felt the grandeur of his theme; he wrote well, because he loved it; he wrote truthfully, because he had studied the subject deeply. And this he did with whatever he took up; he gave his whole mind to it.

The connection thus formed with the Edinburgh Review' introduced him to the great men who were then contributors to it; Lord Jeffrey, its editor, the jovial Sydney Smith, Sir Walter Scott, Hallam the historian, Coleridge the poet, Tom Moore, Leigh Hunt, Sir James Mackintosh, Carlyle, and many another renowned in prose or poetry, who is now passed away; and his intimacy with this set of great thinkers. continued through life.

The fame of the essay on Milton' was so great, that it was said of Murray, the publisher of the rival Quarterly Review,' that he would have given the author the copyright of Byron's Childe Harold,' valuable beyond calculation, to have numbered him among the contributors to his periodical. It was followed by other essays in the Edinburgh' no less appreciated, though, perhaps, less striking; and, for the next five years, Macaulay was occupied in preparing and composing these wonderful productions. As he had no pecuniary difficulties to encounter, he could afford the time to read up everything that bore on the subject in hand, and he worked with incessant diligence. Yet he found leisure to indulge his taste for poetic compositions, and even to write such lighter pieces as political squibs. How good these were in their way, we can judge from the following anecdote.

Macaulay was dining one day with Tom Moore, Samuel Rogers, and Thomas Campbell, three writers

all superior to him in poetry, when Campbell happened to quote a line:

Ye diners out, from whom we guard our spoons:

and nodding across the table to Rogers, said, “You ought to know that line.' The author of Italy' protested that he had never seen it. Why,' said Campbell, it is from a poem in "The Times," which every one attributes to you.' Rogers denied the authorship, when Macaulay quietly said, "That is mine;' and, on being asked to do so, repeated the poem from beginning to end; for so good was his memory, that he did not even forget such little trifles, on which he set small store. This led to further conversation on squibs in The Times,' when Rogers mentioned one as particularly good, and praised it highly. That was mine also,' said Macaulay.

Among celebrated literary men, Macaulay soon took a great place, and was always invited where clever people were appreciated. His conversation was wonderful for the great powers of memory, which enabled him to store it with the richest portions of his reading. He was not witty or humorous, but, on the other hand, he was not pedantic or dogmatic. It was in narrative and criticism that he delighted most, and he never stopped talking when he once began; so that Sydney Smith, who was constantly in his society, used to say, that the historian never heard the sound of his (Sydney's) voice, though Smith talked almost as much as Macaulay himself. When, in after years, the latter toned down a little, Smith said of him, that he had noticed in his conversation occasional flashes of silence.' Indeed, his love of

talking was so well known, that many a laugh about it was raised at his expense, and stories told of his out-talking everybody else. On one occasion, when dining with three distinguished friends, he went on after dinner till one after another began to nod their heads in sleep, and Macaulay was left to talk alone, which he continued to do long after his companions could answer him only by snoring.

The

Perhaps it was his success in conversation that induced him to think he might prove an orator; at any rate, he was not satisfied with a fame merely for some good essays and some spirited poems; and he longed to set his name in the annals of that country, whose history he was afterwards to write. struggle between Whig and Tory was then running very high in Parliament; Macaulay was a Whig, or even, one may say, a Radical; each party was desirous of recruiting its ranks with young men of talent, and Macaulay's writings displayed so much of it, that the Whigs determined to secure his assistance. As they were then in power, they gave him an appointment of Commissioner of Bankruptcy, and Lord Lansdowne induced him to stand for the borough of Calne, in Wiltshire, where that nobleman had sufficient influence over the electors to make his return certain. He was accordingly elected, and took his seat in the House at the age of thirty. His maiden speech was in favour of the admission of Jews to Parlament, a Bill which was so often rejected till a short time ago.

But Macaulay soon advocated a far better and quite as liberal a cause-that of Parliamentary Reform. Those who boast of our Representative Government

as the freest and grandest system in modern Europe, do not remember by what tricks, what corruption, what undue influence this pretended representation is procured. We should think it hard to be told that Macaulay himself, for instance, though he sat in the House for Calne, did not represent in the least the opinions of the majority of the voters in that borough, but in reality represented one man, Lord Lansdowne. Yet such was the case, and such it still is. In close boroughs, as they are called, not one man in ten votes according to his conscience and his principles, or rather, not one man in ten has any political conscience or principles. The reason is, that most voters are either tenants or friends, or tradesmen, or labourers, or dependants in some way, of the chief landowner of the neighbourhood. It is to their interest to vote in the way which will please their lord and employer; nay, it is often ruin to them to vote for any other candidate than the one he countenances. This is so generally known, that in a close borough it is a rare thing for anyone to set up as a candidate who is not especially favoured by the great man of the place. Again, there are boroughs called rotten, either from the well-known fact that nine-tenths of the voters expect and insist on being bribed; or, because other influences are so generally used, that it is vain for an honest candidate to offer himself to the electors. Many of us, perhaps, have seen an election in a country town, and many may have felt a restless enthusiasm in hearing the cries of Liberty!' shouted on the one hand, and The Constitution!' on the other. Few of us boys know yet, perhaps, that these cries seldom proceed from the heart, but are in some ingenious manner or

other bought or influenced. Macaulay belonged to a party of men who saw this disgraceful state of 'things with horror, and determined to put an end to it. The great Reform Bill of 1832 was concocted with a view to suppress, as far as possible, all improper influences on electors; and though bribery and influence still exist to a shameful extent, and are allowed to go on, that Bill undoubtedly purified the country to a certain degree, and paved the way for those other Reform Bills of which we now read so much in the papers. It is the duty of every lad, who takes any interest in the glory of Old England, to enquire into these things, and to do his best, if circumstances afterwards bring him into a sphere of action where he may be able to do so, to make the Constitution of his country a real, and not merely a sham, glory.

Macaulay's speeches on the Reform Bill were prepared with great diligence, and procured for him the reputation of a speaker. But, unfortunately, they were prepared; that is, they were not like those of Fox and other great men, the outbursts of natural eloquence and heartfelt enthusiasm; and, brilliant as they were, the essayist soon found that he was not made for the highest place in oratory, nor, indeed, to be of the greatest use in the government of the country. He had, also, many natural deficiencies to overcome. His voice, particularly, was monotonous and disagreeable; and though he did his utmost to improve it, he could not conquer this defect. Then the appearance, which carries great weight in speaking, of the man was against him. He was short and thick-set; he had a tendency to corpulency and redness of the face, and