wake, and I
can assure you that, awake or asleep, he is the ugliest of the
works of God. But you must hear of my triumphs. Thackeray
swears that he was eye-witness and ear-witness of the proudest
event of my life. Two damsels were about to pass that doorway
which we, on Monday, in vain attempted to enter, when I was
pointed out to them. 'Mr. Macaulay,' cried the lovely pair.
'Is that Mr. Macaulay? Never mind the hippopotamus.' And
having paid a shilling to see Behemoth, they left him in the
very moment at which he was about to display himself to them
in order to see--but spare my modesty. I can wish for nothing
more on earth, now that Madam Tussaud, in whose Parthenon I
once hoped for a place, is dead."

In his diary of June 30th, 1849, we find: "Today my yearly account
with Longman is wound up. I may now say that my book has run the
gauntlet of criticism pretty thoroughly. The most savage and dishonest
assailant has not been able to deny me merit as a writer. All critics
who have the least pretense to impartiality have given me praise which
I may be glad to think that I at all deserve.... I received a note
from Prince Albert. He wants to see me at Buckingham Palace at three
to-morrow. I answered like a courtier; yet what am I to say to him?
For, of course, he wants to consult me about the Cambridge
professorship. How can I be just at once to Stephen and to Kemble?"

"Saturday, July 1st--To the Palace. The Prince, to my extreme
astonishment, offered me the professorship, and very earnestly and
with many flattering expressions, pressed me to accept it. I was
resolute, and gratefully and respectfully declined. I should have
declined, indeed, if only in order to give no ground to anybody to
accuse me of foul play, for I have had difficulty enough in steering
my course so as to deal properly both by Stephen and Kemble, and if I
had marched off with the prize, I could not have been astonished if
both had entertained a very unjust suspicion of me. But, in truth, my
temper is that of the wolf in the fable, I cannot bear the collar, and
I have got rid of much finer and richer collars than this. It would be
strange if, having sacrificed for liberty, a seat in the Cabinet and
twenty-five hundred pounds a year, I should now sacrifice liberty for
a chair at Cambridge and four hundred pounds a year. Besides, I never
could do two things at once. If I lectured well, my _History_ must b