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Lord John perform? I must have seen him, I suppose, and heard him, too, but my memory is treacherous.

TICKLER.

Why, he's a very small concern of a mannikin, no doubt; but John Bull was quite wrong in likening him to an apothecary's boy. No, no, he has, notwithstanding his inches, perfectly the air of high birth and high breeding. His appearance is petty-not mean-and such I fancy to be the case intellectual as well. The features are rather good than otherwise. Baldness gives something of the show of a forehead-sharp nose-figure neatish -a springy step. The voice is clear, though feeble-the words are smooth decorous words, arranged in trim deftly-balanced sentences-the sense, however atrocious, is obvious to the lowest capacity-and he gets on as easily in expounding the merits of a New Constitution for Old England as our dear friend Johnny Ballantyne, (of whom, by the bye, his outward man put me strongly in mind,) as dear jocund Johnny, poor fellow, used to do in opening up to the gaze of the curious, in former days, a fresh importation of knicknackeries from the Palais Royal, or riband-boxes from Brussels. Alas! poor Yorick!

NORTH.

“And if I die this day near Ilium's wall,

At least by Hellas' noblest hand I fall

Beneath volcanic steel this breast shall bleed,

These limbs be trampled by Pelides' steed!"

TICKLER.

I should rather have likened Lord Johnny to the Ajax Oileus, O'Connell being the Ajax Telamonius, of Reform, Burdett its Nestor, Jeffrey its Ulysses, and our friend of the blacking-van the Thersites. The Pelides of

the occasion, such as he is, must be recognised in Stanley. He is the only ne of the crew that brings any thing like "arms divine" into the field. But it won't do to follow out the joke-for he is no match for Hector.

NORTH.

Judging from the debates, I should say Stanley shewed more of what they call Parliamentary talent than any one of his party. The reporters are such queer rogues, that it is impossible almost to know whether any given speech was or not in the reality an eloquent one; but one can't be mistaken as to the readiness of his replies-his off-hand side-hits-his complete possession of himself, his business, and the house. Well, 'tis a pity-but we can't help it. Alas! for Latham house! Does his aspect, now, recall any of the old Ferdinandos ?

TICKLER.

He is a pale, middle-sized, light-haired, at first sight rather ordinary looking lad-of perhaps five-and-thirty-but the eye is brilliant, the forehead compact, and the mouth full of decision and vigour. He speaks unaffectedly, with perfect ease and coolness, is afraid of nobody, has repartee at command, and occasionally rises into spunky declamation. I never saw either his father or the old earl; and not being rich enough to possess a Lodge, have not had the means of comparing his corporeal presence with any of the ancestral shadows. But come what may, there can be little doubt this youth is destined to play a considerable part, and leave a name marked in eternum, whether for good or evil. I must say he was almost the only one of them that impressed me with any thing like kindly feelings. He has the air of a man of blood, honesty, temper, spirit, and intelligence-and not one atom of conceit that I could discover. But that want, indeed, was to be expected from the quality of his brains.

NORTH.

Yes, yes-men of real talent in general under-rate themselves-by the bye, I believe I might safely say so of all men of genius.

TICKLER.

May be but so does not either Charles Grant, or Robert Grant, or Lord Palmerston, or any other that I forgathered with of that by-all-but-themselves-compassionated junto, who, having spent their lives in worshipping Canning, are now, before he is well cold in his grave, staking honour, and

even existence, on the doctrines and principles, of which, young and old, and with his dying breath, he was the bitterest in hatred, and the most eloquent in denunciation. These gentlemen, I am concerned to say, appeared to me to look about them, one and all, with an air not only not of contrition, shame-facedness, and humble mind, but of considerable satisfaction-as who should say: The experience of three years and a half that have passed since the death of George Canning, anno ætatis 57, has been more than sufficient to place us not only on a level with, but ten miles above HIM-OUR chief, OUR philosopher, OUR creed-maker and creed-expounder, OUR only faith, hope, salvation, presidium et dulce decus. Here we are-behold and reverence in us the candid, consistent, above all, the conscientious disciples and followers, but now despisers and insulters, of THE ANTIJACOBIN! This is pretty well. "My foot mine officer," quoth poor King Lear.

NORTH.

Many are the degrees of human hatred-but the highest, by far and long away, is that with which the really small man hates the really great man, that, from circumstances, he is obliged to obey. Welcome, sweet, and blessed to the long-suffering spirit is the hour when that generous feeling may at length shew itself in manly openness and majestic safety.

TICKLER.

It must, however, be admitted, that, croose as they all look, they have as yet been confoundedly shy of the gab on this grand occasion. As far as I recollect, one speech from Robert Grant is all the clique have as yet produced; and surely that was not a very splendid bit of Claphamism.

NORTH.

Splendid mud. Tell it not in Gath. Well, Jeffrey, at all events, kept up our credit

TICKLER.

He certainly kept up any thing rather than the credit of Whiggery, Blue and Yellow, and the Right Honourable Francis. I never was more surprised than when, having heard at Bellamy's that he was on his legs, I ran down, and became witness, ocular and auricular, of the style and method in which he had thought fit to present himself to the House. I have not frequented the Jury Court of late years, it is true-but I certainly should hardly have recognised any thing whatever of my old acquaintance. First of all, he looked smaller and greyer than I could have anticipated-then his surtout and black stock did in nowise set him-then his attitude was at once jaunty and awkward, spruce and feckless. Instead of the quick, voluble, fiery declaimer of other days or scenes, I heard a cold thin voice doling out little, quaint, metaphysical sentences, with the air of a provincial lecturer on logic and belles lettres. The House were confounded-they listened for half an hour with great attention, waiting always for the real burst that should reveal the redoubtable Jeffrey-but it came not-he took out his orange, sucked it coolly and composedly-smelt to a bottle of something and sucked again-and back to his freezing jargon with the same nonchalance. At last he took to proving to an assembly of six hundred gentlemen, of whom I take it at least five hundred were 'squires, that property is really a thing deserving of protection." This will never do," passed round in a whisper.-Old Maule tipt the wink to a few good Whigs of the old school, and they adjourned up stairs-the Tories began to converse de omnibus rebus et quibusdam aliis-the Radicals were either snoring or grinning-and the great gun of the north ceased firing amidst such a hubbub of inattention, that even I was not aware of the fact for several minutes. After all, however, the concern read well enough in the newspapers. The truth is, he had delivered a very tolerable article; but as to the House of Commons, a more complete failure there never was nor will be.

NORTH.

Aye, aye, no man on the borders of sixty should dream of taking the field in a new region-least of all in that; and if he has achieved a considerable reputation of another sort elsewhere, so much the worse for him still. Jeffrey should have let Cockburn be Advocate. His loud, but mellow brogue, his plausible, homely, easy singsong, would, I suspect, have had a better

VOL. XXX. NO. CLXXXIV.

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chance up yonder. And I'm sure his clever, decided, man-of-the-world tact in actual business, would have been found far more serviceable than all Jeffrey's elegant qualities put together here. Cockburn would never have got into all these ludicrous scrapes-Forfar, Edinburgh, Haddington, Stirling. Why, our friend has already dabbled in more hot water, and all of his own boiling, too, than ever troubled the honest Major during ten long years of the tufted gown.

TICKLER.

Here's a bumper, and a full one, to good Sir William-and may we soon see him in that gown again, or in a warmer one! - Fill your glass, James. You can't do it to a worthier or a worse used man-but byganes are byganes; and I venture to say, if ever we see a Tory government again, we shall see one above such doings as the Abercrombie job—

NORTH.

Utinam. The Duke, at least, has seen enough of such manœuvres. But since Jeffrey is Advocate, I heartily wish he may secure something worthy of his reputation and standing before his office fails him.

TICKLER.

With all my heart. You will laugh when I say it; but do you know it is a plain simple fact, that this Tom Macaulay put me much more in mind of the Jeffrey of ten years ago, than did the Jeffrey ipsissimus of hodie.

NORTH.

You pay Mr Macauley a high compliment-the highest, I think, he has ever met with.

TICKLER.

Not quite for it is the fashion, among a certain small coterie at least, to talk of him as "the Burke of our age.' -However, he is certainly a very clever fellow, the cleverest declaimer by far on that side of the House, and, had he happened to be a somebody, we should, no doubt, have seen Tom in high places ere now.

NORTH.

A son of old Zachary, I believe? Is he like the papa ?

TICKLER.

So I have heard-but I never saw the senior, of whom some poetical planter has so unjustifiably sung

"How smooth, persuasive, plausible, and glib,

From holy lips is dropp'd the specious fib."

The son is an ugly, cross-made, splay-footed, shapeless little dumpling of a fellow, with a featureless face too-except indeed a good expansive forehead-sleek puritanical sandy hair-large glimmering eyes-and a mouth from ear to ear. He has a lisp and a burr, moreover, and speaks thickly and huskily for several minutes before he gets into the swing of his discourse; but after that, nothing can be more dazzling than his whole execution. What he says is substantially, of course, mere stuff and nonsense; but it is so well worded, and so volubly and forcibly delivered-there is such an endless string of epigram and antithesis-such a flashing of epithets-such an accumulation of images-and the voice is so trumpetlike, and the action so grotesquely emphatic, that you might hear a pin drop in the House. Manners Sutton himself listens. It is obvious that he has got the main parts at least by heart-but for this I gave him the more praise and glory. Altogether, the impression on my mind was very much beyond what I had been prepared for-so much so, that I can honestly and sincerely say I felt for his situation most deeply, when Peel was skinning him alive the next evening, and the sweat of agony kept pouring down his well-bronzed cheeks under the merciless infliction.

NORTH.

The feeling does credit to your heart. Have you read his article on Byron in the Edinburgh?

TICKLER.

Not I. I wonder how many articles on Byron we are expected to read. Is there to be no end of this jabber-this brainless botheration about a case as plain as a pikestaff, and that lies too in a nutshell?

NORTH.

Macauley's paper, however, is an exceedingly clever thing, and you ought to glance your eye over it. The Edinburgh has had nothing so good these several years past. In fact, it reads very like a paper in one of their early numbers-much the same sort of excellencies-the smart, rapid, popgun impertinence-the brisk, airy, new-set truisms, mingled with cold, shallow, heartless sophistries-the conceited phlegm, the affected abrupt ness, the unconscious audacity of impudence the whole lively, and amusing, and much commended among the dowagers

TICKLER.

Especially the smut. Well, I shall read it by and bye.

NORTH.

You said he was the best declaimer on that side. Did you hear Shiel?

TICKLER.

I did and he is a very clever one too-but not so effective as Macauley. I daresay he may be the abler man, take him all in all, of the two; but his oratory is in worse taste, and, at any rate, too Irish to be quite the thing yonder. The House, however, gave him a most gracious hearing, and I for one was much edified.

NORTH.

The thing looked very well in the Report. How does he look himself?

TICKLER.

He's another of your little fellows-but not in the least like either Lord Johnny, or Jeffrey, or Macauley. A more insignificant person as to the bodily organ I never set spectacles on. Small of the smallest in stature, shabby of the shabbiest in attire, fidgety and tailorlike in gesture, in gait shambling and jerking-with an invisible nose, huge nostrils, a cheesy complexion, and a Jewish chin. You would say it was impossible that any thing worth hearing should come from such an abortion. Nor do the first notes redeem him. His voice is as hoarse as a deal-board, except when it is as piercing as the rasp of a gimlet; and of all the brogues I have heard, his is the most abominable-quite of the sunk area school. But never mind-wait a little-and this vile machinery will do wonders.

We can wait. Fill your glass.

NORTH.

TICKLER.

To make some amends for her carelessness to all other external affairs, Nature has given him as fine a pair of eyes as ever graced human head-large, deeply set, dark, liquid, flashing like gems; and these fix you presently like a basilisk, so that you forget every thing else about him; and though it would be impossible to conceive any thing more absurdly ungraceful than his action-sharp, sudden jolts and shuffles, and right-about twists and leapsall set to a running discord of grunts and screams-yet before he has spoken ten minutes, you forget all this too, and give yourself up to what I have always considered a pleasant sensation-the feeling, I mean, that you are in the presence of a man of genius.

NORTH.

Even his poetry shewed something of the real fire.

TICKLER.

Some atrocious bad taste, in the way of egotistical allusion, spoiled the tailpiece; but had he known when to stop-I really think he might have established himself as one of their first-rates. As it was, he did fifty times better than either Robert Grant, or Denman (he, indeed, was bitter bad), or Sir James Grahame (whom I thought cold and pompous, and somehow not in earnest), or Hobhouse (who, however, is far above the common pitch), or even O'Connell, or indeed any of them, but Macauley. I am not of course comparing such folk seriously with Jeffrey or Mackintosh-they belong to another sort of calibre; but on this occasion, so chilled and hampered were they at every turn with their own recorded opinions, reviews, lectures, speeches, and histories, that they cut but indifferent figures-and the novi homunculi had the Whig garland among them

NORTII.

The Tory evergreens being divided between

TICKLER.

Let me see. I need not say any thing of Peel; for since the Chancellor's departure, he is more entirely and completely the lord and master of that queer place than any man has been since the death of Pitt. Even Pitt had his Fox to grapple with, and Canning had his Brougham; but now there is no competition-not even the semblance of a rivalry. Neither need I be talking about Croker to you-you well know, that nothing but his position in the government, and yet out of the Cabinet, could have prevented him from being the first speaker of his time long ere this time of day. His dealing with Jeffrey was like the wolf dandling the kid. He tore him to pieces with the ease-I wish I could help adding, with the visible joy-of a demon. The effect was such, that after ten minutes, the Whigs could not bear it. They trooped out file after file, black, grim, scowling, grinding their teeth, in sheer imbecile desperation. A great lord of the party, who sat just before me under the gallery, whispered to his neighbour, "God-damn-him," with a gallows croak, and strode out of the place, as if he had been stung by a rattlesnake.

NORTH.

I have heard Croker in days past, and can easily conceive what he must be now that the fetters of office no longer cramp him. His action struck me as somewhat brusque-but his voice is a capital one, and he is not likely to be at a loss for words or ideas. What a blasted disgrace to the party that they kept him out of the Cabinet, and set over his head, among others, so many, comparatively speaking, sheer blockheads-some of whom, moreover, have deserted us in τροφεύγοισι!

TICKLER.

Aye, aye, that's but one leaf out of the black volume, that may now, I fear, be safely christened their Doomsday Book. Only to think of such blind, base, self-murdering iniquity! heigh ho!

NORTH.

Mr William Bankes was extolled in the Quarterly, I saw. But that, perhaps, might be accounted for.

TICKLER.

I assure you he deserved a deuced deal more than they said of him, nevertheless. I own I had taken up a prejudice against him, considering him as a mere dandy-traveller, sketcher, reviewer, diner-out, &c.; but, to my infinite astonishment, I saw a plain, unaffected, gentlemanlike, but utterly undandylike, person rise on the second bench, and heard him deal out with equal ease, in the same clear manly tone, delicate banter, grinding sarcasm, lucid narrative, pathetic excursus, and splendid peroration. The effect was, I presume, almost as unexpected by others as by me-for he has spoken very seldom-but it was great and decided; and why William Bankes was not Irish Secretary, or something of the sort, ten years back, if it was not prevented by his own indolence or shyness, I am at a loss to account for in any manner at all creditable to our quondam high and mighty masters-now our humble brethren in the-to them-new calamities of independence.

NORTH.

Why, I think the practice of our present rulers ought to be considered before we speak too harshly of the late ones. When out of place, they were always held up by us, as well as others, as a set of persons who really did behave well to their own followers, and therein affording a marked contrast to the Tories. And to be sure they did so. Praise and pudding they grudged not, neither did they spare. Their reviews were encomiastic, their houses were open, their fêtes were brilliant, their private patronage unwearied and thoroughgoing-their adversaries, as in dignity bound, adopting in all these particulars the diametrically opposite line. But now that they are really in, now that the real loaves and fishes are in their disposal-what, after all, do we perceive in their doings, that ought to make us think with new regret of the obtuse shabbiness of their predecessors? In

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