e word, knew how entirely his outward behaviour was the
express image of his religious belief. The secret of his character and
of his actions lay in perfect humility and an absolute faith. Events did
not discompose him, because they were sent by One who best knew his own
purposes. He was not fretted by the folly of others, or irritated
by their hostility, because he regarded the humblest or the worst of
mankind as objects, equally with himself, of the divine love and care.
On all other points he 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consider such motives as oldfashioned, and such convictions as out of
date; but self-abnegation, self-control, and self-knowledge that does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."

That Sir James himself could read the riddle is proved by the concluding
words of a passage marked by a force and tenderness of feeling unusual
even in him: "His earthward aff