had the usual fate of all exquisite policy. But the original plan of the
duties, and the mode of executing that plan, both arose singly and
solely from a love of our applause. He was truly the child of the House.
He never thought, did, or said anything, but with a view to you. He
every day adapted himself to your disposition, and adjusted himself
before it as at a looking-glass.

He had observed (indeed, it could not escape him) that several persons,
infinitely his inferiors in all respects, had formerly rendered
themselves considerable in this House by one method alone. They were a
race of men (I hope in God the species is extinct) who, when they rose
in their place, no man living could divine, from any known adherence to
parties, to opinions, or to principles, from any order or system in
their politics, or from any sequel or connection in their ideas, what
part they were going to take in any debate. It is astonishing how much
this uncertainty, especially at critical times, called the attention of
all parties on such men. All eyes were fixed on them, all ears open to
hear them; each party gaped, and looked alternately for their vote,
almost to the end of their speeches. While the House hung in this
uncertainty, now the _hear-hims_ rose from this side, now they
rebellowed from the other; and that party to whom they fell at length
from their tremulous and dancing balance always received them in a
tempest of applause. The fortune of such men was a temptation too great
to be resisted by one to whom a single whiff of incense withheld gave
much greater pain than he received delight in the clouds of it which
daily rose about him from the prodigal superstition of innumerable
admirers. He was a candidate for contradictory honors; and his great aim
was, to make those agree in admiration of him who never agreed in
anything else.