in this case which render the admonition more unpleasant than it would otherwise be.  I know that Brougham dislikes me; and I have not the slightest doubt that he feels great pleasure in taking this subject out of my hands, and at having made me understand, as I do most clearly understand, how far my services are rated below his.  I do not blame you in the least.  I do not see how you could have acted otherwise.  But, on the other hand, I do not see why I should make any efforts or sacrifices for a Review which lies under an intolerable dictation.  Whatever my writings may be worth, it is not for want of strong solicitations, and tempting offers, from other quarters that I have continued to send them to the Edinburgh Review.  I adhered to the connection solely because I took pride and pleasure in it.  It has now become a source of humiliation and mortification.

I again repeat, my dear Sir, that I do not blame you in the least.  This, however, only makes matters worse.  If you had used me ill, I might complain, and might hope to be better treated another time.  Unhappily you are in a situation in which it is proper for you to do what it would be improper in me to endure.  What has happened now may happen next quarter, and must happen before long, unless I altogether refrain from writing for the Review.  I hope you will forgive me if I say that I feel what has passed too strongly to be inclined to expose myself to a recurrence of the same vexations.

Yours most truly

T. B. Macaulay.

A few soft words induced Macaulay to reconsider his threat of withdrawing from the Review; but, even before Mr. Napier’s answer reached him, the feeling of personal annoyance had already been effaced by a greater sorrow.  A letter arrived, announcing that his sister Jane had died suddenly and most unexpectedly.  She was found in the morning lying as though still asleep, having passed away so peacefully as not to disturb a sister who had spent the night in the next room, with a door open between them.  Mrs. Macaulay never recovered from this shock.  Her health gave way, and she lived into the coming year only so long as to enable her to rejoice in the first of her son’s Parliamentary successes.

Paris:  September 26.

My dear Father,—­This news has broken my heart.  I am fit neither to go nor to stay.  I can do nothing but sit down in my room, and think of poor dear Jane’s kindness and affection.  When I am calmer, I will let you know my intentions.  There will be neither use nor pleasure in remaining here.  My present purpose, as far as I can form one, is to set off in two or three days for England; and in the meantime to see nobody, if I can help it, but Dumont, who has been very kind to me.  Love to all,—­to all who are left me to love.  We must love each other better.

T. B. M.

London:  March 30, 1831