“To this scene of falsehood and perfidy and unbridled selfishness,—to the duplicity of the great men, and the corruption of the little men in the state,—there was at this time one striking contrast. There was one body of men in England, who, in spite of the low tone of public honesty, did through evil report, through scorn and ridicule, through the loss of their daily bread, stick to their principles. There was one body of men possessed of reputation and competence, and some of them of high station and wealth, who might have kept all—have been caressed and flattered, at least feared or treated with respect—might at least have kept their freeholds and their influence, their peerages and palaces, or their quiet country parsonages, merely by saying a few words against their convictions, and who would not. It was nothing very fearful or profligate that they were called to do. It was then, and is still, even among those who sympathise with them, a great question whether they ought not to have done it. It was something for which, had they wanted a pretext, they could have found not pretexts but good reasons, in the example, and opinion, and authority of numbers of their brethren—good, and conscientious, and pure-minded men. It was something which Beveridge and Bishop Wilson could do with a clear conscience. But their consciences would not allow them to do it; and they did it not. Call them over-scrupulous, call them narrow-minded, say that they were entangled and misled by a false theory of government, still the fact remains; their duty seemed to them clear and plain, and their duty they followed at all costs. They lost everything by it; they were cast out of the Church, they were cast out of the State; too few to have any influence, too unpopular to hope for converts, they found themselves cut off from the body of their countrymen, cut off from all the chief walks of life, homeless and living on alms, pitied by friends, suspected by all in power, ridiculed by the world, plunged into the miseries and perplexities of a new and difficult course of action, and of a small isolated clique, with small comfort for the present, and small hope for the future. Granting all that their critics or their enemies said of them—and they have had keen critics and rancorous enemies,—that they were fretful and cross-grained, that they were peevish and could not reason—that they were censorious and ill-natured to their opponents—that their theories were absurd, their heads hot, their intestine quarrels about small points very petty—granting that Sancroft was sour and self-opiniated, Turner a busy plotter, Collier indiscreet and a proud priest, that Dodwell had odd notions on the immortality of the soul, and that Hickes was as tiresome as Mr. Macaulay himself about the Theban legion—still there is no denying the fact, that while the great men of the day, who were having their will, and riding on the high places of the earth, were, most of them,