nd simple as a child's
Unbreathed on by the world: in friendship warm,
Confiding, generous, constant; and, though now
He ranks among the great ones of the earth
And hath achieved such glory as will last
To future generations, he, I think,
Would sup on oysters with as right good will
In this poor home of mine as e'er he did
On Petty Cury's classical first floor
Some twenty years ago."

He loved to place his purse, his influence, and his talents at the
disposal of a friend; and anyone whom he called by that name he judged
with indulgence, and trusted with a faith that would endure almost any
strain. If his confidence proved to have been egregiously misplaced,
which he was always the last to see, he did not resort to remonstrance
or recrimination. His course under such circumstances he described in a
couplet from an old French comedy:

"Le bruit est pour le fat, la plainte pour le sot;
L'honnete homme trompe s'eloigne et ne dit mot.

["La Coquette corrigee. Comedie par Mr. Delanoue, 1756." In his journal
of February 15, 1851, after quoting the couplet, Macaulay adds: "Odd
that two lines of a damned play, and, it should seem, a justly damned
play, should have lived near a century and have become proverbial."]

He was never known to take part in any family quarrel, or personal
broil, of any description whatsoever. His conduct in this respect was
the result of self-discipline, and did not proceed from any want of
sensibility. "He is very sensitive," said his sister Margaret, "and
remembers long, as well as feels deeply, anything in the form of
slight." Indeed, at college his friends used to tell him that his
leading qualities were "generosity and vindictiveness." Courage he
certainly did not lack. During the years when his spirit was high, and
his pen cut deep, and when the habits of society were different from
what they are at present, more than one adversary displayed symptoms of
a desire to meet him elsewhere than on paper. On these occasions, while
showing consideration for his opponent, he evinced a quiet but very
decided sense of what was due to himself, which commanded the respect of
all who were implicated, and brought difficulties that might have been
grave to an honourable and satisfactory issue.

He reserved his pugnacity for quarrels undertaken on public grounds,
and fought out with the world looking on as umpire. In the lists of
criticism and of debate it cannot be denied that, as a y