he has used in this way.  During the debate on the Catholic claims he was so enraged because Lord Plunket had made a very splendid display, and because the Catholics had chosen Sir Francis Burdett instead of him to bring the Bill forward, that he threw every difficulty in its way.  Sir Francis once said to him:  “Really, Mr.—­ you are so jealous that it is impossible to act with you.”  I never will serve in an Administration of which he is the head.  On that I have most firmly made up my mind.  I do not believe that it is in his nature to be a month in office without caballing against his colleagues. ["There never was a direct personal rival, or one who was in a position which, however reluctantly, implied rivalry, to whom he has been just; and on the fact of this ungenerous jealousy I do not understand that there is any difference of opinion.”—­Lord Cockburn’s Journal.]

“’He is, next to the King, the most popular man in England.  There is no other man whose entrance into any town in the kingdom would be so certain to be with huzzaing and taking off of horses.  At the same time he is in a very ticklish situation, for he has no real friends.  Jeffrey, Sydney Smith, Mackintosh, all speak of him as I now speak to you.  I was talking to Sydney Smith of him the other day, and said that, great as I felt his faults to be, I must allow him a real desire to raise the lower orders, and do good by education, and those methods upon which his heart has been always set.  Sydney would not allow this, or any other, merit.  Now, if those who are called his friends feel towards him, as they all do, angry and sore at his overbearing, arrogant, and neglectful conduct, when those reactions in public feeling, which must come, arrive, he will have nothing to return upon, no place of refuge, no hand of such tried friends as Fox and Canning had to support him.  You will see that he will soon place himself in a false position before the public.  His popularity will go down, and he will find himself alone.  Mr. Pitt, it is true, did not study to strengthen himself by friendships but this was not from jealousy.  I do not love the man, but I believe he was quite superior to that.  It was from a solitary pride he had.  I heard at Holland House the other day that Sir Philip Francis said that, though he hated Pitt, he must confess there was something fine in seeing how he maintained his post by himself.  “The lion walks alone,” he said.  “The jackals herd together."’”

This conversation, to those who have heard Macaulay talk, bears unmistakable signs of having been committed to paper while the words,—­or, at any rate, the outlines,—­of some of the most important sentences were fresh in his sister’s mind.  Nature had predestined the two men to mutual antipathy.  Macaulay, who knew his own range and kept within it, and who gave the world nothing except his best and most finished work, was fretted by the slovenly omniscience of Brougham, who affected to be a walking encyclopaedia,