olved to make the attempt by menace. Hopeless in the
House, it appealed to the rabble, and France was extolled to the skies.
We then heard nothing of the "natural enmity," but a vast deal of the
instinctive friendship. England and France were no longer to be two
hostile powers sitting on their respective shores, with flashing eyes
and levelled spears, but like a pair of citizen's wives loaded with
presents and provisions for each other, and performing their awkward
courtesies across the Channel.

It must be acknowledged, however, that the Whig maxim, though a
watchword of faction, was no blunder of fact. A commercial treaty with
the French in that day, or in any other day before or since, was a
dream. To bring the Frenchman to any rational agreement on the subject
of trade, or to keep him steady to any agreement whatever, has been a
problem, which no British statesman has been able to solve. No
commercial treaty, even with all the genius of Pitt, has ever produced
to England the value of the paper on which it is written. Whether, if
they were two Englands in the world, they might not establish commercial
treaties with each other, may be a question. But we regard it as an
absolute waste of time, to think of trading on fair terms with any of
the slippery tariffs of foreign countries. In fact, this is now so
perfectly understood, that England has nearly given up the notion of
commercial treaties. She trades now, where the necessities of the
foreigner demand her trade. The foreigner hates John Bull, Just as the
Athenian peasant hated Aristides, and for the same reason. He hates him
for being honest, manly, and sincere; he hates him for the integrity of
his principles, for the purity of his faith, and for the _reality_ of
his freedom; he hates him for his prosperity, for his progress, and for
his power. And while the Frenchman capers in his fetters, and takes his
promenade under the shadow of the fortifications of Paris; while the
German talks of constitutions in the moon; and while the Holy Alliance
amuses itself with remodelling kingdoms, John Bull may be well content
to remain as he is, and leave them to such enjoyment as they can find in
sulkiness and sneering.

Grey's brilliant debut appears not to have been sustained: he spoke
little during the session, but talked much--a fatal distinction to a
parliamentary aspirant. Ambitious of figuring, he attempted to figure on
all occasions; and, once or twice, unluckily daring