their being directed to a pursuit for which previous engagements and party connexions unfitted him. We stop not to inquire into the reasonableness or the folly of such predictions. It is enough to say that two thick volumes are now before us, and that after an attentive and close perusal, with every fair disposition to admit whatever exceptions might be found, we are bold to avow our conviction that Mr. Macaulay has risen superior to the difficulties of his position, and has produced a work which his countrymen will not willingly let die. He has made a startling addition to our literature, has added to history the fascination of romance without merging any of its graver and more useful qualities. Our historical literature has, for the most part, been a dull and heavy thing, cumbrous in style, unskilful in arrangement, and utterly wanting those bright and salient points which attract and keep alive the attention of unprofessional readers. When we pass from the partizanship of Clarendon, and the garrulity of Burnet, to the pages of writers who assume more distinctively the historical character, we are painfully reminded of a want of interest which nothing but the deep importance of the theme enables us to surmount. For the most part, we have only the skeleton of history, the bare bones and muscles of a frame which ought to live and move before us.

It is an immense relief to turn from such dry narratives to the picturesque descriptions of Froissart, or even to the lively sketchings of our French neighbours. Mr. Macaulay has united, in a happy degree, the rich colourings of the old chronicler with the sounder philosophy and constitutional lore of modern times. His pages breathe, his personages move before us. We catch the inspiration of the hour; see the passions which agitated the throne and the populace; feel the ground tremble beneath our feet, and understand the forces that produced the convulsions which history records. There are many passages in these volumes, equal in point of interest simply, with any to be found in the pages of Walter Scott; and when recovering from the fascination of a first perusal, we analyze and sift them, requiring judgment to pronounce on what imagination has revelled in, we are constrained, with slight exceptions, to admit that their truthfulness is equal to their beauty, that they are as severely accurate as they are surpassingly attractive. This holds in relation to events as well as to persons. Whole scenes are painted with life-like distinctness, while individual figures stand clear before us in their more minute as well as their more prominent features. We are aware that these are strong terms, nor do we mean to affirm there are no exceptions. The colours are occasionally too bright or too dark; but it would be in the last degree ungenerous,

on such ground to depreciate a work, the pervading character of which is eminently enlightened and candid. As the author approaches the revolution of 1688, the influence of his position as a Whig statesman is increasingly visible. We shall have other and more fitting opportunities, however, in the progress of his work for examining his views on this point, and content ourselves at present with simply noting the fact. We are no partizan admirers of Mr. Macaulay. When fitting occasion arose we have not hesitated to express strongly our disapprobation of his views; and were any vindication wanted of the pleasure with which we regarded his defeat at Edinburgh, it would be found in these volumes, for the preparation of which his retirement from public life has afforded due leisure. The same fidelity to truth which made us his opponents as a candidate for popular support, compels us now to yield him a generous meed of praise.

It is impossible to open these volumes without being reminded of the fragments of Charles James Fox, and of Sir James Mackintosh. It was a somewhat perilous enterprise to undertake a history which such men had essayed, and we shall probably find, when supplied with Mr. Macaulay's preface, that he had some misgiving on this point. His work, however, has no feature in common with the History of the Early Part of the Reign of James II.,' or with the Review of the Causes of the Revolution of 1688,' save that which arises from community of views, and an equally honest deference to evidence. These unfinished productions are entitled to great respect, and have had considerable influence on the mind of England. The latter more particularly may serve, in a few instances, to modify the personal sketches of our author, but so far are they from superseding such a work as the present, that they clearly show its necessity, and have strengthened the desire for it, long cherished amongst us. What was effected by the partial labours of Fox and Mackintosh, only served to prove the richness of the mine yet unexplored.

Mr. Macaulay's design will be best stated in his own words, which we have the more pleasure in recording, as they indicate the prominence of topics which our historians have too frequently slurred over with discreditable haste and superficiality.

I purpose to write the history of England from the accession of King James the Second down to a time which is within the memory of men still living. I shall recount the errors which, in a few months, alienated a loyal gentry and priesthood from the House of Stuart. I shall trace the course of that revolution which terminated the long struggle between our sovereigns and their parliaments, and bound up together the rights of the people and the title of the reigning dynasty. I shall relate how the new settlement was, during many troubled years, successfully defended against foreign and domestic enemies; how,

under that settlement, the authority of law and the security of property were found to be compatible with a liberty of discussion and of individual action never before known; how, from the auspicious union of order and freedom, sprang a prosperity of which the annals of human affairs had furnished no example; how our country, from a state of ignominious vassalage, rapidly rose to the place of umpire among European powers; how her opulence and her martial glory grew together; how, by wise and resolute good faith, was gradually established a public credit fruitful of marvels which to the statesman of any former age would have seemed incredible; how a gigantic commerce gave birth to a maritime power, compared with which every other maritime power, ancient or modern, sinks into insignificance; how Scotland, after ages of enmity, was at length united to England, not merely by legal bonds, but by indissoluble ties of interest and affection; how, in America, the British colonies rapidly became far mightier and wealthier than the realms which Cortes and Pizarro had added to the dominions of Charles the Fifth; how, in Asia, British adventurers founded an empire not less splendid and more durable than that of Alexander.' —Vol. i. pp. 1, 2.

We have also great pleasure in reporting that Mr. Macaulay has not fallen into another error very common with historical writers. Most of the works which bear the name of history, have to do with anything rather than with the people. They are a record of battles and intrigues, a chronicle of dynasties and ministries, a mere narrative of the more prominent events which have disturbed the surface of society, and affected directly the condition of its higher classes. History has been for the most part the creature of the aristocracy, and has been content to leave the general state of the people without elucidation, as though it were foreign from its province, and beneath its dignity, to set forth the social and economical condition of the great body of the community. It is easy to resolve this fact into its cause, but the evils resulting from it are not readily enumerated. Our author has pursued a juster and more generous course, and the result is a great enhancement of the value of his work. It will be my endeavour,' he says, 'to relate the history of the people as well as the history of the government, to trace the progress of useful and ornamental arts, to describe the rise of religious sects and the changes of literary taste, to portray the manners of successive generations, and not to pass by with neglect even the revolutions which have taken place in dress, furniture, repasts, and public amusements. I shall cheerfully bear the reproach of having descended below the dignity of history, if I can succeed in placing before the English of the nineteenth century a true picture of the life of their ancestors.'

The work is appropriately introduced by a brief and masterly sketch of the previous history of our country, in which the author passes very rapidly over many centuries, but dwells at

some length on the vicissitudes of that contest which the administration of King James II. brought to a decisive crisis.'

We can do little more than glance at this sketch, which is executed with consummate ability, and furnishes a very favourable specimen of the generous and catholic temper of the writer. The fusion of the Celtic, Saxon, Danish, and Norman races, the comparative advantages which flowed from the growth of the spiritual power, and the gradual evolution of the ideas of personal right and of constitutional freedom, are exhibited with an accuracy and skill which awaken confidence, while they minister largely to the pleasure of the reader. It is instructive to observe how the salvation of the nation has, in many cases, resulted from events which were popularly deemed disastrous. The false splendour of military success has frequently misled the English, as well as the French people. We have seen this in recent times, but our history furnishes no more signal illustration than that which is supplied by the expedition of the Plantagenets. Had they succeeded, as appeared at one time likely, in uniting all France under their rule, England would probably have lost her independent existence. 'Her princes, her lords, her prelates, would have been men differing in race and language from the artisans and the tillers of the earth. The revenues of her great proprietors would have been spent in festivities and diversions on the banks of the Seine. The noble language of Milton and Burke would have remained a rustic dialect, without a literature, a fixed grammar, or a fixed orthography, and would have been contemptuously abandoned to the use of the boors. No man of English extraction would have risen to eminence, except by becoming in speech and habits a Frenchman.' From this terrible evil we were saved by the folly and the vices of John, from whose reign English history properly begins. Mr. Macaulay has treated this subject with his usual discrimination, as the following passage will show :

• England owes her escape from such calamities to an event which her historians have generally represented as disastrous. Her interest was so directly opposed to the interest of her rulers that she had no hope but in their errors and misfortunes. The talents and even the virtues of her six first French kings were a curse to her. The follies and vices of the seventh were her salvation. Had John inherited the great qualities of his father, of Henry Beauclerc, or of the Conqueror, nay, had he even possessed the martial courage of Stephen or of Richard, and had the King of France at the same time been as incapable as all the other successors of Hugh Capet had been, the House of Plantagenet must have risen to unrivalled ascendency in Europe. But, just at this conjuncture, France, for the first time since the death of Charlemagne,

was governed by a prince of great firmness and ability. On the other hand England which, since the battle of Hastings, had been ruled generally by wise statesmen, always by brave soldiers, fell under the dominion of a trifler and a coward. From that moment her prospects brightened. John was driven from Normandy. The Norman nobles were compelled to make their election between the island and the continent. Shut up by the sea with the people whom they had hitherto oppressed and despised, they gradually came to regard England as their country, and the English as their countrymen. The two races, so long hostile, soon found that they had common interests and common enemies. Both were alike aggrieved by the tyranny of a bad king. Both were alike indignant at the favour shown by the court to the natives of Poitou and Aquitane. 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.' -Ib. pp. 15, 16.

The union of the Saxon and Norman races, out of which the English character grew, may be considered, for all practical purposes, as accomplished in the thirteenth century. It was a thing of silent growth, imperceptible in its immediate stages, yet clearly marked, at distant intervals, by its influence on our institutions and habits. Another equally significant revolution was at the same time proceeding, which changed the serf into a freeman, and invested the mere chattel of the Norman lord with the sense of personal right which distinguishes the English peasant. These revolutions struck contemporary observers with no surprise, and have received from historians a very scanty measure of attention. They were brought about neither by legislative regulation, nor by physical force. No changes, however, were so conducive to national progress, or formed such important links in the constitutional history of our country. English freedom is the growth of centuries, and its earlier records speak an equivocal language. The Roundhead and the Cavalier of the seventeenth century, and the Whig and the Tory of the present day, may easily find precedents in the times of the Plantagenets and Tudors, but the wise course is to take a survey of the whole political horizon, and to form our estimate from a comparison of its various aspects. One set of writers,' remarks Mr. Macaulay, ' adduced numerous instances in which kings had extorted money without the authority of parliament. Another set cited cases in which the parliament had assumed to itself the power of inflicting punishment on kings. Those who saw only one half of the evidence would have concluded that the Plantagenets were as absolute as the Sultans of Turkey: those who saw only the other half would have concluded that the Plantagenets had