dor. "He was not," it was said, "like Townshend, for ever on the rack of exertion, but rather lightened upon his subject and reached the point by the flashings of his mind, which, like those of his eye, were felt but could not be followed." He rarely involved himself in intricate or abstract speculation, or in long trains of reasoning; but no one was a greater master of those brief, keen arguments which are most effective in debate. No one could expose a fallacy with a more trenchant and epigrammatic clearness, or could illuminate his case with a more intense vividness. He is said to have cared less for the right of reply than most great speakers, but two of his most powerful speeches-his detailed refutation of Grenville's argument in favor of American taxation in 1766, and his answer in 1777 to Lord Suffolk's apology for the employment of Indians in war-were replies.

It was said by an acute critic that both his son and 10 Charles Fox often delivered abler speeches, but that neither of them ever attained those moments of transcendent greatness which were frequent with the elder Pitt, and that he alone of the three had the power not only of delighting and astonishing, but also of overawing the House. He had a grandeur and a manner peculiarly his own, and it was the preeminent characteristic of his eloquence that it impressed every hearer with the conviction that there was something in the speaker immeasurably greater even than his words. He delighted in touching 11 the moral chords, in appealing to strong passions, in arguing questions on high grounds of principle rather than on grounds of detail. As Grattan said, "Great subjects, great empires, great characters, effulgent ideas, and classical illustrations, formed the material of his speeches." His imagination was so vivid that he was accustomed to say that most things returned to him with greater force

the second time than the first. His diction, though often rising to an admirable poetic beauty, was in general remarkably simple, and his speeches were so little prepared and so little restrained that he feared to speak when he had any important secret relating to the subject of debate on his mind. As he himself said, As he himself said, "When my mind is full of a subject, if once I get on my legs, it is sure to run over." In the words of Walpole, "Though no man knew so well how to say what he pleased, no man ever knew so 12 little what he was going to say." But yet, as is often the case, this facility of spontaneous and sudden eloquence was only acquired by long labor, and it was probably compatible with a careful preparation of particular passages in his speeches. Wilkes described him as having given all his mind "to the studying of words and rounding of sentences." He had perused Barrow's sermons as a model of style with such assiduity that he could repeat some of them by heart. He told a friend that he had read over Bailey's "English Dictionary" twice from beginning to end. He was one of the first to detect the great merit of the style of Junius as a model for oratory, and he recommended some early letters which that writer had published under the signature of "Domitian" to the careful study of his son. One who knew him well described him as so fastidious that he disliked even to look upon a bad print, lest it should impair the delicacy of his taste.

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Yet, in truth, that taste was far from pure, and there was much in his speeches that was florid and meretricious, and not a little that would have appeared absurd bombast but for the amazing power of his delivery, and the almost magnetic fascination of his presence. The anecdotes preserved of the ascendency he acquired, and of the terror he inspired in the great councils of the realm, are so wonderful, and, indeed, so unparalleled, that they would be

incredible were they not most abundantly attested. “The terrible," said Charles Butler, "was his peculiar power; then the whole House sank before him." "His words," said Lord Lyttelton, "have sometimes frozen my young blood into stagnation, and sometimes made it pace in such a hurry through my veins that I could scarce support it." "No malefactor under the stripes of an executioner," said 14 Glover, "was ever more forlorn and helpless than Fox appeared under the lash of Pitt's eloquence, shrewd and able in parliament as Fox confessedly is." Fox himself, in one of his letters, describes a debate on a contested election, in which the member, who was accused of bribery, carried with him all the sympathies of the House, and kept it in a continual roar of laughter by a speech full of wit, humor, and buffoonery. "Mr. Pitt came down from the gallery and took it up in his highest tone of dignity. He was astonished when he heard what had been the occasion of their mirth. Was the dignity of the House of Commons on such sure foundations that they might venture themselves to shake it? Had it not, on the contrary, been diminishing for years, till now we are brought to the very brink of a precipice, when, if ever, a stand must be made. Then followed high com-15 pliments to the Speaker, eloquent exhortations to Whigs of all conditions to defend their attacked and declining liberty, 'unless you will degenerate into a little assembly, serving no other purpose than to register the arbitrary edicts of one too powerful a subject.' Displeased as well as pleased, allow it to be the finest speech that was ever made; and it was observed that by his first two periods he brought the House to a silence and attention that you might have heard a pin drop." On two occasions a member who attempted to answer him was so disconcerted by his glance, or by a few fierce

bowed, and

words which he uttered, that he sat down confused and paralyzed with fear. Charles Butler asked a member who was present on one of these occasions, "if the House did not laugh at the ridiculous figure of the poor mem16 ber?" "No, sir," he replied, 66 we were all too much awed to laugh." No speaker ever took greater liberties with his audience. Thus, when George Grenville in one of his speeches was urging in defense of a tax the difficulty of discovering a substitute: "Tell me where it should be placed; I say, tell me where?" he was interrupted by Pitt humming aloud the refrain of a popular song, "Tell me, gentle shepherd, where?" "If, gentlemen," began Grenville, when Pitt rose, walked contemptuously out of the House. "Sugar, Mr. Speaker," he once began, when a laugh arose. "Sugar," he repeated three times, turning fiercely round, "who will now dare to laugh at sugar?" and the members, like 17 timid school-boys, sank into silence. "On one occasion," wrote Grattan-who, when a young man, carefully followed his speeches-" on addressing Lord Mansfield, he said, 'Who are the evil advisers of his Majesty? is it you? is it you? is it you?' (pointing to the ministers until he came near Lord Mansfield). There were several lords round him, and Lord Chatham said, 'My lords, please to take your seats.' When they sat down, he pointed to Lord Mansfield and said, 'Is it you? Methinks Felix trembles."" Grattan adds, with much 18 truth: "It required a great actor to do this. Done by any one else it would have been miserable. It was said he was too much of a mountebank, but if so it was a great mountebank. Perhaps he was not so good a debater as his son, but he was a much better orator, a greater scholar, and a far greater man." It is manifest that, while his eloquence would have placed him first, or

among the first of orators, in any age or in any country, his usual style of speaking was only adapted to a period when regular reporters were unknown. Parliamentary reporting has immeasurably extended the influence of parliamentary speaking, it has done much to moderate its tone, and to purify it from extravagance and bombast, but it is extremely injurious to its oratorical character. The histrionic part of eloquence has almost lost its power. A great speaker knows that it is necessary to emasculate 19 his statements by cautions, limitations, and qualifications wholly unnecessary for the audience he addresses, but very essential if his words are to be perpetuated, and to be canvassed by the great public beyond the walls. He knows that language, which would exercise a thrilling effect upon a heated assembly in the fierce excitement of a midnight debate, would appear insufferably turgid and exaggerated if submitted the next day to the cold criticism of unimpassioned readers, and the mere fact, that while addressing one audience he is thinking of another, gives an air of unreality to his speaking. In the time of Pitt, however, reporting was irregular, fitful, and inaccurate. The real aim of the great orator was to move the audience before him; but a vague report of the immense power of his speeches was communicated to the country; and detached passages or phrases, eminently fitted to stir the passions of the people, were circulated abroad. If we pass from the oratory of Pitt to his charac-20 ter, we must speak with much more qualification. His faults were indeed many and very grave, but they were redeemed by some splendid qualities which dazzled his contemporaries, and have perhaps exercised a somewhat disproportionate influence upon the judgments of posterity. He was entirely free from all taint or suspicion of corruption. Entering public life at a time when the