ng what he supposes to have been the former vivacity of the
nation with its present monotonous character. "John Bull," he will
say, "was then a gay cavalier, with his sword by his side and a
feather in his cap; but he is now a plodding citizen, in
snuff-coloured coat and gaiters."

By the by, there really appears to have been some change in the
national character, since the days of which the Squire is so fond of
talking; those days when this little island acquired its favourite old
title of "merry England." This may be attributed in part to the
growing hardships of the times, and the necessity of turning the whole
attention to the means of subsistence; but England's gayest customs
prevailed at times when her common people enjoyed comparatively few of
the comforts and conveniences that they do at present. It may be still
more attributed to the universal spirit of gain, and the calculating
habits that commerce has introduced; but I am inclined to attribute it
chiefly to the gradual increase of the liberty of the subject, and the
growing freedom and activity of opinion.

A free people are apt to be grave and thoughtful. They have high and
important matters to occupy their minds. They feel that it is their
right, their interest, and their duty, to mingle in public concerns,
and to watch over the general welfare. The continual exercise of the
mind on political topics gives intenser habits of thinking, and a more
serious and earnest demeanour. A nation becomes less gay, but more
intellectually active and vigorous. It evinces less play of the fancy,
but more power of the imagination; less taste and elegance, but more
grandeur of mind; less animated vivacity, but deeper enthusiasm.

It is when men are shut out of the regions of manly thought, by a
despotic government; when every grave and lofty theme is rendered
perilous to discussion and almost to reflection; it is then that they
turn to the safer occupations of taste and amusement; trifles rise to
importance, and occupy the craving activity of intellect. No being is
more void of care and reflection than the slave; none dances more
gayly, in his intervals of labour; but make him free, give him rights
and interests to guard, and he becomes thoughtful and laborious.

The French are a gayer people than the English. Why? Partly from
temperament, perhaps; but greatly because they have been accustomed to
governments which surrounded the free exercise of thought with danger,
and