of great power, or of great good humour, or both, you do
not regret its absence." This picture, in which every touch is correct,
tells all that there is to be told. He had a massive head, and features
of a powerful and rugged cast, but so constantly lit up by every joyful
and ennobling emotion that it mattered little if, when absolutely
quiescent, his face was rather homely than handsome. While conversing at
table no one thought him otherwise than good-looking; but, when he rose,
he was seen to be short and stout in figure. "At Holland House, the
other day," writes his sister Margaret in September 1831, "Tom met Lady
Lyndhurst for the first time. She said to him: 'Mr. Macaulay, you are so
different to what I expected. I thought you were dark and thin, but you
are fair, and really, Mr. Macaulay, you are fat."' He at all times sat
and stood straight, full, and square; and in this respect Woolner, in
the fine statue at Cambridge, has missed what was undoubtedly the most
marked fact in his personal appearance.

He dressed badly, but not cheaply. His clothes, though ill put on, were
good, and his wardrobe was always enormously overstocked. Later in
life he indulged himself in an apparently inexhaustible succession
of handsome embroidered waistcoats, which he used to regard with
much complacency. He was unhandy to a degree quite unexampled in the
experience of all who knew him. When in the open air he wore perfectly
new dark kid gloves, into the fingers of which he never succeeded in
inserting his own more than half way. After he had sailed for India
there were found in his chambers between fifty and sixty strops, hacked
into strips and splinters, and razors without beginning or end. About
the same period he hurt his hand, and was reduced to send for a barber.
After the operation, he asked what was to pay. "Oh, Sir," said the man,
"whatever you usually give the person who shaves you." "In that case,"
said Macaulay, "I should give you a great gash on each cheek."

During an epoch when, at our principal seats of education, athletic
pursuits are regarded as a leading object of existence rather than as
a means of health and recreation, it requires some boldness to confess
that Macaulay was utterly destitute of bodily accomplishments, and that
he viewed his deficiencies with supreme indifference. He could neither
swim, nor row, nor drive, nor skate, nor shoot. He seldom crossed a
saddle, and never willingly. When in attendance at