frequent, and more picturesquely drawn out in support of whatever moral the song of the moment may enfold, than references to the legendary history of Rome. Macaulay's Lays give us more pictures of the Rome of the kings and the early republic than Horace's four books of Odes all together. The very phraseology in which Horace utters all that he has to say of what shall happen to the soul after death, is, except one or two words, borrowed from the same repertory of Greek poetry. Tullus and Ancus are treated as symbols of what is gone for ever and mingled with the dust of the earth, rather than as personages who once might have had an individuality of their own. It is only when the subject suggests an allusion to later Roman history, to Regulus or Hannibal,-to that which Horace knew as a political student or observer, not as a mere reader of traditionary chronicles, that the Roman nationality of the poet's mind flashes out in a grand burst of eloquent Italian declamation. The ornaments of his lyrical structure were in general designed and sculptured in the same Greek taste as the structure itself. Yet the character of the scenery which he describes is not Greek, but Italian. We see Soracte and its snows, not Täygetum or Parnassus. We burn the good logs of Algidus, not the splintery olives of the plain of Athens. It is the broad and tawny Tiber of which we breast the stream, not the swollen mountain torrents of Greece that we struggle to ford. The life, the businesses, the pastimes, which are brought before us are those of the imperial city of the day, although the accessories, the tricks of art, and the refinements of imagination, the episodes, and the mythology, all savour of the Academic education which Horace enjoyed, in company and in emulation of so many of the noblest Romans. The arts of Greece have truly been brought in to adorn the subject-matter of rustic Latium. What we see is indeed Italy, and Italy painted by an Italian hand and eye. But the eye has been trained to observe the distinctive beauties of its native landscape by travel abroad, and the hand has been practised in all the cunning and the secrets of the great guild of Grecian literature. Cicero's letters to Atticus appear to overflow involuntarily with extracted or original aphorisms and witticisms in Greek. Yet they are not the less the letters of a true Roman. The same familiar intercourse with a foreign school of thought and cultivation told similarly upon Horace in forming his manner, and equally without destroying his intrinsically national and individual character.

Passing from the Odes to the Satires and Epistles,-from clear and highly pitched musical tones to the sermo pedestris of the cheerful and friendly but critical moraliser,-we find less to remind us of Greek art, and more of an indigenous and popular

style and method. Their different scope admits of, or rather compels, a more simple and flowing treatment. They were mostly, though not all, ostensibly written for a larger and less fastidious audience, to each of whom the poet could speak in the character of a genial, yet serious, monitor. No words are too plain, no topics too ordinary, for the purpose of showing his readers that a man might smile and smile, and prose and prose, and yet speak a truth which would be worth remembering. Pope's translations, admirable as they are, appear to us to show a more constant anxiety for sparkling point and elaborate terseness than is to be found in the Latin originals. The terseness of Horace's language in his satires is that of a proverb,-neat, because homely; while the terseness of Pope is that of an epigram, which will only become homely in time because it is neat.

Mr. Martin no doubt expresses the feeling of a large class of Horace's readers when he speaks of the Satires and Epistles as intrinsically more valuable than the lyrical poetry. It is quite true that, as reflecting "the age and body of the time," they do possess the highest historical importance.

"Through them," says Mr. Martin, scarcely too positively, "the modern scholar is able to form a clearer idea, in all probability, of the state of society in Rome in the Augustan age than of any other phase of social development in the history of nations. Mingling, as Horace did, freely with men of all ranks and passions, and himself untouched by the ambition of wealth or influence which absorbed them in the struggle of society, he enjoyed the best opportunities for observation, and he used them diligently. Horace's observation of character is subtle and exact, his knowledge of the heart is profound, his power of graphic delineation great. A genial humour plays over his verses, and a kindly wisdom dignifies them.

As a living and brilliant commentary on life; as a storehouse of maxims of practical wisdom, couched in language the most apt and concise; as a picture of men and manners, which will be always fresh and always true, because they were true once, and because human nature will always reproduce itself under analogous circumstances,-his Satires, and still more his Epistles, will have a permanent value for mankind."

Yet, true as this laudation is, we must confess that to ourselves the Odes are incomparably more interesting. Horace himself valued them much more highly; and while their perfection of art has remained unrivalled in Latin lyrical poetry, the crown of Latin satire found a nobler wearer in a later generation of imperial Rome. No doubt the age of Domitian afforded more constant matter for a burning, indignant heart to feed upon and turn into the fierce flame of satirical verse

than the reign of Augustus. But if Horace had written in the time of Juvenal, and Juvenal in that of Horace, their natures, however modified by circumstance, would not have been counterchanged as well as their positions. The sterner, loftier, and less elastic soul of Juvenal has scored a deeper line with the satiric stylus than Horace, and has outgone him in the use and improvement of his own weapons. The question of their comparative superiority as satiric poets is not affected by the palpable distinction between the respective objects of simple folly and sheer vice, at which their verses were aimed. Which of them shot the straightest and the most powerfully to the heart of the figure he aimed at, whether that figure were a hideous or a merely laughable monster, is the true criterion. The powerful, earnest, savage, yet trained and logical precision of Juvenal must surely have struck deeper into, and dwelt longer in, the conscience and memory of his own listeners, than the easy, discursive, conversational grace which marks the friend of Mæcenas. Horace may be the pleasanter companion, laughing as he chides; but it is difficult to read one of Juvenal's satires without the thrill which sympathises with the concentrated expression of a noble patriotic passion under the form of a calm irony. Juvenal, as well as Horace, smiles as he chides and sings; but it is the smile of sadness, and his voice is full of those subdued tears which give to song so much of its charm. Our acquaintance with the personal character of Horace is far deeper, and therefore psychologically more interesting, than if his Satires and Epistles had not been preserved to us. Juvenal was personally like we can only guess; but yet his heart is more unreservedly flung into the poetry of his satires than was that of his predecessor, who looked upon such verses as belonging to the sermo pedestris, and reserved all his labour and art for his Odes. A poet is then at his best as a poet when he most fully forgets himself in the theme of his song. Horace never forgot himself; but the memory of the models he was striving to imitate, and the conscientious laboriousness with which he there worked out the theory of his art to the greatest perfection of form which he could give it, throw the personality of his poetry into a more picturesque form and proportion in the lyrics, upon which he built his expectations of posthumous fame.

What

ART. VI.-WHAT IS THE HOUSE OF LORDS?

The Report of the Debate in the House of Lords on the Bill for the Repeal of the Paper Duty, in the Times of Tuesday, May 22d,

1860.

WHAT is the House of Lords? What are its constitutional rights? Has it exceeded its normal powers in rejecting the Bill for the Repeal of the Paper Duty?

It is necessary in the first place to determine the principles on which such an inquiry ought to be conducted. The legal right of the Lords, as of the Commons, to reject any measure which is laid before them admits of no dispute. The law knows of no distinction between nominal and legal right in the three branches of the Legislature. It imposes no restraint on the free action of any one of the estates of the realm. It has provided no means of compulsion whatever for enforcing the enactment of a single measure. If the Crown chose to veto every bill, or either of the two Houses to adjourn as soon as they met, or to negative every motion, the law has furnished no remedy. Any one of the three estates may absolutely arrest legislation; it may reduce its action to a perpetual No. There is no locking up the Lords or Commons, like a jury, till a statute has been passed. If they are willing to risk the consequences, they may, whenever they please, bring government in England to a stand-still until their desires, whatever they may be, have been accomplished.

These views may seem trite, but they are constantly forgotten even by the ablest speakers. In this discussion, it is a matter of the very first importance to keep a firm hold on the fact that the House of Lords was authorised by law to reject the Paper Duty Bill, or any other measure whatever. The peers were at liberty to be actuated by any reason which they chose to adopt. They may have desired to enforce an appeal to the people by a dissolution of Parliament. It is impossible to contest this right, whatever opinion may be formed of the mode and time of its being exercised.

On the other hand, legislation by three coördinate estates would be impossible, unless they were blended in one harmonious and joint action by common rules and sentiments. Hence the Constitution, by which England is practically governed, is composed of usages as well as laws,-usages which, though more fluctuating and less defined, are as real and as powerful as laws.

These two forces are separated wide asunder by a fundamental distinction. Laws are recorded in statutes and text-books; the authority which enacted them is known and indisputable; their date and their injunctions are ascertained. They are often altered, but they are altered by a determinate process, by defined and competent authorities, and upon a public discussion avowedly directed to that end. It is quite otherwise with usages. They spring up imperceptibly; their origin is generally unknown; they have no binding force at first; at what period they become entitled to obedience can seldom be specified; they emanate for the most part from no recognised authority, and often from a source wholly exterior to the Legislature: they are the creations of chance and custom, of acquiescence or want of opportunity, of force or reflection, of the ever-varying circumstances and feelings of each age. Like laws, they are subject to incessant change; but unlike laws, they are modified by processes which are obscure, uncertain, and unauthoritative. Every change in the social state of the nation, every development of a new political force, may create or abrogate a usage; it may produce a spirit of legislation, or a mode of administration, which will materially alter the character of the constitution.

Almost every part of our machinery of government illustrates these facts: let us take one or two instances out of many. All great public measures, with few exceptions, now originate in the House of Commons. The few which still take their rise in the Lords owe their birthplace to a desire to save time. This is a vast change and a vast increase of the power of the Commons; yet it is not the result of design and encroachment. The Commons have passed no resolutions claiming the monopoly of generation. It has not been built on any broad declaration of political doctrine. It is the fruit of spontaneous growth, the inevitable consequence of the historical circumstances of our day, of the Press, of reports of debates, of the character of the constituencies since the Reform Bill, of the diffusion of wealth, of the multiplication of large towns, and of many other similar causes. It has attracted no attention, because it has not been consciously aimed at, nor publicly debated, either in Parliament or in the Press. Had it been proposed as a matter of statute, it never could have been passed without the fiercest struggle.

Equally so is it with the personal influence of the Crown. To go no farther back, George III. made Lord Bute ruler of England against the strong feeling of the country. His personal dislike of Fox excluded that great statesman many years from office. His personal opinions baffled Catholic Emancipation during the whole of his reign, and drove from power the strongest ministry which modern times have seen. Does any