“I was perfectly aware that the avowal of my feelings on the subject of pledges was not likely to advance my interest at Leeds.  I was perfectly aware that many of my most respectable friends were likely to differ from me; and therefore I thought it the more necessary to make, uninvited, an explicit declaration of my feelings.  If ever there was a time when public men were in an especial measure bound to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, to the people, this is that time.  Nothing is easier than for a candidate to avoid unpopular topics as long as possible, and, when they are forced on him, to take refuge in evasive and unmeaning phrases.  Nothing is easier than for him to give extravagant promises while an election is depending, and to forget them as soon as the return is made.  I will take no such course.  I do not wish to obtain a single vote on false pretences.  Under the old system I have never been the flatterer of the great.  Under the new system I will not be the flatterer of the people.  The truth, or what appears to me to be such, may sometimes be distasteful to those whose good opinion I most value.  I shall nevertheless always abide by it, and trust to their good sense, to their second thoughts, to the force of reason, and the progress of time.  If, after all, their decision should be unfavourable to me, I shall submit to that decision with fortitude and good humour.  It is not necessary to my happiness that I should sit in Parliament; but it is necessary to my happiness that I should possess, in Parliament or out of Parliament, the consciousness of having done what is right.”

Macaulay had his own ideas as to the limits within which constituents are justified in exerting their privilege of questioning a candidate; and, on the first occasion when those limits were exceeded, he made a notable example of the transgressor.  During one of his public meetings, a voice was heard to exclaim from the crowd in the body of the hall:  “An elector wishes to know the religious creed of Mr. Marshall and Mr. Macaulay.”  The last-named gentleman was on his legs in a moment.  “Let that man stand up!” he cried.  “Let him stand on a form, where I can see him!” The offender, who proved to be a Methodist preacher, was heisted on to a bench by his indignant neighbours; nerving himself even in that terrible moment by a lingering hope that he might yet be able to hold his own.  But the unhappy man had not a chance against Macaulay, who harangued him as if he were the living embodiment of religious intolerance and illegitimate curiosity.  “I have heard with the greatest shame and sorrow the question which has been proposed to me; and with peculiar pain do I learn that this question was proposed by a minister of religion.  I do most deeply regret that any person should think it necessary to make a meeting like this an arena for theological discussion.  I will not be a party to turning this assembly to such a purpose.  My answer is short, and in one