Measured by those himself admits as tall,
Or lifts on stilts if others deem them small,
The favor'd priesthood of that famous sect,
Which, leading many, keep themselves select
And in their porphyry chamber, I admit,
Have rear'd their own blood-royalty of wit;-
Compared, in short, with Whigs, his chosen race,
Where amongst them shall we assign his place?
In that rare gift — few gifts more rare in men
The twofold eloquence of voice and pen,
Brougham as a speaker has more strength and sweep,
Burke as a writer is more grave and deep;

But Brougham, as writer, less his strength has proved;
And Burke, as speaker, less his audience moved.
Nor Burke nor Brougham to Whigs we wholly cede,

For Brougham has stray'd from, Burke renounced their

creed;

But this bright partisan was all their own,

His
pomp of laurel in their soil was grown;
To guard their strongholds he directs his toils,
And to their tombs he dedicates his spoils.
This given to party - what to England, say,
Left to endure when parties fade away?
To her young sons the model of a life,
Mild in its calm, majestic in its strife;
To her rich language blocks of purest ore,

To her grand blazon one proud quartering more !

From the year 1854, until the time of his death, Mr. Macaulay filled the office of President of the Philosophical Institution of Edinburgh. At a meeting of this Society, in addressing the large audience present, Dr. Schmitz said:

"The matchless powers of Lord Macaulay, as an orator, essayist, historian, and poet, belong to the whole world, and are appreciated as widely as true civilization extends; but what endeared him to Edinburgh, and more especially to the members of the Philosophical Institution is the intimate connection which has subsisted between him and the citizens of Edinburgh, whom he twice represented in Parliament, and between him and our institution, of which he was elected president, after the death of Professor Joht Wilson, in 1854. He has since been unanimously reëlected fivc

times to the same office, and during the period of his connection with us he always evinced the deepest interest in our success and prosperity, ever readily and kindly aiding us with most judicious counsel, and contributing in a most generous manner towards the resources of our usefulness. In 1855, he, quite unsolicited, presented the institution with the most valuable donation of books it has ever received, comprising standard editions of English classics, and a complete set of Howell's State Trials,' itself a work of thirtyseven volumes. Two or three years ago he told our secretary that, if his health should continue to improve, it was his intention to visit the institution; that it was the first literary society he intended to address, and that he had even selected the subject on which he meant to lecture, adding, 'I wish to take my place among you as a lecturer.' It would be vain for us to hope to find within the boundaries of the United Kingdom a man to shed over our institution a lustre equal to that derived from him over whom the grave is just closing; in the mean-time, it behooves us to mourn over his loss, and at the same time to find consolation in the reflection that for nearly six years our institution has enjoyed the high, the inestimable privilege, of having for its president a man of such transcendent intellectual powers, and of so noble a nature as Lord Macaulay."

Of Macaulay's attachment to his University "The London Critic" remarks:

"We must notice the affection which Lord Macaulay ever bore his University. When he was in good health it was his constant practice to visit Trinity, and in his old rooms - which were always temporarily vacated on his coming-to perhaps dream of the early days when he linked the name of Pompeii to numbers, and contested in The Union' with Mackworth Praed."

Any testimony to Macaulay's literary accuracy will be highly appreciated by his many literary admirers; and we quote with pleasure from a Kirriemuir correspondent of the Montrose (Scotland) "Review."

แ

"Now, when the admirers of literary talent and historical genius are mourning the distinguished nobleman whose remains were, last Monday, laid among the mighty dead in Westminster Abbey, the letter of which I annex a copy, may be read with interest. It tends to show how critically correct the great historian was in

even his minute facts; at least, it proves that he was ready to correct or defend his statements. It is also a proof of his courtesy in answering the objection, even though unwarranted, of an unknown correspondent. The occasion of the letter was my having written to him, doubting the accuracy of a statement, in one of his latest volumes, that 'Dundee, after his flight from Edinburgh, had retired to his country seat in that valley, through which the Glammiss descends, to the ancient castle of Macbeth.' Though possessed of some local knowledge, I was not aware that Claverhouse had any other seat in Forfarshire but Dudhope, and perhaps at Claverhouse, and so thought I had caught Homer himself for once nodding, and addressed a note to him on the subject. His polite answer shows who was right: :

"Holly Lodge, Kensington, Dec. 7, 1858.

666 Sir, I am much obliged to you for the interest which you are so good as to take in my book. I cannot, however, admit the justice of your criticism. The question is not new to me. Lord Duncan, near three years ago, made the same objection which you now make; and I then succeeded in convincing him that I was right. Dundee certainly had a seat called Glen Ogilvie; to Glen Ogilvie he retired from Dudhope; and from Glen Ogilvie he started for the Highlands. In the 'Gazetteer of Scotland,' I find the following passage under the wordGlammiss,'-'Glammiss Burn rises in the hill of Auchter-house, at the extreme southern boundary, traverses the whole length of Glen Ogilvie, cuts its way through the central hilly ridge, and joins the Dean on the demesne of Glammiss Castle.' I am, therefore, I think, fully warranted in describing Dundee's retreat as situated in the valley through which the Glammiss descends, to the ancient castle of Macbeth. With repeated thanks, I have the honor to be, sir, your faithful servant, MACAULAY.'"

"A Poor Man of Letters," in a letter to a contemporary, strongly condemned the tone assumed towards the late Lord Macaulay and his writings, in the London "Daily News; and, to show what effect the "critical impeachments of his history" had upon his Lordship, quoted the following passage from a letter addressed to himself:

-

"To answer all the cavils of small envious critics would be an

endless labor and, happily, it is a superfluous labor, for such cavils never did the smallest harm to my book, which had the principle of life within itself, and they are generally forgotten before the refutation appears. I can with perfect truth declare that they give me no pain at all; that I would not suppress them if I could do so by merely lifting up my hand; and that I should be sorry if persons who, like yourself, think favorably of my works, were to spend time, labor, and talents, which might be better employed, in defending me against attacks which can do me no harm."

The following, which appeared in a London periodical, shortly after the announcement of Lord Macaulay's death, is, indeed, high praise:

"The purest moral tone pervades the fearless controversial diseussion of the most difficult social, moral, and religious questions. By no one have the principles of toleration been so ably and clearly expounded, by no one has the dividing line between religion and superstition been so fearlessly drawn. No author rests so entirely on a solid and manly good sense. Lord Macaulay never wasted his fine faculties and splendid powers of exposition on the barren subtleties of metaphysics, or the abstract dogmas of polemics. A true friend of liberty, he preferred to deduce it from the immemorial practice of our ancient Monarchy instead of from the fallacious doctrines of natural right. He had studied our Constitution till he had become instinct with its spirit, and forever removed the difficulties from many of the most intricate as well as ¿he most important periods of our history. Unlike the modern class of historians, who are forever trying to deify force and to exalt success, to make a sensual and cruel tyrant into a paternal king, or a brutal drunkard into a model of commanding intellect, Macaulay had no love for paradox; his homage was reserved for what he thought true and right, and he is utterly guiltless of setting up as idols for the multitude what he himself loathed and despised. If he wrote with a party bias he honestly avowed it, because he was alike incapable of the affectation of Hume or the icy indifference of Gibbon. There is not a line of his works that a lady might blush to read, not a sentiment that an honest man need be ashamed to utter. He has done more than any writer in Our history to form the mind of his countrymen, and we cannot wish our rising youth a better preceptor. He is gone, but his

name will be as imperishable as our language when we also are gone. His works may be quoted at some future period as a specimen of the highest development of the practical English mind, and the best example of the political wisdom which experience has taught us."

"The London Review" (vol. i. of 1860) remarks that

"The critical and historical essay may be set down as the creation of Macaulay's genius. That which was purely critical had already attained great excellence in the hands of Jeffrey and of Smith, and that which was merely historical had been approved, if not admired, by the readers of Southey and Hallam. But that which was eminently both -in which the historical events and sequences were first elicited by critical sagacity, and then depicted with consummate art; that form of composition in which history wears the vivid features of biography, and biography acquires the breath and purpose of history, was certainly originated by Babington Macaulay. By him, also, it was brought quickly to perfection. In this rare art he has had many followers, but as yet no rival; and it is not easy to conceive that our posterity may welcome his superior. Another Paul Veronese may arise to make pale the glories of the old Venetian masters; but no historian in the future will ever outmatch the noble portrait of 'Chatham,' or tame down the splendid picture of Warren Hastings.' Their political value is equal to their pictorial power. We believe that one of the lost books of Livy would be too dearly bought at the price of one of these essays. We have no doubt that these essays will form a precious text-book for students when the discourses of Machiavelli have no other memorial."

The reader will be interested in some foreign opinions elicited by the death of Lord Macaulay. The impression produced by his death upon the educated classes of Hungary is shown in an extract from a letter to the "London Times:

"The illustrious deceased was admired and reverenced in this country not only as one of the most splendid writers of the day, but as the exponent and defender of constitutional liberty, which the Hungarians love with as much ardor as the English themselves do, and which, but for the baneful domination' of Austria, they