hypocrite has sagacity enough to see that a mistake is made.

Seward quotes Banks for authority, who says Fessenden and Morrill of Maine have each written arguments, have had one interview and are to have another with their written documents. Much of this Banks gets from the Maine members, who have tried to influence Flessenden] but without success. There may be something to base this upon, but I do not give it the credence which Seward does. Until the argument is closed and the whole case committed, Flessenden] would not be likely to declare his opinion. I have supposed he would vote against conviction although a decided radical, for he has intelligence, and a character which he wishes to preserve. I have had the same opinion of Trumbull for the same reasons. Both are crotchety and uncertain, and I therefore do not consider it sure by any means that they will go for acquittal. Other Senators like Frelinghuysen, the Morrills, and others, should vote for acquittal, but it is most likely, from all I hear and see, that they will abase themselves.

I therefore am less sanguine than either Seward or McCulloch. The last has until recently believed that conviction was probable. What facts have changed him I fail to learn. Seward is not to be relied on for [accuracy] in such matters, - he catches at shadows.

Grimes is Chairman of the Naval Committee and strong in his political views and prejudices, but he has a legal and discriminating mind, and sincere respect for the President's honesty, though very little confidence in his tact and judgment. He will not commit so unjust an act as to vote to impeach, and Fessenden usually goes with him. Neither have much love for Sumner or regard for Thad Stevens, which will strengthen them to act right when others fail. I should have no doubt of

Trumbull if he had not done himself and his principles injustice on certain test questions. The radical Senators continue to hold their secret meetings at Pomeroy's, to discipline and strengthen each other to do an illegal and wicked act, while sitting as judges in the high

court.

Tuesday, May 5, 1868.

Seward says Morgan will go for acquittal, provided it is certainly ascertained in advance that there can be no conviction. In this I think S[eward] is more correct than in many of his assertions.

Some conversation took place between McCulloch, Browning, and myself in regard to sending in immediately the new carpet-bag constitutions of Arkansas and South Carolina. They urged that it should be done immediately. I asked what of the actual, existing constitutions of those states which Congress assumed to annul. Both took alarm, hoped the President would not oppose Congress, oppose the reconstruction law, etc. I expressed the hope that he would do his duty faithfully.

Thursday, May 7, 1868. Bingham has closed the final argument of the managers, and at its close there was a scene in the galleries, got up especially for the occasion and a part of this radical drama. I have not read all of Bingham's speech, but from the examination given it I do not think it great, and his friends seem disappointed. The subject is postponed until Monday, and the court has agreed to come to a vote on Tuesday. If the Senators regard their oaths, and act as judicial officers and statesmen, there will be an acquittal; if partisan action controls all the radical Senators or most of them, conviction is likely. The movement has been a partisan one from its inception.

Judge Harris, late New York Senator, called on me, and discussing the great topic, tells me he had a long conversation with a prominent radical Senator, a religious, conservative man, - who said to him there was nothing against the President which could be called a crime, or misdemeanor, but the President was a troublesome man, - was an impediment, and he thought the majority would be justified in availing themselves of a technical advantage in getting rid of him. Although Judge Harris called no names, I inferred from his remarks that Frelinghuysen was the Senator who made these discreditable remarks.

Friday, May 8, 1868.

Great confidence was expressed by all the Cabinet that the President would be acquitted; and such also seemed his impression, but I could get no fact, perhaps ought to expect none. It was said Fessenden was in great distress, had offered to resign, but the Maine delegation would not listen to it. The vote of Henderson of Missouri is relied upon through the influence of Miss Foot, to whom he expects to be married. Sprague is counted upon through Mrs. S[prague] and her father, etc. These are frail staffs to lean upon, yet they are taken in the absence of better. There may be other circumstances, or facts which are confidential, but they are not communicated if there are such.

Saturday, May 9, 1868. There is a good deal of deep feeling yet no boisterous excitement. The impeachers are less confident than they

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were, yet express full belief in conviction. Their reliance is on the force, discipline, and necessities of party-not on crime or misdemeanor on the part of the President. How far the radical Senators who have pretentions to statesmanship will debase themselves to party dictation is the only question. If they are really legislators, judges, and statesmen - men of independence and moral courage, the President will be acquitted, not otherwise. More than one half of the Senators are demagogues and block-heads, -party tools, who regard not their oaths, nor the welfare of the country.

Numbers influence party men, so that inferior intellects often control superior minds. Fessenden and Morton and Trumbull are fearful of consequences if they boldly and conscientiously do their duty. I have no faith whatever in Morton, though McCulloch has hopes of him, but McCulloch is deceived. His speech at the beginning of the session exhibited a mind whose moral stamina was gone.

The President tells me this afternoon that he has no doubt that Fessenden will vote for acquittal. I did not ask his newest evidence. Riding out this evening, I met McCulloch who assures me, emphatically, of an acquittal. Says Grimes, Fessenden, Trumbull, and Van Winkle will vote to acquit, and others also.

I conclude that he has sources of information which are reliable. I get no facts. Of Grimes, Fessenden, and Trumbull's honest opinions I have no doubt, but there is a terrible pressure upon them. Of Van Winkle I know nothing.

It was an epoch in my social life when at the dinner-table of Sir R. H. Inglis, a member for the University of Oxford, high Tory and Protestant, but genial friend and host of men of all parties, I first met Macaulay. Macaulay talked essays and engrossed the talking - conversation it could not be called. One could understand how he was a bore to other talkers. He evidently was to a great talker who sat next to me. He would seize upon a theme and dilate, with copious illustration, from a marvelous memory. Mention of the exclusive respect of the Ritualists for churches in the Gothic style led to an enumeration of the fathers of the early Church who had ministered in churches which were not Gothic. A question about the rules of equestrian statuary led to a copious dissertation proving that nature was the only rule. I have seen a whole evening party kept listening in a ring to an essay on final causes and the limits of their recognition, with numerous illustrations. But it seemed to me all 'exuberance, not assumption or ostentation.

Once, however, even I thought Macaulay a bore. It was at a breakfast at Lord Stanhope's. Lord Russell was beginning to give us an account of the trial of Queen Caroline, which he had witnessed. Macaulay broke in with an essay, and Lord Russell was swept away by its tide. Of all English talkers that I ever heard, Macaulay seemed to me the first in brilliancy. He is the first in brilliancy of English writers, though not always the most sober or just. Of

all his writings the least just, while it is perhaps the most brilliant, is the essay on Warren Hastings. Justice has been done upon it by Fitzjames Stephen.

Rogers especially might well dislike Macaulay, against whom, with his feeble voice, he could make no head. He was silent during dinner. After dinner, when the ladies were gone, he told anecdotes in language evidently prepared. It was treason then to talk. There was certainly a strain of malice in him. He was sensitive on the subject of his social position, and could not forgive Sydney Smith for saying in his presence that he would 'bet a cheque on Rogers & Co.' Theodore Hook was never tired of whipping him on that tender spot. He was sensitive also about his appearance, as, if he aspired to beauty, he had good reason for being. It was said that he had driven his foot through a portrait which told unflattering truth. I wish I had been present when the attention of the party was suddenly drawn to a caricature bust of him which the host had inadvertently left upon the mantel-piece. The struggles of the party to cope with the horror, some taking the line that it was a likeness, others that it was not, were described to me as very amusing. The immortality which Rogers expected for his poems has not been theirs. He is not deep, yet there are passages in him, such as the opening lines of 'Human Life,' which are pleasant to my simple ear.

Of all the social talkers, I should say

the pleasantest was Sir David Dundas, then Solicitor-General. He really conversed, and, while leading the conversation, drew out his company and made other people feel that they too had said good things.

When the Life of Monckton Milnes (Lord Houghton) appeared, people were disappointed because it did not sparkle with wit. Nobody who knew him could share the disappointment. It was not in any witty things that he said, but in his manner, which was wit in itself, that the charm resided. His good-natured simplicity of speech (if that will do for a translation of naïveté) had earned him the nickname of 'the cool of the evening.' He was an eager hunter of notorieties. It was said that he would have had the most noted felon of the day at his breakfast-table if he could.

Sitting there and looking round on the circle, you asked yourself how you came into that museum. Milnes was a great and a most successful collector of autographs. He showed me on the same page some love verses written by Robespierre when a youth, and a death-warrant signed by him under the Reign of Terror. General Grant, when he went to breakfast with Milnes, was presented with a round-robin which he had signed as a cadet at West Point. Milnes would not tell us how he had obtained it. To a collector of autographs everything is moral. The writer of Palm Leaves, in which by the way there are some very pretty lines, had at one time been a follower of Urquhart, the devotee and political champion of Turkey and the East. Urquhart can hardly have been sane. Milnes said that once when he went to Urquhart's house, the door was opened by Urquhart's son, stark naked, that being the father's idea of physical education.

Eton friendship with Hallam's son Henry opened to me the house of his

illustrious father, which was no longer in the 'long unlovely street,' but in Wilton Crescent. The historian was then old and bowed down by the loss of the son whose epitaph is 'In Memoriam,' as well as by that of his wife and his favorite daughter. In earlier days he had been rather a social terror. People in his presence had spoken in fear of contradiction. It was said that he had got out of bed in the night to contradict the watchman about the hour and the weather. Sydney Smith said that the chief use of the electric telegraph would be to enable Hallam to contradict a man at Birmingham. But in his old age, and to a boy like me, Hallam was all mildness and kindness. I see the old man now, sitting in his library, with gout in his hands, in mournful dignity waiting for the end. But he would know that his work was done.

Milman's name is now seldom heard, yet he has left his mark in his histories of the Jews and of the Latin Church; nor is the 'Martyr of Antioch' without merits as a poem. The author of the prize poem on the Apollo Belvedere had set out in life with an immense Oxford reputation. In his History of the Jews he had, as a student of German theology, faintly anticipated the higher criticism, and incurred orthodox suspicion accordingly. That he had talent, a richly stored mind, and conversational power, is certain. Whether he had anything more is doubtful. If he had, it was stifled in him, as it was in other rationalist theologians, by the fatal white tie.

Thackeray I used to meet at the dinners of the Saturday Review, but had not much intercourse with him. If he was cynical, his cynicism did not appear in his face or manner, which betokened perfect simplicity and good nature. From good nature, and not from that alone, I cannot help thinking that he lapsed when he gibbeted

Croker in Vanity Fair, under the name of Wenham, as the parasite and pandar of the Marquis of Hertford, easily discernible under the pseudonym of the Marquis of Steyne. Croker was a rancorous politician, and both by his tongue and pen provoked bitter enmity; but there was nothing in his relation with Lord Hertford to brand him as a parasite, much less could he be supposed capable of playing the pandar. As a leading anti-reform member of the House of Commons he had been an associate of Hertford and other magnates of the Tory party. The connection continued after Croker's retirement in disgust from public life. Slander, under cover of a fictitious name, as I have said before, when the person really meant can be easily recognized, is at once the most deadly and the most cowardly of all ways of assailing character. The person assailed cannot defend himself without seeming to countenance the libel.

In the house of Sir Roderick Murchison I used to meet the men of science; but it was not till later that I became intimate with Huxley and Tyndall. With Tyndall I became very intimate, and greatly loved him, though on some points we widely differed. He called himself a Materialist, and never allowed you to call him anything else, ever faithful to his formula that matter contained the potentiality of all life. But never was a man less materialist in the gross sense of the term. I used to think that he would have found it very difficult to account, on any materialistic theory, for his own sentiments and aspirations. Between Huxley and Owen there was at that time war about the Hippocampus Minor. That Huxley was in the right seemed to be the verdict of the scientific world; had he found himself in the wrong he would have frankly owned it, for no man could be more loyal to truth. Murchison was

a man of large property; he had been in the army; had taken to geology and become the Amphitryon of the scientific world. He had been engaged in exploring the mineral wealth of the Ural, and became very intimate with the Czar, whose feeling towards England, as he assured me, I have no doubt truly, was as good as possible, she being in the Czar's eyes the great conservative power. The day before the Crimean War, nobody expected or desired it; while it was going, everybody was mad about it; when it was over, everybody condemned and deplored it.

If I remember rightly, I was an early subscriber to Herbert Spencer's works. But it was not till much later, I think in 1876, that I became well acquainted with the man. We were staying at Buxton together. If a new moral world is built upon materialism, Herbert Spencer will have been one of the chief builders. In any case he was a shining light and a power. Of his personal eccentricities plenty of stories have been told. His nervous sensibility was extreme. A game of billiards was enough to deprive him of his night's rest. He had been looking forward with pleasure to a meeting with Huxley; but he gave it up because there was a difference on some scientific question between them, and this might have given rise to an argument, which Spencer's nerves could not bear. A literary flippancy of mine once caused an estrangement between us, but I am happy to say we became the best of friends again.

The most interesting of my social experiences, however, were my visits to The Grange, a name familiar to all who have read the Life of Carlyle. Lord Ashburton, of the then immensely wealthy house of Baring, was a man of intellect and culture, and by no means a social cipher, though a less important figure than his wife. Lady Ashburton was a great lady, perhaps the nearest