seat on the throne secure. country was delivered up to be pillaged and destroyed by the rapacious soldiery who assisted in the conquest and worthy was such a general of his men-neither age nor sex were respected-civil and religious institutions and property alike suffered under the grasp of these blood-hounds; the ancient nobility, who came not in and did homage to this new order of things, were exterminated, and their 'broad lands' given to the favourites of the day. "From York to Durham," says William of Malmesbury, a writer who lived only 60 years after these events took place, not an inhabited village remained. Fire, slaughter, and desolation made it a vast wilderness, which it remains to this day." The feudal laws, which were introduced by William into this country, are inconsistent with any state but that of complete vassalage on the part of the majority of the people of any country in which they exist. But governments established by power seldom last for any length of time without the aid of some powerful agent; in our case this important aid was fraud, and an idol called Divine Right was set up for the people of England, who were, in the opinion of Henry the VIII. "for the most part brutes and inexpert folk," to worship. From the time of William the Conqueror to the accession of the Tudor family to the throne, the history of England presents but few features of rational liberty to the philosophical reader. In such a state of ignorance were our an

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Among these were the family of De Vesey, the predecessors of the Percys, to' whom immense estates in Northumberland were granted.

cestors of this period, that all improvements for the better, in the freedom of the subject, were received as boons granted by a beneficent monarch to his abject slaves.-The Magna Charta forced by the Barons from the tyrant John, and the confirmation and enlargement thereof by Henry, are no doubt exceptions from this, but yet both are in the form of grants, and seem to proceed upon the false assumption, that the party granting had the power to refuse. The Magna Charta, to which we Englishmen are so fond of referring, in reality improved the condition of the bulk of the people but little, and added less to the practical liberty enjoyed by them; and one decidedly evil effect it had was, that, instead of breaking down, it in some degree confirmed the feudal system.-Parliament, which scarcely had its existence then, was for long a vox et præterea nihil-a mere office for registering the edicts of the King. Undoubtedly the wars between the houses of York and Lancaster did much to increase its power, and to bring the feudal system into repute, but even in the reigns of Henry the VIII. and Elizabeth, we have many glaring instances of the servility and complacency of the British Parliament to the powers that were.

Alnwick, 25th Nov. 1831.

C.

STANZAS.

BY MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS,

ON THE DEATH OF HER HUSBAND FRANCIS II. OF FRANCE.

(Translated from the French*.)

WHAT late was cheering to my longing sight,
And pleasure gave, and oft extreme delight,
Hath now a pain and bitterness become,—

And the bright day as night's impervious gloom ;—
No craving wish, or relish more have I,

For aught that erst could yield my spirit joy.

If for a solace to my anguish sore,

Each scene of former bliss I wander o'er ;

Th' attempt illusive proves,-no change of place
My poignant grief and mis'ry can efface;-
Alike to me are now the desert's wild,

And flow'ry fields where nature sweetest smil'd!

If to some lonely haunt I chance to stray,
Amidst the woods, or in the meadows gay,
Whether when morn unfolds the cheering dawn,
Or when the curtain of the gloamin's drawn,-

In a Life of Mary, published a few years ago, by Mr. Tytler, this SONNET

is introduced as recorded by Brantome. No English version having appeared, the translator has thought it as well worthy of a native dress as other productions of that unfortunate Queen.

VOL. I.

I

Still feels

my heart the ever baleful cross,

And turns to mourn its deep and withering loss.
If to the heavens my weeping eyes I raise,
Some cloud to me his graceful form displays,-
So flatt'ring fancy paints, the while I trace
The long-lost smile, and features of his face;
And when mine eyes survey the wat'ry scene,
He there as in his tomb to me is seen*.

When on my couch I lay me down to sleep,
Still o'er my bed his soul doth vigil keep,
His voice mine ears with gentlest words doth greet
As erst, methinks, with me in converse sweet,—
And aye through midnight's hush my Francis seems
To murmur blessings in his Mary's dreams!

To end, then, here my sad complaining song,
Of which the theme shall be, tho' briefly sung,
Affection ever true, and love unfeign'd,

Which in my breast have long supremely reign'd-
By death's dark painful separation, ne'er
Shall diminution know through life's career.

SPECIMENS OF THE GERMAN NOVELISTS.
No. I. THE SANDMAN.

(From the German of E. T. A. Hoffman.)

BY N. D. STENHOUSE, A. M.

J. T.

NATHANIEL TO LOTHAR.

EXCEPT at dinner, I and the rest of the children saw little of our father during the day. He was probably much engaged with his professional duties. After supper, which, according to the old fashion, was served up about seven o'clock, we all went along with our mother to his room, and seated ourselves at a round table; and he used to smoke a pipe, and drink a large glass of beer. Many a remarkable story he told us; and on these occasions he became so enthusiastic, that he always allowed his pipe to go out, and, what I considered at that time a great privilege, I was allowed to light it again with a piece of paper. But he would after give us picture-books

* Clearly to understand this last couplet, it must be recollected, that, at this period of time canals, or sheets of water, were common in the pleasure grounds and gardens of France, and that we may suppose Mary to be seated on the margin of one of them when she composed the STANZAS.

to look at, and sit in his arm-chair, without speaking or moving, but whiffing out such clouds of smoke, that the whole room seemed to eddy. When he was in this mood, my mother's spirits appeared to fall, and no sooner had the clock struck nine, than she would say -"Now children-to bed-to bed! I see plainly that the Sandman is coming;” and then I actually heard the sound of slow and heavy footsteps on the stairs. This I thought must be the Sandman.

One night the noise terrified me so much, that I said to my mother when she was taking us out of the room-" Mamma, who is the bad Sandman that always drives us away from Papa? What is he like?""There is no Sandman, my dear boy," replied my mother. "When I say the Sandman is coming, I mean nothing more than that you are sleepy, and cannot keep your eyes open, just as if you had got sand in them." I was not satisfied, however, with my mother's answer; nay, I could not check a suspicion, that she was only dissembling, in order that we might not be frightened, for I still heard the unknown visitor coming up.

Full of curiosity to learn some more particulars about him, and what he had to do with children like us, I at last ventured to ask the old woman, who took care of my youngest sister, what the Sandman was. "Oh Natty," said she, "do you not know that yet? He is a bad man who comes to little boys and girls when they will not go to bed, and throws a handful of sand into their eyes. This makes them start out of the head, and then he puts them into a bag, and takes them to the half moon to feed his young ones that sit there in a nest, and have crooked beaks like owls to pick the eyes of such naughty children." You may easily believe that I now shook with perfect horror, whenever I heard the shuffling on the staircase. I used to burst into tears and stutter out, "the Sandman! the Sandman!"—my mother could get nothing more out of me and run to the bed-room and torment myself all night with thinking of that foul anomaly.

Even when I was old enough to see, that what the nurse had told me could not be altogether true, I still regarded the Sandman as a terrible spectre. Conceive how I shuddered, when I heard him not only coming up stairs, but tearing open my father's door, and entering the room!

He was often absent for a long time, and then his visits were more frequent. Years ran on in this way, and in my mind that ghastly image was as vivid as ever. But I could not summon courage to ask my father any questions, though his intercourse with the Sandman began to occupy my imagination more and more, and my curiosity always increased. The circumstance had given me such a taste for the preternatural as children may acquire easily enough. I liked nothing better than to hear or read frightful stories of goblins, witches, &c. but the most conspicuous character, in my demonology, was the Sandman, whom I used to draw in the most grotesque forms with coal or chalk on the tables, cupboard and walls.

When I was ten years old, my mother promoted me from the nursery to a little bed-chamber, which lay on the corridor, not far from my father's room; but all of us had still to withdraw exactly at nine o'clock, whenever the unknown approached. Soon after he entered,

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