ubject, if its requirements
were of the actual and tangible rather than of the ideal and spiritual
order. He was a thorough logician, but a superficial philosopher; a
master of style, but oblivious of those great religious truths of which
the events of his great history were but the natural outgrowth and
product. But nothing can exceed the power of his rhetoric, that is
uncontrolled by any laws, yet offends none, unless it be the
arbitrariness of his dogmatism, that concedes no favors and asks no
gifts.

Less vehement, less ornate, possibly less learned than Macaulay, with
frequent though trifling inequalities of style, Motley goes far beyond
him in real practical insight into the heart of affairs. There is a
unity in all visible life, whether of nation, of individual, of church,
or of inarticulate nature, that escaped Macaulay and impresses Motley.
The one would govern the universe with the arbitrary rules of a
political clique; the other applies to all the infallible test of a
universal philosophy. Both writers are thoroughly incorporated with
their subject; but where Macaulay was the captive of a mighty and often
just prejudice, Motley is the exponent of a living principle. Everywhere
Macaulay was a Whig and an Englishman; everywhere Motley is a Republican
and a cosmopolite.

Motley is indeed inferior to his English contemporary in many striking
points whose value every reader will determine for himself; but his
occasional and rare inaccuracies of expression and inelegances of
language are on the surface, and may be removed by the stroke of a pen
without marring the general effect of his work. He possesses, among many
charms, an unfailing geniality, which, united with his fine dramatic
powers, fascinates us completely. He abounds also in fine poetical
touches, that give us glimpses of a mind cultured to the last degree of
literary refinement. His 'rows of whispering limes and poplars' are like
arabesques of gold straying over the margins of some old _romanceros_.
His descriptions glow with the fresh and ever-varying delight of the
observant traveler, who seems to see before him for the first time the
cities which, with a few vigorous and simple strokes, he transfers to
big pages. His pictures have the charm of naturalness and a simplicity
that is more effective than the most ornate diffuseness. Thus he says of
the picturesque little city of Namur: 'Seated at the confluence of the
Sambre with the Meuse, and throwing