Chapter XXIII: Macaulay Becomes Famous

In 1848 Macaulay was a famous man. He had served in India and had written the first part of his _History of England_. In this year after a lapse of nine years he again keeps a diary. From this diary we quote extracts showing how he became famous.

"Dec. 4th, 1848.--I have felt to-day somewhat anxious about the fate of my book. The sale has surpassed expectation: but that proves only that people have formed a high idea of what they are to have. The disappointment, if there is disappointment, will be great. All that I hear is laudatory. But who can trust to praise that is poured into his own ear? At all events, I have aimed high; I have tried to do something that may be remembered; I have had the year 2000, or even 3000, often in my mind; I have sacrificed nothing to temporary fashions of thought and style; and if I fail, my failure will be more honorable than nine-tenths of the successes that I have witnessed."

"Dec. 12th, 1848.--Longman called. A new edition of three thousand copies is preparing as fast as they can work. I have reason to be pleased. Of the _Lay of the Last Minstrel_ two thousand two hundred and fifty copies were sold in the first year; of _Marmion_ two thousand copies in the first month; of my book three thousand copies in ten days. Black says that there has been no such sale since the days of _Waverley_. The success is in every way complete beyond all hope and is the more agreeable to me because expectation had been wound up so high that disappointment was almost inevitable. I think, though with some misgivings, that the book will live."

"January 11th, 1849.--I am glad to find how well my book continues to sell. The second edition of three thousand was out of print almost as soon as it appeared, and one thousand two hundred and fifty of the third edition are already bespoken. I hope all this will not make me a coxcomb. I feel no intoxicating effect; but a man may be drunk without knowing it. If my abilities do not fail me, I shall be a rich man, as rich, that is to say, as I wish to be. But that I am already, if it were not for my dear ones. I am content, and should have been so with less. On the whole, I remember no success so complete, and I remember all Byron's poems and all Scott's novels."

"Saturday, January 27th.--Longman has written to say that only sixteen hundred copies are left of the third edition of five thousand, and that two thousand more copies must be immediately printed, still to be called the third edition.... Of such a run I had never dreamed. But I had thought that the book would have a permanent place in our literature, and I see no reason to alter that opinion."

"February 2d.--Mahon sent me a letter from Arbuthnot, saying that the Duke of Wellington was enthusiastic in admiration of my book. Though I am almost callous to praise now, this praise made me happy for two minutes. A fine old fellow!"

The above selections are from Macaulay's diary, as was said. Now come several from letters to a Mr. Ellis, to whom Macaulay sent many.

"March 8th, 1849.

"At last I have attained true glory. As I walked through Fleet
Street the day before yesterday, I saw a copy of Hume at a
book-seller's window with the following label: 'Only L2 2s.
Hume's _History of England_, in eight volumes, highly valuable
as an introduction to Macaulay.' I laughed so convulsively
that the other people who were staring at the books took me
for a poor demented gentleman. Alas for poor David! As for me,
only one height of renown remains to be attained. I am not yet
in Madam Tussaud's wax-works. I live, however, in hope of
seeing one day an advertisement of a new group of figures--Mr.
Macaulay, in one of his own coats, conversing with Mr. Silk
Buckingham in Oriental costume, and Mr. Robert Montgomery in
full canonicals."

"March 9th, 1850.

"I have seen the hippopotamus, both asleep and awake, 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 be given up, and to give up my _History_ would be to give up much more than the emoluments of the professorship--if emolument were my chief object, which it is not now, nor ever was. The prince, when he found me determined, asked me about the other candidates."