Macaulay's own picture of the multitude of conflicting interests then prevalent will believe that this was the sole cause of the clerical disaffection?

Another example of his love of simple explanations is seen in the prominence he everywhere gives to the doctrine of reaction. The discontent under Cromwell and under William is compare l to the discontent under Moses; and all such cases are spoken of as reactions of feeling. So the "appalling outbreak of licentiousness" after the Restoration is explained as the natural result of the Puritan austerity. In all these instances the alleged law is a familiar fact of our nature; and we are willing to accept it as a full explanation, though it is far from being so.

He is, then, readily understood, because he deals with familiar subjects, and explains difficulties by a reference to familiar things. But this is only a small element of his intelligibility. The main

element is his close and constant adherence to the concrete.

The terse abstract statement so familiar to the reader of Johnson, occurs but rarely in Macaulay, and only as a variety of expression. He discusses everything in the concrete. When he states

an abstract proposition, unless it is all the more familiar, he follows it up with a plethora of particular cases. We have seen (p. 97) that his prodigious knowledge of particulars betrays him into a superfluity of illustration.

In describing the conduct of individuals, he is not content with general terms: he does not simply style them brave, or just, or sagacious; he compares them with some well-known embodiment of these qualities, or relates significant circumstances. Thus, in a passage already referred to, he says that "had the administration of James been able and splendid, it would probably have been fatal to our country." Many writers would have been content with this plain statement, but Macaulay goes on to say :—

"Had he been, like Henry the Fourth, like Maurice of Nassau, or like Gustavus Adolphus, a valiant, active, and politic ruler, had he put himself at the head of the Protestants of Europe, had he gained great victories over Tilly and Spinola, had he adorned Westminster with the spoils of Bavarian monasteries and Flemish cathedrals, had he hung Austrian and Castilian banners in Saint Paul's, and had he found himself, afer great achievements, at the head of fifty thousand troops, brave, well disciplined, and devotedly attached to his person, the English Parliament would soon have been nothing more than a name.'

In conveying an idea of the doctrines of the Church of England, instead of plunging into details and bald generalities, he hits them off boldly by stating the position of the Church of England rela tively to other Churches, and enlivens the comparison with the names of representative men:--

"To this day the constitution, the doctrines, and the services of the Church, retain the visible marks of the compromise from which she sprang. She occupies a middle position between the Churches of Rome and Geneva. Her doctrinal confessions and discourses, composed by Protestants, set forth principles of theology in which Calvin or Knox would have found scarcely a word to disapprove. Her prayers and thanksgivings, derived from the ancient liturgies, are very generally such that Bishop Fisher or Cardinal Pole might have heartily joined in them. A controversialist who puts an Arminian sense on her articles and homilies, will be pronounced by candid men to be as unreasonable as a controversialist who denies that the doctrine of baptismal regeneration can be discovered in her liturgy.”

In stating quantity or dimension, he adds to the dry unrememberable ciphers a comparison with some similar case in the lump. His "third chapter" is much indebted to this art of relieving the tedious quotation of figures. Thus—

"Cornwall and Wales at present yield annually near fifteen thousand tons of copper, worth near a million and a half sterling-that is to say, worth about twice as much as the annual produce of all English mines of all descriptions in the seventeenth century."

In like manner he substitutes familiar ways of reckoning time in place of the precise notation by dates. Thus, in describing the amalgamation of races after the Conquest, he says:--

"The great-grandsons of those who had fought under William, and the great-grandsons of those who had fought under Harold, began to draw near to each other in friendship; and the first pledge of their reconciliation was the Great Charter, won by their united exertions and framed for their common benefit."

His way of dealing with cumbrous qualifications, explanations, and examples, is not an unmixed gain in the direction of simplicity. His method is, as we have seen, to make all such statements in separate sentences, instead of joining them to the main statement in the same sentence. So far this is a gain: the mind is engaged with one thing at a time; it is asked to take in the several statements one by one, instead of getting them all at once along with an indication of their relationships. But this very severality of statement leads to confusion: the mind having grasped the separate facts, receives no clue to their mutual bearings, and is placed in danger of bewilderment.

There is a way out of the difficulty-namely, to make the qualifications and explanations as few as possible. This is hardly legitimate; yet we have seen that Macaulay is suspected of adopting it.

Clearness.

In the Introduction (p. 17) we mentioned Macaulay as one of the writers whose style justifies a subdivision of Clearness into Perspicuity and Precision. He is perspicuous, but not precise.

To say that "not an ambiguous sentence is to be found through.

out his works," is attributing a perfection hardly possible for mortal writer. Doubtless very few of his sentences are ambigu ous, even at first glance; and in several that do mislead on first inspection, the meaning is not hard to find. His general method is decidedly perspicuous, although, as we have seen in discussing his paragraphs, it also comes short of perfection, and is open to amendment. His numerous examples and comparisons conduce greatly to perspicuity. And, finally, his extraordinary number of contrasts is a help in the same direction.

While Macaulay is one of the most perspicuous of English writers, he has no claim to the merit of being minutely exact. We have seen that, after stating a general principle, he makes his meaning perspicuous-clear in its leading outlines-by a free quotation of examples. But he quotes his examples roundly and confidently; he very seldom pauses to take note of casuistical objections, of special circumstances making a particular case doubt ful as an example of his general assertion: Frederick the Great is a typical German, and commits blunders in French that would have moved a smile in the literary circles of Paris; Sir Walter Scott is a typical Scotsman, and he perpetrates Scotticisms that a London apprentice would laugh at; Ben Jonson was a great man, Hoole a very small man-yet Ben Jonson's verse was rugged, and Hoole, as coming after Pope, poured out decasyllabic verses in thousands, "all as well turned, as smooth, and as like each other as the blocks which have passed through Mr Brunel's mill in the dockyard at Portsmouth." In like manner his comparisons are perspicuous, are good as broad indications of his general meaning; but they have the same defect-a defect for certain purposes at least-of not being nicely pointed to the relevant circumstances, of not entering into exact details. We get but a vague notion of the doctrines of the Church of England from the statement that "she occupies a middle position between the Churches of Rome and Geneva; and little distinct information about Addison's Epistle from the statement that "it contains passages as good as the second-rate passages of Pope, and would have added to the reputation of Parnell or Prior." It is not by such rough assertions that accurate knowledge is imparted; they convey rather the conceit of knowledge than the reality; they are simple but vague.

When we insist upon Macaulay's want of minute exactness, of all pretension to be called an accurate writer, it is but fair to notice that minute exactness, scrupulous accuracy, did not accord with the popular design of his works. He wrote for hurried readers, and more to amuse or interest than to instruct. He considered that " laborious research and minute investigation" belonged to authors by profession. We can excuse a want of exactness in a writer so anxious to make his language perspicu

.ous.

For his perspicuity he certainly deserves all praise; and it is always right to point out that from this very quality his inexactness is easily discovered, and that he passes for shallow in many quarters where a more shal ow and at the same time more obscure writer would pass for profound. Particularly is he admirable for his profuseness of exemplification: he often supplies us with the means of correcting his own indistinct generalities. Even his comparisons to individuals and specific institutions, though vague, are seldom misleading: if they convey little substantial knowledge, they at least convey no error. For such comparisons it may always be pleaded that they awaken curiosity, and set the inquirer on the right track; if we desire fuller information, they direct us where to look for it. In a hasty review of the doctrines of the Church of England, it is perhaps best to incite the reader to compare them with the doctrines of other Churches; and where limits preclude a full discussion, to furnish no more detail than an index map.

Strength.

In the quality of strength, Macaulay offers a great and obvious contrast to De Quincey-the contrast between brilliant animation and stately pomp. His movement is more rapid and less dignified. He does not slowly evolve his periods, "as under some genial instinct of incubation :" he never remits his efforts to dazzle; and in his most swelling cadences, he always seems to be perorating against an imaginary antagonist.

Most of the elements of his peculiar animation have already been noticed in other connections. We have already commented upon the varied expression, the abrupt transitions, the constant play of antithesis, the perspicuous m thol, and the lively array of concrete particulars. We have also noticed implicitly the exhilarating pace both of the language and of the thoughts, the rapidity of the rhythm--as determined by shortness of phrase, clause, and sentence-and the quick succession of the ideas.

As regards his animated "objectivity," or concreteness, there is one thing that might be brought out more fully-namely, his art of enlivening condensed narrative by pictorial, or at least concrete, circumlocutions. We quote as an example part of his account of Strafford :

:

"He had been one of the most distinguished members of the Opposition, and felt towards those whom he had deserted that peculiar malignity which has, in all ages, been characteristic of apostates. He perfectly understood the feelings, the resources, and the policy of the party to which he had lately belonged, and had formed a vast and deeply meditated scheme which very nearly confounded even the able tactics of the statesmen by whom the House of Commons had been directed. His object was to do for England all,

and more than all, that Richelieu was doing in France; to make Charles a monarch as absolute as any on the Continent," &c.

These frequent allusions to actual men and things would alone make the style vivacious; the rapid succession of particulars is in itself exhilarating.

He had a great command over the proper vocabulary of strength. He is very vehement in his epithets. Whole pages might be quoted that contain hardly a single adjective under the degree of enormous. One of his favourite themes is the corruption and profligacy of the Restoration times. Whenever he has occasion to speak of this, he seems to fall into a passion, and uses the strongest language that propriety will allow. And this subject is only one out of many that provoke his vehemence to an equal degree. On every subject, indeed, he expresses himself with confidence, and in language habitually bordering on the extreme.

He has been much taken to task for the violence of his invective. Certainly, when he conceived a dislike to an individual or to an institution, he expressed his feelings without reserve. And he disliked a great many characters. He disliked all the English statesmen of the Revolution period for their treachery and want of patriotism. Sir William Temple he pronounces to be "the most respectable" of them. Yet even Temple, he declares, was not a man to his taste"; he "had not sufficient warmth and elevation of sentiment to deserve the name of a virtuous man.' Judge Jeffreys he regards with the most absolute loathing, and holds up to contempt and hatred with an indignation as cordial as if one of his own family had been among the bloody monster's many victims. Concerning this part of the History, Mr Croker said in the ‘Quarterly Review' that the historian had almost realised Alexander Chalmers's Biographia Flagitiosa; or, the Lives of Eminent Scoundrels.' "He hates," said Mr Croker further, "nearly everybody but Cromwell, William, Whig exiles, and Dissenting parsons." The last sneer goes perhaps too far; the insinuation is hardly correct Macaulay was much more impartial in his hatred than this would imply. He hated some of the French Republicans as heartily as he hated any of our English ancestors, whether Whig or Tory. He has written nothing stronger than his condemnation of Barrère. Barrère "approached nearer than any person mentioned in history or fiction, whether man or devil, to the idea of consum-* mate and universal depravity." This is very strong, but becomes stronger still as the historian proceeds. Here he makes Barrère an approximation to unqualified depravity: a little further, and he drops the slight, reservation. "All the other chiefs of parties had some good qualities, and Barrère had none.' "Barrère had not a single virtue, nor even the semblance of one."

Sometimes, in his contemptuous and derisive moods, he uses a