ot explicitly contained in
it. Nobody, he said, could judge of the accuracy of one part of his
'History' who had not 'soaked his mind with the transitory literature of
the day.' His real authority was not this or that particular passage,
but a literature. And for this reason alone, Macaulay's historical
writings have a permanent value which will prevent them from being
superseded even by more philosophical thinkers, whose minds have not
undergone the 'soaking' process.

It is significant again that imitations of Macaulay are almost as
offensive as imitations of Carlyle. Every great writer has his
parasites. Macaulay's false glitter and jingle, his frequent flippancy
and superficiality of thought, are more easily caught than his virtues;
but so are all faults. Would-be followers of Carlyle catch the strained
gestures without the rapture of his inspiration. Would-be followers of
Mill fancied themselves to be logical when they were only hopelessly
unsympathetic and unimaginative; and would-be followers of some other
writers can be effeminate and foppish without being subtle or graceful.
Macaulay's thoroughness of work has, perhaps, been less contagious than
we could wish. Something of the modern raising of the standard of
accuracy in historical inquiry may be set down to his influence. The
misfortune is that, if some writers have learnt from him to be flippant
without learning to be laborious, others have caught the accuracy
without the liveliness. In the later volumes of his 'History,' his
vigour began to be a little clogged by the fulness of his knowledge; and
we can observe symptoms of the tendency of modern historians to grudge
the sacrifice of sifting their knowledge. They read enough, but instead
of giving us the results, they tumble out the accumulated mass of raw
materials upon our devoted heads, till they make us long for a fire in
the State Paper Office.

Fortunately, Macaulay did not yield to this temptation in his earlier
writings, and the result is that he is, for the ordinary reader, one of
the two authorities for English history, the other being Shakespeare.
Without comparing their merits, we must admit that the compression of so
much into a few short narratives shows intensity as well as compass of
mind. He could digest as well as devour, and he tried his digestion
pretty severely. It is fashionable to say that part of his practical
force is due to the training of parliamentary life. Familiarity with the