Edinburgh, in an endeavor to undo the slight she had put upon Macaulay,
again elected him to Parliament, without his being near, or raising his
hand either for or against the measure.

And again his voice was heard in the House of Commons.

Macaulay was a modest man, and yet he knew his power.

The Premiership dangled just beyond his reach. Many claim that if he had
not gone to India he would have moved by strong, steady strides straight
to the highest office that England could bestow. And others aver that when
he was created a Peer in Eighteen Hundred Fifty-seven it was a move toward
the Premiership, and that if his health had not failed he would surely
have won the goal. But how futile it is to speculate on what might have
happened had not this or the other occurred!

Yet certainly the daring caution of Macaulay's mind, his dignity and
luring presence, his patience, self-command, good temper, and all those
manifold graces of his heart, would have made him an almost ideal Premier,
one who might rank with Palmerston, Peel, Disraeli or Gladstone.

But the highest office was not for him.

We die by heart-beats; and Macaulay at fifty-nine had lived as much as
most strong men do if they exist a hundred years.

It is easy to show where Lord Macaulay could have been greater. His life
lies open to us as the ether. We complain because he did not read less and
meditate more; we sigh at his lack of religion and mention the fact that
he never loved a woman, seemingly waiving tautology and the fact that men