moral standard which the powers of earth and religion itself tend constantly to depress." It is more fashionable to contend that the moral standard is relative; that we cannot judge the men of the past by the ethical rules of the present; that conscience itself is the product of historical development. It may be questioned whether this scepticism has not been carried too far. Hallam had no such doubts. For him "the thoroughly upright and enlightened man" of the seventeenth century was not intrinsically different from the thoroughly upright and enlightened man of the nineteenth; the one concession he makes to time is that the historian is probably in a better, not a worse, position to judge than the men of whom he writes--if only because he is more detached. He condemns the obsequiousness of Cranmer, the bigotry of Laud, the tortuousness of Charles I., the ambition of Strafford, with the same reprobation as he would have extended to similar obliquities in a contemporary. Unless we are to exclude conduct altogether from our consideration and to deny the personal factor in history, we shall find it hard to say he is wrong. Gardiner, the latest historian of the Stuarts, does not hesitate to pronounce similar judgments, though he expresses himself more mildly. Sorel, perhaps the most illustrious of the modern school of French historians and a scholar who spent his life among the archives, has not hesitated--in writing on the Partition of Poland--to speak of the Nemesis which always waits upon such "public crimes."