Daniel Finch, (Second Earl of Nottingham,) was born 1647, and died 1730. He was all his life an active politician, without being devoted to any party. He seems to have gone just as far as his principles would carry him, and no farther; and therefore often stood still in his political career.
Sir Robert Howard, (Who is known as a Political and Dramatic Writer,) was the son of the earl of Berkshire, knighted at the restoration. He died about 1700.
William III. (Prince of Orange,) was born at the Hague in 1650. He was the son of William, prince of Orange, and Henrietta, daughter of king Charles I. He married the daughter of James II.; and in consequence of the arbitrary conduct of that monarch, was invited over in 1688, to take possession of the crown in his stead. He died 1702, by a fall from his horse. He was a man of great abilities, both as a statesman and general.
Sir Charles Sedley, (One of the Wits and Poets of the Court of Charles II.,) was born about 1639, and died 1701. His daughter had been mistress to James II. who made her countess of Dorchester; so that, on being asked why he was so great a favourer of the revolution, he replied, ‘From a principle of gratitude: for since his majesty has made my daughter a countess, it is fit I should do all I can to make his daughter a queen.’
Sir John Knight, (Member for Bristol).—This worthy citizen, (of whom I am sorry I can learn no more than his title, and the place which he represented,) shall make his appearance, and at full length, though he should be received with as dreadful a storm of criticism, as that which he describes in the outset of his speech. He is a true Englishman, a perfect islander. He seems to have as thorough a hatred for the continent, and all its inhabitants, as if he had been first swaddled in the leaky hold of a merchantman, or had crawled out of the mud of the Bristol channel. He is not merely warm, he perfectly reeks with patriotism, and antipathy to all foreigners. For the last hundred years, we have only been working on this model, and I do not see that we can get much beyond it. We have, it is true, refined the stile, filled up the outlines, added elegance to fury, and expanded our prejudices into systems of philosophy. But we have added nothing to the stock. The design and principles remain the same; and they are unalterable. The pattern is closely copied from human nature. Indeed, I do not know whether the best examples of modern declamation on this subject, will be found to be much better than awkward affectation, and laboured extravagance, in which the writers scarcely seem to believe themselves, if we compare them with the spirit, the natural expression, the force, and broad decided manner of this great master!
For my own part, I confess I like the blunt, uncouth, bear-garden stile; the coarse familiarity, and virulent abuse of this honest knight, better than the studied elegance of modern invective. The stile is suited to the subject. Every thing is natural and sincere, and warm from the heart. Here are no fine-spun theories, no affected rancour, no attempts to bind fast the spell of ignorance, by the calling in of ‘metaphysical aid,’ or to make use of the ice of philosophy as a burning-glass to inflame the violence of the passions. Downright passion, unconquerable prejudice, and unaffected enthusiasm, are always justifiable; they follow a blind, but sure instinct; they flow from a real cause; they are uniform and consistent with themselves; and their mischiefs, whatever they are, have certain limits, may be calculated upon, and provided against. But fine reasoning, and gross feelings, do not accord well together. We may apply to them what has been said of love, non bene conveniunt, nec in una sede morantur majestas et amor. It is an unnatural union, which can produce nothing but distortion. We are not at present hurried away by the honest ebullitions of resentment, or blind zeal, but are in that state described by Shakespeare, in which ‘reason panders will.’ No one is offended at the ravings, the fierce gestures of a madman; but what should we think of a man who affected to start, to foam at the mouth, and feigned himself mad, only to have an opportunity for executing the most mischievous purposes? We are not surprised to see poisonous weeds growing in a wilderness; but who would think of transplanting them into a cultivated garden? I am therefore glad to take refuge from the mechanic, cold-blooded fury, and mercenary malice of pretended patriotism, in the honest eloquence, ‘the downright violence and storm of passion’ of this real enthusiast.
Lord Belhaven. The following Speech is inserted in the debates of this period. Though it does not come regularly within the plan of this collection, yet I thought I might be allowed to give it for the sake of diversifying the stile of the work, and as a curious record of national feeling. As to the stile, ‘it has the melancholy madness of poetry, without the inspiration.’ It has all the forms of eloquence, but not all the power; and is an excellent instance to shew how far mere manner will go. There can be little doubt but that this oration must have produced a very great effect; and yet there is nothing in it which any man might not say who was willing to indulge in the same strain of academic description. But it adopts the language of imagination, mimics her voice and gestures, conforms to her style by a continued profusion of figure and personification, and is full of that eloquence which consists in telling your mind freely, and which carries the hearer along with it, because you never seem to doubt for a moment of his sympathy, or that he does not take as great an interest in the question as you do. There is no captious reserve, no surly independence, no affected indifference, no fear of committing yourself, or exposing yourself to ridicule by giving a loose to your feelings; but every thing seems spoken with a full heart, sensible of the value of the cause it espouses, and only fearful of failing in expressions of zeal towards it, or in the respect that is due to it. Perhaps, what I have here stated may serve to point out the characteristic difference between the eloquence of the English and the French. The latter avail themselves of all the advantages that art and trick and adventitious ornament can give; and they are chiefly anxious to produce an effect by the most obvious means. If their thoughts are but fine, they do not care how common they are: this is because they have more vanity than pride, and are willing to be pleased at any rate. On the other hand, an Englishman’s muse is generally the spleen. He is for defying others into sympathy, and had rather incur their contempt than endeavour to gain their good opinion by shewing a desire to please them. He likes to do every thing in the most difficult way, and from a spirit of contradiction. Accordingly, his eloquence (when it is forced from him) is the best that can be, because it is of nature’s doing, and not his own, and comes from him in spite of himself. However, there is a sort of gallantry in eloquence as well as in love. To coquet with the muses, to dally with the fair forms of speech, to be full of nothing but apostrophes, interjections, interrogations, to be in raptures at the sight of a capital letter, and to take care never to lose a fine thought any more than a fine girl, for fear of putting a question, are the only means by which a man without imagination can hope to be an orator; as it is only by being a coxcomb, that a man who is not handsome can ever think of pleasing the women! But to return from this digression to the speech itself, it contains a good deal of warmth and animation, and if the author had been a young man, would have done him credit.
George I. was the son of the Elector of Hanover, by Sophia, grand-daughter of James I. He was born in 1660, and succeeded queen Anne, in 1714. He died suddenly, abroad, in 1727. He talks of the throne of his ancestors with a pious simplicity.
Robert Harley, (Eldest Son of Sir Edward Harley, and afterwards Earl of Oxford,) was born 1661, and died 1724. His politics in the latter part of the reign of queen Anne, rendered him obnoxious in the succeeding reign; and in 1715, he was accused of high-treason, but was at length acquitted. He was the friend of Swift.
Sir Thomas Hanmer, (Member for Suffolk,) was born in 1676; he was chosen speaker of the house of commons in 1713, and died in 1746. He published an edition of Shakespeare. He was a very respectable speaker. The following address contains a sort of summary of the politics of the day, and gathers up the ‘threads of shrewd and politic design’ that were snapped short at the end of the preceding reign.