with plain talk and take your chance of something rising out of it; or on that of Rousseau for the composition of a love-letter: to begin without knowing what you are going to say, and end without knowing what you have said. 'I must sit still,' he once said aside to Lord Shelburne, for, when once I am up, everything that is in my mind comes out.'

This habit of giving the rein to his impulsiveness and diverging from the argument at will, spoiled him for a debater; although it favoured the display of his unequalled powers of ridicule, sarcasm, and invective, when provoked by an interruption, an unguarded smile, or a gesture of dissent. His most telling replies were bitter personalities; like the celebrated one (paraphrased by Dr. Johnson) to old Horace Walpole, who had twitted him with his youth; or the terrible attack on Henry Fox, the first Lord Holland, who, in reference to a comment on the ill-looks of a witness at the Bar, had said: It is unjust, ungenerous, and unmanly to censure a man for that signature which God had impressed upon his countenance, and which therefore he could not by any means remedy or avoid.' Pitt started to his feet: 'I agree from my heart with the observation of my fellow-member it is forcible, it is judicious, it is true. But there are some (looking full at Fox) upon whose faces the hand of Heaven has so stamped the mark of wickedness, that it were impiety not to give it credit.' A reply of the higher and more comprehensive kind, embracing the whole course of the discussion. and all the bearings of the subject-like his son's on the slave-trade, in April, 1792-was as much above and beyond his intellectual range as an epic poem or a history.

Applying what a Roman critic said of Cicero and his times, Mr. Charles Butler (writing in 1824) hazards the opinion that no member of either House of the British Parliament will be ranked among the orators of

his country whom Lord North did not see or who did not see Lord North. Mr. Massey suggests that a contemporary of Lord North's might perhaps have said the same of Sir Robert Walpole; and we are far from clear that the saying would not hold equally good of Lord Palmerston. Let us come to particulars. Lord North saw or was seen by Lord Chatham and his son William Pitt, by the first Lord Holland and Charles James Fox, by Burke, Sheridan, Murray (Lord Mansfield), Dunning, Barré, Charles Townshend. Sir Robert Walpole saw or was seen by Lord Chatham, the first Lord Holland, Pulteney, Bolingbroke, Sir William Wyndham, Yonge, Carteret, Chesterfield, Murray. Lord Palmerston saw or was seen by William Pitt, Charles James Fox, Sheridan, Windham, Grattan, Plunket, Tierney, Grey, Grenville, Canning, Peel, Brougham, Copley, Sheil, O'Connell, Derby, Russell, Ellenborough (Earl of), Wilberforce (Bishop), Macaulay, Disraeli, Gladstone, Cobden, Bright, with many others whom the noble Lord would have been glad to hail as colleagues or proud to encounter in debate. But the line must be drawn somewhere; and we wish it to be clearly understood that we are not here dealing with political opinions or principles, with consistency or inconsistency, with public policy or statesmanship. We are critics, mere critics, of oratory for the nonce; and the degree of excellence attained in eloquence, in rhetorical skill, or in the use of the recognised weapons of parliamentary warfare, is the sole criterion of merit we shall apply.

Oddly enough, the first reflection which a review of these three contrasted eras or groups forces upon us is that neither of the three centre figures, neither Walpole, North, nor Palmerston, attained or retained his position by oratory. Sound manly sense, broad views, a high estimate and thorough knowledge of their country and their countrymen, proud self-confidence, rectitude

of purpose which more than half redeemed an inordinate love of place and power, equally characterized Walpole and Palmerston, although the fixed aim of the one was national honour at the risk of war, and that of the other a peace-at-any-price prosperity.

Like Walpole, Lord Palmerston had all the speaking and debating ability that was needed for the practical uses of a minister-par negotiis, neque supra. It is sufficient to refer to his speech on the Pacifico question; a speech which, embracing the whole foreign policy of the country, occupying four or five hours in the delivery, and spoken without a pause or a note, must take rank amongst parliamentary masterpieces, although it hardly ever rose to what is popularly called eloquence. Even the peroration, containing a now celebrated phrase, did not rise above the level of unimpassioned argument:

'I therefore fearlessly challenge the verdict which this House, as representing a political, commercial, and constitutional country, is to give on the question now before it; whether the principles on which her Majesty's Government has been conducted, and the sense of duty which has led us to think ourselves bound to afford protection to our fellowsubjects abroad, are proper and fitting guides for those who are charged with the government of England: and whether, as the Roman, in days of old, held himself free from indignity when he could say, Civis Romanus sum; so also a British subject, in whatever land he may be, shall feel confident that the watchful eye and the strong arm of England will protect him against injustice and wrong.'

1 It was on the fourth night of the same debate (June 28, 1850) that Sir Alexander Cockburn (now Chief Justice of England) established a reputation for eloquence, which has gone on steadily increasing, although the scene of its display, and consequently its character, have been changed. At the conclusion of his speech-to use the words of Sir Robert Peel who followed him-'one half of the Treasury benches were left empty, whilst honourable members ran one after another, tumbling over each other in their haste, to shake hands with the honourable and learned member.'

Lord Palmerston had humour of the genial give-andtake kind, which, for a party leader, is often more serviceable than wit. He was told that Mr. Osborne, a popular speaker, whose dash and sparkle are enhanced by good feeling and sagacity, regretted a personal conflict, which he had provoked. Tell him,' said Lord Palmerston, that I am not the least offended, the more particularly because I think I had the best of it.'

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Burke thus coarsely but graphically alluded to Lord North; The noble lord who spoke last, after extending his right leg a full yard before his left, rolling his flaming eyes, and moving his ponderous frame, has at length opened his mouth.' The noble lord's figure

was certainly ill fitted for oratorical effect, but by dint of tact, temper, and wit, he converted even his personal disadvantages into means of persuasion or conciliation.

'One member,' he said, 'who spoke of me, called me “that thing called a minister." To be sure,' he said, patting his large form, 'I am a thing; the member, therefore, when he called me a "thing," said what was true; and I could not be angry with him. But when he added, "that thing called a minister," he called me that thing which of all things he himself wished most to be, and therefore I took it as a compliment.'

With equal adroitness he turned his incurable sleepiness to account. When a fiery declaimer, after calling for his head, denounced him for sleeping, he complained how cruel it was to be denied a solace which other criminals so often enjoyed that of having a night's rest before their execution. And when a dull prosy speaker made a similar charge, he retorted that it was somewhat unjust in the gentleman to blame him for taking the remedy which he himself had been so considerate as to administer. Alderman Sawbridge having accompanied the presentation of a petition from Billingsgate with an invective of more than ordinary coarseness, Lord North began his reply in the following

words: I cannot deny that the hon. alderman speaks not only the sentiments but the very language of his constituents.'

Lord Chatham properly belongs to the preceding generation. The chief illustrations of Lord North's era were William Pitt, Charles James Fox, Sheridan, and Burke, magis pares quam similes: indeed, it would be difficult to name four men of nearly equal eminence presenting so many points of contrast. Pitt was a born orator. Directly after his maiden speech, some one said, Pitt will be one of the first men in Parliament.' 'He is so already,' answered Fox. It was by slow degrees that Fox himself attained his unrivalled excellence as a debater, and he attained it at the expense of his audience. During five whole sessions,' he used to say, 'I spoke every night but one; and I regret that I did not speak on that night too.'

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Pitt's style was stately, sonorous, full to abundance, smooth and regular in its flow: Fox's free to carelessness, rapid, rushing, turbid, broken, but overwhelming in its swell. Pitt never sank below his ordinary level, never paused in his declamation, never hesitated for a word: if interrupted by a remark or incident, he disposed of it parenthetically, and held on the even and lofty tenor of his way. Fox was desultory and ineffective till he warmed: he did best when he was provoked or excited: he required the kindling impulse, the explosive spark: he might be compared to the rock in Horeb before it was struck. He began his celebrated speech on the Westminster scrutiny by saying that far from expecting any indulgence, he could scarcely hope for fair justice from the House.' This raised a cry of order, and gave him occasion for repeating and justifying his obnoxious words in a succession of telling sentences which went far towards making the fortune of the speech. Mr. T. Grenville told Rogers, 'His (Fox's) speeches were full