The Whig press, headed by the Times and the Scotsman, hastened to defend the historian; and the Tory press was at least equally forward to disown the critic. A subsequent page in this volume will show that Croker's arrow did not go very far home. Indeed, in the whole of Macaulay's journal for the year 1849 there can be detected but one single indication of his having possessed even the germ of an author's sensibility. "February 17.-I went to the Athenæum, and saw in a weekly literary journal a silly, spiteful attack on what I have said about Procopius in the first pages of of my first chapter. I was vexed for a moment, but only for a moment. Both Austin and Mahon had looked into Procopius, and were satisfied that I was right; as I am. I shall take no notice." A year later he wrote to Mr. Longman: "I have looked through the tenth volume of Lingard's History in the new edition. I am not aware that a single error has been pointed out by Lingard in my narrative. His estimate of men and of institutions naturally differs from mine. There is no direct reference to me, but much pilfering from me, and a little carping at me. I shall take no notice either of the pilfering or the carping." After once his judgment had become mature, Macaulay, at all times, and under all temptations, acted in strict accordance with Bentley's famous maxim, (which, in print and talk alike, he dearly loved to quote,) that no man was ever written down, except by himself.1

1 Bentley's career was one long exemplification of his famous saying. In the year 1856 Macaulay writes, after what was perhaps his tenth reperusal of Bishop Monk's life of the great critic: "Bentley seems to me an eminent instance of the extent to which intellectual powers of a most rare and admirable kind may be impaired by moral defects. It was not on account of any obscuration of his memory, or of any decay in his inventive faculties, that he fell from the very first place among critics to the third or fourth rank. It was his insolence, his arrogance, his boundless confidence in himself, and disdain of everybody else, that lowered him. Instead of taking subjects which he thoroughly understood, and which he would have treated

"Lord Macaulay," said an acute observer, who knew him well," is an almost unique instance of a man of transcendant force of character, mighty will, mighty energy, giving all that to literature instead of to practical work; and it cannot be denied that, in his vocation of historian, he gave proof of qualities which would have commanded success in almost any field. To sacrifice the accessory to the principal; to plan an extensive and arduous task, and to pursue it without remission and without misgiving; to withstand resolutely all counter-attractions, whether they come in the shape of distracting pleasures or of competing duties;-such are the indispensable conditions for attaining to that high and sustained excellence of artistic performance which, in the beautiful words of George Eliot, "must be wooed with industrious thought and patient renunciation of small desires." At a period when the mere rumour of his presence would have made the fortune of an evening in any drawing-room in London, Macaulay consented to see less and less, and at length almost nothing, of general society, in order that he might devote all his energies to the work which he had in hand. He relinquished that House of Commons which the first sentence of his speeches hushed into silence, and the first five minutes filled to overflowing. He watched, without a shade of regret, or a twinge of envy, men, who would never have ventured to set their claims against his, rise one after another to the summit of the State. "I am sincerely glad," said Sir James Graham, "that Macaulay has so greatly succeeded. The sacrifices which he has made to literature deserve no ordinary triumph; and,

better than all the other scholars in Europe together, he would take subjects which he had but superficially studied. He ceased to give his whole mind to what he wrote. He scribbled a dozen sheets of Latin at a sitting, sent them to the press without reading them over, and then, as was natural, had to bear the baiting of word-catching pedants who were on the watch for all his blunders."

when the statesmen of this present day are forgotten, the historian of the Revolution will be remembered." Among men of letters there were some who maintained that the fame of Macaulay's volumes exceeded their deserts; but his former rivals and colleagues in Parliament, one and all, rejoiced in the prosperous issue of an undertaking for the sake of which he had surrendered more than others could ever hope to win.

CHAPTER XII.

1848-1852.1

Extracts from Macaulay's diary-Herodotus-Mr. Roebuck-Anticipations of failure and success- -Appearance of the History-Progress of the sale-The Duke of Wellington-Lord Palmerston-Letters to Mr. Ellis -Lord Brougham on Euripides-Macaulay is elected Lord Rector of Glasgow University-His inaugural address-Good resolutions-Croker -Dr. Parr-The Historical Professorship at Cambridge-Byron-Tour in Ireland-Althorp-Lord Sidmouth-Lord Thurlow-Death of Jeffrey-Mr. Richmond's portrait of Macaulay-Dinner at the PalaceRobert Montgomery-Death of Sir Robert Peel-The Prelude-Ventnor -Letters to Mr. Ellis-Plautus-Fra Paolo-Gibbon-The Papal Bull -Death of Henry Hallam-Porson's Letters to Archdeacon TravisCharles Mathews-Windsor Castle-Macaulay sets up his carriageOpening of the Great Exhibition of 1851-Cobbett-Malvern-Letters to Mr. Ellis-Wilhelm Meister-The battle of Worcester-Palmerston leaves the Foreign Office-Macaulay refuses an offer of the CabinetWindsor Castle-King John-Scene of the Assassination Plot-Royal Academy dinner.

“NOVEMBER 18, 1848. Albany. After the lapse of more than nine years I begin my journal again.1 What a change! I have been, since the last lines were

1 It must be remembered that whatever was in Macaulay's mind may be found in his diary. That diary was written, throughout, with the unconscious candour of a man who freely and frankly notes down remarks which he expects to be read by himself alone; and with the copiousness natural to one who, except where it was demanded for the purpose of literary effect, did not willingly compress anything which he had to say. It may, therefore, be hoped that the extracts presented in these volumes possess those qualities in which, as he has himself pronounced, the special merit of a private journal lies. In a letter dated August 4, 1853, he says: "The article on the Life of Moore is spiteful. Moore, however, afforded but too good an opportunity to a malevolent assailant. His diary, it is evident to me, was written to be published, and this destroys the charm proper to diaries."

written, a member of two Parliaments, and of two Cabinets. I have published several volumes with success. I have escaped from Parliament, and am living in the way best suited to my temper. I lead a college life in London, with the comforts of domestic life near me; for Hannah and her children are very dear to me. I have an easy fortune. I have finished the first two volumes of my History. Yesterday the last sheets went to America, and within a fortnight, I hope, the publication will take place in London. I am pretty well satisfied. As compared with excellence, the work is a failure: but as compared with other similar books I cannot think it so. We shall soon know what the world says. To-day I enjoyed my new liberty, after having been most severely worked during three months in finishing my History and correcting proofs. I rose at half after nine, read at breakfast Fearon's Sketches of America, and then finished Lucian's critique on the bad historians of his time, and felt my own withers unwrung. Ellis came to dinner at seven. I gave him a lobster curry, woodcock, and macaroni. I think that I will note dinners as honest Pepys did."

"Monday, November 20.-Read Pepys at breakfast, and then sate down to Herodotus, and finished Melpomene at a sitting. I went out, looked into the Athenæum, and walked about the streets for some time; came home, and read Terpsichore, and began Erato. I never went through Herodotus at such a pace before. He is an admirable artist in many respects; but undoubtedly his arrangement is faulty."

"November 23.-I received to-day a translation of Kant from Ellis's friend at Liverpool. I tried to read it, but found it utterly unintelligible, just as if it had been written in Sanscrit. Not one word of it gave me any thing like an idea except a Latin quotation from Persius.