I never could agree in opinion with the philanthropic, and well-intentioned, and honest, Major Cartwright,^[33] in his unqualified scheme of universal suffrage; because I conceive that the ignorant and the wicked ought to be debarred from voting for anything; they should neither be honoured with privileges nor employed in any office of public trust; a virtual representation is all-sufficient for them. Could matters be so managed that none but sensible, honest men should be allowed to vote, either for members of Parliament, or for any other public functionary, the country would, in a short time, put on a very improved appearance. It is quite natural to suppose that, were elections entrusted to this description of men, they would elect none but those of similar character to their own. But, should it be found impracticable thus to order public affairs, then the next best plan,—and which might easily be accomplished,—would be to confer the additional elective franchise upon householders of probity and honour,—that is, upon those who, in their own spheres, by industry and intelligence, maintain themselves respectably; for it must be admitted that the poor are frequently as wise as the rich, and as remarkable for integrity.

If an overwhelming mass of selfism did not paralyze every improvement, how easily and how soon all this might be done. By making elections simple, candidates would be spared the expense of a canvass, and drunkenness and the base, wicked effects consequent thereon might be avoided. This business through the whole kingdom might be done in a few days, by summoning the electors (as soon as the candidates were nominated) to attend at the several polling places, to vote by ballot or otherwise as might be determined. The public should only be addressed through the medium of the newspapers. What a real honour would it be to be thus elected! What a saving of expense! What can any gentleman, after spending thousands in the present mode, say for himself? Does he expect to be repaid, somehow or other, by the nation? or, has he lavished away such sums for the “honour of the thing,” and thus robbed his own family by wasteful expenditure?

While sentiments of patriotism were entertained in our country,—clouded, indeed, by fears of an opposite tendency, as noticed before,—the attention of all was drawn aside to view the confederacy of despots directed to shackle the understandings of mankind, and to keep them in slavery and degradation. Would any man in his senses, in the present enlightened state of the civilized world, have thought this possible? And yet, as a finish, they have called it the “Holy Alliance.” My most fervent prayer is, that no king of the British Isles will ever keep such company; but that our sovereigns will ever stand firm, uncontaminated by the infectious effluvia of arbitrary power, upon this proud ground—this soil fitly tilled, but only wanting some weeding to render it perfectly ready to produce a rich crop of liberty.

Most men were beginning to hope that emperors and kings had discovered that, if the people were not enlightened, it was high time for them to use their kingly influence to make them so; and that it is far safer and better, as well as more honourable, to preside over an intelligent people, than to govern men brought down to the level of unreasoning brutes. The wretchedly bigoted, and consequently oppressed, people of Spain will, no doubt, see things in their true light at some future day, and free their fine country from misrule. The times in which Galileo lived have passed away, but we still see the same kind of despotism and superstition ready as ever to burn such men alive, and to strew their ashes in the wind. The affairs of mankind, managed in this way, will be likely at no distant period to put such kings and their priests out of fashion. Superstition makes despots and tyrants of all the sovereigns whom it influences: they become the confirmed enemies of knowledge. The die is then cast. Superstition never did, nor ever will, listen to reason; for credulity is the offspring of ignorance, and superstition is the child of credulity; and this breed is nursed and kept up by despotism, as its mainstay and darling. The sun of reason may be clouded for a time. As long as falsehood in the garb of truth continues to lead the great mass of mankind, so long will they struggle in vain to attain the paths which lead to perfection and happiness.

“We should always repute it as our business in the world—the end and purpose of our being—our duty to our kind—the natural use of the powers we enjoy—and the suitable testimony of gratitude to our Maker, to contribute something to the general good—to the common fund of happiness to our species.”^[34] Benevolent and patriotic sentiments of this kind ought always to be kept up, and the mite of the humblest individual ought to be received and acknowledged: the reveries of such ought not to pass without being coolly examined by men of experience. I well remember my name having been set down as that of a person who would, without hesitation, become a member of a society in Newcastle, “for the suppression of vice.” To this I decidedly objected, and told my well-meaning neighbour,^[35] who named the matter to me, that I thought the magistrates were quite competent to manage that business; but that I would have no hesitation in joining their society if they would change their plan, and make it “a society for promoting and rewarding virtue.” I have often thought since that, if such a society as the latter—to be called “The Society of Honour”—were established in every parish, it might, if well managed, do great good. The society ought not to annoy any one, by being over officious, nor to meddle otherwise than by quietly, and yet publicly, rewarding, or expressing the good opinion they entertain of the conduct of the person honoured.

Another society of a very different character to the last-named is at this time winked at in this land of liberty. I mean the present great and mighty Inquisition, held under the denomination of “the Constitutional Association.” These men—the secret admirers of “The Holy Alliance”—may more properly be called the suppressors and dreaders of truth. Acting, indeed, under the mask of advocating the cause of religion and liberty, but in reality in lurking enmity to the latter, and to all free enquiry and investigation, they have arrogated to themselves the power of punishing a man for his unbiased opinions, even on subjects which do not militate against good morals, or against the happiness of society; thus taking the power out of the hands of the national authorities, as if they were unfit and insufficient to do their duty. A House of Commons ought to see this with indignation, and this self-erected Inquisition, instead of ruining parties by their prosecutions, should be invited to answer truth with truth, as well as they can; leaving the world to judge how it stands between them and their opponents.

When men break through laws, made with care for the good government of the community, they ought, as at present, to forfeit their liberty, and in some cases their lives. It is a pity that those who have betrayed the innocent, and robbed the fatherless children and widows, cannot be sent to live with savages, and to have their backs tattooed with hieroglyphics, expressive of their crimes.

It has often been a matter of surprise, in the circle of my friends, that criminals are not transported to the West Indies, there to undergo a purgation till they have redeemed their characters, in which case they should be allowed to return home. It has also appeared to us that the law is defective, in not, somehow or other, protecting such men after being released from prison. Some association should be formed—some friends to them and to humanity might be invited forth to pass their word, for a time, for their good behaviour, to prevent their being thus cast friendless upon an unforgiving and censorious world; for it matters not how fervently a man may wish to redeem his character, no one will employ him, and he is thereby driven to the necessity of flying to some villainous scheme to enable him to live.

It is painful to speak about punishments to be inflicted upon one’s unfortunate fellow men: it is equally so to contemplate their self-degradation. But, when it is considered what a voluminous mass of laws we have, neither understood nor explained, we cannot wonder that they are broken; they are so multifarious and complex, that, as to the illiterate description of persons they are meant to keep in order, they are almost useless. An abridgement of the laws of England would perhaps fill fifty folio volumes. These laws, at the time they were made, might be good and proper, but most of them are now inapplicable and obsolete. To amend them seems impossible, and an act to amend or explain an act, by adding confusion to confusion, is truly farcical. It is a pity that the whole of them cannot be abolished at once, and short and clear new ones substituted in their stead. As they stand at present, few men can understand them, and to men of plain, good sense, or of ordinary capacities, they appear altogether a great mass of unintelligible matter, or a complete “riddle-me-ree.” This may, indeed, be intended or winked at; for it gives employment to a great number of men of the law, of all kinds of character, from the basest up to others who are ornaments to their country. Indeed, were it not for the latter description, the rest would not be endurable. They are more to be dreaded than highwaymen and housebreakers, and as such are viewed by the thinking part of the community; but the former find employment from clients of their own character, who trust to them for their ability in twisting, evading, and explaining the law away.

In passing through life, it has fortunately been my lot to have been intimate with both military and naval gentlemen, as well as with those of the learned professions; and, though several of each class have stood high in the estimation of the world, for their gentlemanly manners and unsullied worth—to which I may be allowed to add my testimony, as well as to acknowledge the debt of gratitude I owe some of them for their kindness and attention—yet, on taking a comparative survey of the whole, I cannot help giving a preference to medical men; for, besides their learning and attainments in common with other professions, they appear to me, generally, to be further removed from prejudice, more enlightened, and more liberal in their sentiments than the other labourers in the vineyards of science and literature.