giving his soul to the common cause, he won for himself a wreath
which will not fade, and a tomb the most honorable,--not where his dust
is decaying, but where his glory lives in everlasting remembrance. For
of illustrious men all the earth is the sepulchre; and it is not the
inscribed column in their own land which is the record of their virtues,
but the unwritten memories of them in the hearts and minds of all
mankind.'" [1]

[Footnote 1: Quoted by Froude from the Funeral Oration of Pericles in
honor of the Athenians slain during the first summer of the
Peloponnesian War, as given by Thucydides,--"their," "they," etc. being
changed to "his," "he," etc.]

Thomas Carlyle will always have an honorable place among the great men
of his time. He was pre-eminently a profound thinker, a severe critic, a
great word-painter,--a man of uncommon original gifts, who aroused and
instructed his generation. In the literal sense, he was neither
philosopher nor poet nor statesman, but a man of genius, who cast his
searching and fearless glance into all creeds, systems, and public
movements, denouncing hypocrisies, shams, and lies with such power that
he lost friends almost as fast as he made them,--without, however,
losing the respect and admiration of his literary rivals, or of the
ablest and best men both in England and America. Although no believer in
the scientific philosophies of our time, he was a great breaker of
ground for them, having been a pioneer in the cause of honest thinking
and plain speaking. His passion for truth, and courage in declaring his
own vision of it, were potent for spiritual liberty. He stands as one of
the earliest and stoutest champions of that revolt against authority in
religious, intellectual, and social matters which has chiefly marked the
Nineteenth Century.

LORD MACAULAY.

1800-1859.

ARTISTIC HISTORICAL WRITING.

Among the eminent men of letters of the present century, Thomas
Babington Macaulay takes a very high position. In original genius he was
inferior to Carlyle, but was greater in learning, in judgment, and
especially in felicity of style. He was an historical artist of the
foremost rank, the like of whom has not appeared since Voltaire; and he
was, moreover, no mean poet, and might have been distinguished as such,
had poetry been his highest pleasure and ambition. The same may be said
of him as a political orator. Very few men in the House of Commons ever
surpassed him in the