of one at a more advanced period; say in 1832. A watchful observer might
see the Lord Chancellor in the Court over which he presided, from an
early hour in the morning until the afternoon, listening to the arguments
of counsel, and mastering the points of cases with a grasp that enabled
him to give those speedy and unembarrassed judgments that have so injured
him with the profession. If he followed his course, he would see him,
soon after the opening of the House of Lords, addressing their Lordships
on some intricate question of Law, with an acuteness that drew
approbation even from his opponents, or, on some all-engrossing political
topic, casting firebrands into the camp of the enemy, and awakening them
from the complacent repose of conviction to the hot contest with more
active and inquiring intellects. Then, in an hour or so, he might follow
him to the Mechanics' Institution, and hear an able and stimulating
discourse on education, admirably adapted to the peculiar capacity of
his auditors; and, toward ten perhaps, at a Literary and Scientific
Institution in Marylebone, the same Proteus-like intellect might be found
expounding the intricacies of physical science with a never tiring and
elastic power. Yet, during all these multitudinous exertions, time would
be found for the composition of a discourse on Natural Theology,
that bears no marks of haste or excitement of mind, but presents as calm
a face as though it had been the laborious production of a contemplative
philosopher.

It would be a great mistake that would suppose the man who has thus
multiplied the objects of his exertion to be of necessity superficial;
superficial, that is, in the sense of shallowness or ignorance. Ordinary
minds are bound by fetters, no doubt. Custom has rendered the pursuit of
more than one idea all but impossible to them, and the vulgar adage of
"Jack of all trades, master of none," applies to them in full force. But
it must be remembered that a public man like Lord Brougham, who has