ricians of ancient and modern days, the power and efficacy of attention to their thoughtful expositions of the means and appliances of persuasive speech; and to illustrate or prove how far the change predicated in a former paper on Modern Eloquence, however overfooked by the retailers of the traditions of the past ages on this matter, is valid and true,-more especially in our own country under the parliamentary forms of the Commons and Lords in the procedures of public business in this the highest platform of eloquence possible to men whose views are confined to the mundane and the actual

"The cares and mighty troubles of the times."

For the purpose of coherency, clearness, and general utility, we shall, regarding our own parliament as the highest type of representative government yet realized,-though not in that implying its perfectedness and finality,-refer, in general; and unless special exception is made while writing, to the parliament of our own country, leaving it, in the main, to our readers to apply the analogies of senatorial life in England to those other representative assemblies in which, more or less, the management of public affairs in other countries is vested.

The theory of the British constitution is, as all our readers are aware, that the three independent powers-the Sovereign, the Lords, and the Commons-act constantly as checks on each other, and so, by the interactivity, as it were, of spring, wheels, and pinions, perform the motion-work of government, while in their respective relationships they form the going-train of political watchfulness. The Sovereign Power, as being almost impersonal, a mysterious idea yet a constitutional force, is by grace of fixed laws surrounded by a sanctity and inviolability which, so far as our purpose goes, takes it out of our province; for it is supposed to be disinterested, and therefore passionless, and therefore released from the need, the inducement, or the opportunity of using eloquence. This is demonstratively shown not only in the title but in the matter of the annual introductory formality called "the Queen's Speech." There remain, therefore, for our consideration only two elementary parts of the constitutional managers of national affairs,-the House of Lords, and the House of Commons. It is no part of our present purpose to analyze the existing components of these assemblies, nor to define with precision or adequacy their respective functions and the limits which bound them. Our duty is to view them as representative assemblies, co-operating and concurring in the framing of such measures as are most likely to prove effective for the successful oncarrying of the different transactions which constitute national life. The one assembly, not less than the other, from our present special point of view, though not in quite the same degree, must be regarded as a representative assembly, the former as the representative of station, birth, property, wealth, eminence, and cultured refinement in the commonwealth, of the titled and untitled aristocracy (meaning

class of persons), who hold the height and top of dignity; the latter as the representative of the restless energy, the up-surging industry, the professions, occupations, and trades (in the commercial sense), the local influence and popularity, the personally-acquired wealth or delegated power of the great mass of men of means,-not of the democracy (i.e., the people), but, to coin a word in our exigency, the mediocracy, or middle classes.

The members of the House of Lords have in most cases the right of self-representation, and hold their seats by an hereditary tenure, or at least a life tenure, the chief exceptions being the Scottish peers and the Irish bishops. It is less changeable in its constituent elements, and the position of its members is more distinctly and definitely marked than the Commons. It also contains within it almost every variety of character; and though its proceedings are characterized by greater dignity, repose, and grace than the other House, it is not unfrequently the scene of much animated and caustic eloquence, when the advocates of great principles grapple in contest, and spring into the controversies of the day, with the vigour of thinkers and active energy of wrestlers. The House of Commons-as every person who has visited both may have remarked, however strange the mention of it may seem-is neither so motley in appearance nor so easy in its movements as the Upper House. Most of the members of the former are men possessed of a capacity for making themselves popular in their own neighbourhood, and at least among their own constituents. They are, therefore, mostly men of presence, energy, influence; men who have made their weight felt in their own circles; men of ambition and pronounced individuality, often crotchety, self-willed, and even stubborn; yet not unfrequently deficient in taste, manners, and even culture, as a refining agency. Being, as they are, indeed, the choice of a majority of men lumped together by the mere accident of local residence within a given electoral district, they are not all men of such select ability, character, position, and demeanour as the theory of a parliamentary representation at first sight suggests; yet they are in reality, in a great measure, a collection of remarkable men,-men who strike one, when he sees them sitting in "collective wisdom," as above the average in intelligence, personality, and appearance; as men, therefore, in whom interest, passion, sympathy, power, thought, special aims, are keen and active; as men in whom life is often at high pressure. Such men are potentially eloquent, and when subject, occasion, and end are suitable, can seldom fail to make their mark, in some department of policy, among their fellows. The Lower House, therefore, is likely to contain more of the rude, untrained vigour of phrase and force of pertinacity than the Higher, which is more prone to skilful and polite duels in the form of debates.

The consideration of parliamentary eloquence is complicated by many accidental peculiarities, each of which requires to be taken into account and allowed for-peculiarities pertaining to the

persons speaking to the audience addressed, and to the far wider circle now virtually present in the two departments of the senate through the agencies of the press-peculiarities resulting from the inter-relations of governments through diplomacy, from the double connection of the ministry with the parliament and the sovereign, and from the position, from time to time, of the parties into which politicians are divided. Rhetoric is, or rather may be, practically defined as the science and art by which men are taught the best means of gaining the end they have in view, by persuading others to act according to the wishes of the speaker, or, more shortly, of effecting one's purpose by speech. Eloquence is the highest manifestation of rhetorical skill. In ordinary circumstances, the plainest and fewest possible words are used to impart the sentiments of a speaker, and the order of the phraseology is such as most clearly and briefly to make known the ideas he wishes to transfer from his own into another's mind. But in eloquence it is not so much or mainly the idea as the purpose of the speaker which covets transfer. The rule and method of eloquence, therefore, are quite distinct from those of ordinary composition. The latter seeks the mere passage of thought; the former demands the submission of the will, and dominion over the designs and acts of men: it has a double charge and message-one to the judgment, which it seeks to turn; the other to the will, which it desires to sway. The words of the eloquent, therefore, go forth as mutual influences with their passions, and sometimes are so charged with the purpose which excites the mind that, to the great failure of their intent, they

Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight."

This rhetoric endeavours to teach men to avoid. It supposes each man honestly anxious to effect his own ends, and it supplies cautions and precautions as to the means employed by the speaker while engaged in working out his designs upon his hearers. These cautions and precautions may be regarded, in the first instance, as referring to method only; but on farther inquiry it is found that method itself depends upon preceding considerations, and is governed by such thoughts as are suggested by the subject, the occasion, and the end. On the subject depends the topics to be employed in argument, the motives to be impressed upon the mind, the principles upon which the reasonings to be enforced must be grounded, and the passions which may be influenced to produce the intended effect on the hearers. So far as subjects are concerned, there can be little want of suitable material in parliament. The fate of kingdoms and peoples, the prosperity of commerce, the stability of agriculture, the happiness of men, depend upon the topics debated in the legislature. The utility or inutility of measures, the advisability or inadvisability of change, the maintenance or encouragement of right, and the denunciation of wrong, and all the multiplicity of questions arising out of the history of the past, the occurrences of the present, or the hopes and fears foreshadowed for the future, may all occupy

the deliberations of the senate, and each affords ample opportunities and suitable themes for eloquence. They may, it is true, sometimes lead to mazes of prolixity and involutions of thought, to recondite and complex reasonings, and to far-stretching speculation or sinuous dialectics, and so transcend ordinary apprehension, or escape from the observation of common minds; but they can scarcely fail to supply many occasions for the display of the passion-winged words of eloquence, the vehemency and force, the pathos and the sublimity which great minds invariably impart to those reflections with which they endeavour to overrule the resolves of senates, for the promotion of purposes which they believe would be favourable to the nation, the age, and the race. In so far as subject is concerned, the pulpit alone possesses a supremacy of theme, and even that elevated interest does not always serve to make it more potent, because it is defective in the felt immediatcy of the pressure for decision; while in the loftier regions of politics a fair opportunity may be taken of importing into the question those hallowing influences and sacred principles which are the all but exclusive themes of the priesthood of every sect and party. Hence, in advising upon parliamentary-as indeed on all other eloquence, the intelligent rhetorician introduces considerations derived from the special subjects which lie open to the active mind for speech, and makes his rules depend upon the matter. He never advises the casting of all spoken thought into the same moulds-he recommends system, but not an all-ruling and ever the same system.

The occasion and attendant circumstances of parliamentary eloquence materially influence the nature of the advice to be given regarding, or the judgment to be passed on any special effort of a senator; and therefore they are justly regarded by the rhetorician as elements which should weigh with and affect the speaker in the exposition and co-ordination of his ideas. The state of parties in the country and in the Houses, the condition of public opinion, the agitation of the question by the press, the requirements of the age and time, the exigency in which the consideration of the subject becomes necessary or advisable, the curiosity which stimulates feeling, and sets passion on edge, the controversy to which opinions may be exposed, the sharpening of the intellect which the circumstances excite, the position occupied by the speaker, the extent of the bearing of the subject upon internal events or external alliances, and the necessities of diplomatic, administrative, or party reserve which may hedge round the topic, and withdraw arguments, facts, or influences from usage at the time, these all require to be carefully and judiciously thought over, and should be used to determine not only what may, but also what must be said. These suggest both preconsideration and reconsideration. By the former we find out what to say, how to arrange it in order suitably adjusted to the occasion, and imprint it on the memory; and by the latter we learn how to set it forth with effect-clothed with beauty, dignity, and power-and how to deliver it with tact, appropriateness, and effect.

The end to be attained also occupies a conspicuous preliminary place in the rhetorical arrangement and methodization of speech. All the resistless forces of eloquence are not, of course, to be used on ordinary occasions, and for the attainment of ordinary ends; that would

"Resemble ocean into tempest tossed,

To waft a feather or to drown a fly."

In ordinary circumstances, to move for the moment and to conquer in a division is all that a member of the legislature aims at; perhaps not even so high as this may be his mark. He may wish only to air a crotchet, or ride a hobby, or publish an opinion; less even, he may intend only to show his constituents and the public that he can talk, or take part in what Cobbett used to call "the unprofitable conversation of parliament." For such trivial ends, the rhetorician merely prescribes modesty, tact, discrimination, brevity, and common sense. But when great parliamentary principles are involved, when national questions are in agitation, when parties quiver and placemen shake, when policy is to be changed or dictatorship checked, when finance is to be reformed or rights defended, when wrongs are to have redress claimed for them, or international alliances are to be subjected to scrutiny, when good is to be maintained or evil prevented, then art strives against art, and aim against aim, and that the trim strong arm of right and truth may win in such a fray, rhetoric burnishes the weapons, sharpens their edge, secures their temper, teaches their use, and indicates the modes of fence, offence, defence, and defiance possible to him who has his mind made up, and who is prepared to employ, as directed, "weapons which are at once sharp, massive, and refulgent; which, like heaven's artillery, dazzle while they strike, which overpower the sight and the heart at the same instant."

There are boundaries assigned by Nature to all passions, and there are uses for them all in the great mystery of life of which we have a share, if we could but mark their due and proper place and purpose. So to use them has the sanction of the human constitution, and is far from being wrong. The object of the passions is to incline us to or from any particular course, to release us from the more tardy processes of reason, and to give an instantaneity of action to man. Of course, were reason truly cultured, it would command each passion and rule all at will, and, having once laid down the law of duty, would insist on obedience. But the urgency and speed of the passions is so great as to outrun reason, and to foreclose the question of duty before the operations of logic are perfected; and whether the passion be naturally good or bad, it alike acts against the judicious arguing out of any debatable matter;

"For pleasure and revenge

Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice

Of any true decision."

To gain any given end by speech requires a due and conjoint use