The Press. — London, England, 1853-05-28 00:00:00

f ..► ;~"` MAY 28, 1853. bench ! That is Mr. Erskine. another of the brilliant advocates who have failed in St. Ste phen's. There, at the middle of the front bench, is Rose, the Secretary to the Treasury. eareworn and flurried, looking as anxious as if his New Forest propetiy was taken from him. How unlike he is to his brother Secretary— Steele—the member for Chichester—a picture of Silenus. But what a Babel of noise! We can scarcely catch a word that falls from the member on his legs. vehemently flourishing paper in his hand. how odd it looks to bee a public speaker haranguing with spectacles on nose, like this unheard member ' 7is Burke! All ! You see what a rage he is in, while, thanks to that clownish-looking person —Rolle, the member for Devon—not a word is heard from " the greatest man then But the fault is not altogether with the Com mons. Like other men Of genius. Burke is arrogant, morose, and is embittered with personal annoyances. 'Tis the unhappiest time of his life 4 He sits down—and how well listened to is the next speaker, with his formal, slow, and precise manner. That's George Bankes, the member for Corti. Castle—one of the most independent men in the House—a man who would not barter his independence for an earldom. See how that tall emaciated-look ing man is noting the statements of liankes. He gets up to reply. 'Tim Sir Philip Francis. How impatient are his gestures ! how sharp is his tone ! how acrimonious in manner ! And he is followed by some nondescript on the Treasury bench. But see the bustle below the bar! Yes ! there stalks the stately figure of William Pitt, nntrelting along the gangway to the Treasury bench ! He looks like one born for power, with that wide imperial brow—that lordly air of supremacy—that sovereign stare at the embattled front of Opposition. There is something of his sire about his carriage but his features have the Grenville look, as his blood partakes of its phlegm. He is dressed with elaborate formality, in his customary black waistcoat and blue body-coat. And now there is fresh noise below the gangway—and while the Speaker. roaring " Order, oraer! below the bar"— " Ui vain the power of mtrengthening porter Mel% And nods to Lielhuny for fedi' supplies" — in COMC4 the much-desired Charles Fox, greatly to the relief of the diseomfitted Oppo sition, who now have the worst of the debate. That is Lord Surrey—the Protestant Lord Surrey—talking to Fox. People whisper that I,ord Surrey is still a Papist, and it is said that he wears that ugly coat on hint as a penance. And now Sheridan is up! How well he does it! and how readily the House gives its ear to him, while he dazzles it with ingenious thoughts, amuses with his fancy, though his declamation fails to stir the pas sions. His tone is not deeper or higher than that of the comedy in which he has immor talised his name. How angry poor Burke looks at. Sheridan's success ! Rivals at the same side are always more jealous than avowed adversaries face to face. At last Pitt rises. All is hushed. llis figure seems too tall for an orator, and his aspect is frbidding. with its stern and haughty air. lint his voice is that of a demi god. How gloriously it fills the ear, as the speaker's swelling sentences are fluently rolled forth in mellifluous harmony. The action is flowing and facile, too unvaried for perfectly artistic grace, but with enough of elocutionary art. Not only every word but every syllable is distinctly caught. If we had not heard him we could scarcely imagine this blended force and harmony. this energy without discord, this marvellous facility united to imposing stateliness. In his words. as in his matter, there is no appeal to our imagination, but the whole man, with. his air of heavett-given dicta torship, his awe-inspiring severity of deport• ntent, his lofty wont for his foes, his evident faith in hitnself—justifled by his vast powers —we say, the whole man does kindle up our imagination, and vitalises our recollection of Athenian and Roman story. Here is that man whose prowess would have daunted the sensitive soul of Cicero, whose logic of clear ness beyond all that the schools could teach, • Mr. Macaulay, in eamay " Warren flaming's." t rittc Wilindvrce's Diary for thie i criod uf THE PRESS and musical thunder of graway terrible de elamation. might have contorted with jealousy the heart of Demosthenes. Here is that king of men—that ruler o f ms time—who. long be fore thirty summersAave passed. has changed the fate of pietist —erushed the Whigs—re construeted of nel principles the party of the Court—atied the Tories to the (simmer s ip/ energy of the land — unfurled his banner of " British Empire." and inscribed it with his motto, " Ships, Colonies, and Commeree." For three hours. with unfidtering force, he has defied his adversaries, and defended his resolves, anti, amidst reverberating volleys of cheers. resumes his seat. himself the only unmoved human hieing in that spellbound assembly. Well, Fox never can answer that. display. You cry—" What a pity that. he spent all his day sauntering shunt ! And last night. too. how he wasted it in the orgies where Captain Morris sung his bacchanalian strains !" You think that Fox must break down. and yon feel for him, as with heavy, lumbering air he ad valleys slowly to the table. emit fumbles awkwardly with his fingers. There he stands, amidst a dead silence of expectation. Look at his careless half-buttoned vest. his erumpled linen. his almost slovenly attire. 'What is he saying? We cannot hear him distinctly. He seems quite confused, and his sentences are all entangled. Ah !he must fail, as his father before him did when " battling it our witlt another Pitt.* His voice, too, how different is its coarse and husky sound from the m oms roux organ of his gifted foe. Ills gestures, also. bow commonplace—his whole air, how ungainly, as we contrast it with the statefi netes of the last speaker. But how very still the House is ! The Opposition do not seem dispi rited, i u 'r does the Treasury bend' look pre maturely elated. Both sides know by experience the nature of the man before them. His voice is getting more clear—he has got rid of that unseemly obstruction to his uttetance. We find that ► he is saying, in very plain and uttaffeeted woe its. that the minister, thought adroit and artful, is, after sill, very superficial in his views. He— Charles Fox—does not mean to deny that a case of apparent strength mid reason might be made by the minister. Well, he fan cies the case—and we are surprised to find him restating his adversary's case. He does it with clearness, precision, and transparent simplicity of style. This ease multi not be put more strongly for the other side than Fox has put it. lie enlists attention and sympathy by the equity of his statement. 'Tit his art! 'the his matchless art, which died with Fox. Now, then, he has thel ease fairly before the House—now the matter in dispute is clearly seen. Ha ! with what overwhelming vehe menee, what terrific impetuosity he anuthe matises the contemptible sophistry of the clime which he had recently just restated ! He scouts its utter absurdity, and rends to pieces the whole argument. lie analyses it, and re futes each assertion separately ; he returns again and again to the main proposition, never gliding away with ambiguous language or skulking from IL difficulty. This plain down right manner disarms all suspicion of sophistry, and you evidently see that he is making havoc with the substance of Pitt's speech. Now how he glows with ardour as he approaches a part of the question where humanity be concerned ! He becomes more intense every moment. A new view of the whsle question, nut thought of before, is bursting u p on the astonished House. The speaker's masculine sense is trans lating into psrliainentary English the over subtle and obstructed etinelumions of the "E. 11." paper. Vast prospects of great social good flash into the speakers soul, and be pours forth all his thoughts with the fiery impulsive ness of an enthusiast. Ills argument becomes impassioned ; his reasoning blends into the speaker's soul. This is the ignited logic—the Greek fire of heart-stining eloquence—the tongue to plead for the injured and oppressed — to speak of human anguish. This is the man who would burn to break the shackles of the dusky tribes of Africa. Those near him see the tears bursting front his eyes—those tits off • " Old ox I ant. 1 hope tf, Kee pot both battling it out lo there %%MN it‘ f hose done your fathers before you.".-4neolotc (if (.rneral (irrnt, in liNJ lvoi. P. 262). hear the voice faltering with SyMpatby, and the genuine sensibility of a strong man had magic power over the sympathies. He is car rying the House with him : how he revels in his power ! II e realises to his mind the plea sure described by an anonymous essayist of antiquity—the heart-stirring joy of sumessful extempore speaking : " Sed extemporalis autiacile. atque ipsius tenteritatis, vel prieeipu* jucunditas est. * * gratiora tamen gine stta sponte naseuntur." , :: Completely cooled away himself by his own enthusiasm and by that which he has raised, his pulse at fever heat. soil his heart knocking aga not his ribs, amid it tempest of cheers he ii i v ito back into his seat. exultant in the glory of stifling to the very depths the deep-lyin4 passions of the Commons of England! Pitt's speech now s eem• like the recollection of a mighty sound in x •ur ear. Fox has left up you tho i m p ro goott that he had all the reason anti arguntelt on his side. Pitt gave you little ma t er i a t4 for thinking upon, and l ox . poured forth icassett of thought. But you not stop to o riticise. Your eyes are fixed on the rush to eat, and on the eager crowd of W higs reveille( who seek to grasp .their champiat's hand : and you leave the itonsc, as t on ished how a man of his apparently idle h a los can show himself the mate% for Pitt, a vother prodigy of powers—" not(1 in their eparate excellence, wonderful in( their epeeist eo mbituttion." Yon wonder i l ttill noire , when yon find that. Fox's speech %DIM scarcely told upon the division. The nitinister has gained by three to one, and Fox',4 glory is to inspire his beaten party in the , hour of defeat with hopes of faun. victory/ Follow the orator i s he drives to Boodle's. i where he sups. The e again h e is fi rst amon g st . the fi rst, revelling in spirits, not. p res uming in the least upon his it tellectual superiority. As in the morning at Revokes's, so now at Boodle's, he is welcomed by all, and makes himself happy amongst them. Will, he is entitled to Close t the night with plc arc , an d re p ose from his labours. Close th night ! Who talks of doing it ? Why, thou rustne novice, know that Charley Fox (again he is Charley) is now only beginning it ! See his countenance beaming with gratiti ration as he drains the flowing beakers. How he enjoys and takes part in the rattling talk and vehentetttly vivacious gaiety of the wits anti talkers ; kround hint. Ho makes us think of the description by Beaumont of the nights at the Mermaid :- - Ileartl words that have been S.ininilan and ou inn of subtle !buns, As ie that every on, front whence they chine 114.6 want t,. put his whole wit in *Jett, - • • ' ' - - ' the rest () An had resolved to live a fool .._ Of I is didl life." But what i strange look Fox's face is getting now ! We, have not seen him the whole day exhibit dot sinister expression. He fixes his eye on Lord Foley, and heeds not Courtenay's artificial wit and classical puns, nor does he lltilid " lll4e Hanger's"t aphorisms about the art of dres:sing, nor Fitzpatrick's raptures on 'town punch. EVell tilt ungh fresh news from Newmarket' bas conic to-night, lie does not care about it. ;Ve do not like that hard, callous expression ; it seems quite unnatural to his countenance. There is it vicious rigidity creeping over it that is very displeasing. He nods to lord Foley, and the pair leave the room, after a hackney-coach has been ordered. When the door has been closed upon them, Com-lenity, coarsely enough, with a toss of his bead, winks itt Lord Besborough, and unites, significant gestures. And now there is a chorus of sounds echoing the ofroin, " What a man that Fox is to he sore !" Ills talents sure extolled to the skies. and the state °lbis alliiirs is commented upon. Ile lists Ho doming fattler now to pay 140,0001. for his gambling. But he still is deep on tho turf, and has shares in blood horses,: and his cards may yet turn up trumps—and, better than all, Billy Pitt may loe turned out. Another hour has passed away Hine e that joyous supper at the club. The summer Inoming ham dawned. and the early market-gardeners ate Collll4l* into town, The eastern sky is streaked with, • NIP 1111. t rnet. " I Pr ttratotibus," commonly bound up with ILO work. , of Inchum, but nut believed to be front his pea. f Loyd i•olerwitte. S., Into all 1790 rot and partner liad thirty h.dsan en the turf. In 17M9 it was thought that he wg.ti at thr Ppring Sleeting at Newmarket 00,9001. Ili had great canalise, la Lard Iralora judigueut. (