the Edinburgh Review. In 1825 Macaulay wrote his essay on Milton that made him famous and opened the road to parliament. At the university Macaulay had been a Tory, a faith that he inherited, and Praed was a Whig. After he left Cambridge Macaulay became a Whig from conviction, and Praed a Tory. After Macaulay's election to parliament in 1830 Praed wrote to his sister: The entrance of my friend Macaulay into the great council of the nation gives me, as you will suppose, the greatest pleasure. I cannot but think he will be the greatest man there by and by, and I have bespoken his first frank in the expectation of selling it for ten pounds thirty years hence. Praed was called to the bar in 1829, taking also a keen interest in politics. When Macaulay's sledge-hammer blows in favor of parliamentary reform became so potent the Tories began to look around for some one to meet him and selected Praed. Offers of a seat in parliament were made to him through a personal friend. Praed wrote about it to his sister. whether my The first question put to my friend was intimacy with Macaulay was very close, and the next whether I should in consequence of it be unwilling to be pitted against him (Peel's words) in the house. To both of those questions Fitzgerald answered, as I should have done, that my friendship with Macaulay was the closest possible, and that I should certainly refuse to occupy any post in which I should be expected to place myself in personal collision with any man. The negotiation fell through, but a little later Praed obtained a seat in parliament, but took no part in the debates on the Reform Bill in which Macaulay so distinguished himself, nor did these friends ever come in "personal collision." Praed had a brilliant career in the House of Commons and possessed the confidence and favor of Sir Robert Peel. When the latter came into power, Praed was appointed to a subordinate cabinet position, but soon afterward his health began to fail. He was married in 1835 and died of consumption in 1839 in his thirty-seventh year. Praed's poetry is graceful, light, airy, and humorous. His political satires are among the best ever written. One of these is entitled "Sleep, Mr. Speaker, Sleep While You May," suggested by his seeing the Speaker of the House of Commons dozing in his chair. Sleep, Mr. Speaker; it's surely fair, If you don't in your bed, you should in your chair. Tory and Radical, Aye and No; Talking by night and talking by day— Sleep, Mr. Speaker; sleep, sleep while you may. Sleep, Mr. Speaker; Cobbett will soon Hume, no doubt, will be taking the sense Of the house on a saving of thirteen pence; Grattan will growl or Baldwin bray Sleep, Mr. Speaker; sleep, sleep while you may. His two volumes of verse contain no dull lines. SIR HENRY TAYLOR. (1800-1886.) ONE of the great poems of the nineteenth century, but one possibly that is not generally read, is" Philip Van Artevelde," by Henry Taylor -Sir Henry Taylor as he in time became. It is in the form of a drama, though not intended for the stage, and indeed unsuitable for it. Everybody can quote one line of it, "The world knows nothing of its greatest men," though probably ignorant of the source of the quotation. But it has hundreds of quotable lines, and is a romance full of beauty and imagery almost Shakespearian. No modern poet has so completely caught the inspiration of the Elizabethans. The scene of the poem is laid in Flanders in the fourteenth century, when the middle or mercantile classes, the wealthy burghers of Ghent and Bruges, revolted against the tyranny of the nobles and refused longer to submit to their exactions. It was the rebellion of the people against royalty. But the insurgents had not been successful, and they were without a leader. It is at this moment the story begins. Philip Van Artevelde, student and recluse, whose father has already sacrificed his life to the cause, is chosen the leader. He desires to avenge his father's death, but also to save his country. He is portrayed as a grave, sagacious man, not exempt from passion and frailty, and yet of consummate mastery over his followers, a born leader of men. He is a man both of contemplation and action, a warrior and statesman, who follows his aims with relentless tenacity. He says: All my life long I have beheld with most respect the man Who knew himself, and knew the ways before him, And from amongst them chose considerately, He is successful for a time, and becomes the regent of Flanders, but at last, in one heroic battle, is overthrown and slain. And yet his enemies can only honor him. The Duke of Burgundy says: |