all this prosperity, Macaulay now naturally set up his carriage. He
dined often with the Queen, and was a great man, according to English
notions, more even from his wealth and social position than from his
success in letters. Lord John Russell pressed him to accept a seat in
his cabinet, but "I told him," Macaulay writes, "that I should be of no
use,--that I was not a debater; that it was too late to become one; that
my temper, taste, and literary habits alike prevented." He was, however,
induced to become again a member of Parliament, and in 1852 was elected
once more for Edinburgh, which had repented of its rejection of him in
1847. But he insisted on perfect independence to vote as he pleased. He
regarded this re-entrance into public life as a great personal
sacrifice, since it might postpone the appearance of his next two
volumes of the History. His election, however, was received with great
acclamation. Even Professor Wilson, the most conservative of Scotch
Tories, voted for him. It was not a party victory, but purely a
personal triumph.

A serious illness now follows,--a weakness of the heart, from the
effects of which Macaulay died a few years afterwards. He retires to
Clifton, and gives himself up to getting well, visiting Barley Wood, and
driving in his private carriage among the most interesting scenery in
the west of England. But he was never perfectly well again, although he
continued to work on his History. His intimate friends saw the change in
him with sadness, but he himself was serene and uncomplaining. Although
he suffered from an oppression of the chest, he still on great occasions
addressed the House. His mind was clear, but his voice was faint. The
last speech he made was in behalf of the independence of the Scottish
Church. The strain of the House of Commons proved to be too great for
his now enfeebled constitution. "Nor could he conceal from himself and
his friends," says Trevelyan, "that it was a grievous waste, while the
reign of Anne still remained unwritten, for him to consume his scanty
stock of vigor in the tedious and exhaustive routine of political
existence; waiting whole evenings for the vote, and then ... trudging
home at three in the morning through the slush of a February thaw." He
therefore spared himself as a member of Parliament, and carefully
husbanded his powers in order to work upon his book. He gave himself
more time for his annual vacation, yet would write when he could on the