larity of
Thackeray's second series of lectures; or, rather, not their popularity,
but the estimation in which they were held. On this head he defended
himself more than once very gallantly, and had a great deal to say on
his side of the question. "Suppose, for example, in America,--in
Philadelphia or in New York,--that I had spoken about George IV. in
terms of praise and affected reverence, do you believe they would have
hailed his name with cheers, or have heard it with anything of
respect?" And again; "We degrade our own honour and the sovereign's by
unduly and unjustly praising him; and the mere slaverer and flatterer is
one who comes forward, as it were, with flash notes, and pays with false
coin his tribute to Caesar. I don't disguise that I feel somehow on my
trial here for loyalty,--for honest English feeling." This was said by
Thackeray at a dinner at Edinburgh, in 1857, and shows how the matter
rested on his mind. Thackeray's loyalty was no doubt true enough, but
was mixed with but little of reverence. He was one who revered modesty
and innocence rather than power, against which he had in the bottom of
his heart something of republican tendency. His leaning was no doubt of
the more manly kind. But in what he said at Edinburgh he hardly hit the
nail on the head. No one had suggested that he should have said good
things of a king which he did not believe to be true. The question was
whether it may not be well sometimes for us to hold our tongues. An
American literary man, here in England, would not lecture on the morals
of Hamilton, on the manners of General Jackson, on the general amenities
of President Johnson.

In 1857 Thackeray stood for Oxford, in the liberal interest, in
opposition to Mr. Cardwell. He had been induced to do this by his old
friend Charles Neate, who himself twice sat for Oxford, and died now not
many months since. He polled 1,017 votes, against 1,070 by Mr. Cardwell;
and was thus again saved by his good fortune from attempting to fill a
situation in which he would not have shone. There are, no doubt, many to
whom a seat in Parliament comes almost as the birthright of a well-born
and well-to-do English gentleman. They go there with no more idea of
shining than they do when they are elected to a first-class
club;--hardly with more idea of being useful. It is the thing to do, and
the House of Commons is the place where a man ought to be--for a certain
number of hours. Such men neither succeed