a sudden agitated with the most fearful convulsions, and seems to be on the verge of dissolution; and the rulers who, till the mischief was beyond the reach of all ordinary remedies, had never bestowed one thought on its existence, stands bewildered and panicstricken, without hope or resource, in the midst of the confusion. One such conjuncture this generation has seen. God grant that we may never see another!" When the Reform Bill was carried, Mr. Macaulay shared in the full harvest of popularity which, for a time, was enjoyed by the Whigs. He was chosen by the populous and important town of Leeds to be one of its representatives in the parliament of 1833, but, fortunately for him, he was now with drawn for a time from the great arena of English politics, in consequence of his accepting an important appointment in India. By the act which renewed the East India Company's charter in 1833, a commission was appointed to inquire into and amend the laws of that country, and Mr. Macaulay was placed at its head. His career in India was honorably marked by earnest and enlightened industry; and in particular he deserves high credit for the independence and courage which he displayed respecting one of the reforms which he introduced. We allude to the celebrated XIth Article of the Legislative Council, which placed all the subjects of the British crown in India on a footing of equality in the eye of the law, without respect to their being of European or of Asiatic birth. The exasperated Anglo-Indians called this the Black Act; and loud and long were the protests and complaints transmitted to England against this levelling of the dominant race with the native population in the administration of justice. Mr. Macaulay was unmoved by either clamor or obloquy. And he replied to the attacks of his numerous foes by a state paper, which is justly regarded as one of the ablest of the many able documents which have appeared from Indian officials. We have said that Mr. Macaulay's Indian appointment was a fortunate event for him; and we meant to style it so, not merely on account of its lucrative character, but because it saved Mr. Macaulay from sharing in the decline and fall of Whig popularity, which took place during the five years that followed the passing of the Reform Bill. Mr. Macaulay only returned from India in time to participate in some of the final struggles of Lord Melbourne's Ministry. In 1839 he joined the cabinet as secretary at war, and made several vigorous oratorical charges VOL XXV. NO. IV. against the powerful enemy that was pressing hard on the retreating Whigs. In particular, his speech on the 29th of January, 1840, in the debate on the vote of want of confidence in the Ministry, was marked with all his fire; and the passage of it in which he reminded his then adversary, Sir James Graham, of their former joint triumphs during the reform struggle, is one of the finest that he ever uttered. After the accession of Sir Robert Peel to office, Mr. Macaulay was one of the most effective speakers on the opposition side of the House; but he did not suffer party spirit to lead him into blind and indiscriminating animosity against the victorious rivals, of his Whig friends; and his conduct on one memorable occasion during this period is deserving of the highest honor. We allude to his speech in favor of the increased grant to Maynooth, when proposed by the Peel ministry in 1845. Of course we are passing no opinion of our own as to the policy or impolicy of Maynooth endowments. We merely say that Mr. Macaulay, being conscientiously convinced that such an endowment was proper, acted most honorably in supporting it; though he knew that the people of Edinburgh (which city he then represented in the House) were fanatically opposed to it, though it was brought forward by the men who had bitterly reviled Mr. Macaulay's own party for favoring the Irish Catholics, and though there was a tempting opportunity for revenge, by combining with the ultra-Protestants headed by Sir Robert Inglis in the house, so as to leave the ministry in a minority. Mr. Macaulay took little part in the CornLaw debates. He had spoken in 1842, on Mr. Villiers' motion in favor of the principle of Free Trade, but against any sudden withdrawal of the protection, which the agricultural interest had so long enjoyed. He refused to countenance the agitation of the Anti-Corn-Law League; and probably this increased the disfavor which his Maynooth speech had already procured for him with his Edinburgh constituents. He lost his election in 1846; an event which, however much we may admire him as a statesman, we can hardly regret, inasmuch as it obtained for him the leisure requisite for the composition of his Opus Magnum, his History of England. Before, however, we speak of this we must remind our readers of the glorious "Lays of Ancient Rome," which Mr. Macaulay gave the world in 1842, while still keenly bent on his parliamentary career. This book interest 34 ed the scholar by the magnificent illustration which it gave of the intrinsic probability of Niebuhr's theory as to the origin of the current early history of Rome. It gratified and served the historian by its admirable introductory comments; and by its interspersed epitomes of some of the most stirring crises in the fortunes of the great Republic. But, above all, it has delighted hundreds of thousands, who were neither scholars nor historians, by the glowing spirit of true poetry which animates it in every line. These Lays" show in meridian fulness the powers of Objectivity, of which the early ballads of Mr. Macaulay gave promise. The rush of heady combat, the mustering, the march, the chivalrous aspects, the picturesque garbs, and the bold gestures and words, and bolder deeds of warriors are brought with Homeric expressiveness before us. The descriptions of scenery also, are beautifully given. But Mr. Macaulay shows little Subjective power. He is comparatively weak, when he introduces single characters expressing their passions and feelings in the present tense and first person. This is particularly apparent in the Third Lay, which tells of Virginius, or the public as a writer of history.* The first fruits of that leisure were the first two volumes of his "History of England," which appeared in the autumn of 1848. We trust that many more are destined to follow. It would be unwarrantable in us to criticise the portion we possess, with such scant space at our command as the conclusion of this memoir can afford. The public of England and America have pronounced a verdict of enthusiastic approbation, to which individual critics could add little weight, and from which (even if we were so minded) we could detract still less. If we were to express a wish as to any change in the fashion of the work, it would be that passages of repose should be more frequently introduced. A history ought not to be a continuous excitement. Upon Mr. Macaulay's features, as represented in the accompanying portrait "The seal of Middle Age and we hope that a long career of active glory is still before him. But even if he were doomed to rest upon his present intellectual achievements, his name would rank among the highest of the nineteenth century. "Who wrote his daughter's honor in her blood," His works are read and admired wherever From Fraser's Magazine. CLARENDON AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES.* Conspicuous amongst the public men who flourished in the time of the Civil War is Hyde, Earl of Clarendon. His life and works have been canvassed with diligence and zeal extended to none of his contemporaries; and the result of all the criticism, hostile and defensive, that has been applied to him, conducts us to this conclusion, that, to judge of him truly and justly, he should be regarded under two separate and distinct aspects. No one man can differ from another in some respects more widely than Clarendon the historian differs from Clarendon the chancellor. He seems to have had two natures, two characters-one in his books, and one in his office. The contrast may, perhaps, be in some measure accounted for by the fact that his outer life, his activity, his passions were expended in his official and political capacity; while his books were the produce of retirement and leisure, liberated from the dangerous seductions of power, and reflecting the hived-up wisdom and subdued judgment of matured age looking out upon the world "through the loop-holes of retreat." with so much exactitude and assiduity, and to the life-like pictures he has given us of his contemporaries, we are all obliged to have recourse whenever the subject of the Civil Wars comes under consideration. To say that he is not chargeable with errors and prejudices would be in so many foolish words to claim for him an exemption from human infirmities. But it may be asserted with justice, on the whole, that, considering the difficulties and temptations of contemporary his-. tory, and the peculiar circumstances in which he was placed as a prominent actor in the scenes he describes, few men could have executed such an undertaking with greater moderation, candor, and independence. And this may be honestly asserted without compromising the exceptions which have been taken in detail to matters of fact and opinion. He himself frequently supplies the means by which his own accuracy and judgment may be put to the severest tests. His personal reputation is another question. No man's public character has been more violently disputed. If it be a proof of thorough impartiality in the discharge of a high office (as some of his champions assume) to have incurred the bitterest hostility of all parties, then the Lord Chancellor Cla There is no name in English historical literature better known or more frequently referred to. The charm of a fluent style, sagacious observation, great talent for portrait-rendon must have been the most impartial of ure, a singularly tenacious memory, and a position in public affairs which brought him into relation, more or less direct, with the leading men of his age, combine to impart a value and an interest to his writings which no similar records possess in our own, or perhaps in any other language. Whatever difference of opinion may prevail as to the trust to be reposed in his facts and portraits, or rather in the coloring he flings over them, it is allowed on all hands that his industry and skill have laid the world under weighty obligations. To the information he collected * Lives of the Friends and Contemporaries of Lord Chancellor Clarendon, illustrative of Portraits in his Gallery. By Lady Theresa Lewis. 3 vols. Murray. 1842. The men. No man was ever more cordially dis- dence. Why not? Andrew Marvell was one of the most honest and uncompromising of men, and making all reasonable allowances for the biliousness, of satire, we know of no more trustworthy witness. He was at least sincere and in earnest, and his satires differ from mere political pasquinades in this essential characteristic, that they are distinguished by the impress of a deep and thoughtful conviction. No doubt he felt strongly, and judged harshly; but he was in the midst of the strife, and knew what was going forward, and entertained such a loathing of corruption in his own person as to place his testimony above the suspicion of being actuated by interested motives. On the other hand, it is little to the purpose that Pepys says nothing against the Lord Chancellor. This kind of negative defence is a remarkably slight reed to lean Pepys visited Lord Clarendon's house in Piccadilly, and is content to tell us that it was a very noble house, full of brave pictures and no more. Pepys, as all the world knows, was a courtier in his own way, and a cautious and time-serving courtier to boot, and would be much more likely, on a calculation of chances, to speak flatteringly than disparagingly of so powerful a man as Lord Clarendon. It was not for the Secre Lady Theresa Lewis has undertaken in the introduction to her Lives of Clarendon's Friends and Contemporaries, to rescue the Lord Chancellor Clarendon from the charges of bribery and corruption that were bruited against him in his lifetime, and which it is only fair to say have never been either satis-upon. factorily proved, or conclusively rebutted. That she should take this view of his character is natural enough; nor do we object, as far as the interests of truth are concerned, to see the old discussion re-opened in so frank and generous a spirit. But it appears to us, that she would have better served the reputation of her hero if she had left such doubtful matters in abeyance, seeing that it was by no means possible to disprove asser-tary of the Admiralty to let loose his humors tions which, although they are sustained only by a train of circumstantial conjectures, are yet justified to a considerable extent by suspicious appearances and the absence of exculpatory evidence. on the Lord Chencellor. Pepys had an apt genius for gossip and scandal, but it was not indulged at the expense of such men as Clarendon; it flew at the players, and the idle hangers-on of the state, and the people that stood in his way, or that borrowed money from him and didn't return it, or that expected favors from him without being ready to pay for them. Of all sins, that of official corruption was about the last that Pepys would have found fault with. He had too much sympathy with itching palms to affect a virtuous indignation about bribes. Yet, for all that, there is a passage in his Diary which openly asserts that Lord Clarendon "never did nor never will do any thing but for money." This unequivocal statement occurs in the report of a conver The sum of all we know of Lord Clarendon is certainly not in favor of Lady Theresa's vindication. He was a man of great ambition, with "a sharp and luxuriant fancy." These are his own words. Originally of a proud and impetuous temper, he learned to subdue his humors in high company, and by the force of the strict restraint he put upon himself, became courteous and affable to all manner of people. This is his own account of himself, and we presume it may be relied upon. Now, when an ambitious man, with a passionate temper, brings himself down to this universal affability, the inference is obvi-sation Pepys had with Mr. Evelyn, and from ous that he does so to subserve his own as- the structure of the passage some doubt piring ends. It is not to be denied that he arises as to which of them is responsible for was studious of his aggrandizement and his it. Lady Theresa is at considerable pains to mode of life; and the grandeurs he collected show, from the general turn of Mr. Evelyn's about him show with what success he culti- opinions respecting the Chancellor, that it vated that object. could not have been uttered by him, and that, therefore, it must be ascribed to Pepys himself. It is of little moment to which of them it belongs. If it be simply a report of Turning to his accusers, Lady Theresa sets aside the testimony of Andrew Marvell's poems as not being legitimate historical evi Evelyn's words-which, taking the sentence as it stands, is the more probable interpretation—then it goes a great way to stultify the encomiums which Evelyn elsewhere lavishes on the Chancellor; and if, on the other hand, it emanated from Pepys himself, it deprives her ladyship of the advantages which, in another place, she draws from his silence. One thing is quite clear, that either Evelyn or Pepys distinctly avers that Lord Clarendon never extended his patronage to any body "but for money." Whether the charge was true or not, this is a sufficient proof that at all events it was current at the time; and that there were people of no mean authority who believed it to be true. The gallery of portraits and the luxurious property of various kinds which Clarendon accumulated at his house, afforded warrant for these accusations of venality. It was sufficiently notorious, that in the disposal of patronage he chiefly favored those who had formerly been opposed to the king's cause; and it was said, that he promoted them in preference to the members of his own party because they had carried off all the spoils of war, and could afford to purchase his protection, while the cavaliers, stripped of their possessions, had no bribe to offer but their loyalty. These accusations were reduced to a distinct shape by Lord Dartmouth, in a note on Burnet's History, quoted by Mr. Agar Ellis, in his Historical Inquiries. Lord Dartmouth openly asserts that Lord Clarendon "depressed every one's merits to advance his own," alleges that he resorted to "other means than the Crown could afford to increase his fortune," and that it was in pursuance of this self-aggrandizing policy he took under his protection "those who had plundered and sequestered the others," and who were "not wanting in their acknowledgments in the manner he expected, which produced the great house in the Piccadilly, furnished chiefly with cavaliers' goods, brought thither for peace-offerings, which the right owners durst not claim when they were in his possession." Lady Theresa observes upon this note, that it is "written in a tone of hostility and insinuation that betokens rather personal enmity (though Lord Dartmouth was born too late for personal acquaintance) than honest reprobation of public misconduct." We confess, we do not read the note in this spirit. We see nothing in it inconsistent with the honest reprobation of public corruption; nor can it be fairly charged with insinuating an accusation which it enunciates so explicitly. Neither can per | sonal enmity be supposed to have actuated its author, who was only two years old when Clarendon died. We must look for better reasons for discrediting this ugly little note. The arguments raised against its reception by our author are not of much validity. First: Lord Dartmouth was not a contemporary of Lord Clarendon, and must have received his information at second-hand; and as he has not given us the names of his informants, it is impossible to form any judgment of their impartiality or means of knowledge. Now, it is an admitted axiom in all questions of historical evidence, that the nearer we can get to contemporaneous testimony, the more likely we are to get at the truth. Lord Dartmouth lived near enough to Clarendon's time to have received his information direct from men who might have been personally cognizant of the facts; and if he has not given us their names, to enable us to judge of what credit might be reposed in their veracity, we have the current rumors of Lord Clarendon's own day in corroboration of the probable truth of their statements. If Lord Dartmouth had been the first person who made this charge, we should be quite willing to give Lord Clarendon the advantage of that fact; but it must not be forgotten (to say nothing of other vouchers) that the cautious Pepys or the religious Evelyn (no great matter which) avers that Lord Clarendon never did anything "but for money." Second: Lord Dartmouth's note was not published till nearly a century after it was written, and therefore'did not pass the ordeal of contemporary criticism. The greater the reason for subjecting it to such other tests as we possess but no reason whatever for rejecting it. Third: It was written from loose impressions, without any view to publication, and its grounds were not organized with care. If the fact of not having been written for publication is to invalidate testimonies of this kind, we should be compelled to surrender some of the most valuable memorabilia we possess, and to extinguish the lights that have been thrown on our literary and social history by such men as Henslowe, Pepys, and Spence, whose authority nobody thinks of calling into question merely because they never intended to print their pocket-books. And so far from being written from loose impressions without due examination, Lord Dartmouth's note, for whatever it may be otherwise worth, appears to us to carry internal evidence of a fixed conviction. The suspicious circumstances which at |