soldier on the throne of the Roman world. Similar revolutions have often occurred in the despotic States of Asia. But a community which has heard the voice of truth and experienced the pleasures of liberty, in which the merits of statesmen and of systems are freely canvassed, in which obedience is paid not to persons but to laws, in which magistrates are regarded not as the lords but as the servants of the public, in which the excitement of party is a necessary of life, in which political warfare is reduced to a system of tactics; such a community is not easily reduced to servitude."

The subject being the grandeur of men that have made themselves absolute over free institutions, it would obviously conduce to perspicuity to make that subject prominent throughout, as it is in the first sentence. The conclusion of the last sentence drops the usurper altogether, and lets the pervading idea slip out of clear comprehension into vagueness. Let us try the effect, as regards clearness, of some such alterations as the following:

"In the Roman world an indolent senator or a brutal soldier might be placed on the imperial throne by the defection, &c. ; and similar revolutions have often occurred in the despotic States of Asia. But in a community, &c.; in a community thus free and enlightened, only men of rare genius for command can hope to obtain the mastery."

3. The opening sentence in his paragraphs is not always a clue to the main subject. Of this we have had an example.

One of his great arts of surprise is to occupy the first sentences of the paragraph with circumstances leading us to expect the opposite of what is really the main statement. Very often all the sentences up to the last are a preparation for the shock of astonishment administered at the close. We are told what ought to have happened, what was expected to happen, or what happened in some other age or country under similar circumstances, before we reach the gist of the paragraph, which is to tell us what really happened in some particular case. The following paragraph is constructed on this plan :

"No part of the system of the old Church had been more detested by the Reformers than the honour paid to celibacy. They held that the doctrine of Rome on this subject had been prophetically condemned by the apostle Paul as a doctrine of devils; and they dwelt much on the crimes and scandals which seemed to prove the justice of this awful denunciation. Luther had evinced his own opinion in the clearest manner, by espousing a nun. Some of the most illustrious bishops and priests who had died by fire during the reign of Mary had left wives and children. Now, however, it began to be rumoured that the old monastic spirit had reappeared in the Church of England; that there was in high quarters a prejudice against married priests; that even laymen, who called themselves Protestants, had made resolutions of celibacy which almost amounted to vows; nay, that a minister of the established religion had set up a nunnery, in which the psalms were chanted at midnight by a company of virgins dedicated to God.'

In such paragraphs, to indicate the drift at the beginning would alter the character of the composition. But in many cases the

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delay of the main proposition is purposeless, and serves only to confuse. Thus, in a paragraph detailing the circumstances that made it impossible to transfer to the King of England the ecclesiastical supremacy of the Pope, he begins

"The immediate effect of the Reformation in England was by no means The authority which had been exercised by favourable to political liberty. the Popes was transferred almost entire to the King. Two formidable powers which had often served to check each other were united in a single despot. If the system on which the founders of the Church of England acted could But that system carried have been permanent, the Reformation would have been in a political sense the greatest curse that ever fell on our country. within it the seeds of its own death." (And so on through a long paragraph.)

We do not catch the drift of the paragraph until we reach the fourth sentence, and we do not know that it is the key to the subject till we have read the whole. An ordinary reader, asked to summarise such a paragraph after a single perusal, would give but He would naturally recall the first sentences, a poor account of it. and comparing these with the tenor of the latter part of the paragraph, would almost to a certainty founder in the attempt to reconcile them. It would have been far better to begin with the fourth sentence. This, though not a direct statement of the substance of the paragraph, states it by implication. The three first sentences should be thrown into their natural position of subordination. We should then have some such opening as follows:

"If the system on which the founders of the Church of England acted could have been permanent, the Reformation would have been in a political sense the greatest curse that ever fell on our country.

At first, indeed, it

seemed by no means favourable to political liberty. The authority exercised by the Popes was transferred almost entire to the King. Two formidable powers that had often served to check each other were united in a single despot. But this union could not last; the appearance of danger soon vanished."

His paragraphs often begin with one or more short sentences, recapitulating the previous paragraph. It is a good deal a matter of taste; but probably most authorities would prefer that these short sentences were prefixe I to the real substance of the paragraph Thus, take his account of the reaction of in the form of clauses. public feeling after the warm reception of William and Mary :-

"The ill-humour of the clergy and of the army could not but be noticed by the most heedless; for the clergy and the army were distinguished by 'Black coats and red coats,' said a vehement obvious peculiarities of garb. Whig in the House of Commons, are the cures of the nation.' discontent was not confined to the black coats and the red coats.

But the

Now the discontent among the other classes being the subject of the paragraph, many would prefer to have all the above condensed into one sentence, in some such way as follows :—

"Although the ill-humour of the clergy and the army could not fail to be most remarked, distinguished as they were from other classes by their pecu liar garb (black coats and red coats,' said a vehement Whig in the House of Commons, are the curses of the nation'), yet the clergy and the army were not the only discontented classes."

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4. Dislocation. In delineating a character, or in giving an account of a town, he would not seem to have bestowed much attention on the order of the circumstances in his statement.

To take an example from the celebrated third chapter of his History:

"Norwich was the capital of a large and fruitful province. It was the residence of a bishop and of a chapter. It was the chief seat of the chief manufacture of the realm. Some men distinguished by learning and science had recently dwelt there; and no place in the kingdom, except the capital and the universities, had more attractions for the curious. The library, the museum, the aviary, and the botanical garden of Sir Thomas Browne, was thought by the Fellows of the Royal Society well worthy of a long pilgrimage. Norwich had also a court in miniature."

(Here follows a picturesque account of the mansion of the Dukes of Norwich; their state-the golden goblets, silver tongs and shovels, paintings, gems; a picturesque description of the festive reception of Charles II. in 1671; a similar description of the return of the Duke of Norwich. After this the paragraph closes abruptly with the statement)

"In the year 1693, the population of Norwich was found, by actual enumeration, to be between twenty-eight and twenty-nine thousand souls."

Now here the statement that Norwich was the chief seat of the chief manufacture of the realm deserved to be made more prominent. Further, there is some confusion in thrusting it in between the bishop and the literary celebrities; it has more natural affinity with the largeness and fruitfulness of the province, and, if it is useful to preserve continuity of ideas, should have been placed next to the first sentence. The number of the population comes in very abruptly: seeing that he makes the population his first care in this chapter, and maintains it to be the most important fact, one is surprised that he did not observe on the small scale what he considered advisable on the great scale.

The paragraphs of this same third chapter are a very good study upon this point of arrangement, and afford scope for a great deal of casuistry. If we take the chapter as a whole, the order and proportion of the statements are open to many objections. It may, indeed, be doubted whether there is in the chapter any principle either of order or of proportion. One statement seems to suggest another; at the end the reader feels that he has passed through a brilliant muddle; whether he has obtained the complete Pisgah

view promised him at the beginning, he cannot say; he is only sure that he has been highly entertained.

5. Unity. His natural clearness taught him the propriety of confining each paragraph to a single subject. He is, however, open to considerable improvement, as students will have no difficulty in seeing when they take him rigidly to task.

He

As regards irrelevant digressions, he is singularly correct. is one of our most consecutive writers-perhaps among writers of popular literature the most consecutive. This makes him a most profitable study for the distribution of matter into paragraphs: the general run of his composition being consecutive, slight alterations bring him into conformity with the most rigid rules.

6. Some of the peculiarities already commented on involve a breach of the sixth rule of the paragraph—namely, that subordinate statements should be kept in their proper place.

His trick of taking an explanatory statement out of the sentence, and stating it by itself as an independent fact, is a blemish of this kind. The abrupt defect is due to its unexpected and undue prominence.

His short sentences often err against the same canon. A number of examples that should be comprised in one sentence receive a sentence each. A statement is repeated in two parts, and each part is honoured with a separate sentence.

These transgressions are seldom of a kind to cause confusion, and many people who like to be startled by such rattling fireworks will think the breach of the rule more admirable than the observance. The student must julge for himself, and be fully persuaded in his own mind. If he take a paragraph of Macaulay's, he will find that by slight changes, sometimes by a change of punctuation, he can molerate the abrupt statements into their fitting harmony with the main theme; let him return to the passage after a time, compare his own version with the original, and judge as impartially as he can which of the two has the most pleasing effect.

A wider consideration might be raised under this head. Does not Macaulay, in the exuberance of his powers of language and illustration, sometimes dwell longer than necessary on a simple topic Doubtless he does illuminate with superfluous profusion subjects that stand in no great need of illumination. The fluent abundance of examples and comparisons, while it puts his meaning beyond doubt, is often greater than the subject demands. Instance is piled upon instance and comparison upon comparison, where a bare statement would be enough to make the meaning clear to the smallest capacity. For example, in his Essay on Addison, he takes occasion to controvert Dr Johnson's account of Boileau's views concerning modern Latin. Boileau, he says, had not an “injulicious contempt for modern Latin;" he only "thought it prob

able that in the best modern Latin a writer of the Augustan age would detect ludicrous improprieties;" and he was quite right in thinking so. This, one would think, is tolerably clear without farther expansion. But Macaulay goes on to cite no less than three parallel cases of the difficulty of mastering a foreign idiom.

"What modern scholar can honestly declare that he sees the smallest impurity in the style of Livy? Yet is it not certain that in the style of Livy, Pollio, whose taste had been formed on the banks of the Tiber, detected the inelegant idiom of the Po? Has any modern scholar understood Latin better than Frederic the Great understood French? Yet is it not notorious that Frederic the Great, after reading, speaking, writing French, and nothing but French, during more than half a century, after unlearning his mother tongue in order to learn French, after living familiarly during many years with French associates, could not, to the last, compose in French, without imminent risk of committing some mistake which would have moved a smile in the literary circles of Paris?"

In like manner, the works of Scott and Robertson contain Scotticisms "at which a London apprentice would laugh."

This excess of particularity is an error on the right side for popular success. The multiplication of instances may be overdone; but if the language is fresh and varied, general readers will take a good deal before they complain of a surfeit. The language, however, must be fresh and varied; of this condition a writer should make sure before trying to imitate Macaulay.

If the student wishes to conform his style to the general judgment of critics, he must not imitate Macaulay too absolutely; he must endeavour to be more varied in the forms of his sentences, to aim less frequently at contrasts, to study more carefully the placing of important words, and, above all, to make a more moderate use of abrupt transitions.

Figures of Speech.

"Splendour of Imagery."-The eulogists of Macaulay's style rarely fail to include among its beauties great "splendour of imagery." Now, if under "imagery" may be included comparisons and contrasts of every description, as well as every kind of picturesque circumstances, he is no doubt fully entitled to the phrase. But if imagery means no more than pictorial similitudes, then, compared with such writers as Carlyle and Burke, he cannot be called a master of splendid imagery.

In his earlier essays, he shows an obvious straining after ingenious conceits. His Essay on Milton is, as he said himself in later years, "overloaded with gaudy and ungraceful ornament." In essays written before he was thirty, there are probably twice as many similes as in all his subsequent writings. His "Milton

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