deracies of honourable men for the little moment, but such as, when taken

promotion of great public objects. Nor had he the sagacity to perceive that the strenuous efforts which he made to annihilate all parties tended only to establish the ascendency of one party, and that the basest and most hateful of all.

together, and when viewed in connection with the strange events which followed, justify us in believing that his mind was already in a morbid state.

Soon after the close of the session of Parliament, Lord Rockingham received his dismissal. He retired, acIt may be doubted whether he would companied by a firm body of friends, have been thus misled, if his mind had whose consistency and uprightness been in full health and vigour. But enmity itself was forced to admit. the truth is that he had for some time None of them had asked or obtained been in an unnatural state of excite- any pension or any sinecure, either in ment. No suspicion of this sort had yet possession or in reversion. Such disgot abroad. His eloquence had never interestedness was then rare among poshone with more splendour than during|liticians. Their chief, though not a

surmountable, removed great abuses and averted a civil war. Sixteen years later, in a dark and terrible day, he was again called upon to save the state, brought to the very brink of ruin by the same perfidy and obstinacy which had embarrassed, and at length overthrown his first administration.

Pitt was planting in Somersetshire when he was summoned to court by a letter written by the royal hand. He instantly hastened to London. The irritability of his mind and body were increased by the rapidity with which he travelled; and when he reached his journey's end he was suffering from fever. Ill as he was, he saw the King at Richmond, and undertook to form an administration.

the recent debates. But people after- man of brilliant talents, had won for wards called to mind many things himself an honourable fame, which he which ought to have roused their ap-kept pure to the last. He had, in spite prehensions. His habits were gra- of difficulties which seemed almost indually becoming more and more eccentric. A horror of all loud sounds, such as is said to have been one of the many oddities of Wallenstein, grew upon him. Though the most affectionate of fathers, he could not at this time bear to hear the voices of his own children, and laid out great sums at Hayes in buying up houses contiguous to his own, merely that he might have no neighbours to disturb him with their noise. He then sold Hayes, and took possession of a villa at Hampstead, where he again began to purchase houses to right and left. In expense, indeed, he vied, during this part of his life, with the wealthiest of the conquerors of Bengal and Tanjore. At Burton Pynsent, he ordered a great extent of ground to be planted with cedars. Cedars enough for the purpose were not to be found in Somersetshire. They were therefore collected in London, and sent down by land carriage. Relays of labourers were hired; and the work went on all night by torchlight. No man could be more abstemious than Pitt; yet the profusion of his kitchen was a wonder even to epicures. Several dinners were always dressing; for his appetite was capricious and fanciful; and at whatever moment he felt inclined to eat, he expected a meal to be instantly on the table. Other circumstances might be mentioned, such as separately are of

Pitt was scarcely in the state in which a man should be who has to conduct delicate and arduous negotiations. In his letters to his wife, he complained that the conferences in which it was necessary for him to bear a part heated his blood and accelerated his pulse. From other sources of information we learn, that his language, even to those whose co-operation he wished to engage, was strangely peremptory and despotic. Some of his notes written at this time have been preserved, and are in a style which Lewis the Fourteenth would have been too well bred to employ in addressing any French gentleman.

Pitt

In the attempt to dissolve all parties, selves seated at the same board. The Pitt met with some difficulties. Some office of paymaster was divided beWhigs, whom the court would gladly tween two persons who had never have detached from Lord Rockingham, exchanged a word. Most of the chief rejected all offers. The Bedfords were posts were filled either by personal perfectly willing to break with Gren- adherents of Pitt, or by members of ville; but Pitt would not come up to the late ministry, who had been intheir terms. Temple, whom Pitt at duced to remain in place after the first meant to place at the head of dismissal of Lord Rockingham. To the treasury, proved intractable. A the former class belonged Pratt, now coldness indeed had, during some Lord Camden, who accepted the great months, been fast growing between seal, and Lord Shelburne, who was the brothers-in-law, so long and so made one of the Secretaries of State. closely allied in politics. Pitt was To the latter class belonged the Duke angry with Temple for opposing the of Grafton, who became First Lord of repeal of the Stamp Act. Temple was the Treasury, and Conway, who kept angry with Pitt for refusing to accede his old position both in the governto that family league which was now ment and in the House of Commons. the favourite plan at Stowe. At length Charles Townshend, who had belonged the Earl proposed an equal partition to every party, and cared for none, was of power and patronage, and offered, Chancellor of the Exchequer. on this condition, to give up his brother himself was declared prime minister, George. Pitt thought the demand but refused to take any laborious office. exorbitant, and positively refused com- He was created Earl of Chatham, and pliance. A bitter quarrel followed. the privy seal was delivered to him. Each of the kinsmen was true to his character. Temple's soul festered with spite, and Pitt's swelled into contempt. Temple represented Pitt as the most odious of hypocrites and traitors. Pitt held a different and perhaps a more provoking tone. Temple was a good sort of man enough, whose single title to distinction was, that he had a large garden, with a large piece of water, and a great many pavilions and summer-houses. To his fortunate connection with a great orator and statesman he was indebted for an importance in the state which his own talents could never have gained for him. That importance had turned his head. He had begun to fancy that he could form administrations, and govern empires. It was piteous to see a well meaning man under such a delusion.

It is scarcely necessary to say, that the failure, the complete and disgraceful failure, of this arrangement, is not to be ascribed to any want of capacity in the persons whom we have named. None of them was deficient in abilities; and four of them, Pitt himself, Shelburne, Camden, and Townshend, were men of high intellectual eminence. The fault was not in the materials, but in the principle on which the materials were put together. Pitt had mixed up these conflicting elements, in the full confidence that he should be able to keep them all in perfect subordination to himself, and in perfect harmony with each other. We shall soon see how the experiment succeeded.

On the very day on which the new prime minister kissed hands, threefourths of that popularity which he had In spite of all these difficulties, a long enjoyed without a rival, and to ministry was made such as the King which he owed the greater part of his wished to see, a ministry in which all authority, departed from him. A viohis Majesty's friends were comfortably lent outcry was raised, not against that accommodated, and which, with the part of his conduct which really deexception of his Majesty's friends, con- served severe condemnation, but against tained no four persons who had ever a step in which we can see nothing to in their lives been in the habit of act- censure. His acceptance of a peerage ing together. Men who had never produced a general burst of indignation. concurred in a single vote found them-Yet surely no peerage had ever been

The clamour against Pitt appears to have had a serious effect on the foreign relations of the country. His name had till now acted like a spell at Versailles and Saint Ildefonso. English travellers on the Continent had remarked that nothing more was necessary to silence a whole room full of boasting Frenchmen than to drop a hint of the probability that Mr. Pitt would return to power. In an instant there was deep silence: all shoulders rose, and all faces were lengthened. Now, unhappily, every foreign court, in learning that he was recalled to office, learned also that he no longer possessed the hearts of his countrymen. Ceasing to be loved at home, he ceased to be feared abroad. The name of Pitt had been a charmed name. Our envoys tried in vain to conjure with the name of Chatham.

better earned; nor was there ever a the nation which a few hours before statesman who more needed the repose had regarded them with affection and of the Upper House. Pitt was now veneration. growing old. He was much older in constitution than in years. It was with imminent risk to his life that he had, on some important occasions, attended his duty in Parliament. During the session of 1764, he had not been able to take part in a single debate. It was impossible that he should go through the nightly labour of conducting the business of the government in the House of Commons. His wish to be transferred, under such circumstances, to a less busy and a less turbulent assembly, was natural and reasonable. The nation, however, overlooked all these considerations. Those who had most loved and honoured the great Commoner were loudest in invective against the new made Lord. London had hitherto been true to him through every vicissitude. When the citizens learned that he had been sent for from Somersetshire, that he had The difficulties which beset Chatham been closeted with the King at Rich- were daily increased by the despotic mond, and that he was to be first manner in which he treated all around minister, they had been in transports him. Lord Rockingham had, at the of joy. Preparations were made for a time of the change of ministry, acted grand entertainment and for a general with great moderation, had expressed illumination. The lamps had actually a hope that the new government would been placed round the Monument, act on the principles of the late governwhen the Gazette announced that the ment, and had even interfered to preobject of all this enthusiasm was an vent many of his friends from quitting Earl. Instantly the feast was counter-office. Thus Saunders and Keppel, two manded. The lamps were taken down. The newspapers raised the roar of obloquy. Pamphlets, made up of calumny and scurrility, filled the shops of all the booksellers; and of those pamphlets, the most galling were written under the direction of the malignant Temple. It was now the fashion to compare the so deeply affronted these men, that two Williams, William Pulteney and they all retired in disgust. In truth, William Pitt. Both, it was said, had, his tone, submissive in the closet, was by eloquence and simulated patriotism, at this time insupportably tyrannical acquired a great ascendency in the in the cabinet. His colleagues were House of Commons and in the country. merely his clerks for naval, financial, Both had been intrusted with the office and diplomatic business. Conway, of reforming the government. Both meek as he was, was on one occasion had, when at the height of power and provoked into declaring that such lanpopularity, been seduced by the splen-guage as Lord Chatham's had never dour of the coronet. Both had been been heard west of Constantinople, made earls, and both had at once be- and was with difficulty prevented by come objects of aversion and scorn to Horace Walpole from resigning, and

naval commanders of great eminence, had been induced to remain at the Admiralty, where their services were much needed. The Duke of Portland was still Lord Chamberlain, and Lord Besborough Postmaster. But within a quarter of a year, Lord Chatham had

rejoining the standard of Lord Rock- | was told very plainly that he should ingham. not be suffered to browbeat the old nobility of England.

The breach which had been made in the government by the defection of so many of the Rockinghams, Chatham hoped to supply by the help of the Bedfords. But with the Bedfords he could not deal as he had dealt with other parties. It was to no purpose that he bade high for one or two members of the faction, in the hope of detaching them from the rest. They were to be had; but they were to be had only in the lot. There was indeed for a moment some wavering and some disputing among them. But at length the counsels of the shrewd and resolute Rigby prevailed. They determined to stand firmly together, and plainly intimated to Chatham that he must take them all, or that he should get none of them. The event proved that they were wiser in their generation than any other connection in the state. In a few months they were able to dictate their own terms.

It gradually became clearer and clearer that he was in a distempered state of mind. His attention had been drawn to the territorial acquisitions of the East India Company, and he determined to bring the whole of that great subject before Parliament. He would not, however, confer on the subject with any of his colleagues. It was in vain that Conway, who was charged with the conduct of business in the House of Commons, and Charles Townshend, who was responsible for the direction of the finances, begged for some glimpse of light as to what was in contemplation. Chatham's answers were sullen and mysterious. He must decline any discussion with them; he did not want their assistance; he had fixed on a person to take charge of his measure in the House of Commons. This person was a member who was not connected with the government, The most important public measure and who neither had, nor deserved to of Lord Chatham's administration was have, the ear of the House, a noisy, his celebrated interference with the purseproud, illiterate demagogue, whose corn trade. The harvest had been bad; Cockney English and scraps of misthe price of food was high; and he pronounced Latin were the jest of the thought it necessary to take on himself newspapers, Alderman Beckford. It the responsibility of laying an embargo may well be supposed that these strange on the exportation of grain. When proceedings produced a ferment through Parliament met, this proceeding was the whole political world. The city was attacked by the opposition as uncon- in commotion. The East India Comstitutional, and defended by the mi-pany invoked the faith of charters. nisters as indispensably necessary. At last an act was passed to indemnify all who had been concerned in the embargo.

Burke thundered against the ministers. The ministers looked at each other, and knew not what to say. In the midst of the confusion, Lord Chatham proThe first words uttered by Chatham, claimed himself gouty, and retired to in the House of Lords, were in defence Bath. It was announced, after some of his conduct on this occasion. He time, that he was better, that he would spoke with a calmness, sobriety, and shortly return, that he would soon put dignity, well suited to the audience every thing in order. A day was fixed which he was addressing. A subsequent for his arrival in London. But when speech which he made on the same he reached the Castle inn at Marlsubject was less successful. He bade borough, he stopped, shut himself up defiance to aristocratical connections, in his room, and remained there some with a superciliousness to which the weeks. Every body who travelled that Peers were not accustomed, and with road was amazed by the number of tones and gestures better suited to a his attendants. Footmen and grooms, large and stormy assembly than to the dressed in his family livery, filled the body of which he was now a member. whole inn, though one of the largest in A short altercation followed, and he | England, and swarmed in the streets of VOL. II.

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the little town. The truth was, that the invalid had insisted that, during his stay, all the waiters and stable-boys of the Castle should wear his livery.

While things were in this state, Chatham at length returned to London. He might as well have remained at Marlborough. He would see nobody. He would give no opinion on any public matter. The Duke of Grafton begged piteously for an interview, for an hour, for half an hour, for five minutes. The answer was, that it was impossible. The King himself repeatedly condescended to expostulate and implore. "Your duty," he wrote, "your own honour, require you to make an effort." The answers to these appeals were commonly written in Lady Chatham's hand, from her lord's dictation; for he had not energy even to use a pen. He flings himself at the King's feet. He is pene

shown to the most unhappy of men. He implores a little more indulgence. He cannot as yet transact business. He cannot see his colleagues. Least of all can he bear the excitement of an interview with majesty.

His colleagues were in despair. The Duke of Grafton proposed to go down to Marlborough in order to consult the oracle. But he was informed that Lord Chatham must decline all conversation on business. In the mean time, all the parties which were out of office, Bedfords, Grenvilles, and Rockinghams, joined to oppose the distracted government on the vote for the land tax. They were reinforced by almost all the county members, and had a considerable majority. This was the first time that a ministry had been beaten on an important division in the House of Com-trated by the royal goodness so signally mons since the fall of Sir Robert Walpole. The administration, thus furiously assailed from without, was torn by internal dissensions. It had been formed on no principle whatever. From the very first, nothing but Chatham's authority had prevented the hostile contingents which made up his ranks from going to blows with each other. That authority was now withdrawn, and every thing was in commotion. Conway, a brave soldier, but in civil affairs the most timid and irresolute of men, afraid of disobliging the King, afraid of being abused in the newspapers, afraid of being thought factious if he went out, afraid of being thought interested if he stayed in, afraid of every thing, and afraid of being known to be afraid of any thing, was beaten backwards and forwards like a shuttlecock between Horace Walpole who wished to make him prime minister, and Lord John Cavendish who wished to draw him into opposition. Charles Townshend, a man of splendid eloquence, of lax principles, and of boundless vanity and presumption, would submit to no control. The full extent of his parts, of his ambition, and of his arrogance, had not yet been made manifest; for he had always quailed before the genius and the lofty character of Pitt. But now that Pitt had quitted the House of Commons, and seemed to have abdicated the part of chief minister, Townshend broke loose from all restraint.

Some were half inclined to suspect that he was, to use a military phrase, malingering. He had made, they said, a great blunder, and had found it out. His immense popularity, his high reputation for statesmanship, were gone for ever. Intoxicated by pride, he had undertaken a task beyond his abilities. He now saw nothing before him but distresses and humiliations; and he had therefore simulated illness, in order to escape from vexations which he had not fortitude to meet. This suspicion, though it derived some colour from that weakness which was the most striking blemish of his character, was certainly unfounded. His mind, before he became first minister, had been, as we have said, in an unsound state; and physical and moral causes now concurred to make the derangement of his faculties complete. The gout, which had been the torment of his whole life, had been suppressed by strong remedies. For the first time since he was a boy at Oxford, he had passed several months without a twinge. But his hand and foot had been relieved at the expense of his nerves. He became melancholy, fanciful, irritable. The embarrassing state of public affairs,