Meetings or public calls he never missed,
To dictate often, always to assist.
.....
To his experience and his native sense,
He joined a bold, imperious eloquence;
The grave, stern look of men informed and wise,
A full command of feature, heart and eyes,
An awe-compelling frown, and fear-inspiring size.--CRABBE.
The next evening Clarence, mindful of Wolfe’s invitation, inquired from
Warner (who repaid the contempt of the republican for the painter’s
calling by a similar feeling for the zealot’s) the direction of the
oratorical meeting, and repaired there alone. It was the most celebrated
club (of that description) of the day, and well worth attending, as a
gratification to the curiosity, if not an improvement to the mind.
On entering, he found himself in a long room, tolerably well lighted,
and still better filled. The sleepy countenances of the audience, the
whispered conversation carried on at scattered intervals, the listless
attitudes of some, the frequent yawns of others, the eagerness with
which attention was attracted to the opening door, when it admitted some
new object of interest, the desperate resolution with which some of the
more energetic turned themselves towards the orator, and then, with a
faint shake of the head, turned themselves again hopelessly away,--were
all signs that denoted that no very eloquent declaimer was in possession
of the “house.” It was, indeed, a singularly dull, monotonous voice
which, arising from the upper end of the room, dragged itself on towards
the middle, and expired with a sighing sound before it reached the end.
The face of the speaker suited his vocal powers; it was small, mean, and
of a round stupidity, without anything even in fault that could possibly
command attention or even the excitement of disapprobation: the very
garments of the orator seemed dull and heavy, and, like the Melancholy
of Milton, had a “leaden look.” Now and then some words, more emphatic
than others,--stones breaking, as it were with a momentary splash,
the stagnation of the heavy stream,--produced from three very quiet,
unhappy-looking persons seated next to the speaker, his immediate
friends, three single isolated “hears!”
“The force of friendship could no further go.”
At last, the orator having spoken through, suddenly stopped; the whole
meeting seemed as if a weight had been taken from it; there was a
general buzz of awakened energy, each stretched his limbs, and resettled
himself in his place,--
“And turning to his neighbour said,
‘Rejoice!’”
A pause ensued, the chairman looked round, the eyes of the meeting
followed those of the president, with a universal and palpable
impatience, towards an obscure corner of the room: the pause deepened
for one moment, and then was broken; a voice cried “Wolfe!” and at that
signal the whole room shook with the name. The place which Clarence had
taken did not allow him to see the object of these cries, till he rose
from his situation, and, passing two rows of benches, stood forth in the
middle space of the room; then, from one to one went round the general
roar of applause; feet stamped, hands clapped, umbrellas set their sharp
points to the ground, and walking-sticks thumped themselves out of shape
in the universal clamour. Tall, gaunt, and erect, the speaker possessed,
even in the mere proportions of his frame, that physical power which
never fails, in a popular assembly, to gain attention to mediocrity
and to throw dignity over faults. He looked very slowly round the room,
remaining perfectly still and motionless, till the clamour of applause
had entirely subsided, and every ear, Clarence’s no less eagerly than
the rest, was strained, and thirsting to catch the first syllables of
his voice.
It was then with a low, very deep, and somewhat hoarse tone, that he
began; and it was not till he had spoken for several minutes that the
iron expression of his face altered, that the drooping hand was raised,
and that the suppressed, yet powerful, voice began to expand and vary
in its volume. He had then entered upon a new department of his subject.
The question was connected with the English constitution, and Wolfe was
now preparing to put forth, in long and blackened array, the alleged
evils of an aristocratical form of government. Then it was as if the
bile and bitterness of years were poured forth in a terrible and stormy
wrath,--then his action became vehement, and his eye flashed forth
unutterable fire: his voice, solemn, swelling, and increasing with each
tone in its height and depth, filled, as with something palpable
and perceptible, the shaking walls. The listeners,--a various and
unconnected group, bound by no tie of faith or of party, many attracted
by curiosity, many by the hope of ridicule, some abhorring the tenets
expressed, and nearly all disapproving their principles or doubting
their wisdom,--the listeners, certainly not a group previously formed
or moulded into enthusiasm, became rapt and earnest; their very breath
forsook them.
Linden had never before that night heard a public speaker; but he was
of a thoughtful and rather calculating mind, and his early habits of
decision, and the premature cultivation of his intellect, rendered
him little susceptible, in general, to the impressions of the vulgar:
nevertheless, in spite of himself, he was hurried away by the stream,
and found that the force and rapidity of the speaker did not allow him
even time for the dissent and disapprobation which his republican maxims
and fiery denunciations perpetually excited in a mind aristocratic both
by creed and education. At length after a peroration of impetuous and
magnificent invective, the orator ceased.
In the midst of the applause that followed, Clarence left the assembly;
he could not endure the thought that any duller or more commonplace
speaker should fritter away the spell which yet bound and engrossed his
spirit.