being admitted to his history, and their curiosity will
not go unsatisfied. [Cheers.] His letters are hunted up, his journals
are sifted; his sayings in conversation, the doggerel which he writes to
his brothers and sisters are collected, and stereotyped in print.
[Laughter.] His fate overtakes him. He cannot escape from it. We cry
out, but it does not appear that men sincerely resist the liberty which
is taken with them. We never hear of them instructing their executors to
burn their papers. [Laughter.] They have enjoyed so much the exhibition
that has been made of their contemporaries that they consent to be
sacrificed themselves.

Again, sir, when we look for those who have been most distinguished as
men of letters, in the usual sense of the word; where do we find them?
The famous lawyer is found in his chambers, the famous artist is found
in his studio. Our foremost representatives we do not find always in
their libraries; we find them, in the first place, in the service of
their country. ["Hear! Hear!"] Owen Meredith is Viceroy of India, and
all England has applauded the judgment that selected and sent him there.
[Cheers.] The right honorable gentleman [Mr. Gladstone] who three years
ago was conducting the administration of this country with such
brilliant success was first generally known to his countrymen as a
remarkable writer. During forty years of arduous service he never wholly
deserted his original calling. ["Hear! Hear!"] He is employing an
interval of temporary retirement to become the interpreter of Homer to
the English race [cheers], or to break a lance with the most renowned
theologians in defence of spiritual liberty. [Cheers.]

A great author, whose life we have been all lately reading with delight,
contemplates the year 3000 as a period at which his works may still be
studied. If any man might be led reasonably to form such an anticipation
for himself by the admiration of his contemporaries, Lord Macaulay may
be acquitted of vanity. The year 3000 is far away, much will happen
between now and then; all that we can say with certainty of the year
3000 is that it will be something extremely different from what any one
expects. I will not predict that men will then be reading Lord
Macaulay's "History of England." I will not predict that they will then
be reading "Lothair." [Laughter.] But this I will say, that if any
statesman of the age of Augustus or the Antonines had left us a picture
of patrician so