in more advanced age, and which he himself would probably have attributed to persevering care in the formation of a style. For this reason it is difficult to believe the account he gives of his own tone and manner on leaving the university. "When I first 'came into the world at nineteen, I left the University of Cambridge, where I was an absolute pedant. When I talked my 'best I talked Horace; when I aimed at being facetious I quoted Martial; and when I had a mind to be a fine gentleman I · talked Ovid.'

His object in thus exaggerating his own defects probably was, to show his son what pains could do in overcoming deficiencies. But there is no doubt he studied hard enough to justify a fair share of pedantry, so far as learning can justify it; and it seems that he paid particular attention to the great masters of oratory. So long ago as when I was at Cambridge, whenever I read pieces of eloquence (and indeed they were my principal study,) 'whether, ancient or modern, I used to write down the shining 'passages, and then translate them as well and elegantly as ever I could; if Latin or French, into English; if English, into French. This, which I practised for some years, not only im'proved and formed my style, but imprinted in my mind and memory the best thoughts of the best authors.' He remained about two years at Cambridge, and then started on the grand tour, unattended by a Governor. Nothing worth mentioning is recorded by others or himself, till his travels brought him, in the summer of 1714, to the Hague, where, for the first time, he began to play an independent part in society. The love of shining, which he so strongly inculcates, here broke out in a manner which shows it to be not unaccompanied by risk. When I went abroad, I first went to the Hague, where gaming was much in fashion, and where I observed that many people of 'shining rank and character gained too. I was then young, ' and silly enough to believe that gaming was one of their accomplishments; and, as I aimed at perfection, I adopted gam'ing as a necessary step to it. Thus I acquired by error the 'habit of a vice, which, far from adorning my character, has, I am conscious, been a great blemish to it."

6

From the Hague he repaired to Paris, where so much of the college rust as still stuck to him was rapidly rubbed off. In December 1714, he writes to M. Joumeau:-'I shall not give you my opi'nion of the French, because I am very often taken for one,

and

many a Frenchman has paid me the highest compliment they think they can pay to any one, which is-Sir, you are just like ' one of us. I will merely tell you that I am insolent; that I talk much, very loud, and in a dogmatical tone. I sing and

' dance as I walk; and lastly, that I spend a monstrous deal of money in powder, feathers, and white gloves'-He after thought better of the French; and, like Marlow in She Stoops to Conquer, he must have kept his loud talking and gay rattle for the coffeehouse and the barmaid; for on his first arrival at Paris he suffered under a most pitiable degree of mauvaise honte in the drawing

room.

I got more courage soon afterwards, and was intrepid enough to go up to a fine woman, and tell her that I thought it a warm day; she answered me very civilly, that she thought so too; upon which the conversation ceased on my part for some time, till she, good-naturedly resuming, spoke to me thus. I see your embarrassment, and I am sure the few words you said to me cost you a great deal; but do not be discouraged for that reason and avoid good company. We see that you desire to please, and that is the main point; you want only the manner, and you think that you want it still more than you do. You must go through your noviciate before you can profess good breeding; and, if you will be my novice, I will present you to my acquaintance as such. You will easily imagine how much this speech pleased me, and how awkwardly I answered it; I hemmed once or twice (for it gave me a burr in my throat) before I could tell her that I was very much obliged to her; that it was true I had a great deal of reason to distrust my own behaviour, not being used to fine company; and that I should be proud of being her novice and receiving her instructions. As soon as I had fumbled out this answer, she called up three or four people to her, and said Sçavez-vous, (for she was a foreigner and I was abroad,) que j'ai entrepris ce jeune homme et qu'il le faut rassurer? Pour moi, je crois en avoir fait la conquête, car il s'est emancipé dans le moment au point de me dire en tremblant qu'il faisoit chaud. Il faut que vous m'aidiez à le derouiller. Il lui faut nécessairement une passion, et s'il ne m'en juge pas digne, nous lui en chercherons quelque autre. Au reste, mon novice, n'allez pas vous encanailler avec des filles d'opera et des comédiennes, qui vous épargneront les frais et du sentiment et de la politesse, mais qui vous en couteront bien plus à tout autre égard.'

The death of Queen Anne opened a new career for every young man of an ambitious turn of mind, and Lord Stanhope (for this was his title till the death of his father in 1726) hurried home to assist in strengthening the new dynasty. He entered public life under the auspices of his relative, the first Earl Stanhope, the favourite minister of George I., who immediately appointed him one of the gentlemen of the bed-chamber to the Prince of Wales-a post well suited to his age and habits. It gave him an opportunity of observing the manners of a court; and his Characters, as well as numerous remarks scattered through his Letters, show that he made an excellent use of it.

He entered the House of Commons as member for St Germains in the first parliament of George I., and lost no time in trying the

efficacy of the system of training to which he had for years subjected himself with the view of becoming an orator. He spoke for the first time in support of the proposed impeachment of the Duke of Ormond, and attracted some attention by the decided tone of his opinions, as well as by the fluency of his declamation. But he had hardly done speaking when one of the opposite party took him on one side, paid him a high compliment on his début, and reminded him that, as he still wanted six weeks of being of age, he was liable to a heavy penalty for sitting or voting in the House, and must immediately absent himself for a brief interval, unless he wished his minority to be made known. Lord Stanhope made the gentleman a low bow, quitted the House directly without voting, and went to Paris, where he made himself extremely useful in procuring information regarding the Jacobite rising in 1715. On his return the year following, he took frequent part in the debates and proceedings of the House, and had gained sufficient distinction to justify the advancement which his friend and relation the Minister was anxious to confer upon him; when, unluckily, the Prince's quarrel with the King broke out, and Lord Stanhope remained faithful to the Prince, though some tempting offers were made to him. Among others, it was proposed to make his father a Duke, and the old earl was extremely angry with him for not closing with the proposal. Lord Stanhope, however, does not appear to have gone into systematic opposition; he occasionally lent his vote to the government, and in 1723 he was rewarded for coming to their aid on a critical occasion, by being appointed Captain of the Yeomen of the Guard. Lord Townshend, his predecessor in the post, advised him to make it more profitable than he himself had done, by disposing of the places. For once,' (was the answer,) I would rather fol'low your lordship's example than your advice.' He was also offered the red riband on the revival of the Bath in 1725; but he thought the order beneath his rank, and was even angry with his younger brother for accepting it. We need hardly say that he' was too sensible a man to be averse from marks of honour, provided they really carried consideration along with them; and six years later we find him claiming the garter from Sir Robert Walpole, with the remark, I am a man of pleasure, and the • blue riband would add two inches to my height.'

He probably owed his importance at this time to his rank and connexions, rather than to his powers as a speaker; for the House of Commons was certainly an uncongenial field for them. He was not fitted either by nature or study for a popular assembly. His style wanted the requisite degree of nerve and muscle, as much as his physical frame. His very taste and refinement

VOL. LXXXII. NO. CLXVI.

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were against him; and it is impossible to conceive a man succeeding in that House, who made it his chief study to avoid giving way to strong excitement, or engaging in rough competition of any kind. It is also stated by Dr Maty, that there was another cause for his not appearing to advantage there. He is said to have stood in awe of a member who was in the habit of mimicking the tone and action of the more remarkable speakers; and this is not unlikely, for in his Letter to his godson he remarks, that ridicule, though not founded upon truth, will stick for 'some time, and if thrown by a skilful hand, perhaps for ever." Il n'y a rien qui tue comme un ridicule. Late in life, however, he would hardly have suffered his sensitiveness on such a point to attract notice. The death of his father in 1726, at length placed him in a more appropriate sphere of action. The House of Lords at that period filled a very different position from what it does at present; and the fate of governments hung upon its debates and divisions nearly as often as on those of the House of Commons. Eighty or a hundred peers was not an unusual attendance, when the peerage was not much more than half as numerous as at present; but the character of the audience differed essentially from that of the representative body. Here his highbred ease, delicate irony, fine humour, persuasive tones, and gracefully flowing periods, were appreciated: no unmannerly interruption or coarse freedom would be endured; and his total want of those energetic bursts and impulsive movements which are inseparable from the highest efforts of eloquence, was deemed rather a merit than a defect; for even Chatham, when he put forth his strength, has been known to ruffle their lordships' complacency, and was sometimes accused of compromising the dignity of their House. Lord Chesterfield particularly excelled in that graceful and urbane pleasantry which lightens up and relieves an argument, without appearing to trifle with the subject, or ever degenerating into what he would term the vulgarity of a joke; and many of the best political as well as social repartees of his times are attributed to him.

It was nearly five years, however, after his accession to the peerage, when he became one of the acknowledged leaders of the Upper House. George the First died in 1727, and it was then expected that Lord Chesterfield would reap the reward of his constancy to the new king whilst heir-apparent. But instead of being placed in high office at home, he was dispatched on an embassy to the Hague. This post, whatever the intention of the Ministry in sending him there, was well fitted to his abilities, and he contrived to add considerably to his reputation by means of it. In 1729, Lord Townshend, having formed a plan for

removing the Duke of Newcastle, advised Lord Chesterfield to wait on the king at Helvoet-Sluys on his return from Hanover, and desire permission to attend his Majesty to London on account of private business. This was done in the hope that the King might be won over by the charm of the Earl's conversation, and be prepared to appoint him in the Duke's place. The stratagem failed: Lord Townshend was forced to resign; and Lord Chesterfield went back to his embassy, after impressing Sir Robert Walpole so effectually with his entire innocence of the plot, and the prudence of keeping well with him, as to obtain the place of High Steward and the Garter. His predecessor in the place, who was suspected of having made money by the patronage attached to it, gave him a list of the persons he had appointed, and desired they might be continued. I have at present no thoughts of turning any one out,' was the answer; but, if I alter my mind, it will only be in relation to those who 'have bought in.'

Lord Chesterfield remained abroad till 1732, when he gave up his embassy. He had suffered both in health and fortune during his residence at the Hague, and it took him some months to gain strength enough to resume his parliamentary attendance, which now became unremitting. He at first supported the ministers, but was too fond of his own independence to fulfil the conditions which Sir Robert Walpole exacted from his adherents; and their friendship was consequently shortlived. On the introduction of the famous Excise Bill, Lord Chesterfield denounced the scheme in the strongest terms, and his three brothers voted against it in the House of Commons. So high was the popular excitement, that when Queen Caroline consulted Lord Scarborough as to the possibility of carrying the bill, he is reported to have told her that he could answer for his regiment against the Pretender, but not against the opposers of the excise; upon which the Queen, with tears in her eyes, said, "Then we must drop it.' The Ministry was in imminent danger, and was only saved by the tact of the Premier in yielding willow-like to the storm. It was not at such a season that he could afford to make a show of magnanimity. Lord Chesterfield was summarily dismissed from his office of lord steward, and the ministerial papers fell upon him with more than usual asperity. One writer in a leading government print went the length of insinuating, that reasons for the removal unconnected with politics might be disclosed, if it were not dangerous to speak such truths of a peer as might be deemed scandalum magnatum. Lord Chesterfield met and silenced this attack by a message to the anonymous writer, formally authorizing him to say all he knew or what he pleased of him.