I know nothing more of Macaulay except that he unfeignedly rejoices at an opportunity for getting out of office,[519] an escape that he has unluckily wished to make for some time. There is of course a great struggle made to keep him, but I can imagine office must interfere materially with the pursuits and pleasures of his life. I think Edinburgh,[520] which affects all sorts of classical and pedantic tastes and enthusiasm, turning off one of the first orators and cleverest men of the age for a tradesman in the High Street (both men having the same politics), must feel slightly foolish now it is over. They say the prejudice against Macaulay was entirely personal; he never would listen to a word any of his constituents had to say, which is hard, considering his demands on other people’s ears; but still they may look a long time before they find a member so well worth listening to. I wonder whether Cowan is agreeable. I am really better, thank you, and able to walk about the garden. But the quiet system has answered so well in bringing back my strength, that I am willing to go on with it a little longer. It is said about Elections that the Liberal cause has gained ground, that the Government has lost ditto, which is as much as to say that four Ministers have been defeated and we have a very rough Radical Parliament. If Sir George Grey[521] is beat, I think a fifth loss of that kind would lead to some decided change. Yesterday everybody said his success was quite certain, and as every Election has gone exactly against the assertions made in London, I presume he is beat by this time. My Lord[522] is very busy at Portsmouth reviewing, sailing, firing guns, surveying, giving great dinners at bad Inns, and doing everything that is most unnatural to a quiet landsman; but he seems very happy, and it is more wholesome than that eternal writing. To-morrow, he is by way of sailing to Jersey and Guernsey. I never understand men in office, and cannot catch an _aperçue_ of the motive which induces them to take office or keep it; but I presume if this stormy sort of weather continues, he will hardly persist in that little dutiful party of pleasure. We have been reading Lamartine’s _Girondins_--interesting, as that eternal French Revolution always is, but most painful reading, and I do not like Lamartine’s style. It is too epigrammatic and picturesque, and his sentiments drive me mad. He tries to make out that Robespierre was humane, Pétion _homme de bien_, Madame Roland virtuous, the Revolution itself glorious. It gives me a great deal of exercise in my weak health, for I throw the book away in a rage, and then have to go and fetch it again. Your ever affectionate E. E. _Miss Eden to Lady Theresa Lewis._ ADMIRALTY, _Tuesday [January 6, 1848]._ MY DEAREST THERESA, How tiresome it is that you are out of town just now! And such an unexpected blow, because we have acquired this year the right to expect to find each other in London.