ucation
and a vicious age, all at once he loses himself in excesses. Still,
Homer, and Shakespeare at his best, and Scott, though in other respects
so unequal to them, have this remarkable quality in common--this union
of life with measure, of spirit with reasonableness.

In action it is equally this quality in which the English--at least so
I claim it for them--excel all other nations. There is an infinite deal
to be laid against us, and as we are unpopular with most others, and as
we are always grumbling at ourselves, there is no want of people to say
it. But, after all, in a certain sense, England is a success in the
world; her career has had many faults, but still it has been, a fine
and winning career upon the whole. And this on account of the exact
possession of this particular quality. What is the making of a
successful merchant? That he has plenty of energy, and yet that he does
not go too far. And if you ask for a description of a great practical
Englishman, you will be sure to have this, or something like it, 'Oh,
he has plenty of go in him; but he knows when to pull up.' He may have
all other defects in him; he may be coarse, he may be illiterate, he
may be stupid to talk to; still this great union of spur and bridle, of
energy and moderation, will remain to him. Probably he will hardly be
able to explain why he stops when he does stop, or why he continued to
move as long as he, in fact, moved; but still, as by a rough instinct,
he pulls up pretty much where he should, though he was going at such a
pace before.

There is no better example of this quality in English statesmen than
Lord Palmerston. There are, of course, many most serious accusations to
be made against him. The sort of homage with which he was regarded in
the last years of his life has passed away; the spell is broken, and
the magic cannot be again revived. We may think that his information
was meagre, that his imagination was narrow, that his aims were
short--sighted and faulty. But though we may often object to his
objects, we rarely find much to criticise in his means. 'He went,' it
has been said, 'with a great swing;' but he never tumbled over; he
always managed to pull up 'before there was any danger.' He was an odd
man to have inherited Hampden's motto; still, in fact, there was a
great trace in him of _mediocria firma_--as much, probably, as there
could be in anyone of such great vivacity and buoyancy.

It is plain that this is a quali