When they beheld the MAN with shining arms
Amid those shades, trembled with sodden fear,
... and raised
A feeble outcry; but the sound commenced,
Died on their gurgling lips.”
Reaching his seat, he exclaimed in a tone that terrified the whole house, “Now let me hear what the honorable gentleman has to say to me.” There was no response, and the whole body was too much awed to laugh at the situation of the poor orator.
Yet he did not deal in the terrible and overpowering all the time. In a most eloquent speech in opposition to a measure that he believed violated the sanctity of the English home, he gave the following description of that privilege which is justly the proudest boast of an Englishman. A single passage is all that remains, but it will not soon be forgotten:
“The poorest man may in his cottage bid defiance to all the forces of the Crown. It may be frail—its roof may shake—the wind may blow through it—the storm may enter—the rain may enter—but the King of England cannot enter!—all his forces dare not cross the threshold of the ruined tenement!”
Lord Macaulay, who was in no sense friendly to the great orator, gives him a glowing eulogy:
“His figure, when he first appeared in Parliament, was strikingly graceful and commanding, his features high and noble, his eye full of fire. His voice, even when it sank to a whisper, was heard to the remotest benches; when he strained it to its full extent, the sound rose like the swell of the organ of a great cathedral, shook the house with its peal, and was heard through lobbies, and down staircases, to the Court of Requests, and the precincts of Westminster Hall. He cultivated all these eminent advantages with the most assiduous care. His action is described by a very malignant observer as equal to that of Garrick. His play of countenance was wonderful; he frequently disconcerted a hostile orator by a single glance of indignation or scorn. Every tone, from the impassioned cry to the thrilling aside, was perfectly at his command.”