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 honorable 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 co-exist 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 Boccaccio. He perpetually introduces into his narratives 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 collier's measure."" "Paris, February 2d, 1839.—The sky was clear; though it was very cold, and the snow covered every thing. I resolved to go to Versailles. The palace is a huge heap of littleness. On the side toward 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 in 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 two thousand feet in length, and is elevated on a lofty terrace. It ought to be one of the most strik

ing works of human power and art. I doubt whether there be anywhero any single architectural composition of equal extent. I do not believe that all the works of Pericles-nay, 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 splendor 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 honor to the nation, without regard to personal or family considerations. The victories of Bonaparte furnish half the rooms. Even Charles the Tenth is fairly dealt with. Whatever titles he had to public respect-the African victories; Navarino; the Danphin'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."

U

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 Bed-chamber 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 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 8th.-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.* I bought Gladstone's book: a capital Shrove-tide cock to throw at. Almost too good a mark."

"February 13th.-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 gentleman-like, 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 a book-seller's near Leicester Square. Thence to Ellis, and repeated him 'Romulus,' the alterations in 'Horatius,' and the beginning of 'Virginia.' He was much pleased.. We walked away together to Lincoln's Inn Fields, and met Brougham: an awkward moment. But he greeted me just as if we had parted yesterday, shook hands, got between us, and walked with us some way. He was in extraordinary force, bodily and mental. He declared vehemently against

* See page 263 of vol. i.

the usage which Lord Glenelg has experienced, and said that it was a case for pistoling, an infamous league of eleven men to ruin one. It will be long enough before he takes to the remedy which he recommends to others. He talked well and bitterly of Lord Durham's report. It was, he said, a second-rate article for the Edinburgh Review. 'The matter came from a swindler; the style from a coxcomb; and the dictator furnished only six letters, D-U-R-H-A-M.' As we were walking, Allen the Quaker came by. Brougham hallooed to him, and began to urge him to get up the strongest opposition to Lord John Russell's education plan. I was glad when we parted. Home, and thought about Gladstone. In two or three days I shall have the whole in my head, and then my pen will go like fire."

3 Clarges Street, February 26th, 1839. DEAR NAPIER,-I can now promise you an article in a week, or ten days at furthest. Of its length I can not speak with certainty. I should think it would fill about forty pages; but I find the subject grow on me. I think that I shall dispose completely of Gladstone's theory. I wish that I could see my way clearly to a good counter-theory; but I catch only glimpses here and there of what I take to be truth.

I am leading an easy life; not unwilling to engage in the Parliamentary battle if a fair opportunity should offer, but not in the smallest degree tormented by a desire for the House of Commons, and fully determined against office. I enjoyed Italy intensely; far more than I had expected. By-the-bye, I met Gladstone at Rome. We talked and walked together in St. Peter's during the best part of an afternoon. He is both a clever and an amiable man.

As to politics, the cloud has blown over; the sea has gone down; the barometer is rising. The session is proceeding through what was expected to be its most troubled stage in the same quiet way in which it generally advances through the dog-days toward its close. Every thing and every body is languid, and even Brougham seems to be somewhat mitigated. I met him in Lincoln's Inn Fields, the other day, when I was walking with Ellis. He greeted me as if we had breakfasted together that morning, and went on to declaim against every body with even more than his usual parts, and with all his usual rashness and flightiness. Ever yours,

VOL. II.-4

T. B. MACAULAY.

London, March 20th, 1839. DEAREST HANNAH,-I have passed some very melancholy days since I wrote last. On Sunday afternoon I left Ellis tolerably cheerful. His wife's disorder was abating. The next day, when I went to him, I found the house shut up. I meant only to have asked after him; but he would see me. He gave way to very violent emotion; but he soon collected himself, and talked to me about her for hours. "I was so proud of her," he said. "I loved so much to show her to any body that I valued. And now, what good will it do me to be a judge or to make ten thousand a year? I shall not have her go home to with the good news." I could not speak, for I know what that feeling is as well as he. He talked much of the sources of happiness that were left to him—his children, his relations and hers, and my friendship. He ought, he said, to be very grateful that I had not died in India, but was at home to comfort him. Comfort him I could not, except by hearing him talk of her with tears in my eyes. I staid till late. Yesterday I went again, and passed most of the day with him, and I shall go to him again to-day; for he says, and I see, that my company does him good. I would with pleasure give one of my fingers to get him back his wife, which is more than most widowers would give to get back their own.

to

I have had my proofs from Napier. He magnifies the article prodigiously. In a letter to Empson he calls it exquisite and admirable, and to me he writes that it is the finest piece of logic that ever was printed. I do not think it so; but I do think that I have disposed of all Gladstone's theories unanswerably; and there is not a line of the paper with which even so strict a judge as Sir Robert Inglis or my uncle Babington could quarrel at as at all indecorous. How is my dear little girl? Is she old enough to take care of a canary bird or two. From her tenderness for the little fish, I think I may venture to trust her with live animals.

I have this instant a note from Lord Lansdowne, who was in the chair of the Club* yesterday night, to say that I am

*The Club, as it was invariably called (for its members would not stoop