THE last decade of the eighteenth century will constitute an important era in the history of Europe; the domestic annals of Great Britain will also afford a rich field for the philosophic historian. But the period is not yet arrived when this can be executed with impartiality; for all who were then actors were attached to party, and every man capable of thinking and reflecting was an actor, either in theory or practice; the nearest approximation that could be made to neutrality was to be silent, for not to think was impossible. Hence, he who should now attempt to record the scenes in which he bore a part, although reflection may have rectified many of his opinions, and cooled down his angry feelings, yet,

when memory muses on the past, he will find his passions not totally extinguished, and that

"Even in their ashes live their wonted fires."

The history of that period, when traced by some future classic pen, will have the probable advantage of being dispassionately recorded; the motives and conduct of the different actors will be weighed in a balance, which will have a fair chance of being impartially adjusted. But the future historian will write under one disadvantage; although anxious to confine his pen to the history of Britain, she had so great a share in the important events on the continent, that her domestic history will be

eclipsed in their dazzling, but baleful lustre. Besides, the corroding hand of Time will have annihilated many events which were once important; as it destroys the most delicate touches on a statue, or the fine fret-work on a Gothic building. The skeleton will remain ; but the varied fires that flashed in the eyes, the expressive and impassioned features, will have fled for ever.

It will doubtless be recorded, that the nation was divided in opinion about the French Revolution, and that parties ran high; but it is only those who are at sea in a storm who can truly describe the tempest. In some future generation, when the world is become much wiser, it will scarcely be believed with what violence both parties were influenced. The Goddess of Discord seemed to have an ubiquity, which enabled her to preside in almost every town, village, or hamlet, in the kingdom. On the one hand, all who ventured to disapprove of the French Revolution, to doubt of its salutary effects, or oppose the extravagant notions which were entertained about Reform, and remodelling our own Government, were branded as Ministerial hirelings, courtly sycophants, cringing for place and pension. These were denominated Aristocrats, a name understood to express every species of political corruption and oppression. On the other hand, every man who dared to express a doubt about the infallibility of statesmen, or who denied that the then administration was a model of perfection, was stigmatized as the enemy of his country, alias Reformer, alias Republican, the generic name being Democrat, which was considered as synonymous with Rebel; others were more moderate, but such were the extremes of the opposite opinions.

It will readily be conceived, that those who were fattening under the present system, and those who look ed to it for promotion, would deprecate every change on the score of self-interest; but there were others who, placed at the bottom of Fortune's wheel, felt that every change gave them a chance of rising; and also some knaves, who wished to see their country in confusion, as wretches rejoice when fire breaks out

in a crowded city, to afford them an opportunity of plundering. But there is good cause for believing, that the great mass of the people, however they might be mistaken, were sincere in the principles they professed, although both sides carried them to extremes, adhered to them with tenacious obstinacy, and exhibited more zeal than discretion, in promulgating their opinions, appearing anxious to crush, rather than convince their opponents.

The American War had set the common people a thinking: in a few years after its termination, the commencement of the Revolution in France gave a sudden and strong impulse to their minds, which were farther stimulated by political pamphlets, in particular by the writings of Paine, which consisted of specious, although sophistical reasoning, in a style forcible, and suited to their capacities. From this writer many formed strange and extravagant ideas, and their rude theories were often expressed with a coarseness of language which gave alarm to the more cautious part of society.

In opposition to this, Ministers and their adherents, both in and out of Parliament, sometimes spoke of the people with acrimony and undisguised contempt, calculated to excite rather than allay the fermentation. Some of their expressions, which perhaps alluded only to particular cases, were considered of general application, were carefully remembered, and warmly resented by the populace.

Of these, among

many others, were the unfortunate expression of Burke's," the swinish multitude;" that exclamation of a right reverend Prelate, "What have the people to do with the laws but to obey them?" and also that of a statesman, who recommended' and urged

a vigour beyond the law." All these were unguarded expressions, which produced irritation against the ministry; and as the parties on either side would concede nothing, violently defending every act and sentiment of their party, intestine divisions and domestic strife set neighbours and friends together by the ears. It might then be said, in the language of Scripture, that a man's enemies were those of his own house, for the

family parlour often became the scene of political dispute; and it was not uncommon to find father and son, even husband and wife, opposed to each other. These discussions produced dislike in families, and wrath and hatred among neighbours. Dark suspicion took the place of social confidence, caution rendered some silent, and the violence of party deprived others of their ordinary prudence. Never did the Guelphs and Ghibelines of Italy distrust or fear each other more than the different parties in Britain, from the senate to the village ale-house. This has happily long subsided, and is now almost forgotten; yet it then

"Blanch'd with moist sorrow many a beauteous face,

And gave a grief that still perhaps remains."

Among many other infractions of domestic happiness, it produced the following; inflicting wounds, which the lenient hand of Time could not heal, and blighting early blossoms which gave fair promise of future felicity. As in the preceding exordium I have confined myself to exhibiting the state of society at that period, so I shall, in the following narrative, confine myself to a relation of facts only, for obvious reasons, assigning fictitious names to the persons and places mentioned in my tale.

The farm of Benty-brae was occupied by John Glen, who had been for many years resident there; his family consisted of his wife, one son, and several daughters. His nearest neighbour was James Smith, on the adjoining farm of Rashy-burn; they had both come into possession of their farms about the same time, and had continued to live, not only in good neighbourhood, but as intimate friends. In their excursions to the nearest borough, or the cattle-fairs, they always went and returned together; or if one was detained at home, the news and state of markets were communicated to him next day. In unloading a cargo of lime, or what ever agricultural operation required more than ordinary dispatch, the servants and horses of both were united. The one never saw the other in any difficulty without rendering

him assistance; and this reciprocity of good offices produced mutual advantages; they were the counsellors and confidents of each other in every case of importance or emergency.

The farmer of Rashy-burn had only one daughter, and several sons. The children on both farms were nearly coeval, attended the same parish school, and the intimacy of the parents gave promise of extending to their posterity. When at school, to quarrel with one, was to provoke the vengeance of all present from either family. George Glen always carried home Ellen Smith's books, and lifted her over the stiles and puddles in their way; the same kind attention being as uniformly displayed by William Smith to Mary Glen. The farm of Benty-brae was nearest school, and they would often stop there on their return, sporting over the fields in summer, and playing at barley-brake in the barn-yard, during the fine moonlight evenings in winter. The parents were mutually pleased to see the intimacy between their children, and as it continued to grow after they had left school, the mothers, in their occasional visits, would fondly venture to peep under the veil of futurity, anticipating and congratulating each other on what might yet happen.

Time, that expands the green bud into a blushing flower, had now shed sweeter graces on the cheeks of Ellen and Mary, and given a softer, yet brighter lustre to their eyes; they were no longer the romping schoolgirls, but maidens blushing in virgin modesty, pleased with, yet shrinking from, the sportive frolics of their former companions, on whose countenances "man" appeared written in legible and pleasing characters. Exclusive of occasional visits, the families were in the practice of dining and spending the evening with each other about the daft-days; and as William Smith played the violin, a cheerful dance gave zest to their entertainment. At this season there were always prize-shootings in the parish, attended by many good marksmen. It happened at one of them that George Glen and William Smith carried off all the prizes, and the two sisters felt more pride and pleasure on the occasion than they themselves were

aware of: a curling match then took place, and there they were again victors; but in returning home, George Glen slipped a foot, fell, and fractured his arm. Being of a robust constitution, he was never confined; but as home grew wearisome, he spent the long winter evenings at Rashy-burn, listening to Ellen singing; he recovered his strength, but lost his heart: however, it was in safe hands, and Ellen, after some demur, arising from maidenly modesty, gave her own in exchange. In the following summer, an epidemic fever prevailed in that quarter, and James Smith's family were all sick about the same time. Mary Glen, prompted both by duty and inclination, visited her sick friend Ellen, although she was perhaps not less interested about William, who was reckoned dangerously ill. Mary continued to give her friendly assistance to the mother, till all were in a fair way of recovery; William was able to be up several hours every day, and Mary saw with pleasure that he was recovering rapidly; but, in the language of Burns," she grew sick as he grew well;" her cheek lost its bloom, and her eye became languid; perhaps it arose from being deprived of her evening walks; for after enjoying a few in the wood, escorted by William, health again glowed on her cheek, and sparkled in her eye.

This was in the summer of 1792, and neither Paine, nor the curse of party politics, had yet reached this sequestered parish; but in the autumn of that year, they began to break out, and before Christmas, political discussions were pretty frequent. Their clerical pastor was a good, honest man, but with an unbounded reverence for existing institutions, and a dread, approaching almost to horror, of innovation either in church or state: having heard of their disputings, he thought proper to address his congregation in a political sermon, by way of antidote; but this, like proclamations and prohibitions against political pamphlets, set curiosity on edge, and provoked inquiry, on the part of those who had never heard of, or cared nothing about the matter. The annual feast took place at Benty-brae on the Monday following that well-meant, but ill

VOL. XIV.

timed discourse ; it naturally became the subject of conversation, and, as was to be expected, called forth different opinions; still, however, none went beyond the limits of temperate discussion, although neither had been able to convince the other. They had brooded over the subject, and also heard it discussed in that country news-room, the village smithy, during the week. On the Monday following, the same party met at Rashy-burn; the subject was resumed, argued more warmly, their opinions being pertinaciously maintained, and obstinately defended. There is a certain stage in almost every argument, beyond which it is never protracted for eliciting truth, but for obtaining a victory; opposition increases obstinacy, as the bulldog holds faster the more he is repelled, or as the race-horse strains the harder the more closely he is pressed by his rival. This was now the case at Rashy-burn: the_arguments had been begun at Bentybrae, by John Glen asserting that the people had nothing to do with politics; this doctrine was controverted by James Smith; but at Rashy-burn they had gone much farther, for John Glen had termed all who were in any degree dissatisfied with the measures of Government, conceited and light-headed fools; and when James insisted that there were many exceptions, John sneeringly retorted, that he ought undoubtedly to have made a distinction between the fools and the knaves, but they must be either the one or the other. The social harmony of the evening was destroyed, the meeting broke up early, and the two farmers parted that night more out of temper with each other than they had been for twenty years past.

Had this been a temporary subject, which the public would have forgot in a week or two, the rising wrath of the farmers might have evaporated; but unfortunately for them, and the country at large, the effervescence was increasing every day; and the decapitation of the King of France, which happened soon after, inflamed the minds of both parties, and widened the breach between them. John Glen and James Smith had pondered over their late dispute, and 4 C

ruminated on what they thought the rash assertions of each other: John believed that the opinions of his neighbour tended to produce anarchy and confusion, or at least their harbinger, disaffection to the Executive Government; while James Smith considered John as the advocate of blind submission, oppression, and arbitrary power. However, a friendship of twenty years growth might be considered as a tree deeply rooted in the soil, which the blast cannot overturn; so their amity was not rashly to be immolated at the altar of speculative opinion. They both still regarded and respected the integrity of each other; and under the influence of these feelings, John wrote a letter of apology to James, for the expressions he had used of "fools and knaves," requesting him to be assured he intended no personal application.

David Low was neighbour to James, on the other side of his farm, and was shrewd, sensible, and fluent of speech, but deeply tainted with the mania of the day. James had communicated to him the conversation he had with John Glen, lamenting the breach in their friendship. David had nursed his dislike of John, and also confirmed him in his own opinions, which, like trees in a genial soil, spread their branches, and struck their roots deeper every day. John's note of apology was shewn to David, and James expressed his intention of calling at Benty-brae that evening, when he hoped their friendship would be renewed, and he had already dispatched a messenger to inquire whether the farmer would be at home. Impatient to heal the breach, James went over in the twilight, and found John in his parlour, accompanied by Mr Clarke, tutor in the laird's family. This young gentleman had that happy facility of disposition which made his opinions always suit with his interest; the laird was a red-hot loyalist, and the tutor had reason to expect his influence in procuring him a living in the kirk; besides, he had long looked on Mary Glen with a fond and admiring eye, in consequence of which, he coincided with all her father's opinions, and felt a secret satisfaction in the difference which had taken place

between the two farmers, as he looked on William Smith as his rival with Mary. David Low was also afraid that their present meeting might be the means of turning James back to the beaten path from which he had led him, and being acquainted at Benty-brae, he resolved on calling there that evening, as it were by accident, when he might prove an auxiliary to James, should he get involved in argument, or operate as a check, to prevent his making im proper concessions. He arrived soon after the farmer of Rashy-burn, and was too full of the new doctrine not to take an early opportunity of introducing the subject; the tutor was also impatient to display his zeal and eloquence in the cause of loyalty and good order. John and James had both met with sincere intentions of renewing their friendship, and forgetting the past; but, for reasons already stated, their coadjutors had less honourable purposes in view. The combat was regularly begun, and for some time the two farmers were silent auditors; but the political gladiators, anxious to get them engaged, appealed to them in the course of their disputes, and insensibly led them on, till all were often talking at the same time. The tutor had the advantage in point of scholar-ship, a ready command of language, and a dignity in his tone of expression, which implied contempt for his antagonists: David Low had drunk so deeply of the new fountain, that he might be considered as intoxicated; he had caught the style and expressions of his leaders; and his arguments, if not profound, were often specious. James Smith had long obtained credit in the country as a man of good sense and information; his advice had often been courted by his neighbours, and what had long been his principal foible, now became a dangerous error, namely, his believing that, because he often thought right, his opinions could never be wrong: John Glen had read less, and perhaps thought more superficially than any of the others, on the subject now under discussion, but he believed it required no profound thinking to adhere firmly to King and Constitution, by which he always meant the then