The Sun.
London, England, 1859-10-29 00:00:00

Lord Derby's Canezou colt, Sst 71b, received forfeit, from
Lord Glasgow's Clarissa filly, Bst 41b.

HORSES STRUCK OUT OF THEIR ENGAGE-
MENTS.
Oct. 20, at 1,30 p.m., Cytherus out of the Cambridge-
shire.

Oct. 20, at 4.5 p.m., The Old English Gentleman out of
the Cambridgeshire.
Oct. 21, at 9 a.m., Tiara out of engagements at New-
market Houghton.
Oct. 22, at 9 a.m., Oxford and Stolzenfels, out of engage-
ments at Newmarket Houghton.
Oct. 22, at 6 p.m., Maid of Orleans out of Criterion
Stakes.
Oct. 22, at 6 p.m., Covenant Bow and Never Despair out
of the Cambridgeshire.
Oct. 25, at 9 a.m., Happy Prince out of all engagements.
Oct. 25, at 9 a.m., Tunstall Maid, Herne, and Bankrupt,
out of all engagements at the Liverpool Autumn.

LORD BROUGHAM UPON ENGLAND

AND FRANCE.

Lord Brougham upon England and France is
about as promising a subject as one could expect
on a bleak autumn day. Nobody - knows so well
the dark and the light side of each picture as the
man who once seriously tried to combine both
allegiances, and who appears to be as much at
home in one capital, one sodety, one province,
as the other. It is fortunate for us that we
have these eccentric beings, who, as the comets
were once supposed to do, revolve round two
centres, and link two systems. Had not his Lord-
ship himself alluded at Edinburgh to his varied
career, we should not nave recalled ever so inno-
cently circumstances which have been commented
on in different ways ; but we were never more
serious than when we hail in Lord Brougham an
a

__most providential medium between English and
French ideas. It cannot be denied that we
want such a medium, for it is the tendency
of nations, as of individuals, to look only to the
one side of the question • to see all things in
their own light, and to judge all by their own rule.
The Englishman of old could hardly be got to
think the Frenchman anything but a vain, con-
ceited fellow, with a strangely exaggerated estimate
of his powers, led away by delusions, without a
notion of true liberty, and a positive nuisance to
mankind, but for the happy circumstance that he
had neither the practical abilities, nor the moral
courage, nor even the- physical strength of
the Englishman. Inwardly we all congratulated
Europe on the possession of so steady and vigilant
a sentinel as she possessed in England. What
France thought of England has been so excellently
expressed in almost every French paper, and so con-
fidently, though politely, implied in the language
and demeanour of every French gentleman, that it
would be almost superfluous to repeat it here. It
may, however, be summed up in the opinion that
only by the merest mischance had England ever
gained the most trifling advantage over France,
either in war, or diplomacy, or in the higher arts
and sciences. Had Caliban, through some brutality
or some unlucky fault of a spell, become master of
the island, and Prospezo, Miranda, and Ariel all
been driven into a coroner, that would have ex-
pressed very nearly to the French mind the moral
and political position of the two countries. A
Frenchwoman and an Englishwoman had much
the same relative opinions one of another. The
former was, of course, always mincing, conceited,
forward, self-conscious, superficial, and a good deal
more; the latter always stupid, vulgar, tawdry,
clumsy, ill-dressed, ungraceful, with nothing but a
tolerably strong frame, a robust figure, and rude
sense, to recommend her. Such was the mutual
impression of two races that lived in sight of one
another, that had many elements in common, and,
though many of these prejudices are wearing away,
still the national differences upon which they were
founded must be real and important. They arc not
to be slurred over. It is vain to expect that Eng-
lishmen and Frenchmen will ever act or think
alike. It is idle to say that a Frenchman ought
to take what we may happen to think the most
sensible course. He will not. It is not his na-
ture. So Lord Brougham recognises the diffe-
rence, and adapts his advice to the two nations
accordingly.
France is too fair, England too prosperous, he
says, not to excite the envy of the Great Tempter.
To the one he presents himself as one of her own
Victories. She is there an angel with wings to
span the world, just alighting from the skies, and
offering to her own favoured people the laurel of
triumph, the crown of dominion, or the palm of
glory. France cannot but listen to the call which
harmonizes with all her traditions, and is already
written a thousand times on her monuments, and
in every art, of painting, sculpture, and architec-
ture. She is already devoted from her birth "to
all the glories" of her race. Victory surmounts her
columns ; . Victory crowns her heroes ; Victory
weeps at their grave, and conveys their spirits to
the skies. Glory is all in all to France. She seems
to have forsaken all else, as if to concentrate her
powers on this one pursuit. Her aristocracy has
become an obsolete remnant and rural superstition;
her land suffers endless subdivision ; her manufac-
tures are protected in vain ; her commerce always
flags; her colonies are gone; her very liberties are
comprehended in the fact that she once freely
elected her Emperor ;—what, then, is left hut
glory ? To cross the Alps, to spend the blood of
myriads, and create a confusion which all the earth
may never set right, is but a cheap price for one
wreath of the sacred tree. So were heroes, so were
emperors adorned ; so lay they on their lofty pyres
or in their sepulchral chambers ' • so sit they in
Elysium to receive the homage of kindred souls !
All else perishes ; glory survives. Reason itself
cannot wrest immortality from the hero so long
as the world rolls on its axis. So persuades the
Great Tempter, and France will always lend a
willing ear to the strain that has so often been her
only solace for innumerable sorrows. But let
France bethink herself. Glory is so dear to her
because it has cost her everything. Is she still re-
solved to pay everything for it ? To do as she has
always done is, indeed, one way to read the lessons
of history; but, if it be right, then wisdom, virtue,
and everything a nation regards, consists in wilful
ruin and an obstinacy of error.
But, spreading his murky wings and crossing the
Channel, the Great Tempter lights on this our
sacred soil—sacred to freedom, sacred to prosperity,
sacred to our prejudices, sacred, says Lord
Brougham, to the lust of gain. Here he quits the
high pedestal, he spreads no angel wings, and offers
no gilded crown. Expanding his form and button-
ing his coat, he walks into the exchange or the
counting-house, perhaps into the House of Com-
mons, or some less divided assembly. He offers
peace, confidence, employment, wages, manufac-
tures, commerce, physical development, goo i sani-
tary institutions, material improvements without
end, personal advancement, colossal fortunes, man-
sions, estates, peerages, and all that gilds the dis-
tant horizon of the drudging sons of trade. Only
let us attend to our own concerns, and leave
our neigh ours to fight out their own quarrels,
and we shall be safe, so long as we "neither
meddle nor make." We every year de-
vote our immense savings to new enterprises, in-
ssead of sinking them in preparations for war.
which it is our own fault if we ever require. But
what is this security that sounds so sweet, and that
lulls the nobler sense till all but earth is a dream ?
With what authority is it promised ? Does it rest
even on fact ? How do we know we shall never
have to defend ourselves ? That confidence can rest
on no foundation so long as we are net ourselves the
masters of• our own position. Whoever persuades
us we shall never have to meet force with greater
force, and surprise with preparation, palms off his
own invention on our unguarded reason. It must
be the Tempter that so speaks, for what he says is
simply not true, and is the treacherous excuse of a
fatal security. All history agrees in nothing so
much as this, that the weak give way to the strong,
and that at every new crisis they who are prepared
to win the day against them that are not. The
spoil is ever to the strong, and the we filthier the
prize the greaten the inducement to the attack.
If this be thought the mere imagination of a
practised orator, making contrasts for effect, and
impersonating that he may make sense itself
treacherous to reason, let us return to the great
and undisputed fact of an immense difference of
character between England and France. We must
not measure by our own rules a people whom we
daily charge with haying sacrificed everything to