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negligence, was always laying itself open to attack, he continued to advocate the repeal of the Corn-Laws, a more expeditious administration of criminal justice, the reform of charitable trusts, and kindred subjects. When Sir Robert Peel came into power in August, 1841, Brougham warmly supported him, and when the Corn Law Abolition Bill came before the Lords in 1846, passed upon the great minister a fine eulogium :—

“I should fail of discharging a duty which I owe as a citizen of this country, and as a member of this House—a debt of gratitude on public grounds, but a debt of strict justice as well— did I not express my deep sense of the public virtue, no less than the great capacity and the high moral courage which my right honourable friend at the head of the Government has exhibited in dealing with this question. He cast away all personal and private considerations of what description soever, and, studiously disregarding his own interest in every stage and step of his progress, he has given up what to a political leader is the most enviable of all positions-the calm, unquestioned, undivided support of Parliament; he has exposed himself to the frenzy of the most tempest-troubled sea that the political world in our days perhaps ever exhibited. He has given up what to an ambitious man is much—the security of his power; he has given up what to a calculating man is much-influence and authority with his party; he has given up what to an amiable man is much indeed-private friendships and party connections; and all these sacrifices he has voluntarily encountered, in order to discharge what (be he right or be he wrong) he deemed a great public duty. He, in these circumstances-he, in this proud position-may well scorn the sordid attacks, the wretched ribaldry with which he is out of doors assailed, because he knows that he has entitled himself to the gratitude of his country, and will leave—as I in my conscience believe—his name to after ages as one of the greatest and most disinterested ministers that ever wielded the destinies of this country.”

There is an evident ring of sincerity in these words which are not less honourable to Brougham than to Peel,

Some ridicule was excited in 1848 by one of those escapades into which his restlessness and mental excitability sometimes impelled him. After the deposition of Louis Philippe, and the establishment in France of a Republican Government, he announced himself as a candidate to represent the department of Var (in which his château was situated) in the National Assembly. But he soon discovered that he must first become naturalised, and addressed the necessary form of application to the Minister of Justice. Great was his chagrin when he learned that he would have to abandon "all titles of nobility, all privileges and advantages," which he possessed as an Englishman; that he would have to cease to be an Englishman before he could become a Frenchman. He wisely decided that le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle, and returned to his duties in the House of Lords.

In the following year he demonstrated the flexibility of his genius by lecturing before the Institute, in French, on the result of a long series of experiments which he had made upon light. The worst of it was that, in science as in so much else, his knowledge was not profound, and he fell into errors which the exaggerated character of his pretensions made all the more deplorable.

But our space is wholly inadequate to a yearly chronicle of all the sayings and doings of this extraordinary man, and we must pass rapidly onward to the close of his tumultuous career. This is all the more easy, because he promised so much and performed so little. He was always introducing bills which perished stillborn, and motions which he never carried to a division,

and schemes of legislation which never ripened into fruition. The cacoethes loquendi ruined him; he drowned his reputation and himself in floods of talk. His influence in Parliament left him as his popularity had left him; and, except in the cartoons of Mr. Punch, he attracted little public attention. As President of the Law Reform Society he did good service-better, perhaps, as President of the Social Science Association, the annual meetings of which he attended from 1857 to 1866. In the autumn of 1858 he delivered an eloquent address at the inauguration of a statue of Sir Isaac Newton at Grantham, his birthplace. Gradually he withdrew more and more from the political arena, and occupied his still immense energies in cultivating more peaceful fields. Old age did not seem to dim his faculties; his mind was alert and clear to the very last, though he was in his ninetieth year, when, after a life of unparalleled intellectual effort, he expired, at his château near Cannes, on the 7th of May, 1868.

In conclusion, I must briefly advert to his literary productions. These, like his legislative efforts, are marked by crudeness and imperfectness. They do not seem to have been "thought out." The impression which the reader derives from their perusal is that their author has dashed them off, currente calamo, without any adequate preparation. Hence his style is generally careless, inelegant, involved; his arguments are defective; his facts huddled and heaped together without any regard to method or system. His scientific knowledge is often deficient, as, perhaps, was necessarily the case with a man whose life was chiefly given up to public affairs. In literature, as in science and in politics, Brougham failed, from attempting too much. He was always trying to

drive six horses abreast! In his ambition to demonstrate his versatility he forgot the essential condition of thoroughness. The best of his works I take to be his "Sketches of Statesmen who Flourished in the Time of George III." There was no continuous labour required upon these desultory chapters, no political research or studious investigation; and, therefore, Brougham is seen at his worthiest. His insight into character was not very deep, but, on the whole, it was accurate. The novel which is ascribed to his pen, "Albert Lunel; or, The Château of Languedoc," suppressed on the eve of its publication (1844), but reprinted in 1872, is dreary reading. His "Dialogue on Instinct" (1849) had at one time a considerable reputation; but is now interesting only as the work of a man of extraordinary capacity. A higher rank may be claimed for his "Discourse on Paley's Natural Theology;" it contains some just reflections and apposite illustrations. The following passage may be taken as a specimen :

"A comparative anatomist, of profound learning and marvellous sagacity, has presented to him what to common eyes would seem a piece of half-decayed bone, found in a wild, in a forest, or in a cave. By accurately examining its shape, particularly the form of its extremity or extremities (if both ends happen to be entire), by close inspection of the texture of its surface, and by admeasurement of its proportions, he can with certainty discover the general form of the animal to which it belonged, its size as well as its shape, the economy of its viscera, and its general habits. Sometimes the investigation in such cases proceeds upon chains of reasoning where all the links are seen and understood; where the connection of the parts found with other parts and with latitudes is perceived, and the reason understood—as that the animal had a trunk, because the neck was short compared

and schemes of legislation which never ripened into fruition. The cacoethes loquendi ruined him; he drowned his reputation and himself in floods of talk. His influence in Parliament left him as his popularity had left him; and, except in the cartoons of Mr. Punch, he attracted little public attention. As President of the Law Reform Society he did good service-better, perhaps, as President of the Social Science Association, the annual meetings of which he attended from 1857 to 1866. In the autumn of 1858 he delivered an eloquent address at the inauguration of a statue of Sir Isaac Newton at Grantham, his birthplace. Gradually he withdrew more and more from the political arena, and occupied his still immense energies in cultivating more peaceful fields. Old age did not seem to dim his faculties; his mind was alert and clear to the very last, though he was in his ninetieth year, when, after a life of unparalleled intellectual effort, he expired, at his château near Cannes, on the 7th of May, 1868.

In conclusion, I must briefly advert to his literary productions. These, like his legislative efforts, are marked by crudeness and imperfectness. They do not seem to have been "thought out." The impression which the reader derives from their perusal is that their author has dashed them off, currente calamo, without any adequate preparation. Hence his style is generally careless, inelegant, involved; his arguments are defective; his facts huddled and heaped together without any regard to method or system. His scientific knowledge is often deficient, as, perhaps, was necessarily the case with a man whose life was chiefly given up to public affairs. In literature, as in science and in politics, Brougham failed, from attempting too much. He was always trying to

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