display. Of his learning he was proud--but rather as adding
lustre to his celebrity for universal tastes. He was not at all

ashamed, but rather gloried in being able to describe himself as
a fool, as he does in his verses to Mrs Crewe:--

"Is't reason? No; that my whole life will belie;
For, who so at variance as reason and I?

Is't ambition that fills up each chink in my heart,
Nor allows any softer sensation a part?

Oh! no; for in this all the world must agree,
_ONE FOLLY WAS NEVER SUFFICIENT FOR ME_."

`Sensual and self-indulgent--with a grossness that is even patent
on his very portrait [and bust], Fox had nevertheless a manner

which enchanted the sex, and he was the only politician of the
day who thoroughly enlisted the personal sympathies of women of

mind and character, as well as of those who might be captivated
by his profusion. When he visited Paris in later days, even

Madame Recamier, noted for her refinement, and of whom he
himself said, with his usual coarse ideas of the sphere of woman,

that "she was the only woman who united the attractions of
pleasure to those of modesty," delighted to be seen with him!

At the time of which we are speaking the most celebrated beauties
of England were his most ardent supporters.

`The election of 1784, in which he stood and was returned
for Westminster, was one of the most famous of the old riotous

political demonstrations. . . . . Loving _hazard_ of all kinds
for its own sake, Fox had made party hostility a new sphere of

gambling, had adopted the character of a demagogue, and at a time
when the whole of Europe was undergoing, a great revolution in

principles, was welcomed gladly as "The Man of the People." In
the beginning, of the year he had been convicted of bribery, but

in spite of this his popularity increased. . . . The election
for Westminster, in which Fox was opposed by Sir Cecil Wray, was

the most tempestuous of all. There were 20,000 votes to be
polled, and the opposing parties resorted to any means of

intimidation, or violence, or persuasion which political
enthusiasm could suggest. On the eighth day the poll was against

the popular member, and he called upon his friends to make a
great effort on his behalf. It was then that the "ladies'

canvass" began. Lady Duncannon, the Duchess of Devonshire, Mrs
Crewe, and Mrs Damer dressed themselves in blue and buff--the

colours of the American Independents, which Fox had adopted and
wore in the House of Commons--and set out to visit the

purlieus of Westminster. Here, in their enthusiasm, they shook
the dirty hands of honest workmen, expressed the greatest

interest in their wives and families, and even, as in the case of
the Duchess of Devonshire and the butcher, submitted their fair

cheeks to be kissed by the possessors of votes! At the butcher's
shop, the owner, in his apron and sleeves, stoutly refused his

vote, except on one condition--"Would her Grace give him a
kiss?" The request was granted; and the vote thus purchased

went to swell the majority which finally secured the return of
"The Man of the People."

`The colouring of political friends, which concealed his vices,
or rather which gave them a false hue, has long since faded away.

We now know Fox as he _WAS_. In the latest journals of Horace
Walpole his inveterate gambling, his open profligacy, his utter

want of honour, is disclosed by one of his own opinion.
Corrupted ere yet he had left his home, whilst in age a boy,

there is, however, the comfort of reflecting that he outlived his
vices which seem to have "cropped out" by his ancestral

connection in the female line with the reprobate Charles II.,
whom he was thought to resemble in features. Fox,

afterwards, with a green apron tied round his waist, pruning and
nailing up his fruit trees at St Ann's Hill, or amusing himself

innocently with a few friends, is a pleasing object to remember,
even whilst his early career occurs forcibly to the mind.'

Peace, then, to the shade of Charles James Fox! The three last
public acts which he performed were worthy of the man, and should

suffice to prove that, in spite of his terrible failings, he was
most useful in his generation. By one, he laboured to repair the

outrages of war--to obtain a breathing time for our allies; and,
by an extension of our commerce, to afford, if necessary, to his

country all the advantages of a renovated contest, without the
danger of drying up our resources. By another, he attempted to

remove all legal disabilities arising out of religion--to unite
more closely _THE INTERESTS OF IRELAND WITH THOSE OF ENGLAND;_

and thus, by an extension of common rights, and a participation
of common benefits, wisely to render that which has always been

considered the weakest and most troublesome portion of our
empire, at least a useful and valuable part of England's

greatness among the nations. Queen Elizabeth's Minister,
Lord Burleigh, in the presence of the `Irish difficulty' in his

day, wished Ireland at the bottom of the sea, and doubtless many
at the present time wish the same; but Fox endeavoured to grapple

with it manfully and honestly, and it was not his fault that he
did not settle it. The vices of Fox were those of the age in

which he lived; had he been reserved for the present epoch, what
a different biography should we have to write of him! What a

helmsman he might be at the present time, when the ship of Old
England is at sea and in peril!

It appears from a letter addressed by Lord Carlisle to Lady
Holland (Fox's mother) in 1773, that he had become security for

Fox to the amount of fifteen or sixteen thousand pounds; and a
letter to Selwyn in 1777, puts the ruinous character of their

gaming transactions in the strongest light. Lord Ilchester
(Fox's cousin) had lost thirteen thousand pounds at one sitting

to Lord Carlisle, who offered to take three thousand pounds down.
Nothing was paid. But ten years afterwards, when Lord Carlisle

pressed for his money, he complained that an attempt was made to
construe the offer into a _remission_ of the ten thousand

pounds:--`The only way, in honour, that Lord Ilchester could
have accepted my offer, would have been by taking some steps to

pay the L3000. I remained in a state of uncertainty, I think,
for nearly three years; but his taking no notice of it during

that time, convinced me that he had no intention of availing
himself of it. Charles Fox was also at a much earlier period

clear that he never meant to accept it. There is also great
injustice in the behaviour of the family in passing by the

instantaneous payment of, I believe, five thousand pounds, to
Charles, won at the same sitting, without any observations. _At

one period of the play I remember there was a balance in favour
of one of these gentlemen (but which I protest I do not remember)

of about fifty thousand_.'
At the time in question Fox was hardly eighteen. The following

letter from Lord Carlisle, written in 1771, contains highly
interesting information respecting the youthful habits and

already vast intellectual pre-eminence of this memorable
statesman:--`It gives me great pain to hear that Charles begins

to be unreasonably impatient at losing. I fear it is the
prologue to much fretfulness of temper, for disappointment in

raising money, and any serious reflections upon his
situation, will (in spite of his affected spirits and

dissipation) occasion him many disagreeable moments.' Lord
Carlisle's fears proved groundless in this respect. As before

stated, Fox was always remarkable for his sweetness of temper,
which remained with him to the last; but it is most painful to

think how much mankind has lost through his recklessness.
Gibbon writes to Lord Sheffield in 1773, `You know Lord Holland

is paying Charles Fox's debts. They amount to L140,000.'[125]
[125] Timbs, _Club Life in London_.

His love of play was desperate. A few evenings before he moved
the repeal of the Marriage Act, in February, 1772, he had been at

Brompton on two errands,--one to consult Justice Fielding on the
penal laws, the other to borrow L10,000, which he brought to

town at the hazard of being robbed. He played admirably both at
Whist and Piquet,--with such skill, indeed, that by the general