on disclosing itself to them.  A man who had held exactly the same opinion about the Revolution in 1789, in 1794, in 1804, in 1814, and in 1834, would have been either a divinely inspired prophet, or an obstinate fool.  Mackintosh was neither.  He was simply a wise and good man; and the change which passed on his mind was a change which passed on the mind of almost every wise and good man in Europe.  In fact, few of his contemporaries changed so little.  The rare moderation and calmness of his temper preserved him alike from extravagant elation and from extravagant despondency.  He was never a Jacobin.  He was never an Anti-Jacobin.  His mind oscillated undoubtedly, but the extreme points of the oscillation were not very remote.  Herein he differed greatly from some persons of distinguished talents who entered into life at nearly the same time with him.  Such persons we have seen rushing from one wild extreme to another, out-Paining Paine, out-Castlereaghing Castlereagh, Pantisocratists, Ultra-Tories, heretics, persecutors, breaking the old laws against sedition, calling for new and sharper laws against sedition, writing democratic dramas, writing Laureate odes panegyrising Marten, panegyrising Laud, consistent in nothing but an intolerance which in any person would be censurable, but which is altogether unpardonable in men who, by their own confession, have had such ample experience of their own fallibility.  We readily concede to some of these persons the praise of eloquence and poetical invention; nor are we by any means disposed, even where they have been gainers by their conversion, to question their sincerity.  It would be most uncandid to attribute to sordid motives actions which admit of a less discreditable explanation.  We think that the conduct of these persons has been precisely what was to be expected from men who were gifted with strong imagination and quick sensibility, but who were neither accurate observers nor logical reasoners.  It was natural that such men should see in the victory of the third estate of France the dawn of a new Saturnian age.  It was natural that the rage of their disappointment should be proportioned to the extravagance of their hopes.  Though the direction of their passions was altered, the violence of those passions was the same.  The force of the rebound was proportioned to the force of the original impulse.  The pendulum swung furiously to the left, because it had been drawn too far to the right.

We own that nothing gives us so high an idea of the judgment and temper of Sir James Mackintosh as the manner in which he shaped his course through those times.  Exposed successively to two opposite infections, he took both in their very mildest form.  The constitution of his mind was such that neither of the diseases which wrought such havoc all round him could in any serious degree, or for any great length of time, derange his intellectual health.  He, like every honest and enlightened man in Europe, saw with