especially and most justly offended our traveller, was our universal and sickening reverence for aristocracy. Let him come among us Now that reverence has of a sudden darkened into a deep and vindictive anger. Why?—my Lords Wharncliffe and Harrowby, we call on you to answer the question. Good heavens, how imprudent, how mad must be that nobility, who with the affection of a people, even to meanness, deeply rooted in the merest externals of aristocracy, can yet in two years, by opposing the free vent of-what? why, of opinions hitherto so remarkably, so servilely inclined towards hereditary distinctions-convert that affection into hate. Political suicides are of frequent occurrence; but we never knew one in which the non compos mentis was so unhappily manifest. And now, in conclusion, one word to our Literary Brethren. The Tourist has the greatest desire to see Lady Morgan-he has a warm prepossession in her favour-he has a high admiration for her works, he is disappointed, he is displeased, and the authoress in his pages is rendered any thing but respectable and dignified. Why is this? Not because she is dull, nor unintellectual.-No! nor because she is vain of her writings, which any man of the world readily forgives in an author, from the greatest to the least of all the tribe; but because she has fine names in her mouth-because she babbles about Almack's and Fashion-because she likes the Tourist for being a Prince-because having literary claims to be respected, she has no proper respect for herself. We could wish this may be a lesson to Lady Morgan, for we confess we like her in spite of all this absurdity-and in spite of what is yet worse, the miserable-what shall we say?-TASTE, of advertising the doctrines of materialism-doctrines, of which she is no more capable of forming a single right notion, than we are of analysing the music of the spheres ; we like her for a certain vivid good humour-a cheerful courage a natural acuteness, which, if they were but ordinarily free from affectation, would alone make her a delightful and irresistible writer. We fear, indeed, that to her, lessons of this sort come too late. We fear that to all of the old school of authors, to * * *** -to all (except Campbell, perhaps, who, take him altogether, is a noble fellow, and that's the truth of it,) this mouth-worship of lords and ladies, and the barabarah of great names will continue to the end of the chapter; that they all in their hearts agree with the vile sentiment of Johnson-that the praise of a great duke is pleasanter than that of a great writer. But there is a new race of literary men springing up-it is to them we would address-with them incorporate ourselves. We are a great and powerful body, if we are just to our own natural and legitimate consequence-if we are animated by the noble and high ambition which belongs of right to our caste and our distinctions. It should be ours to give, not receive honour.. What are Mæcenases and Holland House to us? Literature can confer fame, and all she can obtain in return is a dinner. The exchange is somewhat unequal. No! by feeling our own strength and asserting our own dignity, we may, especially at this era of the world, raise the Profession of Letters to that proud estimation which it is entitled to claim. In France, Literature is the road to Power-because in France it never deigns to be dependant. Let us in England seek the same end, by clinging with all the strength and all the honesty of our hearts, to the same means.

B. E.

LORD BROUGHAM.

THE MAN OF THE TIME.

THERE are few tasks much more difficult than the one we are assuming. The real worth of the politician must be determined not by actions, but the consequences of actions, of which posterity can be the only adequate judge: we may guess their probable result; but being able to do nothing more than guess, the conclusion of each of us is disputed by the supposition of another. In a party journal then, for such ours must seem to those who divide the supporters of improvement and the adherents to abuses into two opposite factions;in a party journal it is almost impossible, however fairly, in our own estimation, we may speak of the present Lord Chancellor-however much we may turn in distaste from the system of unmitigated panegyric-it is almost impossible but that some will be displeased at any praise, proceeding from principles or feelings in direct opposition to their own. For this there is no remedy. On the other hand, political connection begets personal prejudices and affections, which every writer who pretends to candour, must despair of contesting. "The Author of Nature," it is said by a great English writer, "has thought fit to mingle from time to time among the societies of men, a few, and but a few, of those on whom he is graciously pleased to bestow a larger portion of the ethereal spirit than is given in the ordinary course to the sons of men. These are they, who are born to instruct, to guide, and to preserve-who are designed to be the tutors and the guardians of mankind; when they prove such, they exhibit to us examples of the highest virtue and the truest piety, and they deserve to have their festivals kept instead of that pack of anchorites and enthusiasts with whose name the Calendar is crowded and disgraced. When these men apply their talents to other purposes, when they strive to be great and despise being good, they commit a most sacrilegious breach of trust-they prevent the means— they defeat, as far as lies in them, the designs of Providence, and dispute in some sort the system of infinite Wisdom." Such is the ordinary cant, not always so eloquently expressed, by which it is frequently insinuated that men of extraordinary talent are either so generous as only to labour for the public weal, or so selfish as merely to consider their individual advantage. We believe either of these cases to be of rare occurrence. Those who think solely of themselves, are less capable of doing much than is generally imagined. They are never carried beyond themselves into those fits of vigour and enthusiasm, in which man acquires a mastery over the minds of other men. The talent which enters coldly and abstractedly into the things on which it concerns itself which does not warm at each fact it discovers-and feel, involuntarily feel, having once engaged in the investigation of any truth, an earnest and signal desire for its perfect developement-the talent which embraces all subjects without ever being transported beyond one consideration, is of so stunted and mean a nature, that as no good can be expected from its labours, so little evil is to be feared from its ambition. In men of this caste, purely egoistic, no circumstances, however striking and stirring in their nature, create that heat and excitement which produce marvellous things. They are the figures

of ordinary clay round the statue of Memnon, which the rays of the sun could never render musical.

On the other hand, the amiable persons who, unoccupied with any selfish object, perpetually revolve plans for universal improvement, are, generally speaking, so vague and dreamy in their speculations, and this, perhaps, from the very circumstance that their thoughts are never narrowed and concentred in themselves, as to be as useless and impracticable in all matters of action and business, as the philosophic projectors of Lagado.

It is useless to expect in men of action and men of the world those qualities which, if they possessed, would assign them to a different class; with such men taking an active and useful part in public affairs, the love for the great, the beautiful, and the true, is found to infuse a noble colour into their ambition, while from that ambition springs the manly and practical tone which they give to the mere theories of legislative genius.

What is so common, if a man of ability accepts office, as the sneering ejaculation of the paltry eavesdropper," Ha! I always saw what these fine phrases meant. You see he only wanted place like the rest of them!" Wretched indeed, as Mr. Fox said, must be the condition of the country in which that which should be the reward of men of honour is considered as a disgrace.

We make no charge against Lord Brougham, when we allow, which we do frankly, the bitterest accusation of his detractors-that so far from being insensible to power, he has shown, not in a mean and injudicious manner, but in a tone and temper suited to his ability-a strong and earnest desire to stand in a prominent situation before the people; although we regret to think that he has condescended at times to stoop beneath his genius, and to practise those little arts and devices of popularity which, after all, rarely succeed in attaining their object.

Yet are there few,-searching history where you will-yet are there few examples of a statesman having passed to office by a broader and more straight-forward road—of an individual having more closely connected the public interests with his own, than the present Lord Chancellor of England, whom the people still call by the affectionate and familiar name of " Harry Brougham."

Lord Brougham, as is well known, is of an ancient and respectable family in Westmoreland. He was educated at the High School in Edinburgh; and even as a boy gave those remarkable indications of talent, which his life has fortunately afforded him the opportunity of developing.

A contemporary journal ("The American Review,") supposes, from some favourite theory we presume of the writer, that Lord Brougham was not thought a quick and clever, but a slow and hard-reading boy; on which supposition follows a long tirade against what is called in America "genius." We think that this reviewer is at perfect issue with the truth in the general proposition he puts forth: we are perfectly sure that he argues without foundation in the present instance. Lord Brougham, as a boy, was remarkable for the almost intuitive perception of what was placed before him. He was wild, fond of pleasure, taking to study again by starts, and always reading with more effect than others, when he did read, because it was for some specified ob