erday." It may be observed that Macaulay wrote Greek with or without
accents, according to the humour, or hurry, of the moment.]

On the first page of Theocrats: "March 20, 1835. Lord W. Bentinck sailed
this morning."

On the last page of the "De Amicitia:" "March 5, 1836. Yesterday Lord
Auckland arrived at Government House, and was sworn in."

Beneath an idyl of Moschus, of all places in the world, Macaulay notes
the fact of Peel being First Lord of the Treasury; and he finds space,
between two quotations in Athenaeus, to commemorate a Ministerial
majority of 29 on the Second Reading of the Irish Church Bill.

A somewhat nearer approach to a formal diary may be found in his
Catullus, which contains a catalogue of the English books that he read
in the cold season of 1835-36; as for instance

Gibbon's Answer to Davis. November 6 and 7
Gibbon on Virgil's VI Aeneid November 7
Whately's Logic November 15
Thirlwall's Greece November 22
Edinburgh Review November 29

And all this was in addition to his Greek and Latin studies, to his
official work, to the French that he read with his sister, and the
unrecorded novels that he read to himself; which last would alone have
afforded occupation for two ordinary men, unless this month of November
was different from every other month of his existence since the day that
he left Mr. Preston's schoolroom. There is something refreshing, amidst
the long list of graver treatises, to light upon a periodical entry of
"Pikwikina"; the immortal work of a Classic who has had more readers in
a single year than Statius and Seneca in all their eighteen centuries
together. Macaulay turned over with indifference, and something of
distaste, the earlier chapters of that modern Odyssey. The first touch
which came home to him was Jingle's "Handsome Englishman?" In that
phrase he recognised a master; and, by the time that he landed in
England, he knew his Pickwick almost as intimately as his Grandison.

Calcutta: June 15, 1837

Dear Napier,--Your letter about my review of Mackintosh miscarried,
vexatiously enough. I should have been glad to know what was thought of
my performance among friends and foes; for here we have no information
on such subjects. The literary correspondents of the Calcutta newspapers
seem to be penny-a-line risen, whose whole stock of literature comes
from the conversations in the Green Room.

My long article