graves towers the stately monument of Chatham, and, from above,
his effigy, graven by a cunning hand, seems still, with eagle face
and outstretched arm, to bid England be of good cheer, and to hurl
defiance at her foes.

"The generation which reared that memorial of him has disappeared.
The time has come when the rash and indiscriminate judgments
which his contemporaries passed on his character may be calmly
revised by history. And history, while, for the warning of
vehement, high, and daring natures, she notes his many errors,
will yet deliberately pronounce that, among the eminent men whose
bones lie near his, scarcely one has left a more stainless and
none a more splendid name."

It is a great race, Antony, that can produce a man of such a character
as Chatham, and also writers who can dedicate to him such superb
tributes as these.

Macaulay's prose has been much criticised as being too near to easy
journalism to be classed among the great classic passages of English;
but this much must be recognised to his great credit--he never wrote
an obscure sentence or an ambiguous phrase, and his works may be
searched in vain for a foreign idiom or even a foreign word. He
possessed an infallible memory, absolute perspicuity, and a scholarly
taste. He detested oppression wherever enforced, and never exercised
his great powers in the defence of mean politics or unworthy practices.

Such a writer to-day would blow a wholesome wind across the tainted
pools of political intrigue.