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438 out of mind; and his works are living pictures, filled with the crimes and the virtues, the thoughts and the feelings, the hopes and the fears which are now among us in daily operation. Young, rich, and high-born, Mr. Bulwer* lacked many of the ordinary excitements to exertion. It is a fact not to be disputed, that the aristocracy have not "progressed" in proportion to the other classes. A young nobleman of the present day has not a better education than his ancestor in the time of Elizabeth. If we look back to the old records, we shall find that the classics, the modern tongues, some knowledge of philosophy, and the information collected by foreign travel, were held indispensable to the formation of a gentleman. What more is now required among the higher ranks? We doubt whether even as much be effected. It would seem that education, in ceasing to be a distinction, had lost half its attraction. The evaded study and dissipation of a public school is succeeded by the equally evaded study and dissipation of a college; and too many of our youthful aristocracy begin life with self-sufficiency for knowledge, prejudices for opinions, and with pleasure a habit rather than an enjoyment. The great error of their condition is, that their road through life is too royal a one, using that phrase quite in its ancient acceptation. We must remember, that to this class Mr. Bulwer belongs, in order to do justice to the energy of mind which has so nobly preferred exertion to indulgence, and has set out by acknowledging the general sympathies, and advocating the general rights of mankind. In the history of an author, it is labour wasted to inquire what first turned his mind to its peculiar pursuit. Even if the fact could be ascertained, it would be useless as an example, for no circumstance affects two men alike; and if brought forward only to support a theory, the theory which cannot be carried into action is rather ingenious than useful. That the subject of our sketch was early addicted to reading is nothing; so are thousands, from whose labour fruit never comes. Literary taste is often confounded with literary talent by others, quite as much as by ourselves. The Cambridge prize poem on Sculpture, afterwards published in a small volume of poems, printed for private circulation, was his first literary effort. Mr. Bulwer is essentially imbued with the spirit of poetry: perhaps, born a few years sooner, he would have been a poet only; but, though circumstances do not make genius, they certainly have much to do with its direction. He had early read largely, and seen much of society: his judgment thus