Daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, Va. [W. Va.]) 1859-1865, 1860-02-03
For the Intslligenesr.l
mAcAULAY as A POET.

In all the ellogies and critiques upon
Macaulny with which the press has teem-
ed, one omission has struck us as peculiar,
aud that ia that his claims as u poet are so
entirely set aside. Even the praises Of his
most ardent eulOgists upon that point is
SO faint as to be damuing. Now, while
no could claim for him, one spark of the
true celestial poetic fire, his poems seem
to US, the most perfect indices to his pecu-
liar powers, They show better than his
essays, his oratious, or his history, the
idiosyncracics of the mans mind. They
are Macaulay in miniature.
We do not mean to say that they con-
tain one 1.-THE of the vigOr, the profundity,
or the nervous brilliaIcy of his other eff
forts, all we say is that they more deserve
study if we would comprehend his natural
genius, as child is more ITSELF as nature
made it, when at play, than in its most
strained efforts.
Just imagine Macauley sitting down to
write one of his Lays of Ancient Rome,
| HOratius, for instance. Follow him through
it, and watch how one after another, his
powers come into play. In the first place,
he is no born poet, and he knows it. No
TTr ter of this age has weighed to the last
grain, his own faculties, and knew just
how much they were worth, SO exactly as
Macaulay. So much he knew he could do.
That he did, self-reliantly, self-assertingly:
perhaps, went to the EXTREMIST verge of
his line, but never one inch beyond. So
he let's his imagination loose to-day to
write poem: and this Imagination OF his
is no dainty Ariel he knows, whose magic
wing can throw girdle round the earth,
but well taught servant with falcon eye
and powerful hand. This poem will be no
delicate flower springing up spontaneously,
but glitteriug ice temple, brilliant, hard,
perfect. He attempts then, neither lyric
nor idyl, nor epic. Self-knowledge teach
ing him what he can not do. his next great
trait comes into play to show him what he
can do. We mean his exquisite, unerring
tact, which we believe to be one of the
great secrets of his power. He seizcs on
a point in history Roman history, and
writes his poem. There he can bring all
his mental force into action. First, his
unparalleled knowledge of the manners,
the customs of the past. The Tuscan army,
the Roman streets, live, glow before us, in
nll the minuteness of Flemish painting.
Then Macaulay's gigantic mastery of Ian
guage, of rhythm, has here full sweep
The theme is Latin, and the sentences roll
from his lips with a sOnorous Roman swell
not unbefitting the echOing Forum itself.
In the whole poem there are no simple
Saxon words, its cadence is that of n trum-
pet, clear, solemn, princely, like voice
from dead, but royal Rome.
Macaulay's third great power flashes
out in every line. His talent for vivid
word painting. We see with our own
eyes, the city glittering in the sunlight,
the serried ranks, the dauntless Three;
every face from the ''pale trHitOr ScXtus,"
to the 'RUmuian proud" live and move
before US. And it is this gift, and this
only, that gives Macaulay the power to
thrill his readers. Unable to carry them
with him in a free, gushing flow of elo-
quent pathos, he supplies this want of
feeling on his own part by transporting us
to the spot, as by AlHddin's magic carpet,
and letting us feel for ourselves. To do
this, his enchanter's wand is all powerful.
We actually hear the roar of the tawny
river when the bridge falls, tremble and
shudder us HOratiuS sinks or rises in its
tide.
"And when above the surges
We sec his crest appear
Send forth with Rome q rapturOuS cry,
Or with the ranks OF Tuscany
Can scarce fOrbear to cheer"
Nor is the last stroke of art in the poem
the least admirable, viz: the sudden
throwing back of the whole picture
brought near to us with so startling
| life-like reality, into the far past of lost
ages, and the sharp waking from the passing
illusion to the consciousness of how long
a time has passed
asincs brave Horatius kept the bridge
In those brave days Of old"
No critic has written of Macaulay who
possessed sufficient kecnness of analytic
insight, CIR clear broad sweep of thought.
enough to do him justice; but VIXEN such
| critic does write, we venture to prophesy
that the poems will be held us correct out
line paintings of
.sThe mans mind in its entirety"