is impatient under this castigation. I will hit lower or higher, just as he pleases, but he must allow me to hit somewhere. Mr. Rowcliff has asked me what government I mean to join. Now, that is a question which must depend upon the future; but I will tell him what government I do not mean to join. I can assure you and him that I never will join a government called a Rowcliff Administration." The noble lord presently touched as follows upon another question that had been put to him: "I am for septennial Parliaments. A septennial Parliament, practically, is not a Parliament that lasts for seven years, for we all know that the average duration of the Parliament during the last thirty or forty years has not been more than three or four years. If you establish annual Parliaments you will have the country in a perpetual commotion. Your members of Parliament will not have time to learn their duties, and your business will be ill done. In the same way, if you have triennial Parliaments, during the first year the members will be learning their business, in the second year they will just be beginning useful measures, and in the third year they will be thinking of the Rowcliffs of their respective constituencies (laughter), and endeavouring to shape their course, not for the good of their country, but in order to conciliate the most noisy of their constituents."*

Manner in Debate.-Speaking of one of Lord Palmerston's early displays in the House of Commons, Lord Dalling remarks that, while portions of his address were delivered with great ease and facility, "in others there was that hesitation, and superabundance of gesture with the hands, which were perceptible to the last when Lord Palmerston spoke unprepared, and was seeking for words; for, though he always used the right word, it often cost him pains to find it."

Happy Quotation.-Lord Palmerston was often peculiarly happy in the quotations with which he enforced an argument or illustrated a position in debate; and these not unfrequently culled rather from the byeways than from the highways of literature. One instance may be mentioned. During a discussion on the style of architecture to be adopted for the new law courts, his lordship was maintaining the propriety of admitting a plentiful supply of natural light into the obscure and knotty questions of law, and of giving to the gentlemen of the long robe scope and verge enough to facilitate their movements from court to court. "We have all heard," he said, "of

'Rich windows that exclude the light,

And passages that lead to nothing.'

The architectural features to which his lordship referred were characte ristics of that ancient pile where in former times—

"My grave Lord Keeper led the brawls,

The seal and maces danced before him,"

but he, for one, did not think it desirable that they should be repeated too often at the present day.

Compare under "Sir Richard Steele," p. 95.

THE EARL OF CLARENDON.

(1800-1870.)

Exciting Spanish Gratitude.-The Earl of Clarendon, who was Foreign Minister at the outbreak of the Crimean War, succeeded to the peerage on the death of his uncle in 1839, and never sat in the House of Commons. His earlier years were devoted to diplomacy, and he had for some time filled the post of British Minister at Madrid, when he was called to the House of Lords, and resigned his ambassadorial functions. He had not been long a member of the Upper House when a debate on Spanish affairs arose, in which Lord Clarendon ably defended the policy of the Government he had represented, and spoke warmly of the prospects of Liberal institutions in Spain. His speech so pleased the Spaniards that it was circulated throughout the country, a gold medal was struck in his honour, and it was resolved to present the upholder of Spanish dignity with a handsome work of art.

"Drifting into War."-On the 14th of February, 1854, the Marquis of Clanricarde, in moving in the House of Lords for further information respecting the cessation of diplomatic relations with the Court of St. Petersburg, and the war which appeared imminent, inquired of the Government, "If we are at peace, what is the peace? and what is the peace that is the object of the war?" In the course of his reply the Earl of Clarendon said: "The question had been asked whether we were at peace or war, and was one very difficult to answer distinctly. We are not at war, because war is not declared; we are not strictly at peace with Russia. (A laugh.) My noble friend may laugh; but he must know perfectly well that I am correct in saying that we are not at war with Russia, although diplomatic relations with that country are suspended. . . Therefore, I consider that we are in the intermediate state; that our desire for peace is just as sincere as ever; but then, I must say that our hopes of maintaining it are gradually dwindling away, and that we are drifting towards war."

"Europe on a Mine."-The Earl of Clarendon used this expression with reference to the state of Europe before the Crimean War. In a speech on the 25th of May, 1855, he said: “We have learnt a great deal of the intentions of Russia, and the means she possessed of giving effect to those intentions. We now know what were the vast military resources of Russia, how stealthily they had been accumulated, and how readily they could be made available. We now know something of the almost incredible amount of warlike stores which had been accumulated in Sebastopol, where Russia had no commerce to protect, and we are also aware of the gigantic fortifications which were contemplated at Bomarsund. Why, Europe was really standing upon a mine without being aware of it, while the influence of Russia was so skilfully exercised as to paralyse both Governments and people. The encroachments of Russia were unheeded, although her designs had been suspected and denounced; but it was nobody's business to interfere effectually, and no one wished to

disturb the general peace, until the mine which had been silently and slowly prepared was exploded by the rashness of Prince Menchikoff."

LORD MACAULAY.

(1800-1859.)

His Characteristics as a Speaker.-By all accounts (writes Dean Milman) Macaulay's delivery was far too rapid to be impressive; it wanted also variety and flexibility of intonation. Even the most practised reporters panted after him in vain; how much more the slower intellects of country gentlemen and the mass of the House! This, however, only heightens our astonishment that speeches so full, so profoundly meditated, yet with so much freedom, with no appearance of being got by heart, with such prodigality of illustration and allusion, should be poured forth with such unhesitating flow, with such bewildering quickness of utterance. To read them with delight and profit, we read them rather slowly; we can hardly conceive that they were spoken less deliberately. It may be questioned, and has been questioned, whether Macaulay was, or could have become, a masterly debater. This accomplishment, except in rare examples, is acquired only by long use and practice. When Macaulay entered the House, the first places were filled by men of established influence and much parliamentary training. Even if he had felt called upon to make himself more prominent, it may be doubted whether he could have sufficiently curbed his impetuous energy, or checked his torrent of words. He would have found it difficult to assume the stately, prudent, reserved, compressed reply; he might have torn his adversaries' arguments to shreds, but he would not have been content without a host of other arguments, and so would have destroyed the effect of his own confutation. Still, it is remarkable that on two occasions a speech of Macaulay's actually turned the vote of the House, and carried the question (a very rare event) in his own way-the debate on the Copyright Act, and the question of judges holding seats in the House of Commons. Though he took his seat, Lord Macaulay never spoke in the House of Peers; he went down, we believe, more than once with the intention of speaking, but some unexpected turn in the debate deprived him of his opportunity; his friends, who knew the feeble state of his health at that time, were almost rejoiced at their disappointment in not hearing him in that which would have been so congenial a field for his studied and matured eloquence.

"

"Express Train Oratory. The following graphic sketch of Macaulay's demeanour in the House and his manner in delivery is from Francis's "Orators of the Age"-"In the House of Commons, abstraction is his chief characteristic. He enters the House with a certain polestar to guide him-his seat; how he reaches it seems as if it were a process unknown to him. Seated, he folds his arms and sits in silence, seldom speaking to his colleagues, or appearing to notice what is going forward. An opening is made in the discussion, and he rises, or rather darts up from his seat, plunging at once into the very heart of his subject, without exordium or apologetic preface. In fact, you have for a few seconds

heard a voice, pitched in alto, monotonous, and rather shrill, pouring forth words with inconceivable velocity, ere you have become aware that a new speaker, and one of no common order, has broken in upon the debate. A few seconds more, and cheers-perhaps from all parts of the House-rouse you from your apathy, compelling you to follow that extremely voluble, and not very enticing voice, in its rapid course through the subject on which the speaker is entering, with a resolute determination, as it seems, never to pause. You think of an express train, which does not stop even at the chief stations. On, on he speeds, in full reliance on his own momentum, never stopping for words, never stopping for thoughts, never halting for an instant, even to take breath-his intellect gathering new vigour as he proceeds, hauling the subject after him, and all its possible attributes and illustrations, with the strength of a giant, leaving a line of light on the pathway his mind has trod, till, unexhausted and apparently inexhaustible, he brings this remarkable effort to a close by a peroration, so highly sustained in its declamatory power, so abounding in illustration, so admirably framed to crown and clench the whole oration, that surprise, if it has even begun to wear off, kindles anew, and the hearer is left utterly prostrate and powerless by the whirlwind of ideas and emotions that has swept over him."

66

His Early Speeches.-Macaulay's first speech in Parliament was made on the Jewish Disabilities, in 1830, and was moderately successful; but in the following year his masterly speeches on the Reform Bill brought him to the front rank as an orator. Jeffrey, his colleague on the Edinburgh, who was also in Parliament, thus wrote to Lord Cockburn respecting Macaulay's speech on the second reading of the bill: No division last night, as I predicted, and not a very striking debate. A curious series of prepared speeches by men who do not speak regularly, and far better expressed than nine-tenths of the good speeches, but languid and inefficient, from the air of preparation, and the want of nature and authority, with which they are spoken. There was but one exception, and it was a brilliant one. I mean Macaulay, who surpassed his former appearance in closeness, fire, and vigour, and very much improved the effect of it, by a more steady and graceful delivery. It was prodigiously cheered, as it deserved, and I think puts him clearly at the head of the great speakers, if not the debaters, of the House. I once meant to have said something, but I now think it impossible." A session or two later, Jeffrey again wrote: "I breakfasted to-day at Rogers's with Macaulay and Sydney Smith! both in great force and undaunted spirit. Mac. is a marvellous person. He made the very best speech that has been made this session, on India, a few nights ago, to a House of less than fifty. The Speaker, who is a severe judge, says he rather thinks it the best speech he ever heard."

An Indiscretion.-In 1839, Lord Melbourne offered to Macaulay the office of Secretary at War with a seat in the Cabinet-the office, however, being then one of second rank, as the chief responsibility in army affairs then lay with the Secretary of State for War and the Colonies. The office was willingly accepted, particularly as it was coupled

with an honour which had been denied to men like Burke and Sheridan. The appointment of course necessitated the return of Macaulay to his constituents for re-election; and he incurred much ridicule and censure by a want of taste and judgment—especially remarkable in the case of so keen a critic-in dating his address to the electors of Edinburgh from Windsor Castle, where he was staying as the Queen's guest.

Giving the House a Story.-The following may be taken as an example of Macaulay's power to illustrate and enliven a subject of debate, however abstruse its nature. In February, 1845, Sir Robert Peel brought forward his New Tariff, in which were proposed discriminating duties on sugar, a prohibitory duty being imposed on foreign sugar manufactured by slave labour, while raw sugar of similar production was to be admitted freely for manufacture here. I remember," said Mr. Macaulay, “something very like the right honourable baronet's morality in a Spanish novel, which I read long ago. I beg pardon of the House for detaining them with such a trifle, but the story is much to the purpose. A wandering lad, a sort of Gil Blas, is taken into the service of a rich old silversmith, a most pious man, who is always telling his beads, who hears mass daily, and observes the feasts and fasts of the Church with the utmost scrupulosity. The silversmith is always preaching honesty and piety. Never,' he constantly repeats to his young assistant, never touch what is not your own; never take liberties with sacred things.' Sacrilege, as uniting theft with profaneness, is the sin of which he has the deepest horror. One day, while he is lecturing after his usual fashion, an illlooking fellow comes into the shop with a sack under his arm. • Will you buy these?' says the visitor, and produces from the sack some church plate and a rich silver crucifix. 'Buy them!' cries the pious man. 'No, nor touch them; not for the world. I know where you got them. Wretch that you are, have you no care for your soul?' 'Well, then,' says the thief, 'if you will not buy them, will you melt them down for me ? 5 'Melt them down!' answers the silversmith, that is quite another matter.' He takes the chalices and the crucifix with a pair of tongs; the silver, thus in bond, is dropped into the crucible, melted, and delivered to the thief, who lays down five pistoles, and decamps with his booty. The young servant stares at this strange scene. But the master very gravely resumes his lecture. My son,' he says, 'take warning by that sacrilegious knave, and take example by me. Think what a load of guilt lies on his conscience. You will see him hanged before long. But as to me, you saw that I would not touch the stolen property. I keep these tongs for such occasions; and thus I thrive in the fear of God, and manage to turn an honest penny.""

Subscriptions to Race Meetings, &c.-During Macaulay's earlier connection with Edinburgh as one of its representatives, he was applied to for a subscription to the annual race meeting of the city, the sum of fifty guineas having usually been given under such circumstances. He declined to continue the practice, and thus expressed his views to his friend Mr. Adam Black: "In the first place, I am not clear that the object is a good one. In the next place, I am clear that by giving