ITS FAULTS.—­The faults of Macaulay’s History spring from the character of the man:  he is always a partisan or a bitter enemy.  His heroes are angels; those whom he dislikes are devils; and he pursues them with the ardor of a crusader or the vendetta of a Corsican.  The Stuarts are painted in the darkest colors; while his eulogy of William III. is fulsome and false.  He blackens the character of Marlborough for real faults indeed; but for such as Marlborough had in common with thousands of his contemporaries.  If, as has been said, that great captain deserved the greatest censure as a statesman and warrior, it is equally true, paradoxical as it may seem, that he deserved also the greatest praise in both capacities.  Macaulay has fulminated the censure and withheld the praise.

What is of more interest to Americans, he loses no opportunity of attacking and defaming William Penn; making statements which have been proved false, and attributing motives without reason or justice.

His style is what the French call the style coupe,—­short sentences, like those of Tacitus, which ensure the interest by their recurring shocks.  He writes history with the pen of a reviewer, and gives verdicts with the authority of a judge.  He seems to say, Believe the autocrat; do not venture to philosophize.

His poetry displays tact and talent, but no genius; it is pageantry in verse.  His Lays of Ancient Rome are scholarly, of course, and pictorial in description, but there is little of nature, and they are theatrical rather than dramatic; they are to be declaimed rather than to be read or sung.

In society, Macaulay was a great talker—­he harangued his friends; and there was more than wit in the saying of Sidney Smith, that his conversation would have been improved by a few “brilliant flashes of silence.”

But in spite of his faults, if we consider the profoundness of his learning, the industry of his studies, and the splendor of his style, we must acknowledge him as the most distinguished of English historians.  No one has yet appeared who is worthy to complete the magnificent work which he left unfinished.

THOMAS CARLYLE.—­A literary brother of a very different type, but of a more distinct individuality, is Carlyle, who was born in Dumfries-shire, Scotland, in 1795.  He was the eldest son of a farmer.  After a partial education at home, he entered the University of Edinburgh, where he was noted for his attainments in mathematics, and for his omnivorous reading.  After leaving the university he became a teacher in a private family, and began to study for the ministry, a plan which he soon gave up.

His first literary effort was a Life of Schiller, issued in numbers of the London Magazine, in 1823-4.  He turned his attention to German literature, in the knowledge of which he has surpassed all other Englishmen.  He became as German as the Germans.