himself a Roman citizen? He, a man of fortune and talents residing in Italy, intimate with Romans of distinction! Arbaces, too, is not a citizen. Rich, powerful, educated, subjects of Rome, dwelling in a considerable Italian town, and highly acceptable in all societies there, yet not citizens! The thing was never heard of, I imagine. The Christianity of Bulwer's book is not to my taste. The Trinity, the Widow's son, the recollections of the preaching of St. Paul, spoil the classical effect of the story. I do not believe that Christianity had, at that time, made the very smallest impression on the educated classes in Italy; some Jews, of course, excepted. Bulwer brings down the Greek valour and free spirit to too late an age. He carries back the modern feelings of philanthropy to too early an age. His Greeks are made up of scraps of the Athenian Republican, and scraps of the Parisian philosophe; neither of which suit with the smart, voluble, lying, cringing, jack-of-all-trades that a Greek under the Flavian family would have been. It is very clever, nevertheless."

"January 12.-This was the King's birthday. The Court was attended by many foreigners. The King paid no attention to the English,-not even to so great a man as the Duke of Buccleuch,—but reserved his civilities for the Russians. Fool to think that either the lion or the bear cares which side the hare takes in these disputes! In the evening, as I was sipping Marsala, and reading a novel called Crichton-by the author of Rookwood, and worse than Rookwood-in came Verney to beg me to take a seat in his opera-box at the Teatro di San Carlo, which was to be illuminated in honour of the day. I care little for operas; but, as this theatre is said to be the finest in Italy-indeed in Europe-and as the occasion was a great one, I agreed. The Royal Family were below us, so that we did not see them; and I am sure that I would not give a carlino to see every Bourbon, living and dead, of the Spanish branch. The performance tired me to death, or rather to sleep; and I actually dozed for half an hour. Home, and read Gil Blas. Charming. I am never tired of it."

Macaulay returned from Naples to Marseilles by a coasting steamer, which touched at Civita Vecchia,

where Mr. Goulburn, who was subsequently Sir Robert Peel's Chancellor of the Exchequer, came on board.

"He was very civil and friendly," writes Macaulay. "We chatted a good deal at dinner, and even got upon politics, and talked without the least acrimony on either side. Once I had him, and he felt it. He was abusing the Election Committees. You really think then, Mr. Goulburn, that the decisions of the Election Committees are partial and unfair?' 'I do,' he said, 'most decidedly.' 'Well then,' said I, 'I cannot but think that it was rather hard to pass a vote of censure on O'Connell for saying so.' I never saw a man more completely at a nonplus. He quite coloured-face, forehead, and alland looked

'As I have seen him in the Capitol,

Being crossed in conference with some senators.'

He had really nothing to say, except that he had given his opinion about Election Committees to me in private. I told him that I of course understood it so; and I was too generous and polite to press my victory. But, really, a vote of censure is a serious thing; and I do not conceive that any man is justified in voting for it unless he thinks it deserved. There is little difference between a dishonest vote in an Election Committee and a dishonest vote in a question of censure. Both are judicial proceedings. The oath taken by members of a Committee is merely a bugbear for old women and men like old women. A wise and honest man has other guides than superstition to direct his conduct. I like Goulburn's conversation and manners. I had a prejudice against him which, like most prejudices conceived merely on the ground of political difference, yields readily to a little personal intercourse. And this is a man whom I have disliked for years without knowing him, and who has probably disliked me with just as little reason! A lesson.

"I read Botta's History of the American War. The book interested me, though he is not a writer to my taste. He is fair enough; and, when he misrepresents, it is rather

from ignorance than from partiality. But he is shallow, and his style is the most affected that can be imagined. I can better excuse his speeches, put into the mouths of his heroes, and his attempts to give a classical air to our English debates; his substitution of 'Signor Giorgio Grenville' for 'the right honourable gentleman,' and 'cari concittadini,' or 'venerabili senatori,' for 'Mr. Speaker.' But his efforts at naïveté move my disgust. The affectation of magnificence I can pardon; but the affectation of simplicity is loathsome: for magnificence may coexist with affectation, but simplicity and affectation are in their natures opposite. Botta uses so many odd old words that even Italians require a glossary to read him; and he is particularly fond of imitating the infantine style which is so delightful in Boccacio. He perpetually introduces into his narrative vulgar Florentine proverbs of the fourteenth century. He tells us that God, who does not stay till Saturday to pay wages,' took signal vengeance on the ravagers of Wyoming; and that they were repaid for their outrages' with colliers' measure.""

"Paris, February 2, 1839.-The sky was clear, though it was very cold, and the snow covered everything. I resolved to go to Versailles. The palace is a huge heap of littleness. On the side towards Paris the contrast between the patches of red brick in the old part and the attempt at classical magnificence in the later part is simply revolting. Enormous as is the size of the Place des Armes, it looks paltry beyond description. The statues which used to stand at Paris on the bridge in front of the Chamber of Deputies are ranged round this court. Wretched, strutting things they were; heroes storming like captains of banditti blustering through a bad melodrama on a second-rate theatre. I had hoped never to have seen them again when I missed them on the bridge; and I fancied, more fool I, that the Government might have had the good taste to throw them into the Seine. In the middle of the court is an equestrian statue of Louis XIV. He showed his sense, at least, in putting himself where he could not see his own architectural performances. I was glad to walk through the Orangerie, and thence I went some little way into the gardens. The snow was several inches deep; but I saw enough to

satisfy me that these famous grounds, in meanness and extravagance, surpassed my expectations; and my expectations were not moderate. The garden façade of the palace is certainly fine by contrast with the other front; but, when the enormous means employed are compared with the effect, the disproportion is wonderful. This façade is about 2,000 feet in length, and is elevated on a lofty terrace. It ought to be one of the most striking works of human power and art. I doubt whether there be anywhere any single architectural composition of equal extent. I do not believe that all the works of Periclesnay, that even St. Peter's, colonnade and all-cost so much as was lavished on Versailles; and yet there are a dozen country houses of private individuals in England alone which have a greater air of majesty and splendour than this huge quarry. Castle Howard is immeasurably finer. I went inside, and was struck by the good sense I would even say magnanimity-which the present King has shown in admitting all that does honour to the nation, without regard to personal or family considerations. The victories of Buonaparte furnish half the rooms. Even Charles the Tenth is fairly dealt with. Whatever titles he had to public respect the African victories, Navarino, the Dauphin's exploits, such as they were, in Spain-all have a place here. The most interesting thing, however, in the whole palace, is Louis the Fourteenth's bedroom with its original furniture. I thought of all St. Simon's anecdotes about that room and bed."

CHAPTER VIII.

1839-1841.

Macaulay returns to London-He meets Lord Brougham— Letters to Mr. Napier and Mrs. Trevelyan-Correspondence with Mr. Gladstone-Heated state of politics-The hostility of the Peers to Lord Melbourne's Government-Macaulay's view of the situation-Verses by Praed--The Bedchamber question-Macaulay is elected for Edinburgh-Debate on the Ballot-Macaulay becomes a Cabinet Minister-The Times-Windsor Castle-Vote of Want of Confidence-The Chinese War-Irish Registration: scene in the House of Commons-Letters to Mr. Napier-Religious Difficulties in Scotland-Lord Cardigan-The Corn Laws-The Sugar Duties-Defeat of the Ministry, and Dissolution of Parliament-Macaulay is re-elected for Edinburgh-His love for street-ballads-The change of Government.

Ar the end of the first week in February, 1839, Macaulay was again in London.

"Friday, February 8.-I have been reading Lord Durham's Canadian Report, and think it exceedingly good and able. I learn, with great concern, that the business has involved Lord Glenelg's resignation. Poor fellow! I love him and feel for him.1 I bought Gladstone's book: a capital shrovetide cock to throw at. Almost too good

a mark."

"February 13.-I read, while walking, a good deal of Gladstone's book. The Lord hath delivered him into our hand. I think I see my way to a popular, and at the same time gentlemanlike, critique. I called on the Miss. Berrys, who are very desirous to collect my articles. I gave them a list, and procured some numbers for them at

1 See page 300 of Vol. I.

2 Mr. Gladstone's "The State

in its Relations with the Church."