him. Still he was dignified; and wonderful as was his eloquence, it was attended with this most important effect, that it impressed every hearer with a conviction that there was something in him even finer than his words; that the man was infinitely greater than the orator. No impression of this kind was made by the eloquence of his son, or his son's antagonist. But with this great man-for great he certainly was-manner did much. One of the fairest specimens which we possess of his lordship's oratory is his speech, in 1776, for the repeal of the Stamp Act. Most, perhaps, who read the report of this speech in "Almon's Register," will wonder at the effect which it is known to have produced on the hearers; yet the report is tolerably exact, and exhibits, although faintly, its leading features. But they should have seen the look of ineffable contempt with which he surveyed the late Mr. Grenville, who sat within one of him, and should have heard him say with that look-" As to the late ministry, every capital measure they have taken has been entirely wrong." They should also have beheld him, when, addressing himself to Mr. Grenville's successors, he said "As to the present gentlemen-those, at least, whom I have in my eye"-(looking at the bench on which Mr. Conway sat)" I have no objection; I have never been made a sacrifice by any of them. Some of them have done me the honor to ask my poor opinion before they would engage to repeal the act: they will do me the justice to own, I did advise them to engage to do it; but notwithstanding (for I love to be explicit)-I cannot give them my confidence. Pardon me, gentlemen"-(bowing to them)—" confidence is a plant of slow growth." Those who remember the air of condescending protection with which the bow was made, and the look given, when he spoke these words, will recollect how much they themselves, at the moment, were both delighted and awed, and what they themselves then conceived of the immeasurable superiority of the orator over every human being that surrounded him. In the passages which we have cited, there is nothing which an ordinary speaker might not have said; it was the manner, and the manner only, which produced the effect. * * * Once, while he was speaking, Sir William Young called out, "Question, question!" Lord Chatham paused-then, fixing on Sir William a look of inexpressible disgust, exclaimed-"Pardon me, Mr. Speaker, my agitation:—when that member calls for the question, I fear I hear the knell of my country's ruin." On another occasion, immediately after he had finished a speech in the House of Commons, he walked out of it; and, as usual, with a very slow step. A silence ensued, till the door was opened to let him into the lobby. A member then started up, saying, "I rise to reply to the right honorable member." Lord Chatham turned back, and fixed his eye on the orator,-who instantly sat down dumb his lordship then returned to his seat, repeating, as he hobbled along, the verses of Virgil: "Ast Danaum proceres, Agamemnoniæque phalanges, Ut vidêre virum, fulgentiaque arma per umbras, Then placing himself in his seat, he exclaimed, "Now let me hear what the honorable member has to say to me." On the writer's asking the gentleman from whom he heard this anecdote,-if the house did not laugh at the ridiculous figure of the poor member?" No, sir," he replied, "we were all too much awed to laugh." But the most extraordinary instance of his command of the house is, the manner in which he fixed indelibly on Mr. Grenville the appellation of "the Gentle Shepherd." At this time, a song of Dr. Howard, which began with the words, "Gentle shepherd, tell me where,"—and in which each stanza ended with that line,-was in every mouth. On some occasion, Mr. Grenville exclaimed, "Where is our money? where are our means? I say again, where are our means? where is our money?" He then sat down, and Lord Chatham paced slowly out of the house, humming the line, "Gentle shepherd, tell me where." The effect was irresistible, and settled for ever on Mr. Grenville the appellation of "the Gentle Shepherd." MR. FOX AND MR. PITT. On his first separation from the ministry, Mr. Fox assumed the character of a Whig; and, from this time, uniformly advocated, in consistency with that noble character, the great cause of civil and religious liberty, on their broadest principles. Almost the whole of his political life was spent in opposition to his majesty's ministers. It may be said of him, as of Lord North, that he had political adversaries, but no enemy. Good-nature, too easily carried to excess, was one of the distinctive marks of his character. In vehemence and power of argument he resembled Demosthenes; but there the resemblance ended. He possessed a strain of ridicule and wit which nature denied to the Athenian; and it was the more powerful, as it always appeared to be blended with argument, and to result from it. To the perfect composition which so eminently distinguishes the speeches of Demosthenes, he had no pretence. 1 Soon as Eneas' form and arms appear, The Grecian chiefs and soldiers quake with fear; The moment of his grandeur was, when,-after he had stated the argument of his adversary, with much greater strength than his adversary had done, and with much greater than any of his hearers thought possible,-he seized it with the strength of a giant, and tore and trampled on it to destruction. If, at this moment, he had possessed the power of the Athenian over the passions or the imaginations of his hearers, he might have disposed of the house at his pleasure, but this was denied to him; and, on this account, his speeches fell very short of the effect which otherwise they must have produced. It is difficult to decide on the comparative merit of him and Mr. Pitt: the latter had not the vehement reasoning or argumentative ridicule of Mr. Fox; but he had more splendor, more imagery, and much more method and discretion. His long, lofty, and reverential panegyrics of the British constitution, his eloquent vituperations of those whom he described as advocating the democratic spirit then let loose on the inhabitants of the earth, and his solemn adjuration of the house, to defend and to assist him in defending their all against it, were, in the highest degree, both imposing and conciliating. In addition, he had the command of bitter contemptuous sarcasm, which tortured to madness. This he could expand or compress at pleasure: even in one member of a sentence, he could inflict a wound that was never healed. Mr. Fox had a captivating earnestness of tone and manner; Mr. Pitt was more dignified than earnest. The action of Mr. Fox was easy and graceful; Mr. Pitt's cannot be praised. It was an observation of the reporters in the gallery, that it required great exertion to follow Mr. Fox while he was speaking; none to remember what he had said; that it was easy and delightful to follow Mr. Pitt; not so easy to recollect what had delighted them. It may be added, that, in all Mr. Fox's speeches, even when he was most violent, there was an unquestionable indication of good humour, which attracted every heart. Where there was such a seeming equipoise of merit, the two last circumstances might be thought to turn the scale but Mr. Pitt's undeviating circumspection,-sometimes concealed, sometimes ostentatiously displayed,-tended to obtain for him, from the considerate and the grave, a confidence which they denied to his rival. MR. BURKE. --- Greatly inferior to both of these extraordinary men, if we are to judge of him by his speeches as he delivered them, but greatly superior to both, if we are to judge of him by his speeches as he published them,-Edmund Burke will always hold an eminent rank among the most elevated characters of this country. Estimating him by his written speeches, we shall find nothing comparable to him till we reach the Roman orator. Equal to that great man in dialect, in imagery, in occasional splendor, and in general information, excelling him in political wisdom, and the application of history and philosophy to politics,-he yields to him in pathos, in grace, in taste, and even in that which was not the forte of Cicero, in discretion; and as an orator, in spite of his rich illustration, and his charming and sublime philosophy, he sinks before Demosthenes. What particularly distinguished him from the Greek and Roman orators, and from his contemporary rivals, were the countless lessons of civil and moral wisdom by which he dignified his compositions, and both enforced and illustrated his arguments; his sudden transitions from the grand to the gay, from sublimity to pleasantry, from the refined and recondite to the ordinary and obvious. In familiar conversation, the three great men, whom we have mentioned, equally excelled: but even the most intimate friends of Mr. Fox complained of his too frequent ruminating silence. Mr. Pitt talked; and his talk was fascinating. Mr. Burke's conversation was rambling, but splendid, rich, and instructive beyond comparison. LORD ERSKINE'S ELOQUENCE. The eloquence of this remarkable man was an era at the bar. His addresses to juries have not been equalled: they alike captivated their understandings, their imaginations, and their passions. He often rose to the highest oratory, but it was always simple; and even in his sublimest flights, there was much that was very familiar; but this rather set off than clouded their splendor, rather increased than diminished their general effect. His skill in the conduct of a cause, and in the examination of witnesses, has never been surpassed; his discretion never forsook him, even in his highest forensic enthusiasm; his manners were always most gentlemanly; at the bar he was uniformly loved and admired; and, when he accepted the seals, no one, as Lord Eldon justly remarked of him, could have a greater wish to discharge properly the office which was conferred on him, or greater talents to qualify him for a proper discharge of it. BOURDALOUE. When we recollect before whom Bourdaloue preached; that he had for his auditors the most luxurious court in Europe, and a monarch abandoned to ambition and pleasure, we shall find it impossible not to honor the preacher for the dignified simplicity with which he uniformly held up to his audience the severity of the gospel, and the scandal of the cross. Now and then, and ever with a very bad grace, he makes an unmeaning compliment to the monarch. On these occasions, his genius appears to desert him; but he never disguises the morality of the gospel, or withholds its threats. In one of the sermons which he preached before the monarch, he described, with matchless eloquence, the horrors of an adulterous life, its abomination in the eye of God, its scandal to man, and the public and private evils which attend it but he managed his discourse with so much address that he kept the king from suspecting that the thunder of the preacher was ultimately to fall upon him. In general, Bourdaloue spoke in a level tone of voice, and with his eyes almost shut. On this occasion, having wound up the attention of the monarch and the audience to the highest pitch, he paused. The audience expected something terrible, and seemed to fear the next word. The pause continued for some time at length the preacher, fixing his eyes directly on his royal hearer, and in a tone of voice equally expressive of horror and concern, said, in the words of the prophet, "Thou art the man!" then, leaving these words to their effect, he concluded with a mild and general prayer to Heaven for the conversion of all sinners. A miserable courtier observed, in a whisper, to the monarch, that the boldness of the preacher exceeded all bounds, and should be checked. "No, sir," replied the monarch; "the preacher has done his duty; let us do ours." When the service was concluded, the monarch walked slowly from the church, and ordered Bourdaloue into his presence. He remarked to him his general protection of religion, the kindness which he had ever shown to the Society of Jesus, his particular attention to Bourdaloue and his friends. He then reproached him with the strong language of the sermon; and asked him what could be his motive for insulting him, thus publicly, before his subjects? Bourdaloue fell on his knees: "God is my witness that it was not my wish to insult your majesty; but I am a minister of God, and must not disguise his truths. What I said in my sermon is my morning and evening prayer. May God, in his infinite mercy, grant me to see the day when the greatest of kings shall be the holiest." The monarch was affected, and silently dismissed the preacher; but, from this time, the court began to observe that change which afterward, and at no distant period, led Louis to a life of regularity and virtue. |