little too far by the stimulating influences of the hour. "We have palliations of Tiberius, eulogies of Henry VIII., and devotional exercises to Cromwell," observes Mr. Bagehot, in some perplexity as to where this state of things may find an ending; and he confesses that in the mean time his own original notions of right and wrong are growing sadly hazy and uncertain. Moreover, in proportion as the heavy villains of history assume a chastened and ascetic appearance, its heroes dwindle perceptibly into the commonplace, and its heroines are stripped of every alluring grace; while as for the living men who are controlling the destinies of nations, not even Macaulay's ever useful schoolboy is too small and ignorant to refuse them homage. Yet we read of Scott, in the zenith of his fame, standing silent and abashed before the Duke of Wellington, unable, and perhaps unwilling, to shake off the awe that paralyzed his tongue. "The Duke possesses every one mighty quality of the mind in a higher degree than any other man either does or has ever done!" exclaimed Sir Walter to John Ballantyne, who, not being framed for hero-worship, failed to appreciate
