e certainty of a likeness; that resolute gloomy
brow,--that stubborn lip,--that heavy, yet not stolid expression,--all
seem to warrant a resemblance to that singular and fortunate man, to
whom folly appears to have been as great an instrument of success
as wisdom, and who rose to the supreme power perhaps no less from a
pitiable fanaticism than an admirable genius. So true is it that great
men often soar to their height by qualities the least obvious to the
spectator, and (to stoop to a low comparison) resemble that animal* in
which a common ligament supplies the place and possesses the property of
wings."

* The flying squirrel.

The old man smiled very slightly as I made this remark. "If this be
true," said he, with an impressive tone, "though we may wonder less
at the talents of the Protector, we must be more indulgent to his
character, nor condemn him for insincerity when at heart he himself was
deceived."

"It is in that light," said I, "that I have always viewed his conduct.
And though myself, by prejudice, a Cavalier and a Tory, I own that
Cromwell (hypocrite as he is esteemed) appears to me as much to have
exceeded his royal antagonist and victim in the virtue of sincerity, as
he did in the grandeur of his genius and the profound consistency of his
ambition."

"Sir," said my host, with a warmth that astonished me, "you seem to
have known that man, so justly do you judge him. Yes," said he, after
a pause, "yes, perhaps no one ever so varnished to his own breast his
designs; no one, so covetous of glory, was ever so duped by conscience;
no one ever rose to such a height through so few acts that seemed to
himself worthy of remorse."

At this part of our conversation, the servant, entering, announced
dinner. We adjourned to another room, and partook of a homely yet not
uninviting repast. When men are pleased with each other, conversation
soon gets beyond the ordinary surfaces to talk; and an exchange of
deeper opinions was speedily effected by what old Barnes* quaintly
enough terms, "The gentleman-usher of all knowledge,--Sermocination!"

* In the "Gerania."

It was a pretty, though small room, where we dined; and I observed
that in this apartment, as in the other into which I had been at first
ushered, there were several books scattered about, in that confusion and
number which show that they have become to their owner both the choicest
luxury and the least dispensable necessary. So, during dinner-