post of Secretary for War, and afterwards that of Paymaster of the Forces. At the election of 1847, he was rejected by the city of Edinburgh on account of some differences of opinion between himself and a portion of his constituency on the Maynooth Grant and some other questions of a similar nature. Macaulay felt the defeat very keenly, and in a poem written shortly afterwards, but not published until after his death, he gives full vent to his indignation and sorrow. But at the same time he expresses his lofty sense of consolation; a Being, symbolising literature, which smiled upon him in his cradle, is represented as welcoming him back, and he resolves henceforth to devote himself entirely to her service. He kept his resolve, and although at a subsequent period he again entered Parliament he rarely spoke, and never again took office.

During the first four or five years after his return from India, Macaulay continued to write for the "Edinburgh," his last essay being that on the Earl of Chatham, which appeared in the October number of 1844. It was generally understood at the time that his reason for retiring from the pursuit of a form of literature in which he had gained such a brilliant reputation was that he was reserving himself for a great work on which his fame was mainly to rest. His freedom from parliamentary duties left him still further leisure for this great object, and at length, in 1849, the two first volumes of his History of England were given to the world. Since the publication of Gibbon's great work, perhaps no history had such a reception. Edition after edition was called for, and the succeeding volumes were as anxiously expected by the public as a new novel by Scott, or a new poem by Byron had been by a former generation. Macaulay had always held the opinion that a perfect history should contain something more than the lives of kings and statesmen. He contended that it should record the progress of society generally. We all know how ably he has carried out this idea in the volumes he has left us, and how he has succeeded in making history as fascinating as romance.

But the result was not obtained without immense labour. Not only were public records, state papers, and political correspondence to be consulted, but rare books, newspapers, street ballads, everything that could throw light upon the social and political character of the period, were to be read and digested. There is a story told of him that on one occasion he was surrounded by a crowd of boys in the streets of London, who thought he was going to sing, as he had just been buying a handful of ballads in the Seven Dials. Nor was this all; much time was spent by the historian in rambling through the country to visit the scenes of historic events, or the residences of remarkable men. It is said that the siege of Londonderry was described after a visit to the town and neighbourhood; and we are told by Dean Milman, in his memoir, that "the exquisitely true and vivid epithets with which he paints the old Italian towns in his Roman ballads owe their life and reality to his travels in Italy." Macaulay, however, was aided by a mind capable of holding all his miscellaneous information in a firm grasp, and which was able to arrange its stores, and select what was necessary for his purpose. His memory was very tenacious, and he used to say that if Milton's great poem were lost, "he thought that he could accurately commit to writing at least all the first books of 'Paradise Lost.

Macaulay tells us in the opening chapter of his history that his design was to commence with the reign of James II., and to bring the narrative down to a period "which is within the memory of men still living." He found it necessary however, before his last illness, to limit his scope, and proposed to conclude with the reign of Queen Anne. But even this he was not able to accomplish. The third and fourth volumes appeared in 1855, and the fifth volume, published after his death, does not complete the reign of William III. In the meantime, various honours were showered upon the successful author. He was elected Lord Rector of the university of Glasgow, and, in 1850, was appointed Professor of Ancient History in the Poyal Academy. In 1852, Edinburgh made

amends for her rejection of him in 1847, by electing him without solicitation and without expense. He sat in Parliament for four years longer, and then failing health compelled him to resign. In the summer of 1857, he was raised to the peerage; the honour was quite unexpected, as it was the first instance in English history of a peerage having been conferred upon any one for mere literary eminence. He never spoke in the Upper House. On more than one occasion he went down with the intention of speaking, but some unexpected turn in the debate deprived him of the opportunity.

Lord Macaulay's fame as a writer rests, of course, chiefly upon his history and essays, but as a poet also he achieved considerable distinction. His Lays of Ancient Rome, published in 1842, and several ballads, some of which were contributed to "Knight's Quarterly Magazine," have attained deserved popularity. They are remarkable for their simplicity, vigour, and wonderful word-painting. They are full of fire and pathos, and are written in a smooth cadence, which charms without fatiguing the ear.

Like some other eminent writers, Macaulay was distinguished by great conversational powers. His biographer, Dean Milman, tells us that in the quiet intercourse with a single friend, he listened with as much interest as he spoke, and there was a free and equable interchange of thought

"In a larger circle, such as he delighted to meet and assemble around him to the close of his life, a few chosen intimates, some accomplished ladies, foreigners of the highest distinction, who were eager to make his acquaintance, his manners were frank and open. In conversation in such a circle, a commanding voice, high animal spirits, unrivalled quickness of apprehension, a flow of language as rapid as inexhaustible, gave him perhaps a larger share, but a share which few were not delighted to yield up to him. His thoughts were like lightning, and clothed themselves at once in words. While other men were thinking what they should say, and how they should say it, Macaulay had said it all, and a great deal more. And the stores which his memory had at instantaneous command! a wide range of Greek and Latin history and literature, English, French, Italian, Spanish; of

German he had not so full a stock, but he knew the best works of the best authors; Dutch, he learned for the purpose of his history; with these came anecdote, touches of character, drollery, fun, excellent stories excellently told. The hearer often longed for Macaulay's memory to carry off what he heard in a single morning, in an after dinner colloquy, or in a few hours in a country house."

The last of Macaulay's writings published during his lifetime was the Life of Pitt, which closed a series of biographies contributed by him to the "Encyclopædia Britannica." In early life he was active and robust, but at a later period he was harassed by a distressing cough. Yet he rallied so frequently that his friends were in no great concern about his health, when he died quite suddenly: "he fell asleep and woke not again." His death took place at his residence, Holly Lodge, Kensington, on December 28, 1859. He was buried twelve days later in Westminster Abbey, at the foot of Addison's statue, and near to Dr. Johnson.

WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY.— 1811-1863.

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WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY, the celebrated novelist and essayist, was born at Calcutta in 1811. His father, who held an appointment in the Indian Civil Service, died in 1815, and young Thackeray was sent to England in his seventh year. The ship touched at St. Helena on the homeward voyage, and there the future novelist saw the great Napoleon: "I came from India," says he, as a child, and our ship touched at an island on our way home, where my black servant took me a long walk over rocks and hills, until we reached a garden where we saw a man walking. "That is he!' cried the black man; 'that is Bonaparte! He eats three sheep every day, and all the children he can lay hands on!'" In his twelfth year he was sent to Charterhouse School, a place often referred to in his writings. He always

retained an affectionate regard for the old place, and was present at its anniversary only a fortnight before his death.

About the year 1828, he entered Trinity College, Cambridge, and among his fellow students there was Mr. Tennyson, the present poet laureate, with whom Thackeray commenced an acquaintance which was kept up throughout his life. At the university his habits were studious, but he left without taking his degree. At the age of twenty, he paid a visit to Germany, and resided for some time at Weimar in Saxony, where he became intimate with the family of Goethe, and, on one occasion, had an interview with the great poet. inherited a considerable fortune on coming of age, and could afford, therefore, to indulge his tastes in selecting a profession. He had already distinguished himself by drawing caricatures, and he seems at first to have resolved on becoming an artist. With this object in view, he visited France and Italy, and spent a considerable time in copying pictures in the Louvre, and other art galleries.

He

Before Thackeray had given up hopes of some day distinguishing himself as an artist, he had made an offer to Mr. Charles Dickens to illustrate Pickwick, which, in April 1836, commenced its appearance in monthly numbers. The circumstance was related at an anniversary dinner of the Royal Academy by Thackeray himself some years later, when Dickens was present: "I can remember," said he, "when Mr. Dickens was a very young man, and commenced delighting the world with some charming humorous works in covers, which were coloured light green, and came out once a month, that this young man wanted an artist to illustrate his writings; and I recollect walking up to his chambers in Furnival's Inn, with two or three drawings in my hand, which, strange to say, he did not find suitable. But, for the unfortunate blight which came over my artistical existence, it would have been my pride and my pleasure to have endeavoured one day to find a place on these walls for one of my performances."