becomes obvious as soon as the public voice summons them to take
the lead. Rapidly as his fortunes grew, his mind expanded more
rapidly still. Insignificant as a private citizen, he was a great
general; he was a still greater prince. Napoleon had a theatrical
manner, in which the coarseness of a revolutionary guard-room was
blended with the ceremony of the old Court of Versailles.
Cromwell, by the confession even of his enemies, exhibited in his
demeanour the simple and natural nobleness of a man neither
ashamed of his origin nor vain of his elevation, of a man who had
found his proper place in society, and who felt secure that he
was competent to fill it. Easy, even to familiarity, where his
own dignity was concerned, he was punctilious only for his
country. His own character he left to take care of itself; he
left it to be defended by his victories in war, and his reforms
in peace. But he was a jealous and implacable guardian of the
public honour. He suffered a crazy Quaker to insult him in the
gallery of Whitehall, and revenged himself only by liberating him
and giving him a dinner. But he was prepared to risk the chances
of war to avenge the blood of a private Englishman.

No sovereign ever carried to the throne so large a portion of the
best qualities of the middling orders, so strong a sympathy with
the feelings and interests of his people. He was sometimes driven
to arbitrary measures; but he had a high, stout, honest, English
heart. Hence it was that he loved to surround his throne with
such men as Hale and Blake. Hence it was that he allowed so large
a share of political liberty to his subjects, and that, even when
an opposition dangerous to his power and to his person almost
compelled him to govern by the sword, he was still anxious to
leave a germ from which, at a more favourable season, free