ss which, by comparison with the original, may be regarded as
almost absurdly small. The Indian Penal Code is to the English criminal
law what a manufactured article ready for use is to the materials out of
which it is made. It is to the French 'Code Penal,' and, I may add, to
the North German Code of 1871, what a finished picture is to a sketch.
It is far simpler, and much better expressed, than Livingstone's Code
for Louisiana; and its practical success has been complete. The clearest
proof of this is that hardly any questions have arisen upon it which
have had to be determined by the courts; and that few and slight
amendments have had to be made in it by the Legislature."

Without troubling himself unduly about the matter, Macaulay was
conscious that the world's estimate of his public services would be
injuriously affected by the popular notion, which he has described as
"so flattering to mediocrity," that a great writer cannot be a great
administrator; and it is possible that this consciousness had something
to do with the heartiness and fervour which he threw into his defence
of the author of "Cato" against the charge of having been an inefficient
Secretary of State. There was much in common between his own lot
and that of the other famous essayist who had been likewise a Whig
statesman; and this similarity in their fortunes may account in part for
the indulgence, and almost tenderness, with which he reviewed the career
and character of Addison. Addison himself, at his villa in Chelsea, and
still more amidst the gilded slavery of Holland House, might have envied
the literary seclusion, ample for so rapid a reader, which the usages of
Indian life permitted Macaulay to enjoy. "I have a very pretty garden,"
he writes, "not unlike our little grass-plot at Clapham, but larger.
It consists of a fine sheet of turf, with a gravel walk round it, and
flower-beds scattered over it. It looks beautiful just now after the
rains, and I hear that it keeps its verdure during a great part of the
year. A flight of steps leads down from my library into the garden, and
it is so well shaded that you may walk there till ten o'clock in the
morning."

Here, book in hand, and in dressing-gown and slippers, he would spend
those two hours after sun-rise which Anglo-Indian gentlemen devote
to riding, and Anglo-Indian ladies to sleeping off the arrears of the
sultry night. Regularly, every morning, his studies were broken in upon
by the arriva