politician has contributed mainly to endow him so strikingly with the qualities of an impartial and sagacious historian. From his earliest youth Mr. Macaulay was destined to be a politician. He was educated in the Whig camp, in the hope that one day he would prove a useful, that is, an expert and unscrupulous, partisan. The hard-working men of party are with us almost always men of comparatively humble fortunes, whose mental powers have raised them to eminence. In the long array of modern English statesmen, few can be found who have not in youth been stimulated to exertion by the comparative narrowness of their means, or by the desire to raise themselves from an obscure position. Of these youths, accident placed some in the Tory, some in the Whig ranks. The magnates of each party, with true worldly wisdom, have fostered and encouraged aspirants of this description; and hailed with satisfaction, and rewarded with applause, and, when able, with place, the gradual manifestation of capacity which party struggles have called forth. The Whig party, being in reality excluded from power for more than a quarter of a century, could not offer, as a means of allurement to their ranks, the advantages of office; but these seductions were well supplied by the social blandishments which, in their place, were lavishly employed. The great Whig houses. were always open, the smiles of the leaders, men and women, were always ready, their warm and wellsustained applause was always given, when any young man gave promise of the power and the will to join their ranks and fight their battles. The expectations with which young aspirants have been thus trained and fostered have oftentimes been deceived; and many a reputation has by party applause been built up, and for a few years maintained, but when left at last to support itself by its own intrinsic strength (as in all cases must inevitably happen), has broken down and disappeared. Some, which

*

would have well repaid all the care and interest shewn towards them, have been snatched away by death, leaving behind unavailing regrets, and the visions of a hope now for ever disappointed. In the days of our youth, among the various names bruited in society as of men from whom political prophets expected much, none stood higher than the name of the gifted author of this History. Even in his boyish years his future renown was confidently predicted, and the great leaders of the Whigs already counted on the benefit to their party to be derived from the splendour and power of his eloquence, from his learning, his varied acquirements, his brilliant and dazzling style. Every fresh effort on his part, whether as a poet or as an essayist, was hailed as a triumph; and the hour was impatiently expected when he might, in the House of Commons, verify the predictions of his ardent friends, and justify the eulogies of his many admirers. Some there were, however, who had studied carefully the character of his mind, and who knew accurately the nature of the assembly in which he was expected to render his party service, and they even then whispered doubts as to the fulfilment of all those prophecies of success in which his sanguine friends had so boldly indulged. The brilliant essayist is not always--in fact, is seldom-a ready and powerful debater. To be a great orator, an orator of the highest class, a man must, indeed, be a great writer; but it is not given to every great writer to be a great orator likewise. In addition to mental peculiarities, there were others, belonging to the temper and nature of the man himself, which stood in the way of his success as a politician. The fastidious and delicate tastes of a scholar, unless attended by a passionate ambition and an iron will, are so offended, so shocked, by the coarseness, the littleness, the baseness, the hideous immorality, the surpassing selfishness, and the marvellous ignorance, which

are inevitably encountered by all who mingle in political contention, that he feels himself debased by contact with things so degrading, and eagerly seeks for an excuse to withdraw from a scene so full of loathsome and contaminating influences. Some there are who see all this, and seeing abhor it, but who are willing to encounter all these abominations as evils incident to humanity, which good men must face if they desire to see them controlled and diminished. But these are men of ardent, active courage, sanguine temper, and inflexible perseverance. To this hardihood and courage may be, and sometimes is, united a taste as refined as that of the most sensitive and retiring scholar. But a powerful will, a strong passion, enables its possessor to face without shrinking those loathsome scenes which overpower, because they disgust, the pure-minded man, who is not thus protected.

The result justified the predictions of those who had thus more narrowly scanned the mental and moral character of the young Whig partisan. It is needless to mince the matter, or to pick our phrases, when the shortest and simplest is at hand, and completely explains what we wish to express, Mr. Macaulay failed in the House of Commons.* By this we do not mean to say that he was not listened to. He was listened to, and with pleasure; but as far as the debate was concerned, the speech he delivered might as well have been printed as an article in the Edinburgh Review, reserved as a pleasure for the arm-chair and the study, with the lamp on the table, the door hermetically closed, dressing-gown and slippers on, and paper-knife in hand. The essay, in this way enjoyed, would be delightful; the speech was a beautiful thing out of place-a marble statue exposed to London weather-Sir Robert Peel's mahogany wheelbarrow employed for real work. We suspect that nobody more completely understands this estimation of his House of Commons' career than Mr. Macaulay himself. He knows that

men a thousand times his inferiors exercise an influence in the House that he never possessed,—an influence which his very excellence prevents his ever hoping to acquire. The bustling and the vulgar politician pushes by him in the crowd, and takes a foremost place simply because he is bustling and is vulgar. The Esquimaux feeds with delight upon garbage, the very sight of which turns the stomach of a civilised man.

The

But the experience acquired as a member of parliament, though not leading to great parliamentary success, was eminently of service to the historian of the parties which still carry on their contest for power within the walls of parliament. eight sessions that I sat in parliament,' says Gibbon, were a school of civil prudence, the first and most essential virtue of an historian.' Mr. Macaulay has, however, far transcended the humble position with which the great historian was satisfied. The experience of Gibbon was gained simply as a mute,' to use his own phrase; and his official position was merely that of an obsequious lord of trade. But Mr. Macaulay, though speaking rarely, spoke always with a certain effect; he was, in fact, one of the great guns of debate,-one which it took a long time to load, and still more to bring into position : when fired it made a great noise,hurt some of the enemy, perhaps, and frightened some; but the action was always decided before the gun could be reloaded. Still he was a great gun, and, from his urbanity and perfectly unaffected manners, a favourite with all parties. Returning from India, where he had acted the part of a law-maker as well as an administrative functionary, he was again sent to parliament, and on his friends coming into office he became a member of the cabinet. To a mind like his, fraught with the knowledge of past times, the being thus admitted behind the scenes of the great political theatre must have been of infinite use and interest. He could compare the reality with the relation of it,-the daily record

of events with that truer history which his position enabled him to learn. Read with such an experience, the history of the past became something more than an old almanac, and the intrigues of days gone by might be judged by and compared with those which he must have seen carried on around him. But the active life of a cabinet minister was hardly compatible with the careful study of history and the composition of a laborious work. Fortunately for us, and we sincerely believe fortunately for himself, the bigots of Edinburgh quarrelled with their gifted representative, and chose some obscure person, of a spirit more congenial with their own, to speak their vulgar sentiments and protect their interests in the House of Commons. Mr. Macaulay lost his election, and then was seen the Whig appreciation of great ability that was not directly useful to themselves politically. Had Mr. Macaulay proved himself an active and powerful debater, his loss would have been felt by the ministry, and means would have been found to put a vacant seat at his command. But the brilliant essayist and converser, the poet and the historian, might, indeed, confer lustre upon his colleagues by his association with them; but he was of no particular assistance to them in the daily conflicts which they had to wage in the Commons. Seat after seat, as they became vacant, found members, but none seemed fit for the excluded cabinet minister. Young and mute sprigs of great Whig houses slid into seats that would joyfully have selected Mr. Macaulay, had not means been taken to make the constituencies

pass him by. The studied slight became an insult, which, though not complained of, must have been felt. A high-minded man could not brook the indignity, and Mr. Macaulay availed himself of the plea which his forced exclusion afforded him and retired from office, and, apparently, from public political life. Had he been some scion of one of the governing families, dull and incompetent, without a spark of ability, and of no earthly use; or had he, in place of the Muse of poetry and history, wooed and won some plain, and dowerless, and fading maiden, of some lordly house, his merits would

have been differently appreciated and far otherwise rewarded.

Withdrawing himself, then, from the actual business of politics, freed from party ties, at his ease, and content with his position, Mr. Macaulay, without casting a lingering look behind,' betook himself, earnestly and with pleasure, to pursuits more congenial to his spirit than politics had ever proved; and the result of his busy leisure, rich with the wisdom of his more active life, now lies before

us.

The calm judgment of the philosopher has been assisted by the experience of the practical statesman. In the full vigour of his intellect, willingly,―nay, with eagerness, he has, as a labour of love, and not as a mere refuge from ennui, assumed the task of recording the history of the last great English revolution. The position and the past life of the historian thus give additional interest to the great story which he relates.

A mind from its very dawn thus trained-a life thus passed, were admirable preparatives for him who was to write the history of the great political parties of his country. These parties are, in fact, not peculiar to England; but the form they have assumed, the mode of their warfare, the points upon which the conflicts have arisen, and the incidents upon which their alternate triumphs have depended, these have been and are all peculiar to ourselves, and by ourselves can alone be completely explained.

In September 1641 the Long Parliament adjourned :

The recess of the English Parliament lasted six weeks. The day on which the Houses met again is one of the most remarkable epochs in our history. From that day dates the corporate existence of the two great parties which have ever since alternately governed the country. In one sense, indeed, the distinction, which then became obvious, had always existed, and always must exist. For it has its origin in diversities of temper, of understanding, and of interest, which are found in all societies, and which will be found till the human mind ceases to be drawn in opposite directions by the charm of habit and by the charm of novelty. Not only in politics, but in literature, in art, in science, in surgery and mechanics, in navigation and agriculture, -nay, even in mathematics, we find this distinction. Everywhere there is a class.

of men who cling with fondness to whatever is ancient, and who, even when convinced by overpowering reasons that innovation would be beneficial, consent to it with many misgivings and forebodings. We find, also, everywhere another class of men, sanguine in hope, bold in speculation, always pressing forward, quick to discern the imperfections of whatever exists, disposed to think lightly of the risks and inconveniences which attend improvements, and disposed to give every change credit for being an improvement. In the sentiments of both classes there is something to approve. But of both the best specimens will be found not far from the common frontier. The extreme section of the one class consists of bigoted dotards; the extreme section of the other consists of shallow and reckless empirics. -Vol. i. p. 98.

The various fortunes of the two great principles here described, as they have been evolved in the political strife of Englishmen, will constitute the subject of the whole work, of which the two volumes now before us form a most important section,-a section, indeed, which, considering who is the historian and what the peculiar questions in dispute, and also what the condition, not merely of England, but of all the civilised world now is, excites an interest more lively and intense than any which is raised by the contemplation of the subsequent events, except, indeed, those which belong to the great Revolution of France. The successful resistance of those who opposed James II., gave to the English constitution its peculiar form and character, and by so doing insured the establishment of what are now called constitutional governments in England, in America, and subsequently in Continental Europe. Viewed from this point, the Revolution of 1688 can be matched for its influence on human happiness by few periods, if indeed by any, in the history of mankind. We are lost in wonder at the multitude and magnitude of the consequences that have resulted, and are yet destined to result, from this memorable struggle. If, however, we withdraw our gaze from this wide range of vision, and more narrowly and specifically scan the precise nature of the dispute then raised-if we obtain an accurate idea, not only of the principles at

issue, but also of the very questions upon which the issue was taken-if we consider by whom the story is told, and the class of politicians to whom he belongs, his calm temper, his large and generous views, his benevolent spirit, his thorough fairness and unvarying urbanity and gentleness; then, we say, however much on separate questions we may find ourselves opposed to him, we shall be ready to acknowledge that we have seldom, in the whole range of our historical reading, received lessons so important, in a form so winning and gracefulthat rarely has a more suggestive work been presented to our consideration-that we have met with none which has been marked by a more elevated and generous morality; the general spirit of which was more ennobling, the separate details more instructive-one, in fact, from which a practical man could derive better rules for action, or a thoughtful man graver subjects for speculation.

Exactly one hundred and sixty years since, James II. was, without a blow having been struck, hurled from his throne, and driven from his country an exile and a beggar. Four years before he had begun his reign with every prospect of peace and prosperity, and possessed of a power almost despotic. His brother and predecessor had baffled, and apparently completely subdued, the enemies of his house. The dynasty of the Stuarts seemed now steadily reestablished. The parties-and they were, or rather had been, manywho had resisted successfully Charles I., were scattered, humbled, nay extinguished. The Republicans were no longer to be seen or heard. It Iwas the fashion to look back with horror upon the days of the Long Parliament, and to hold up, not merely as seditious, but blasphemous, any doubt of the truth and wisdom of the doctrine of passive obedience. The No-popery cry was apparently for ever hushed, and the Exclusionists were, by the triumphant accession of James, utterly defeated and silenced. Not merely were the old Republicans and Puritans thus extirpated or silenced, but the Whigs in politics, the Presbyterians in religion, and, in fact, all sects and parties, except the Tories

and the Catholics, were prostrate and humbled. The parliament which met the king on his accession, believed the solemn promises by which he bound himself to maintain the Church of England as by law established. They voted dutiful addresses, and gave all the money he asked. A large majority was of the Tory party, adopting passive obedience as their rule of political conduct, and rejoicing in the complete subjugation of their old opponents, the Whigs and Republicans. The Church, still trembling at the recollection of the Presbyterian parliament, and the subsequent protectorate of Oliver, was for the moment rejoicing, and submissive to the king. The judges and Westminster Hall generally were, if possible, more submissive than the Church; and proved their loyalty by forgetting all their law, and bidding adieu to justice, truth, and mercy. A large army was raised; its ranks, as far as was possible, being recruited by Catholics from Ireland, and officered by Catholics, either pretended or real. The navy was deemed peculiarly obedient, and even affectionate to the monarch, who had, when a subject, served as a sailor, and always manifested a great interest in the efficiency of the marine. The aristocracy and landed gentry generally were loud in their dutiful professions-questioning no exercise of the royal prerogative, and as profuse of their money as of their professions of obedience. Civil liberty had ceased to exist. Then, indeed, the indignant description by Tacitus of Roman degradation might with deplorable truth have been applied to the miserable submission of the whole English people :-' At Romæ ruere in servitium consules, patres, eques: quanto quis inlustrior, tanto magis falsi, ac festinantes.'

The horrible atrocities committed by Jeffries and by Kirke in the west-the many judicial murders in the City and at Westminster-the ferocious punishments inflicted to gra

tify a spirit of revenge on the part of the king, punishments which made death itself a mercy;-all these terrible deeds incited to no resistance, hardly raised a murmur of complaint or remonstrance. The word of the king had been given and accepted-by anticipation he was called James the Just; and his people's faith in his title to this glorious character was unshaken by the violation of all justice and all law, by judges selected, applauded, and rewarded by him: that faith stood firm even when the reeking soldiers of Kirke received from their grateful monarch caresses and rewards, and were greeted with a blasphemous but applauding mockery as Kirke's Lambs.*

James was now (1685) at the height of power and prosperity. Both in England and Scotland he had vanquished his enemies, and had punished them with a severity which had indeed excited their bitterest hatred, but had, at the same time, effectually quelled their courage. The Whig party seemed extinct. The name of Whig was never used except as a term of reproach. The parliament was devoted to the king, and it was in his power to keep that parliament to the end of his reign. The Church was louder than ever in professions of attachment to him, and had during the late insurrection acted up to these professions. The judges were his tools; and if they ceased to be so, it was in his power to remove them. The corporations were filled with his creatures. His revenues far exceeded those of his predecessors. . . . It seemed, indeed, that it would not be easy for him to demand more than the Commons were disposed to give. Already they had abundantly proved that they were desirous to maintain his prerogatives unimpaired, and that they were by no means extreme to mark his encroachments on the rights of the people. Indeed eleven-twelfths of the members were either dependants of the court or zealous Cavaliers from the country. There were few things which such an assembly could pertinaciously refuse to the sovereign; and, happily for the nation, those few things were the very things on which James had set his heart.-Vol. ii. pp. 1, 3.