s too undefined
for his comprehension; that its views were either too large, or too
indistinct, to give his mind the feeling of certainty."
He well might say this, when no two of the modern Political Economists
agree, and when all the theories of the last age are laughed at by all
the theorists of the present. In the middle of the seventeenth century
Sir William Petty, one of the most acute, and also one of the most
practical men of his time, pronounced that the population of England
would take three hundred and sixty years to double--the fact being, that
it has doubled within about a seventh part of that period. Of London he
predicts, that its growth must finally stop in 1842; and that then its
population must amount to half the population of England. Yet London is
still growing, day by day, and yet its population scarcely exceeds a
twentieth of the whole.
The Emperor Paul, in the beginning of his reign, was a favourite with
the soldiery, whom he indulged in all possible ways, giving them money,
distributing promotion lavishly among them, and always pronouncing them
the bulwark of his throne. But when his brain began to give way, his
first experiments were with the soldiery, and he instantly became
unpopular. The former dress of the Russian soldier was remarkable alike
for its neatness and its convenience. He wore large pantaloons of red
cloth, the ends of which were stuffed into his boots; the boots were of
flexible leather, and an excellent and easy protection for the legs and
feet. He wore a jacket of red and green, with a girdle round the waist;
his head was protected by a light helmet. The whole dress thus
consisting of two garments, light, showy, and looking the true dress for
a soldier.
Paul's evil genius, which induced him to change every thing, began with
that most perilous of all things to tamper with--the army of a great
military power. He ordered the Austrian costume to be adopted. Nothing
could equal the general indignation. The hair must be powdered, curled,
and pomatumed; a practice which the Russian, who washed his locks every
day, naturally abhorred. The long tail made him the laugh of his
countrymen. His boots, to which he had been accustomed from his infancy,
and which form a distinctive part of the national costume, were to be
taken off, and to be substituted by the tight German spatterdash and the
shoe, the one pinching the leg, and the other perpetually falling off
the foot, wherever the m
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