examined himself so closely that the meditations of a single
evening would fill many pages of diary; but so completely in his
case had the fear of God cast out all other fear that amidst the
gravest perils, and the most bewildering responsibilities, it
never occurred to him to question whether he was brave or not. He
worked strenuously and unceasingly, never amusing himself from
year's end to year's end, and shrinking from any public praise or
recognition as from an unlawful gratification, because he was
firmly persuaded that, when all had been accomplished and
endured, he was yet but an unprofitable servant, who had done
that which was his duty to do. Some, perhaps, will consider such
motives as oldfashioned, and such convictions as out of date; but
self-abnegation, self-control, and self-knowledge that does not
give to self the benefit of any doubt, are virtues which are not
oldfashioned, and for which, as time goes on, the world is likely
to have as much need as ever. [Sir James Stephen writes thus of
his friend Macaulay: "That his understanding was proof against
sophistry, and his nerves against fear, were, indeed, conclusions
to which a stranger arrived at the first interview with him. But
what might be suggesting that expression of countenance, at once
so earnest and so monotonous--by what manner of feeling those
gestures, so uniformly firm and deliberate were prompted--whence
the constant traces of fatigue on those overhanging brows and on
that athletic though ungraceful figure--what might be the charm
which excited amongst his chosen circle a faith approaching to
superstition, and a love rising to enthusiasm, towards a man
whose demeanour was so inanimate, if not austere:--it was a
riddle of which neither Gall nor Lavater could have found the
key."