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

PI takes up a long packet with "E. B." in the corner. It is I prolix MS. written in a tie mulous, hurried hand, with copious interliuea tious. But the morning is too oppressive to be ,in with poring over politics, and that dirty vil scrawl unl?on crumpled paper, with news about " Seagull * fran the famed Sam Wili ng. arrests his eyes. The political MS. it crumpled into a drawer, and, while our states man, with something like bustling activity. makes fresh notes in his betting-book ' there is usher din one his dearest friends. It is Fitzpatrick, e, dandy of the eighteenth century. an Irish humorist with some Parisian grace, and something of a military carriage. He is prematurely haggard and careworn from the campaiens of pleasure, and his conversation. neither edifying nor instructive, is vastly amusing. And while the two Mends are con fidentially discussing of their common affairs, for they arc eteep in each other's secrets, plea sant noise of laughter is heard on the stairs, and the swarthy face of Fox is gladdened as his dear sprightly Jack Townshend comes in along with the " Hare of many friends." What cokes ! what mirth! what capital sayings sparkle, flash, and fly about that little shabby drawing-room !It is brilliant with the hues of fancy and humour. And Fox himself-'*ith what an easy, delighted air he enjoys the banter and good humour of his companions! The names of the gifted and the beautiful are mentioned, and Fox tears open his invitations to the various scenes of gaiety and joy where his prosenen is persuasively bidden in the au tographs of the fashionable rulers of the age. Well, our statesman leads a pleasant life, and who would say that politics are a grave pur suit? Ay, or a great one ! Vet stay!! We must see more of the life of this man of ease. The day is wearing on, and ho saunters out to Brookes's. Every hand is put out to welcome him, and he is evidently the favourite of the club. Around him are clustered the Fitzroy*, and the Keppels, anu the St. Johns. How glad he is to see George Byng, and with what warmth he greets that •delicate, slender young man---the new member for Northumberland —a man of brilliant pro mise—Charles Grey ! Every ono is glad to see him. and he has a word for all. He is the king of his company, until a new arrival comes, and with courteous environment the great t arty lender acknowledges the presence of George Prince of Wales. They were early this morn ing in each other's company before, and the Prince's face betrays what Fox's countenance does not show—that a night of joy had been seeeeeded by the headache of repentance. Aud now the Prince and Fox retire to a pri vate room, where we must not, intrude on the secret plottings its which the vanity of Court bfe, and the passions of a political chieftain ark' eomtningled , lint soon the secret council is at an end, and, after a fresh ambuscade has been plotted against Mr. Pitt, the Prince and Fox emerge in high spirits, and the Prince gaily ehallenges Lord Derby to a game of bil liards, while Fox mounts his horse and goes to the Park. How the crowd look after him ! How all the idlers regard his well-known face! Set` 111111 beside the chariot y o nder! Who could think that this was a man deep in state atlitivs. while he eagerly talks gossip and prat tles badinage to the delighted ears of those lovely sisters, the Duchess of Devonshire and lady Dmicannon. Yes! He has made them happy. Ile certainly will join the coalition water party up to Richmond. What a gay. joyous scene it is to-day, and what a blaze of fashion is in the Park ! All eyes leolt towards Fox, as he continues to loiter by the side of the Duchess of Devonshire's chariot. See how admiring groups of provincials are gazing with admiration at the great lion of the day. They seri ttinise his careless, easy dress, and note his blue and buff costume. They see his face, unclouded with care. and hear his laugh, while be tells light. gay anecdotes to the brilliant occupants of the chariot. Hero comes Lady Lade and her eternal ponies ; and the Duchess looks grave, and Fox bites his lips. And here + " Seagull" won the °Wands at Agent, and in stakes (then smaller than new) won Onset on 1,6001. He easily beat the Prinne of Wales's " -" at Ascot, two miles for flee the • E ..__ respe _ _ _ _ _,e4 htus dist oldness, vote slam depending on _ miteh. ism Chilling used to ssy "Mr. For was s grind man, and knosed 'oases verT , weir I 41111 Holland thinks it beneath " the dignity of hinting to debt:ribs iiii uzullf* spealll4loSs on the tor& THE PRESS comes the Countess of Clermont along with Lady William Gordon, telling of life at Paris and Marie Antoinette. There is a gentleman riding near, and, as he salutes Charles Fox, the Duchess of Devonshire, wita her sprightly vivacity, quotes the line of the " Kolliad " « The cos* Villiers with his Saxes wakes Here comes the brilliant Colonel St. Leger, a star of fashion, and idol of the fair. He is welcomed with the sweetest smiles by the Dot hese of Devonshire. But the smile vanishes as St. Leger announces that the Duchess of Rutland, the brightest ornament of the Pittite female aristocracy, is driving hither in her pony carriage. There they are, the two rival beauties of the day—Devonshire excelling in fascination, and Rutland unrivalled in grace—the first a daughter of the house of Spencer, and inheriting much of the versatile talent of her race; the second a Somerset, with the blood of the Plantagenets in her veins. Both equal in the amount of admiration which followed them, but Devonshire decidedly car rying the palm in popularity, and the other achieving the victory in power. What a stately air has Rutland as she proudly sweeps by! Fresh from her vice-regal throne, she seems to have acquired more imposing dignity. And she smiles with flattered pride as she thinks of the lines in which Fox announced her con quest, when she was Marchioness of Granby : " Ye meteors, who with mad career Have rov'd through Fashion's atmosphere, Anti thou, young, fair, fantastic Devon, Wild as the comet in mid heaven, Hide your diminished heads, nor stay 1" usurp the shining realms of day, For set., th' unsullied morning light, With beams more constant and more bright, Iler splendid course begins to run, And all creation hails the attn."+ Aud uow Fox rides on slowly. One might suppose that he had much more to think of in life than toying and coquetting with pretty women. Is this the fitting life for a man pro fessing to live for empire? Instead of toying with beauties, ought he not to be studying statis tics" What would Sir Robert Down, thou snarler!! Know that it is an age of pas sion, of vague aspirations, of grand and stir ring social th caries. It is in the latter end of the eighteenth century, before the steam engine is invented, when the na me of Peel is only mentioned with spinning jennies, and Sheridan's lines on the new baronetcy:—long before the time when a Clerk talking blue-books for three hours could be hailed as a debater. It is characteristic of the time that the first debater should be also the fashion of the day. Ay ! the fashion ; and what spell there was in that word in those days. when Fox was play ing his great part ! It would have been good policy in those days for a statesman with the King and Queen adverse to him to court the smiles of celebrated beauty. But. see ! He is not a ilivonrite with all the lovely women. There is another lady in a pony carriage—for ny driving is the fema le ra g e of the time. What a decided cut this lady has given to Fox, who seemed anxious to salute her! She is very beautiful still, though already she has haul two husbands, and seine say that she is secretly married to --- ; but. thereby hangs a tale. and there, too, lies the reason why Mrs. Fitzherbert turns away her head from Charles Fox.ll And now the Park is getting thin, and the gay charioteers turn homeward their fairy steeds. Fox, too, is preparing to leave. He looks mother more grave than we could like. Could the apparition of Mrs. Fitzherbert have suggested unpleasant thoughts to him? Or does he wont to shake oil' that boring Tom • The lion. John Charles Villiers, a great friend of the Prince of Wales, father of the present Earl of Clarendon. + See " The Meteor, the Comet. and the Sun," from Mr. Fox's Tien, %%emu in in honour of the Marchioness of Onuthy. It is in these lines occur " epieenian Darner. For John searee knows which eex can claim her:' These lines are not printed in the memoirs of Fox under re% few. • Mr. Peel, Mr. Peel, hi ret mil for your zeal. I rn told they have dublid you Sir Bob— liy eoorse Manchester stuff, VIM have got wealth enough. And for honours you'll now drive a job. Mr. Peel. For honours you'll now drive ajob." See the letter (vol. ii.. p. 27e). in which Mr. Fos dissuades the Prince from thinking of the marriage. Mr. Fox's aunt, Lady Sarah, was very near being Queen of England seemly/a Walpomar -1 and Mr. Grenville. Shevras a eery extraordinarywoman. First e ried to one of the Dunbtur of Suffolk, she was subsequently united to Mokior George Napier. and was mother of the eon• *lnca of Seinde and the brilliant Waterton of the Peninsular War. SATURDAY, Stepney who Wants to ride with him? Well, he is at last alone riding out through Mouses ter-gate, and he puts his horse to a canter, aid is soon at his favourite adjostr-s-the house of Mrs. Armistead. Ah! that name tionjureattp recollections of unlawful love. Yes ! and of a love that cherished Fox as he was lova, by none other in the world ! Which of all his gay worldly companions, of all the friends that extolled his genius, would do as that woman, and risk life to secure the existence of the popular leader? Now she is his mistress, but the day shall come when he will gratefully call her by the sacred name of wife, and give her his hand in marriage, as the only recompense in his power for risking her life as his nurse in a contagious malady that but for her would have proved mortal.* She seems surprised to see him. She did not expect him for another hour. So much the better—he has something to read before dinner. Tossing himself on a sofa, he draws from his pocket a paper that we saw this morn ing. Yes ! it is the "E. B." paper ; and with knit brows he begins to apply himself to a dis quisition from the pen of " the greatest philo sopher in action that the world ever saw. "t Fox reads—admires, and learns from one who in the science of politics was his master. "Well," he mutters, " what genius and kno*ledge this good Edmund has! Yet the House of Com mons prefers me to him, and Burke knows It, and by Jove the House is right ! for where could a House of Commons be found to follow this profound reasoning, these soaring flights of fancy? Speeches, as I often say, are made to be spoken, and not to be read, as the House knows by instinct. Fox on his legs, and Burke upon pa p e r—such is the right division of labour." Be masters the paper with rapid facility, tenaciously grasps its facts, and *ith intuitive logic sees the variety of views which the speculative mind of Burke has suggested. Without a ruffle on his brow, he joyously an nounces that he has got his task ready for the Commons, joins his mistress at their quiet dinner, where she eagerly listens to her Charles eloquently rhapsodising about the merits of a marvellous new actress—one Mrs. Siddons— with at voice almost as grand as that of Mr. Pitt, and with a delivery unrivalled by the ora tors of any time. Well ! while Fox is dining. we shall see what the Commons are about, who arc eagerly waiting for his appearance. Here we are in old St. Stephens! The first thing .that strikes us is the plainness of the room where the chief rulers of the British empire are assetnbled. Here is no splendid hall, no tesselated corridor, no long-drawn vistas, or fretted vaults of Gothic architecture. The whole Owe reminds one of a superior descrip tion of at Dissenting meeting-house. Here are the gentlemen of England assembled to the number of nearly five hundred. How easy it, is to know the Opposition, with the number of blue and butts amongst them. What a number of old men are in the House! and there are also at number of very young men, fresh from college. But where is Pitt ? He has not come yet ; there is his place vacant on the Treasury bench, and there is Pitt's right-hand man—tall Harry I)ll.lHW—ready to sing the Scotch tune of " What wants Inc'?" Look at that (aid, queer creature, looking like on overgrown shrimp in contortions. Ah ! that is at great. friend of Pites—lis young Wilberforce, the member for Yorkshire. The young man talking to him, with a star on his breast, and with a pair of eyes outshining his star. is young Lord Mornington—a poor Irish Lord—rather a favourite of the King. He has not yet realised the expectations formed of him. There is Sir John Scott, the Attorney General, with his grave, sensible, sturdy face. What a contrast he is to that elegant aristo. eratie-looking member on the front Opposition -------_ * The eanse of the marriage as t.tated in the text has not been nehlistwil before, to our knowledge. but we have it 01) pri rate information. lox wan taken from his lodgings in the even ing to St. James's Clittreli, and married privately by the 1100. an Rev. Mr. St. John. It UR% the first that he left ho d use after his illnesn. See also his lines time to his wife on his tif tied' birthday. + So said sir Jaroes Mackintosh, applying Burke's own defini tion of political science. "It is the business of the speculative philosopher to mark the proper ends of government. It. is the province of the statesman, who is the philosopher in odic% to And meow for these ends."—(Thoteghte on the Disecnsteate.) This distinction has always been overlooked by the Benthonites and Rad , cals. tlence their spurious philosophy and shallow libe• , Wino. w