rmation was the first outcome
from centuries of folly and ferocity; and Mr. Hallam's more temperate
language softens, without concealing, a similar conclusion. These
writers have all studied what they describe. Mr. Carlyle has studied the
same subject with power at least equal to theirs, and to him the
greatness of English character was waning with the dawn of English
literature; the race of heroes was already failing. The era of action
was yielding before the era of speech.

All these views may seem to ourselves exaggerated; we may have settled
into some moderate _via media_, or have carved out our own ground on an
original pattern; but if we are wise, the differences in other men's
judgments will teach us to be diffident. The more distinctly we have
made history bear witness in favour of our particular opinions, the more
we have multiplied the chances against the truth of our own theory.

Again, supposing that we have made a truce with 'opinions,' properly so
called; supposing we have satisfied ourselves that it is idle to quarrel
upon points on which good men differ, and that it is better to attend
rather to what we certainly know; supposing that, either from superior
wisdom, or from the conceit of superior wisdom, we have resolved that we
will look for human perfection neither exclusively in the Old World nor
exclusively in the New--neither among Catholics nor Protestants, among
Whigs or Tories, heathens or Christians--that we have laid aside
accidental differences, and determined to recognise only moral
distinctions, to love moral worth, and to hate moral evil, wherever we
find them;--even supposing all this, we have not much improved our
position--we cannot leap from our shadow.

Eras, like individuals, differ from one another in the species of virtue
which they encourage. In one age, we find the virtues of the warrior; in
the next, of the saint. The ascetic and the soldier in their turn
disappear; an industrial era succeeds, bringing with it the virtues of
common sense, of grace, and refinement. There is the virtue of energy
and command, there is the virtue of humility and patient suffering. All
these are different, and all are, or may be, of equal moral value; yet,
from the constitution of our minds, we are so framed that we cannot
equally appreciate all; we sympathise instinctively with the person who
most represents our own ideal--with the period when the graces which
most harmonise with our own tempers have