single nation; an illimitable currency; an internal trade supported by
swarming millions whom manufacturers and inclosure-bills summoned into
existence; above all, the supreme control obtained by man over mechanic
power, these are some of the causes of that rapid advance of material
civilisation in England, to which the annals of the world can afford no
parallel. But there was no proportionate advance in our moral
civilisation. In the hurry-skurry of money-making, men-making, and
machine-making, we had altogether outgrown, not the spirit, but the
organisation, of our institutions.

The peace came; the stimulating influences suddenly ceased; the people, in
a novel and painful position, found themselves without guides. They went
to the ministry; they asked to be guided; they asked to be governed.
Commerce requested a code; trade required a currency; the unfranchised
subject solicited his equal privilege; suffering labour clamoured for its
rights; a new race demanded education. What did the ministry do?

They fell into a panic. Having fulfilled during their lives the duties of
administration, they were frightened because they were called upon, for
the first time, to perform the functions of government. Like all weak men,
they had recourse to what they called strong measures. They determined to
put down the multitude. They thought they were imitating Mr. Pitt, because
they mistook disorganisation for sedition.

Their projects of relief were as ridiculous as their system of coercion
was ruthless; both were alike founded in intense ignorance. When we recall
Mr. Vansittart with his currency resolutions; Lord Castlereagh with his
plans for the employment of labour; and Lord Sidmouth with his plots for
ensnaring the laborious; we are tempted to imagine that the present epoch
has been one of peculiar advances in political ability, and marvel how