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harvest and building no abiding city;-before him a goodly land, a land of promise, a land flowing with milk and honey. While the multitude below saw only the flat sterile desert in which they had so long wandered, bounded on every side by a near horizon, or diversified only by some deceitful mirage, he was gazing from a far higher stand, on a far lovelier country-following with his eye the long course of fertilizing rivers, through ample pastures, and under the bridges of great capitals,-measuring the distances of marts and havens, and portioning out all those wealthy regions from Dan to Beersheba.

It is painful to turn back from contemplating Bacon's philosophy to contemplate his life. Yet without so turning back it is impossible fairly to estimate his powers. He left the University at an earlier age than that at which most people repair thither. While yet a boy he was plunged into the midst of diplomatic business. Thence he passed to the study of a vast technical system of law, and worked his way up through a succession of laborious offices to the highest post in his profession. In the mean time he took an active part in every Parliament; he was an adviser of the Crown; he paid court with the greatest assiduity and address to all whose favour was likely to be of use to him; he lived much in society; he noted the slightest peculiarities of character and the slightest changes of fashion. Scarcely any man has led a more stirring life than that which Bacon led from sixteen to sixty. Scarcely any man has been better entitled to be called a thorough man of the world. The founding of a new philosophy, the imparting of a new direction to the minds of speculators,—this was the amusement of his leisure, the work of hours occasionally stolen from the Woolsack and the Council Board. This consideration, while it increases the admiration with which we regard his intellect, increases also our regret that such an intellect should so often have been unworthily employed. He well knew the better course, and had, at one time, resolved to pursue it. “I conless,' said he in a letter written when he was still young, that I have as vast contemplative ends as I bave . moderate civil ends. Had his civil ends continued to be moderate, he would have been, not only the Moses, but the Joshua of philosophy. He would have fulfilled a large part of his own magnificent predictions. He would have led his followers, not only to the verge, but into the heart of the promised land. He would not merely have pointed out, but would have divided the spoil. Above all, he would have left not only a great, but a spotless name. Mankind would then have been able

to esteem their illustrious benefactor. We should not then be compelled to regard his character with mingled contempt und admiration,-with mingled aversion and gratitude. We should not then regret that there should be so many proofs of the narrowness and selfishness of a heart, the benevolence of which was yet large enough to take in all races and all ages. We should not then have to blush for the disingenuousness of the most devoted worshipper of speculative truth,-for the servility of the boldest champion of intellectual freedom. We should not then have seen the same man at one time far in the van, and at another time far in the rear of his generation.

We should not then be forced to own, that he who first treated legislation as a science was among the last Englishmen who used the rack, that he who first summoned philosophers to the great work of interpreting nature, was among the last Englishmen who sold justice. And we should conclude our survey of a life placidly, honourably, beneficently passed, in industrious observations,

grounded conclusions, and profitable inventions and discoveries,'* with feelings very different from those with which we now turn away from the checkered spectacle of so much glory and so much shame,


Arr. II.---1. The Great Metropolis. By the Author of 'Random

• Recollections of the Lords and Commons. First Series,

2 vols. 8vo. London : 1836. 2. The Great Metropolis. Second Series. 2 vols. 8vo.

London : 1837.

This work possesses one great attraction, viz., its title;-we Pelasgic Oracle from the priests of Egypt and the priestesses of Dodona. Mindful, doubtless, of so renowned an example, the author of the Great Metropolis,''for much of the information con"tained in this chapter' (on Almack's), is indebted to one who has 'been for many years a meinber! 'Still following the example of the old Halicarnassian, our author proceeds as rapidly as possible to convey narrative through the medium of dialogue :

is . preface to the Second Series’informs us, however, that the ‘First Series' had been attended with very great success.' Flushed with his triumph, our author attempts a bolder, louder strain; and, in the opening chapter of his · Second Series,’ leads off the ball at Almack's. From time immemorial, writers, when approaching difficult ground, have thought it wise to inform their readers that they are backed by authorities more weighty than their own. Herodotus assures us that he drew his knowledge of the great

* From a Letter of Bacon to Lord Burleigh.


- Have you ap

"" Are you a subscriber to Almack's this season ??! plied for admission to Almack's p" “What a dashing ball that was at Almack's on Wednesday !” “I did not see you at Almack's last night!" “ Have you heard that the Mortons have applied for admission to Almack’s and been rejected ?” “I'm sure those vulgar low-bred creatures the Cottons have not the least chance of being admitted : it was a piece of great assurance on their part to suppose the ladies-patronesses could listen for a moment to an application from such a quarter. • 0, I never saw the Marchioness of Londonderry look so well as she did at the last Almack's; she was so splendidly dressed." 6. That brute, Lord was quite tipsy at Almack's last night : I was sorry to see mamma give him the slightest countenance. These, and a hundred olher expressions, are quite current in the higher circles on the subject of Almack's.

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Our author having thus proved himself so thoroughly acquainted with the phraseology and expressions' current in the higher circles, proceeds to trace the chronicle from the earliest recorded mythi. When, or under what particular circumstances

(saith he solemnly) Almack's was originally instituted, is not exactly known. It is first accidentally noticed by Horace Wal• pole.' We had imagined there was a line, attributed to that ancient and forgotten writer, Alexander Pope, running somewhat thus—if the decipherers of the old character used in that day be right in their interpretation :

• To dine with Peers at Boodle's and Almack's.'

But let this pass. Our historian is of the inventive schoolthe Müller of the Metropolis. He informs us that the infant institution, dating from Horace Walpole, was not free from those storms to which all states are subject. That owing to some misunderstanding among the ladies-patronesses it was discontinued. • It was reorganized on such an extensive scale, and under such * powerful patronage, that it assumed a sway and importance in

the fashionable world which its foundresses never contemplated:' that a more despotic power never existed;' that all we read about political slavery in other countries, is not to be compared * with this.' And, warming as he pursues the theme, our author places before us, in the most glowing language, the caprices and tyranny of this terrible Inquisition. It is not our intention to follow the ingenious chronicler through his details. The following dialogue (our author shines in polite dialogue) will suffice as a specimen of his peculiar fitness for the task he has undertaken:

• Miss Manchester applied at the beginning of last season for a ticket. " Who is this Miss Manchester ?" enquired Lady Dominant. “Does any body know any thing about her? I never heard the name before."

Nor 1,” said the Marchioness of Duffus. * Some upstart vulgar creature of City origin, I suppose,” she continued, giving her head a most contemptuous toss.

• “ She is a very respectable young lady; I have seen her two or three times, and she is possessed of an immense fortune," said Baroness Positive.

“Made, I have no doubt, by her father's spinning-jennies,” said Lady Dominant, sneeringly.

Her father is a manufacturer in the Manchester trade, but he is a most respectable man : my brother and he are on very intimate terms,” said the Baroness.

Well, surely the impudence of these low-bred, vulgar people! it exceeds every thing," said the Countess of Speyside. "Why, after this, it would not surprise me to see every coal-merchant's daughter in the City applying for admission.”

0! the very idea of the thing is monstrous,” observed Lady Rafford. Besides, the creature's a perfect fright. You know, my dear Baroness, you pointed her out to me one day in the Strand.”

«« Quite a turnip face, I dare say,” said Lady Dominant.
"" And cat's-eyes, I'll answer for it,” observed the Marchioness.

" You are both right,” said Lady Rafford. “And you might have added carroty-hair. The very thought of such a horrid-looking creature, and a cotton merchaut's daughter, waltzing at Almack's, almost throws me into hysterics."

““1 think you are unreasonably severe," observed the Baroness. “She is heiress to a princely fortune. Her father is worth half-a-million, and her hand would therefore be deemed a prize by any nobleman in the land. My brother, Colonel Vincent, has begged of me as a particular favour, to do all I can to get her admitted, and I therefore hope your ladyships will give her a voucher."

• " Yes,” said Lady Dominant, bridling up, "yes, if we wish to disgrace ourselves and the order to which we belong. If we did, I dare say,” she continued, biting her lip and tossing her head, “ I dare say the piece of vulgarity would come to our balls dressed in some of her father's cotton-cloth. Better admit our housemaids at once.”

••"I'll engage," said Lady Rafford, assuming an air of unwonted selfimportance, ** l'll engage this would-be-fashionable Miss Vuigarity could not acquit herself, though she were here, so well as one of my waitingmaids.

««!" said Lady Dominant, tartly, and with some haste," O let us be done with this poor empty-headed but aspiring cotton-spinning miss ;

the very idea of listening for one moment to her application is perfectly monstrous.''

There is a classical simplicity-a sublime naïvetéinour author, which bears out the parallel we ventured to intimate between Herodotus and himself. Thus fought the Greeks at Thermopylæ!' says the Father of History. Such is Almack's ! exclaims the author of the Great Metropolis. It may possibly be presumed, that one so eminently successful in his picture of the Privileged Ball-room of London might not be equally happy in the humbler and more homely subjects upon which he expatiates. Not so; be is equally accurate and profound in those sections of the work that immediately follow. In this second chapter, he sits in judgment on · Political Opinions;' and by way of a fair specimen of those great political dinners which make so remarkable a feature in English manners, and which undoubtedly, on either side of the question, often seriously affect the position of political parties, he favours us with the subjoined picture :

Scene.-The Marylebone Festival.

• “ Vaiter, why don't you bring us something to eat po

6“It's all on ihe table, sir,” said the waiter, stretching out his arm to withdraw an empty pudding-dish.

6 And it's all off the table, too,” said the coffin-maker, indignantly. • " That's not ny fault,” observed John; and he scudded away with his arms full of empty dishes, to some unknown region where they were to be deposited.

• “Why don't you complain to one of the stewards," said Dr Wade, who, in the scramble had, as already mentioned, come off very successfully. The Rev. Gentleman winked at Mr Murphy, in a way which evidently showed that he was enjoying a joke at the poor hungry undertaker's expense.

•“ Mr Savage,” said the latter-Mr Savage was one of the stewards “ bere's a pretty go of it ; nothing to eat; no, not a morsel. Better be at home on Yarmouth bloaters than this."

Whose fault's that ?" enquired Mr Savage, with inimitable sang froid. Mr Savage whispered across the table to Mr Fergus O'Connor, “I hope the speeches to-night will be of the right Radical sort."

• " It's the waiter's fault, I suppose," said the man of coffins. “Poor fellow, he knew no better!"

••* Well then," observed Mr Savage, "you have the remedy in your own hands; take his number."

<< But he's gone."
"" Then why don't you go after him?"

««l tell you what it is, Mr Savage, 1 von't submit to be treated in this 'ere vay; I must have some grub, or my four shillings back again."

I wish he may get either,” whispered Dr Wade into my ear, with

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