their kind, and we doubt whether Macaulay, among all his gorgeous pieces of historical painting, has anything more impressive than the celebrated description of the landing of the Pilgrims, or the vivid picture of the deathbed of Copernicus. The eulogy on La Fayette, with its masterly contrast between La Fayette and Napoleon, and the concluding apostrophe to Washington's picture and the bust of La Fayette, abound also in that vigor of conception, that luxuriance of imagery, that felicity of allusion, that beauty of word-painting, and that exquisite rhythmus, which characterize all his productions. He has rifled the gardens, both of ancient and modern literature, of their amaranthine flowers, and their fragrance breathes from every sentence that drops from his pen. All these gifts would have been comparatively unavailing, had his physical gifts not corresponded to them. Happily, Nature did not tantalize him in this way, but gave him a fine, wellproportioned figure, a countenance in which gravity and thoughtfulness were mingled with gentleness, and an eye large and beaming, and dilating, at times, with wonderful lustre. She gave him also, a voice clear and sweet, as well as full, rich, and varied. It was equally fitted to utter the softest tones of pity, and the loftiest accents of indignation; its lowest whisper was distinctly heard in a large hall, and when its full volume rolled over an audience, it was like the swell of an organ. His gestures, too, if not so impressive as those of more impassioned orators, were singularly graceful, expressive, and appropriate. In short, to sum up, Everett's eloquence was marked not so much by any one predominating excellence, as by the fusion of various excellences into one. It was not due to richness of thought, to affluence of fancy, to ripe schol

arship, to an exquisite sense of the proprieties and harmonies of speech, to silvery tones, or expressive gestures, but to a happy blending of them all,-a union as perfect as the blending of the prismatic colors in a ray of light. He did not merely convince, or move, or charm his hearers, but they were subdued and captivated by an appeal to their reason, heart, and senses, together. To read his addresses, now that his silvery accents are hushed, is a rare pleasure; but to hear them, accompanied by the magic spell of his delivery, by the cadences and tones, "the swells and sweeps and subsidences of feeling," the poetry of gesture, attitude, and eye, with which the enchanter sent them home to the mind and heart,- was a felicity which one may no more forget than he can give expression to it in words.

CHAPTER XII.

FORENSIC ORATORS.

IN

N the long roll of names which have shed lustre on the British bar, there is no one about which clusters more of romance and undying interest than about that of THOMAS ERSKINE. The remarkable circumstances under which he was called to the bar,- the giant strides by which he rose to the very heights of the profession,- the brilliancy of his eloquence,- his profound knowledge of human nature and the workings of human passion,- the singular union in his mind of courage with caution, of coolness and self-possession with enthusiasm,— his rare powers of persuasion,- his elegant physique and personal magnetism, all have invested the name of this great Nisi Prius leader with a fascination which attaches to that of hardly any other great lawyer, from Sir Thomas More to Sir William Follett. "Nostræ eloquentiæ forensis facile princeps," is the inscription placed upon the fine bust of Lord Erskine by Nollekens, and by universal admission, the defender of Tooke and Stockdale has been awarded the palm over all compeers, while one of his biographers, himself an occupant of the woolsack, has pronounced him the greatest advocate, as well as the first forensic orator, who ever appeared in any age.

all.

The circumstances of his early life are well known to The family to which he belonged was one of ancient

2

pedigree, and had been remarkably prolific in men of talents, but was now reduced to the very verge of poverty. The means of the Earl of Buchan, his father, had been exhausted in educating his two eldest sons, and the youngest was therefore obliged to start in life with but little training and a scanty stock, if stock it could be called, of classical learning. While at school he exhibited a retentive memory, and when roused by extraordinary stimuli, great capacity for labor; but, on the whole, he was lazy, and gave little promise of future distinction. His play

fulness and love of fun, his lively fancy and nimble wit, made him, nevertheless, the favorite of his schoolmates— of all, indeed, who knew him; and when we add to these high social qualities the great natural ability, prodigious capacity of application, and self-confidence amounting to absolute egotism, which he possessed, it is not wonderful, perhaps, that when called to the bar, he was able to place himself in the very front rank of his fellow-gownsmen. At the age of fourteen he became a midshipman in the navy, where he remained four years, till, upon the death of his father, he decided to try his fortune in the army. Being ordered with his regiment to Minorca, and finding himself, at the age of twenty, shut up in a small island, exiled from congenial society, and thrown upon his own resources, he applied himself diligently to study, and to the cultivation of the naturally powerful genius with which he was endowed. Laboriously and systematically he tried to master the English literature, and read thoughtfully the great classics of our language. Milton and Shakspeare were his favorite authors, and he read and re-read their pages, with those of Pope and Dryden, until he had them almost by heart. Returning to England,

he was promoted to a lieutenancy, but grew weary of trudging about from one provincial town to another, especially as he was compelled all the while to keep his family in a barrack-room or in lodgings. Conscious of powers that fitted him to adorn a larger sphere, he chafed against the iron circumstances that hemmed him in, like an eagle against the bars of his cage. At this juncture he chanced to attend a trial before Lord Mansfield, and, while listening with the keenest interest to the arguments of the able counsel, fancied that he could have made a better speech than any of them, on whichever side retained. The thought then struck him that it might not even now be too late to become a lawyer. Acting at once upon this thought with a self-confidence which was itself almost a sure prophecy of success, he was entered in April, 1775, as a student of Lincoln's Inn, and in July, 1778, was called to the bar.

The distinguishing traits of his eloquence were shown, in a large degree, in his very first jury address, which was made in the following November. The circumstances of the case were these: A certain Captain Baillie, a veteran seaman of great worth, who, for his services, held an office at the Greenwich Hospital, discovered in the establishment the grossest of abuses. Having vainly tried to obtain a redress of these evils, he published a statement of the case, severely censuring Lord Sandwich, First Lord of the Admiralty, who, for electioneering purposes, had placed in the Hospital many landsmen. Captain B. was at once suspended by the Board of Admiralty, and, instigated by Lord Sandwich, who himself kept in the background, some of the inferior agents filed against Mr. B. a criminal information for libel. The case excited great