Godwin, William (1783). The History of the Life of William Pitt, Earl of Chatham. London: Printed for the author, and sold by G. Kearsley. Dublin: Potts, Wilson, Walker and Byrne. pp. i - xvii.

London, Dec.
30, 1782.

C O N T E N T S

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INTRODUCTION.

INTRODUCTION.

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MUCH has been said of historical impartiality; and the generality seem to require it, as the first, and most indispensible quality of this branch of literature. It is however, like almost all terms of human invention, of ambiguous meaning. There is an impartiality, that embraces no party; that relates, with the fame spiritless and dispassionate tenour, the cruelties of a Nero, and the generous designs, and benevolent conduct of an Henri le grand. This is to be found, in the greatest perfection, in the dullest, and the stupidest

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historians. Lover, as I am, of impartiality, I think it my duty, in this place, to advertise my reader, that this kind of impartiality I abjure, and I despise. I am even free enough to think, that histories thus gifted, do not deserve the opening, to a philosopher; to a reader of morality; or a reader of taste.

But there is an impartiality; how shall I describe her? She is the native of no country; but a citizen of the world. She knows no personal regards; and she is superior to all party connections. She is deaf to the mandates of a court; and dead to the momentary gust of popular opinion. With a piercing eye, she looks through every disguise; and, with a discriminating spirit, she separates, in

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the most dazzling and beautiful characters, the false brilliant, from the true. She seats herself in the chair of truth. She appears the great archetype, of the celebrated Ægyptian judge, who decided, with solemnity, upon the merits of the dead; and determined the proportion of lustre, that should be reflected, from their characters, upon the remotest posterity. She considers this, as her sacred and inviolable office: and never never can any temptation move her, to lend her authority, to elevate vice, on the one hand; or, on the other, to give substance and energy, to the blast of envy.

But then she is the farthest in the world from the coolness and indifference. On the contrary,

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she treats every event, that comes before her, with deliberate, but energetic decision. Vice shudders, at her tribunal; and cruelty shrinks, into that abject, cowardly, trembling thing, that God and nature stamped her. Innocence, liberty, humanity enshrine themselves, beneath her standard. She is the only vicar of the divinity upon earth; and the visible head of that illustrious church, which alone, from all nations of the world, unalterable rectitude, and immortal benevolence shall honour, in a future state. In fine, she is the genuine professor of humanity. By imperceptible, never ceasing advances, she wins over the sons of men, to the restoration of paradise. She discovers, to them, all that is virtue, and all, that is praise.

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And this is the consummation of her reign; to expand every beautiful affection of the human heart, wide, as the universe of God; to blunt the horrid instruments of savage war, into instruments of agriculture, and the arts of cultivation; and to render man to man, in every distant clime, the propitious genius, and the guardian angel.

An attempt, at the former sort of impartiality, has spoiled half the well written histories, in the world. The bulk, it was impossible, should by this, or any other mistake, be spoiled. It is very lately, that the world has been taught; if indeed, in a comprehensive sense, it can yet be said, to be taught, the superiority, and the value of the genuine impartia-

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lity, The first writer, that has had the spirit, to assert it, in its fullest extent, seems to have been, the celebrated abbe Raynal. It is superfluous, to add, that this is the impartiality, to the attainment of which, the author of the following work, has most ardently aspired.

One word more, it is yet necessary to subjoin. His subject, abstracted, from its eternal arduousness, has, in this respect, a great additional difficulty. It is, in the utmost degree, recent; and one half of the characters, of which it is composed, are still living. In this case, the author does something more, than "walk, upon ashes, under which the fire, is not extinguished." You may inveigh, against the projects of an Alexan-

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der, and extol the virtues of a Brutus, in the strongest terms, that language can furnish, without incurring the suspicion of partiality. But, could the author flatter himself, that he had been happy enough; to abstract so far, from the age, in which he lives; as to view events, with the fame disinterestedness, that he might employ, in the former instance: yet sure it is, that he should find few readers, assiduous, and philosophical enough, to weigh him, in an even balance. He must throw himself then, upon the candour of the public; and rest his appeal, if that does not favour too much of vanity, with the judgment of posterity.

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CHAP. II.

Administration of Mr. Pelham.--Mr. Pitt appointed paymaster-general.--His versatility.--Origin of the war of 1755.--Death of Mr. Pelham.--instability of his successors, the duke of Newcastle, and Mr. Fox.--Mr. Pitt appointed Secretary of State.--He is dismissed.

MR. PELHAM, who succeeded, was one of the eleves of sir Robert Walpole. He inherited his skill in parliamentary management, and was competently versed in the business of finance. But his abilities were in no degree equal to the conduct of a war. In some respects, however, he was directly the reverse of his master. The manners of Walpole were blunt and undisguised; and, as he was a stranger to the sentiments, so he was not studious to employ the language of virtue, but where it was indispensibly neces-

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-sary. The manners of Mr. Pelham were mild, plausible, and insinuating. Upon all occasions, he preserved the decency of a gentleman, and the respectableness of office. By much apparent candour, and ever knowing when to yield, he turned the edge of opposition. Though engaged in the prosecution of those ruinous measures of government, which were, in some measure, entailed upon him; he has usually been considered, as a man of integrity and honour: and, however mistaken in his maxims of administration, is supposed to have been actuated by a sincere love for his country.

Hitherto, amidst all the vicissitudes of the state, we have seen Mr. Pitt preserve a consistency of conduct, as laudable, as it is rare. It was this quality, which, united with his extraordinary talents, obtained him at once the admiration and esteem of all the disinterested part of the nation. And, though, by such a conduct, he excluded himself from those lucrative appointments under government, to which his great abilities must necessarily have introduced him;

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yet, had his passion been gain, which it certainly was not, he did not remain wholly without his reward. A little previous to the time of which I am speaking, died the very celebrated Sarah, dutchess of Marlborough, possessed of immense riches; and who, though her fortune had been chiefly acquired by her power with the whigs; was violently attached to the country party, and even supposed to favour the exiled family. Among other legacies, she bequeathed Mr. Pitt ten thousand pounds, "upon account," as her will expresses it, "of his merit, in the noble defence he has made, for the support of the laws of England, and to prevent the ruin of his country."

His opposition to the measures of government was, however, now at an end. Lord Carteret retired in the close of the year 1744; and, though Mr. Pitt dill not immediately come into office, yet, in the latter end of the same session of parliament, he resigned his appointment in the prince of Wales's household; which may reasonably be considered, as a previous step to the arrange-

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ment, that shortly took place in his favour. In the following February, he was appointed joint vice-treasurer of Ireland, and, two months after, upon the death of Mr. Winnington, he exchanged that office for the place of paymaster-general of his majesty's forces.

During this whole period, from the resignation of lord Carteret, he appears to have preserved a total silence in parliament, respecting national questions, with a single exception. This was at the time, that they were called together, upon the breaking out of the rebellion in Scotland. He then stood up, in opposition to an amendment to the address to the throne, stating their determination, speedily to frame bills, for the further security of the freedom of representation, and the independency of parliament. In what manner he voted during this time, I am not able to determine. If it be allowable to hazard a conjecture, I should suppose he observed the same moderation in this respect, as he did in speaking: sometimes voted with administration; and sometimes, upon

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points, where his judgment was fixed, or his opinions well known, joined the minority. Be this, as it will; certain it is, he did not enter himself, as a speaker in favour of administration, till in the session, subsequent to the treaty of Aix la Chapelle.

Here then it is, that we are presented with the first instance of that unsteadiness and versatility of conduct, which forms the favourite accusation of the enemies of this illustrious character. It is not, however, wholly without its excuse. Mr. Pelham affected to set out with forming an administration upon the broadest and most liberal plan. And, though he scarce indulged the people, with even the appearance of a change of measures; he was able to bring the principal persons in minority, in both houses of parliament, to acquiesce in his arrangement. This was partly owing to the assurances he gave, that he did not expect those, who joined him, to abjure the principles they had previously embraced; and was even contented, they should publicly oppose his measures,

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whenever they apprehended them to be of pernicious tendency.

In the acquiescence I have mentioned, Mr. Pitt had certainly little or no share. But, deserted of his colleagues in opposition, and obliged, either to follow them, or to stand almost alone, he demurred. To continue to oppose, appeared a heartless and a fruitless labour. He foresaw no advantage, that could result from it to the public weal; and he felt, that it would amount, in a manner, to the shutting a perpetual door, upon his admission into any of the great offices of state. Ambition was doubtless a leading trait of his disposition. And, in this consisted the virtue of his character; that his ambition was directed, not to crooked ends, but to the largest and most excellent purposes; and that he had rather have seen it forever ungratified, than gratified, in a manner, that, he believed, would not enable him to promote the service of his country. Accordingly, he introduced, by his integrity, a considerable reform into the pay-office, which, of all others, is the most liable to

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abuse; and distinguished himself by the very honourable singularity, of never making any advantage of the public money, while it remained in his hands.

But, though we have stated the reasons, which may be supposed to have influenced his conduct, we do not mean to adopt them. The first principle, whether of public or private virtue, is, to do that, which we apprehend to be right, without regard to consequences. He, who is the delegated guardian of the welfare, and the liberties of the people, is bound, upon all occasions, to exert the talents he possesses, in support of every salutary, and opposition to every pernicious measure. And the moment he deserts this line of conduct, he must be considered, in some measure, as betraying the trust that is committed to him, and sacrificing to personal considerations the interests of his country.

The period, of which I am now speaking, from the resignation of lord Carteret, to the peace of Aix la Chapelle, is, upon many accounts, a memorable era. The war was now

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become at once ruinous and absurd. If, in the beginning, its conduct were such, as intitled its director to the appellation of a Quixote; in its present state, it concentred the extreme of madness, with the extreme of imbecility. It had, for some time, become totally destitute of an object; and was carried on for this single reason, because it was already begun. The victor, at the close of every campaign, held forth in vain to the vanquished, the most advantageous terms of accommodation. It is probable, that the administration, who, by their cabals, had prevented lord Carteret from accomplishing that desirable object, dared not immediately to do that themselves, which they had professed to disapprove in another. In the mean time, this very period was distinguished by the most perfect supineness at home. The opposition in parliament, equally reduced in numbers, and in spirit, was such, as scarcely to deserve the name.

At length, however, at the time, in which ministers had chosen to accept the terms, that were held out to them, an acci-

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dental circumstance tended to revive, in some degree, the ardour of parliamentary debate. A fresh dispute had broken out between his majesty, and the prince of Wales. Lord Bolingbroke had, some time before, returned to his native country; and is now said to have secretly actuated the deliberations of the prince's court. The principal persons of that court, with the earl of Egmont at their head, fell down the stream of opposition. At the same time, Mr. Pitt, who, it is probable, had hitherto been restrained by his disapprobation of the conduct of the war, thought himself at liberty openly to support the measures of government. The minister had also a most able auxiliary in Mr. William Murray, now earl of Mansfield.

A generous mind can derive little pleasure, from detecting the inconsistencies, into which the greatest characters have fallen. But, though not an agreeable task, our regard for the truth of history renders it an indispensible one. Formerly Mr. Pitt had promoted, upon all occasions, the spirit of

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parliamentary enquiry; and stood forth the advocate of the most spirited measures in all our foreign concerns. Now he placed himself in the way of such discussions; and expatiated with fluency upon the advantages of temporising. Formerly he had pleaded, with vehemence and energy, for the substituting a general address of thanks, instead of those prostitute echoes of the speech from the throne, so unworthy the majesty of a free people. Now he carefully displayed the evil tendency of a dry and unanimated style; and assured parliament, that these things were mere words of course, and might afterwards be retracted, upon better information, without any breach of dignity or truth. Formerly he had distinguished himself by his opposition to a standing army; and, in pursuance of this principle, had espoused every restriction, that had been proposed, upon the despotism of military law. Now he pleaded for an extension of that law; and opposed a bill, whose object was to have created such a rotation in the army, that, in a few years, every peasant and artisan, in the kingdom, would have understood

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the business of a soldier; and the people in general have probably concluded, that a standing army was altogether useless. "Our liberties existed," he declared, "solely in dependence upon the direction of the sovereign, and the virtue of the army. To that virtue," said he, "we trust, even at this hour, small as our army is. To that virtue we must continue to trust, should we espouse all the precautions our warmest opposers can desire. And, without this virtue, should the lords, the commons, and the people of England, intrench themselves behind parchment, up to the teeth; the sword will find a passage to the vitals of the constitution." In fine, he had formerly been uniform in his opposition to continental measures, and the subsidising the princes of Germany. Now he stood up in defence of the most exceptionable species of subsidy; a subsidy, in time of peace; a subsidy, that has scarcely been found, in a single instance, to answer the end, for which it was designed, or to bind those to us in the season of danger, whom we thus anticipated in the time of tranquillity.

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The generality, I believe, will be inclined to question the sincerity of this conversion; and will represent to themselves Mr. Pitt as engaged in the support of measures, which, in his own breast, he peremptorily disapproved. But they know little of the human heart, who suppose, that, in such cases, the judgment evidently points one way, and interest and inclination another. Perhaps there does not exist, upon the face of the earth, an hypocrisy, unmixed and pure. In order to deceive others, we first deceive ourselves. Interest and ambition not only alter our language, but our minds. They attract our choice, they warp our understanding, and they cloud our discernment. It must also be remembered, that change of mind is scarcely ever the result of sudden conviction, but almost universally produced by a slow and imperceptible progress. In the complication of motives, then, by which our conduct is governed, it is seldom possible, to ascribe its proportion to the influence of each: and, though it were easy, we should hardly be much inclined to so unpleasant a task. Mr. Pitt was probably partly induced,

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to this second recession, from his original line of conduct, by the motive we stated in the former case. His conversion may be partly ascribed, to the power exhibited in a thousand instances, of the fascinating manners of Mr. Pelham. And, I believe, the rebellion had, in some degree, the same influence upon his comprehensive soul, that it certainly had upon every weaker mind, to increase his loyalty, and improve his complaisance.

In the mean time, I have met with but one instance, in which he exhibited the remains of his old principles; and made use of that liberty, which Mr. Pelham indulged to all the servants of the crown. He had ever pleaded for the reduction of our army, and the increase of our naval force. And in the session of 1751, an amendment being moved, to substitute 10,000 instead of 8,000 seamen, for the service of the ensuing year, he stood up, and strenuously supported it.

One salutary measure particularly distinguished the present administration. Almost

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immediately upon the renewal of peace, Mr. Pelham revived a part of the scheme of sir John Barnard, for the reduction of the national debt; and, in the face of a thousand obstacles, carried it into execution, with a firmness and a patriotism, that must always be mentioned to his honour.

The last years of this minister, owing to the death of the prince of Wales, became once more undisturbed by opposition. Of consequence, Mr. Pitt remitted his exertions in support of administration, and fell back into that state of neutrality, which he had observed, previous to the conclusion of the peace of 1748. The only thing, by which he distinguished himself, during this period, was the bringing in a bill, for the relief of the pensioners of Chelsea hospital, and for abolishing the exorbitant usury, by which they were oppressed. He provided, that half a year's pension should always be paid in advance, and that the annuity itself should be incapable of being mortgaged. This regulation will ever remain a monument, of the distinguished humanity of its author.

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But events now began to prepare the way, for Mr. Pitt's accession to that high employment, in which he acquitted himself with so much personal honour, and so much to the glory and advantage of his country. America had now, by insensible degrees, grown up to the highest importance. At the peace of Utrecht, when we gave the law to the first sovereign in Europe, the boundaries of its most northern provinces were esteemed, at once, so uncertain, and so trifling in their consequence; that their final settlement was referred to conferences, that were little attended to, and an arbitration, that was never concluded. At this time, the spirit of commerce, in that part of the world, was risen to its greatest height. As the French have ever excelled us in adroitness, and the art of winning the affections, we had no other resource, to put ourselves upon a par with them, but that of compulsion. While they persuaded the Indians, we carried our purposes by force; and while they won, we alienated their affections.

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It would be absurd to institute an enquiry into which party was in the right, when the object of both was certainly not right, but convenience. It would appear still more absurd, when we reflected, that the Indians were the true proprietors; and that we, on each side, were indeed no better, than robbers, fallen out about the spoil, that they had made upon the innocent and defenceless passenger. But, whatever might be the sentiments of either party, upon this head, they do not seem, at any time, to have exerted themselves, to put matters in a train of accommodation. France desired, under the name of peace, to continue her encroachments; and Great Britain, as usual, began with temporising and delay, and concluded with hastiness and precipitation.

In the beginning of this dispute, Mr. Pelham died; fortunately perhaps for his own character; universally regretted by the nation. The ministry, that he left behind him, and that held their ground for some time after his death, were a body of weakness and inanity, almost without a parallel. The prin-

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cipal figure in this groupe was the duke of Newcastle, brother to the deceased. His abilities were perhaps of the slenderest form, that were ever hazarded in so important a station. He was chiefly distinguished, for his unfeigned attachment to the house of Brunswic, and as one of the leaders of the whig party. He was not however deficient, either in pride, or ambition. It was his delight, to be surrounded with a crowd of dependents, and to appear distracted with a multiplicity of business. His manners were those of bustling importance. His judgment was confused, headlong, and abrupt. At the same time, he was personally disinterested. And the partiality which every man feels for his own talents, may well be supposed, to have hindered him from suspecting, that the desire he felt to engross the direction of affairs, could possibly be productive of any detriment to his country.

The temper of this nobleman was exceedingly visible in the measures, now adopted by administration. Fostered by their weakness and indecision, the American dispute got to

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a head. And when it could be neglected no longer, they ran immediately into the opposite extreme. Instead of sending to the French court their peremptory and ultimate demands, they issued clandestine orders of reprisal; and held up Great Britain under the character of the pirates of Europe. And instead of directing the whole energy of government, to the increasing our naval force, they employed themselves in forming expensive connections upon the continent, that could have no tendency, but to involve us in an unnecessary, general war.

At this juncture, and upon the meeting of parliament in November, 1755, Mr. Pitt and Mr. Fox, the paymaster general, and secretary at war, put themselves at the head of opposition; and attacked the treaties, lately concluded with Russia and Hesse Cassel, with an energy and spirit, that seemed altogether irresistible. No two characters could be more dissimilar. But they agreed in this, the being both of them actuated by an uncontroulable spirit of ambition. They were sensible, that the present ministry could

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not stand long. By pushing them down the precipice, they expected to advance themselves upon their ruins. And indeed it was impossible for both of them to be disappointed. Accordingly Mr. Fox became secretary of state, and ostensible prime minister; and Mr. Pitt, and Mr. Legge, who had joined in his opposition, were commanded to resign their respective employments.

Though, by this step, the hands of government acquired a temporary addition of strength, yet neither was the spirit of parliamentary opposition much diminished, nor the conduct of foreign affairs at all altered. The succeeding campaign in America was altogether inactive. The administration seemed wholly engrossed by their fears. And the government of France, understanding their weak side, marched several bodies of troops to the coast of our channel, and studiously adopted the appearance of an intended invasion; while their real attack was turned upon the side of Minorca. The stratagem had had all the effects its most sanguine friends could have wished. Great Britain was im-

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mediately deluged with Hessian and Hanoverian auxiliaries; while the devoted island, was, in a manner, utterly forgotten. But the events that chiefly distinguished this year, and were alone lasting in their consequences, were the alliances concluded between France and Austria on the one hand, and Great Britain and Prussia on the other.

If the two contending powers in America, were inspired with an insatiable lust of gain; much more were the two great states of Germany, possessed with a most restless spirit of ambition. The loss of Silesia perpetually haunted the reflections, and disturbed the repose of the empress; while her illustrious antagonist appeared not to remain contented with his acquisition. He probably looked forward to some object, of which perhaps himself had no determined idea, but which has certainly never been perfectly understood by the world. With these dispositions, they only waited for an opportunity to declare themselves. And this opportunity was furnished by the mutual cabals of the courts of Versailles and London. The for-

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mer understood too well our sovereign's predilection for his German dominions, not to foresee their advantage, in distracting the attention, and dividing the force of their enemy, by an attack upon Hanover.

For some time, it was uncertain, which of the Germanic powers should unite with which of the maritime ones. Never did any war commence in such a medley of contradictory treaties. Austria had been our old ally, and, presuming upon her friendship, we had engaged the Russians to make a diversion in her favour. At the same time, we refused to concur with her in her views upon Silesia, and by that means forced her into the arms of France. The king of Prussia, protecting against the admission of any foreign troops into the empire, seemed to our ministers to open a door to a more intimate connexion. He was not backward to embrace the proposals, that were made him. And thus we exchanged our old and natural ally, for a prince, who must be supported by an enormous subsidy, and whose friendship could never afford us the smallest

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advantage. We paved the way to a fresh example of those singular confederacies; not, of many smaller powers to reduce one overgrown one; but of several, the greatest powers upon earth, combined for the destruction of one state, small in extent, and shallow in its resources.

In the mean time, these proceedings, however injudicious, were perhaps too complicated for the level of popular decision. But the loss of Minorca blew up the flame of national resentment to its highest pitch. By a train of insidious arts, the ministry were able to throw the weight of it, in a good-measure, off themselves, upon the admiral they had employed. Accordingly he was soon after sacrificed, in a manner, which whatever may be the opinion we form of the merits of his conduct, was undoubtedly disgraceful to the nation, and infamous to the persons concerned. And, after all, the administration remained so unpopular, that Mr. Fox soon after thought proper to resign. The motive of his conduct was supposed, to be an unwillingness to bear the odium of

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measures, in the forming of which he was allowed very little share. He probably thought this embarrassment not unfavourable to his views, and threw up his employment, with the hope of speedily resuming it, upon more advantageous terms.

Of the numerous disciples of sir Robert Walpole, Mr. Fox was the individual that most resembled him. He however finally became more unpopular than that minister ever was. His manners had something less of the plausible; and his temper, especially towards the close of his life, was infinitely more rapacious. In his turn of mind, however, there appeared something, less distant from the character of a great minister.

Upon the removal of this principal prop, the whole structure of administration fell to pieces. Those, who had so long retained their influence in the cabinet, thought proper, at least in appearance, to retire from the direction of affairs. And Mr. Pitt, and Mr. Legge, the two mort popular characters in Britain, were now admitted into the re-

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sponsible offices of government. But as, on the one hand, it was not intended, to cede to them the power of administration; so on the other, they were found in no degree adapted to the purposes designed. They were, as it should seem, too fresh from opposition. They could not immediately adopt the pliant manners of a court, or lay aside those principles, to which they had been indebted for their popularity. They were not of a temper, to submit to be the tools, or the scapegoats of an interior cabinet. They had too high a sense of the consequence they had acquired, lightly or inconsiderately to sacrifice it. Accordingly they opposed, both in council and in parliament, every measure, however patronised, that they apprehended pernicious. And even their concessions, for concessions, it must be owned, they made, came with so ill a grace, and were so clogged by the conditions, that accompanied them, that they tended rather to irritate, than to reconcile.

The efficient ministers, tired of perpetual thwarting, and convinced, that their ar-

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rangement must prove abortive, spared no pains, to prepossess their against his new servants; and determined, at all events, to expel them from the government. It should seem that the king had long since conceived a prejudice against Mr. Pitt. Though it had been frequent, to appoint the paymaster-general one of the lords of regency, during the king's absence upon the continent, this had never been done, while Mr. Pitt held that office; and even, in one instance, the secretary at war had been appointed, in a manner, over his head. This celebrated commoner had almost uniformly opposed those continental measures, to which his sovereign was known to be so much attached; and, as his language was vigorous and decisive, it probably left an impression upon the royal breast. And undoubtedly those, who immediately surrounded the throne, had taken care to represent him, as haughty, imperious and uncourtierly. They even intimated their suspicions of his loyalty. Thus artfully undermined, he was once more honoured with the royal command to resign. Mr. Legge, earl Temple,

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whose sister he had lately married, and many other of his friends, accompanied him in his retreat. Their country remained, for near three months, in the very heat of war, absolutely destitute of any regular administration.

It is truly wonderful, that a set of men, weak, timid, incapable and rash, beyond example, not contented with their influence in the disposal of places and pensions, should have continued thus obstinately set, upon retaining the direction of a complicated and most perilous war. For more than two years, they had exhibited an unvaried scene of defeat and dishonour. They had reduced their country to the brink of destruction. And, at the same time, by their cabals at home, they had caused the spirit of party to be every where substituted for the spirit of patriotism. The more imminent were the distresses of Britain, the more irreconcileable were the factions, that divided it.

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Chap. III

Coalition of parties.--Mr. Pitt's administration.--Progress of the war.--Campaign of 1759:--Fruitless negociations of peace.

The situation of Mr. Pitt, at this crisis, was, in one respect, more extraordinary, and more honourable, than any of those, by which the latter part of his history was distinguished. Without any practical knowledge of his abilities; and attracted only, by his consummate eloquence, his singular disinterestedness, and the supposed purity of his views; the people of England united to look up to him, as t the person, in whom they confided, for the salvation of their country.

The whole nation seemed to rife up, as one man, in vindication of the character of the exiled patriots. The most respectable cities and corporations presented them with the freedom of their respective bodies; and

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addresses were sent up from all parts of the kingdom, soliciting their restoration to their respective employments. It were, at once, difficult and uninteresting, to trace the steps, by which the subsequent coalition was effected. Suffice it to say, that Mr. Pitt was again resorted to the office of secretary of state; the duke of Newcastle was placed at the head of the treasury; and Mr. Mox was gratified with the appointment of paymaster--general. Each of them brought in his respective friends; and thus the three great parties, into which government was sent, were happily brough, in some manner, to co-operate for the welfare of their country.

It is, at this moment, that Mr. Pitt's administration properly commences. During the short time he had before held the seals, his influence in the cabinet appears to have been very small; and it would perhaps be difficult, to lay our hand upon the measure of government, which properly originated with him. Now he assumed, not by his influence with the foreign but by his popularit with the nation, that ascendancy in our public councils, which Lord Carteret

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had formerly enjoyed, under more hostile auspices, and with less happy consequences.

As it is by this period of the life of lorn Chatham, that his public merit is principally to be estimated, we shall doubtless be excusable here, if we run out into greater length, or more frequent reflections, than upon any other part of our subject. We have seen, in the example of lord Carteret, how unsuccessful a coalition usually proves. We shall see, in the perfect, a coalition, succeeding beyond all reasonable expectation; the most heterogeneous ingredients, and the utmost harmony. But it is from the former, and not the latter, that a general rule is to be deduced. A thousand circumstances combine to render the present a singular case. Both the other parties had made their trial, and may be supposed to have been, in some measure, convinced of their incapacity. And the abilities of Mr. Pitt, were palpably such, as, by no means, to afford ground for a general conclusion. Any principle may doubtless be pushed too far. At the same time, it may be owned, that moderate abilities, at least, maybe soft effectually exerted in

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connection; and that man must be singularly formed, who cannot meet with those, wholse general principles of government coincide with his own, and with whom he can honestly concur in the usual tenor of their conduct. Truly pitiable is the country, that cannot afford an administration of honest views, and uniform principles; or that has not virtue enough left to support such an administration, against the opposition of the interested, and the cabals of faction!

The first step Mr. Pitt made, was to give up those principles, which had led him to oppose a continental war; and to fall implicitly into the views of his foreign. It may be alleged in his excuse, that the alliances were already made, and the war had assumed its form, before he was called to the head of affairs. He may be supposed to have been partly actuated, by a sentiment of generosity for the kind of Prussix; upon whom the measures of his predecessors had contributed to bring a combination of the most powerful states in Europe, and whom it would now be cruel to desert. And, above all, he probably found this to be the alternative; that he

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must either serve his country in the way prescribed him, or not serve her at all. A continental war would inevitable by prosecuted. At any rate, it was pernicious. If prosecuted without popularity, and without abilities, it must be destructive. If carried on with unanimity and energy, it might be productive of glory, if not of advantage, and impending ruin warded off.

BUT why should we endeavour to conceal the truth? Mr. Pitt, I have already saif was possessed with a spirit of boundless ambition. As the leading trait, by which he had hitherto been distinguished, was eloquence, it was the gown, that seemed defined for the scene of his renown. His ambition was no subservient to the desire of luxury and ease; he was disinterested. The mere possession of power was not calculated to gratify it. Upon power, plodding, useless, torpid and supine, he looked down with contempt. It must be gilded with the rays of glory; it must be stamped with the dignity of patriotism; or it was not worth acceptance.

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There are but two ways, in which for the minister of a free country to acquire to himself immortal honour. By renovating the vigour of its original constitution, by counteracting the tide of venality and corruption, and erecting new mounds against the encroachments of despotism. This seems to have been the path, that Mr. Pitt first chalked out to himself. For that end, with the unconquerable spirit of a Roman, he set himself to oppose the destructive system of Walpole. Too happy Britain, had the abilities of thy first and noblest statesman been thus employed!

But riper years and maturer deliberation taught him, that his country was too far advanced imbecility, to make the execution of his first scheme probably; that circumstances were by no means favourable; and that nothing, at any rate , but great and marked calamities, could be expected to awaken her from slumber. And there yet remained another path open. A path too, that led to more certain, more immediate, more undivided applause. He might ex-

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pect change the cold had of reform, and the austere spirit of independence, for the brilliancy of succel's against a foreign enemy, and for the trophies of conquest. Britain was once again plunged in a complicated war, and seemed advancing with hasty steps to her ruin. Himself had almost passed the meridian of his life. Life Themistocles, the trophies of his ancestors would not let him sleep, and like Caesar, he wept to think, how many had closed a career of honour, at a period of life, at which he had done little to distinguish himself. Now he felt was the crisis of his fate. Now he must rise to glory, or fall forever down the stream of oblivion. He snatched the ruling helm. He silenced the cabals of a ribal, and the discontents of the governed. He braved the tempests of the deep.

One of the first measures of his administration was the expedition against Rochfort. 'Through carried on with a secrecy, that had hitherto been though incompatible with the nature of our own government, it proved in the end most despicably abortive. In the mean time, the Hanoverian army, under the duke

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of Cumberland, was compelled to surrender. The campaign in America was wholle spent in the forming of plans, in order afterwards to reject them; and the largest and best appointed army, that continent had ever seen was kept in total inaction. Thus the campaign of 1757 closed, like the campaign of 1756, wihout any thing being done, correspondent to the public expectations.

Popular applause is in its very nature inconstant; and what had now happened, were enough, to have damned the reputation of any other man. The changing of sides, in order to the coming into power, must ever be disreputable. The officers, that had been sent against the French coast, made no scruple to impute the failure of their enterprise, to its having been originally formed upon insufficient intelligence. And, though it does not appear, that Mr. Pitt had any immediate concern in the other business of the campaign; yet the coincidence of times often precents an attention to a circumstance, like this, among the vulgar. But fame, in the present instance, as if to vindicate her cha-

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racter, did not once desert her favourite. All Mr. Pitt's apologies were admitted; his preparations for another campaign cheerfully concurred in; and the popular expectations once more became, as sanguine as ever.

But if the disappointment did not strongly affect the public, it however sunk deep into the spirit of Mr. Pitt. In public he complained loudly of the military commanders; and lamented, that scarcely a man could be found, with whom the execution of a plan of enterprise and peril, could with confidence be trusted. With himself, he doubtless reflected whether the failure of success, in any degree, remained with him. He was not afraid to see his errors; and he had too much spirit, not to wish, by the mistakes of the past, to improve his conduct for the future. I believe, the charge brought against him, by the commanders at Rochfort, of the superficiality of his intelligence, was, in some degree, founded. Accordingly he probably felt its justice; and laboured, with unwearied ardour, to remove it; till, at length, he perfected a degree of

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information, that was perhaps superior, to what had ever been obtained in this, or any other court in Europe. In a word, he felt his abilities; he saw the theatre in which he was placed; the eyes of the nation, the eyes of the world animated him; and he burned to fignalise himself, in a manner, worthy of the hopes he had excited.

From the peace of Utrecht, to the moment, which I am writing, the character of Britain has been entirely different, from what the annals of former ages have exhibited her. The influence of corruption has enervated her spirit. Ruin and imbecility have crept upon her with incessiant, unobserved steps. It is the glory of Mr. Pitt, to have changed the scene. Like the comet, he spread a transitory splendour over the prospect, and threw a stream of lustre in his train. Hitherto our councils had been weak, inconstant and contradictory. Our exertions had been impotent. In peace we were despised. In war we were baffled, defeated, and disgraced. The present war had indeed

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begun in unmeaning precipitation. In its progress we were passive. We did not so properly resist. We suffered whatever the enemy saw fit to inflict upon us.

Never was the great scene of things suddenly shifted, as in the influence before us. Whatever comprehensive genius, extended intelligence, deep political knowledge, and indefatigable industry could effect, was ours. From torpid supinenels, we astonished the enemy with unremitted activity. Not a ship, not a man, was suffered to remain unemployed. Europe, America, Africa felt the influence of Mr. Pitt's character in an instant. His glory, in the mean time, advanced, like a regular fabric. Gradual in its commencement, it however, discovered, to the discerning eye, a grandeur of design, and primised the most magnificent effect. By degrees, it disclosed beauty, utility and majesty; it outstretched the eye of the spectator, and hid its head among the clouds.

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Though the preceding year had been unaccompanied with any successes to the British arms; it is however the most brilliant period in the history of our illustrious ally. He commenced it with a considerable victory, which was succeeded by a still more considerable, and apparently decisive, defeat. But, like Antinuous, he rose more dreadful from his fall, and closed the year with the successes of Rosbach and Lissa; successes, that seemed to wither the everlasting laurels of an Alexander. Such is the story of this period: and, as a contemporary writer has expressed it, "It is not the story of a " century; it is the account of a single cam"paign."

The victories of Frederic enabled the Hanoverian army to renew their hostilities. The French general, in using his superiority, had laid aside the principles, both of policy, and humanity; and the time was now come for him to feel the resentment of the those, upon whom he had trampled. No occasional compact can annihilate the external rights of humanity. Even the surrender in question,

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had been made upon mutual conditions: and neither party had certainly a right to the advantages, stipulated in his havour; unless, on his side, he punctually fulfilled the conditions, that were made in behalf of his adversary. In the mean time, the cause of the allies did not now seem more favoured of justice, than of fortune. They expelled the enemy from their own territories, and purified them into the kingdom of France itself.

For the rest, the campaign of 1758 was chequered with victory and defeat. We conquered the French settlements on the coast of Africa; we loft Fort St. David's in the East-Indies. We subdued Louisbourg and the island of Cape Breton; we were repulsed with loss at Ticonderoga. In our predatory expeditions, we were victorious at Cherbourg; we were defeated at St. Cas.

It seems to me, that these expeditions ought not to be passed over without animadversion. They undoubtedly manifested vigour and spirit. They, in some measure, answered the ends, for which they were de-

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signed. But they exhibit war in its most forrid form. It was visionary, in these scenes of rapine, to expect to restrain them, merely to the destruction of implements of offense They will ever fall, with the greatest severity, upon the innocent and unresisting.--War must be considered, by the soul of humanity, as the scourge of human kind. Her laws, if we are to credit the expositions of them, that have recently been made by men, who would thought skillful in the science, may be brought to countenance every waotoonefs, and every barbarity. But humanity looks above this. Whatever gives new ruggedness to the horrid scene, and a wider spread to the field of blood, she will ever regard with unmingled abhorrence.

The memory of the subsequent campaign will certainly never be erased from the minds of its contemporaries. It was one tissue of victory. It was distinguished by the battle of Minden, the most considerable action in the course of the German war. In it, we acquired the ascendancy in the East-Indies,

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which we have ever since been enabled to maintain. We captured the island of Guadaloupe, one of the most valuable of the French sugar plantations. We subdued the fortress of Niagara, and possessed ourselves without opposition of Ticonderoga and Crown Point.

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CHAP. IV.

Origin of the war with Spain.--Death of king George the second.--Cabals of lord Bute.-- Mr. Pitt resigns.--Critique of his administration.

MR. Pitt had, in the mean time, called upon the Spanish ambassador, to disavow the memorial of the French negociator. He avowed it in the most offensive terms; he avowed the union, that subsisted between the two courts; and extolled the generousness and sincerity of the French advances. Mr. Pitt then wrote, upon the same subject to our ambassador at the court of Madrid. He represented the memorial, as offensive and insolent. At the same time, he directed the minister, in case he should perceive a disposition in that court, to explain away their concern in the business; with readiness and, address, to adapt himself to so desirable a

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circumstance; and to open to the Spaniards as handsome a retreat, as possible. The answer from Madrid, though accompanied with those professions of amity, which, in political transactions, seem ever to be most carefully employed, upon the eve of a declaration of war, was not a whit more satisfactory, than that, which had been given by their ambassador here. In the mean time, Mr. Pitt had received the most undoubted intelligence of the conclusion of the celebrated family compact. This alliance, which fell little short of a union of the monarchies, seemed almost alone sufficient, to authorise a rupture, when it was become, in a manner, impossible, to distinguish between the two powers.

The situation I have described formed a new era in the theatre of contention. Like a lion, who repeatedly urged, repeatedly delaying to rouse himself from his slumber, at length arises in his might; so majestic and terrible appeared the British minister. All temporising, all relaxation of the spirit of enterprize was at an end. The energy and ac-

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tivity, with which his administration had commenced, seemed now redoubled. Those vast conceptions, and that comprehensive view, by which his character was distinguished, animated him with renewed vigour, when he felt himself about to act upon a more extended scale. He determined to be before-hand with the enemy, and to come to immediate action. He formed a plan for the seizure of the Spanish flota, upon which their revenue, in a great measure, depends. He seems even to have imagined a descent upon Cadiz. He instantly destined a considerable force for the capture of Martinique; and he probably regarded this, as a prelude, to an attack upon the Spanish settlements in that part of the world. As all his conceptions were manly, he doubtless, in that case, would have begun with the most considerable, that of the Havannah. But a mine was, at this moment, sprung, that dispersed all his projects; and put an end to an administration, which had given lustre, before unknown, to the honoured name of Britain.

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The campaign of 1759 had dazzled the people of England. The campaign of 1760, less brilliant and active, restored them to their senses. They began to reflect on the nature of that continental war, in which they were involved. They could not forget, that Mr. Pitt had heretofore been its warmest opponent. His fervid, caustic stile of eloquence, that made so lasting an impression upon his auditors, was little calculated for a man, versatile and uncertain in his political principles. They recollected the time, when he had declared with an energy, peculiarly his own, that he would never consent to our sparing "a man--no, not half a man," to maintain a continental quarrel in the fields of Germany. ----Independently of this circumstance, they recollected the nature of those continental connections, which had heretofore been so much the object of dispute. They had all been confederacies of many considerable powers in Europe, to check the ambitious views of France. No man had dared to propose our engaging in such a field, without that support. No man had thought of opposing himself to any

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thing, but our unnecessarily taking the lead in the dispute, and exerting ourselves beyond the proportion of the rest of the allies. What judgment then must they form of a case, in which Europe was so far from being alarmed by the ambition of France, that all her most considerable powers combined in her favour? What judgment must they form of a case, in which we singly encountered them all; in which victory appeared unaccompanied with advantage, and defeat was doubly destructive.----Add to this, they could not but behold with regret the treasures, that were squandered upon this useless object. Had the half of them been diverted into the line of maritime exertion, our success, they believed, had been unbounded; and a peace equally speedy and honourable.

The seeds of this kind of disaffection were already disseminated, and there seemed nothing wanting, but an able statesman, to turn them to his own advantage. In the mean time, king George the second, in complaisance to whose prejudices the continental war had been undertaken, died. His reign had been long, and he died more advanced

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in age, than any of his predecessors. Notwithstanding which, he had the rare fortune, of dying in the height of popular veneration, and was sincerely regretted by the whole kingdom. He had few personal attachments to his ministers. And, though Mr. Pitt was originally forced upon him, much against his inclination; yet the success of his scheme at length effected a reconcilement; and he had the happiness, to be, at once, high in the favour of his sovereign, and the object of applause and adoration to the people.

The predilection of one monarch, is rarely a recommendation to the good opinion of his successor. Mr. Pitt however, for the present, retained his situation. But the young prince had a governor and a friend, who gave a new turn to the politics of the kingdom, and makes a conspicuous figure in the history of the reign. It was the earl of Bute. His temper was recluse and reserved. The sciences, to which he was attached, were those, that consist in cold and minute investigation. He was hesitating, prevaricating and timid; the qualities, that form

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the discriminating, character of a student. The library, and not the cabinet, was the scene, for which nature had destined him. In the mean time, he was sensible to the goad of ambition. With that conceit of his own talents, which solitude is calculated to inspire, he formed no less a plan, than to drive, from the helm of affairs, the most popular,--I had almost said, the ablest minister, by whom it was ever guided; and to seize, once for all, the government of a mighty kingdom.

He began by turning to account that dislike, which was insensibly gaining ground, to the continental system. He carefully disseminated those principles, and held forth his pupil, as the deliverer of England from so enormous a burden. In the next place, he examined the materials, of which the administration was composed. They were heterogeneous and dissimilar. Nothing, but the predominant abilities of Mr. Pitt, had held them together for so long a time. Of the two other leaders, Mr. Fox had a personal animosity to the secretary; and the duke of Newcastle looked back, with re-

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gret, to the time, in which he had so impotently wielded the government of his country, without controul. The path of the favourite was, in this case, obvious and easy. He entered into an intimate connexion with Mr. Fox, who was too penetrating to be deceived, and whose skill in parliamentary management would do him the most essential service. Of the duke of Newcastle, weak and aspiring, he bought the assistance, at a cheaper rate, by flattering the fond expectations he had formed from the fall of his rival.

The influence of the secretary was now sensibly declining. One of the most striking symptoms, and which ought to have given him the most serious alarm, was the dismission of his faithful associate, Mr. Legge, from the superintendency of the finances. But, as he had always acted alone, and not inlisted himself in a party; so he seems never to have formed any violent attachments. He probably considered his influence, as of a species of its own, and necessarily uncontrolable. The earl of Bute was, at the same

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time, appointed secretary of state, together with Mr. Pitt.

At length, in the critical moment, in which his imagination was fired with its largest, and most comprehensive plan, he found himself suddenly and invincibly prevented. In the councils, that were held upon this business, he demonstrated, in a manner, he apprehended, the most incontestible, the hostile dispositions of Spain. He expatiated upon the alarming nature of the family compact, of the conclusion of which he had received the fullest intelligence. He told them, that this was the instant to attack Spain, unprepared and with advantage. Even while they deliberated, the time would be past. Now she was willing to temporise. So soon as her treasure were safe in her harbours, he prophecied, with the utmost confidence, she would keep terms with us no longer. Beyond that time, we might endeavour to defer hostilities, in vain.—These things however, with whatever else he could urge, were to no purpose. He found the whole council, with a single exception, (earl Temple,) dividing againft him.

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They represented it, as little less than madness, in their present situation, to engage precipitately with a new enemy. In the mean time, they declared themselves willing to maintain the honour of Britain, and, if expostulations proved ineffectual, to support the secretary in the vigorous prosecution of a war.

Three times was this important question deliberated. At length, Mr. Pitt rose up, and declared once more, that this, he was convinced, was the time for humbling the whole house of Bourbon; that, this opportunity omitted, it could never be recovered; and, of consequence, since he could not prevail here, he was resolved, that should be the last time he would sit in council. He thanked the ministers of the late king for their support. He said, that, for his own part, he had been called into administration by the voice of the people; to them, he considered himself, as accountable for his conduct; and he could not remain in a situation, that made him responsible for measures, which he was no longer allowed to guide.

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It had been the glory of Mr. Pitt's government, to abolish the spirit of party, and to introduce into the senate an unanimity hitherto unexperienced. The ambition of lord Bute brought things back again to their original chaos, and gave new life to all the bitterness and implacability of faction. A circumstance, that occurred, at this time, deserves to be mentioned, for the singularity, that attended it. Upon Mr. Pitt's declaring his intention to resign, earl Granville, formerly lord Carteret, who had, for some time, possessed the appointment of president of council, rose up to speak.—We are here presented with the incident, which faction took to work upon. One party represent him, as addressing the secretary, with all the asperity of studied insult. "I find," said he, "the gentleman is determined to leave us, nor can I say, I am sorry for it. He would otherwise have certainly obliged us to leave him. If indeed he be resolved to appropriate the right of advising his majesty, and directing the operations of war, to what purpose are we called to this council? He talks of being responsible to the people. Let him remember, that this

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is to talk the language of the house of commons; and that, at this board, he is responsible only to the king. He may possibly have convinced himself of his infallibility. But it still remains, that we should be equally convinced; before we can resign our understandings to his direction, or join with him in the measures he proposes."—According to the account however of Mr. Pitt's advocates, lord Granville repeatedly and publicly denied the having said any thing of this sort. On the contrary, they represent him, as having declared his very high opinion of the secretary's wisdom, penetration, honour and integrity; and as stating, in a most particular and emphatical manner, the many and insurmountable difficulties, with which he had had to struggle.—The authorities, by which these two very different accounts have been vouchsafed to the public, are so equally matched, that we have nothing, but the internal evidence of each, by which to determine our preference.

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The consequences of the procrastination of the English government were doubtless highly disadvantageous. If they could have been prevented, without any breach of honour and dignity, the not preventing them did certainly deserve the loudest condemnation. If Mr. Pitt meaned, as he probably did; and as the reference, made, by his friends, to the manner, in which the war originally commenced, strongly confirms; to set out with acts of piracy and surprise: I believe, the philosopher and the citizen of the world, will not hesitate to pronounce, that advantages, however great that must be so bought, must be bought too dear. Fiat justitia, ruat caelum, is perhaps an hyperbolical maxim, that will not admit of a strict examination. The principle however, in which it is founded, is not less just, than it is beautiful. In the mean time, it is certain, that the delay of the succeeding ministers was greater, than such a principle could require. How far the schemes of Mr. Pitt might have been reconciled, with open proceedings, and an honest declaration of war, I will not take upon me to pronounce. It may not how-

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ever be improper to remark, that this is one of repeated instances, which the discerning eye will observe, in the course of this history, to prove, how far exalted genius is compatible with local prejudices; and how difficult it is, to be, at once, a great statesman, and a citizen of the world.

The resignation of Mr. Pitt was certainly founded in the highest rectitude. Responsibility is the first principle of a free government; and the confidence of the people the only basis of a good administration. By a cabinet, whose opposition to him, was unqualified, in so leading a measure, he could expect to be allowed no scope of action, nor the smallest particle of discretionary power. The disadvantageous effects, that flowed from an opposite line of conduct, demonstrate the magnitude of the question, that divided them. Mr. Pitt's secession was necessary, in candour to the people, and to enable them to fix the era of the change of measures. It was a piece of friendship to his brother ministers, from whose schemes if any success could be expected, it could certainly be most

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rationally expected, when they were permitted to act, without distraction, and without control.

Mr. Pitt resigned on the fifth of October. On the eleventh, his resignation was signified in the gazette, together with the creation of lady Hester Pitt, his wife, baronness of Chatham, and his own acceptance of an annuity of £3000. At the same time, it contained an article of intelligence from Madrid, calculated to evince the pacific intentions of that court, and of consequence, to show the weakness and precipitation of Mr. Pitt's advise. By this artifice, the earl of Bute hoped, in some measure, to turn the tide of popular disapprobation. In the mean time, he added the employment of a set of unprincipled scribblers, to place these circumstances in the most favourable light, and to asperse and vilify the character of the saviour of their country!

One of the points, upon which they expatiated, was the reduced condition of the king of Prussia. He had struggled for six campaigns, against all Europe, in a manner,

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combined against him, with an activity, fortitude and perseverance, that surpass all former examples of heroism, Never was it known, that a confederacy, made up of so disjointed materials, should have continued so long unbroken. At length, exhausted, and intrenched upon, on every side, it seemed, as if nothing, but an immediate interposition of providence, could preserve him from ruin. This interposition soon after took place in the death of the Czarina: an event, that opened an immediate vista through the gloom, and gradually obtained for him such a superiority over his antagonists, as enabled him to dictate the terms of accommodation.

In the mean time, it seemed not improbable, that another campaign might have been fatal to him. The ruin of the king of Prussia, must necessarily have been followed, by the destruction of the army in Westphalia. With a foresight of these circumstances, Mr. Pitt, they said, had fought to divert the attention of the public, by involving us in a new quarrel with the court of Madrid.

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Disappointed in this, having steered the vessel of the state into the midst of shoals and quicksands, he deserted the helm in rage and despair; and left his fellow ministers to extricate themselves, as they could.—How reasonable this is in itself, and how consistent with the character of Mr. Pitt, I shall leave to my readers to determine.

In the mean time, this part of their accusation, seems to have left no impression upon the minds of the people. In another charge they brought against him, they had somewhat better success. The cry of pension is one of the watch-words of vulgar indignation, and it was not entirely without its effect. But the people of England were not long missed in this respect. They presently saw through, and despised the stratagem, that was attempted to be played upon them. The generosity of a free country could not suffer them to be blinded to so essential services. In a word, Mr. Pitt lost little, or nothing of his popularity, and the general indignation fell back, with redoubled violence, upon his successors.

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In the mean time, I am not apprehensive, that, with the cool and impartial, Mr. Pitt's conduct will need any vindication. If the public money were always bestowed in this proportion to desert, there would certainly be no danger of its being squandered. The most disinterested character, that lives, when he has a posterity to provide for, may surely be allowed to accept so small an acknowledgment, for so signal services. The multitude are too apt to confound such an acceptance, with an infamous bargain for the sacrifice of integrity. But certainly nothing of this sort is necessarily included. Should we allow it to imply a sort of obligation, not to run into all the asperities of faction; let it be remembered, that this were also unworthy of the exaltation of Mr. Pitt's character, and the vast space, that he filled in the eye of his country. And it ought not, in any just construction, to interfere, with a cool, manly and independent declaration of sentiment upon any occasion.

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Having brought the story of Mr. Pitt's administration to a close, it may be worth while, to endeavour to form a general estimate of its merits. The same spirit of party, that, in a former instance, had induced its infatuated votaries, to question the duke of Marlborough's capacity as a general; did not fail, in the present case, to induce some persons to assert, that the successes of Mr. Pitt's ministry, were owing intirely to the commanders, that executed, and, in no degree, to the minister, that planned them. In himself, he was headstrong and precipitate; but fortune smiled, and victory set her seal upon his undertakings.

It must be owned, that the good conduct of a general, in any particular instance, is, in some degree, more palpable, than the good conduct of a minister at war. It is difficult, upon the most circumstantial documents, and, in a manner, impossible, upon a cursory view, to draw the line, where the merits of the project ends, and that of the execution begins. But, without entering into such detail, there is a general evi-

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dence arises, sufficient to determine every intelligent spectator. In a single instance, a man may be fortunate, or well supported; he may be victorious, without merit, and even handed down to immortality, without having possessed, either fortitude, or common sense. But a chain of successes carries conviction upon the face of it.

In the mean time, we need not here confine ourselves to reasonings, which apply equally in a thousand cases. There is a lustre in the present, that is peculiar to Mr. Pitt. We need but contrast the first years of the war, with those, that immediately succeeded the period, in which he assumed the direction of affairs, in order to the being struck with the fullest conviction. During the former, all was weakness, dejection, stupour and inanity. In the commencement of the latter, vigour presented itself in the place of remissness; and the gallantry of invasion succeeded to the cowardice of unresisting passivity. Lately, the nation seemed to be made up of isolated individuals, where each man was left, by his uninterested neighbour, to the defence of his own

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person and property. Now, they were formed into an unconquerable army of brothers, and their exertions concentered by the ardent spirit of patriotism. Lately, they seemed absolutely destitute of commanders; or had commanders, who contentedly intrenched themselves, behind the cold dictates of cautious prudence, or the unintelligible quibbles of military law. Now, they were led by a race of heroes. Whence came this change? Did Mr. Pitt actually create a new race of men? No: but he blew the trumpet of war; with the voice of irresistible eloquence; and he displayed the consecrated standard of unconquerable abilities. He became at once, the ruling head of Britain; and the members, with one consent, implicitly submitted to his direction. Did the generals Mr. Pitt employed, exist, before he was called into power? Most true. But he led them forth, from the torpor of unnoticed obscurity, and breathed into them his own enterprising and undaunted spirit.

He did not resemble those accomplished gentlemen who accept of employment, for

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the sake of the eclat, that it brings, or the emoluments, that attend it; and cannot bring themselves to submit to the drudgery of office. From his youth, he had been no stranger to severe application. Formed, by nature, to be a man of business, he was unwearied in the discharge of it; and he forgot all his personal concerns in the welfare of his country. The parade of levees he abjured. The distribution of places and pensions he resigned to his colleagues in office. His hours were devoted to the essential interests of Britain. He took, in some manner, the oversight of every department of government, upon himself. His intelligence, from foreign countries, was early, authentic and universal. Possessed of the secrets of our enemies, understanding their strong and their weak sides, he accordingly formed his conclusions, and erected his projects. During his administration, the nation had confidence in government, and the spirit of the people was with it. His name alone struck terror into our enemies. Finally, in his negotiations, he never failed to support the honour of the crown, which he served, and

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the serene dignity of the conquests he had obtained.

Such then were the abilities Mr. Pitt displayed. But a more important question, relative to his administration, remains to be examined. I mean that of the advantage, or detriment, of which, in an extensive view, it may have been productive, to this country; and of its consistency, with the general interests of mankind.

And here, we cannot help, in the first place, dropping the tear of humanity, over the most general, and widely wasting war, of which there is perhaps any example in the annals of history. What indignation does not the generous spirit feel, when he sees the cold, inanimated politician, issuing his precepts from the cabinet; and, for the unintelligible objects of a senseless ambition, rioting in the blood of thousands, and turning out defenceless tribes, to all the variety of wretchedness? If, in spite of a thousand other arguments, we needed any fresh proof of an after retribution, here it is presented to us, in inextinguishable colours. Nothing,

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but inexpiable damnatian, can ever repay the more than infernal spirit, I have described. The pretended reasons of war are usually unintelligible and absurd. But never was war founded, in such frivolous allegations, and inexplicable claims, as that, of which I have been treating.—But in the commencement of it, we must recollect that Mr. Pitt had no concern. And, when he came into power, it would certainly have been most difficult in itself, and impracticable, in opposition to the court, and the nation, to have effected a peace.

The same kind of reasoning, is all we have to offer in favour of our hero, upon another head. War, in its general view, would have been carried on, if Mr. Pitt had not conducted it: therefore the blame is not eminently his. In like manner, the German war was resolved upon, without his participation. Thus far however, we must confess a blemish. But Mr. Pitt's blemishes, like the spots in the sun, serve but as foils to the luster of his character. This certainly is an additional circumstance of his glory. Obliged to engage, in a ground, not his own,

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and which he originally disapproved, he came off with more honour, than other men, who have had every advantage in their favour. And, in a general view, it must be considered, that the war, which was irreversibly determined on, was, in its nature destructive. Britain seemed to verge on her last hour. Though Mr. Pitt did not redeem her from this situation, and conduct her to unfailing safety; not, as it should seem, from the want of inclination, but of power: he however procrastinated her fall. He raised her, like the phoenix, from her ashes; or, like the dying swan, gave her last hour to be enchanting and divine.

Posterity will look back, with astonishment, and, if it were possible, with incredulity, upon the infatuated expences of this war. The supplies of the year 1761, more than trebled the supplies of any year of the war of queen Anne. If the treasures had been raised, as well as expended, it might indeed pass for gallantry and spirit. But, when we reflect, that these exertions were only effect-

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ed, by the creation of an enormous debt, that shall one day fall back upon us, with accumulated ruin; every feeling heart must weep, to see poison so gilded, and a nation ruined by her victories, in a way, more terrible, than old Pyrrhus ever thought on.—In the mean time, it must be acknowledged, that there are some favourable circumstances, which deserve to be taken into the account. The trade of the kingdom was so far, from being diminished, or considerably interrupted, that it was indeed much augmented, by the events of the war.

The parliamentary history of Mr. Pitt's administration, so far as it has hitherto been published, is particularly defective. It has been alleged against him, that, with all his apparent enthusiasm for liberty, while in power, he erected no new bulwarks in her favour. I will not suppose, that this was from the want of sincerity. His engagements as secretary of state, were exceedingly multiplied. His connections in parliament were few. And he, in a manner, regularly divided his power, with his colleagues in administration; he assuming foreign, and

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they retaining the disposal of domestic affairs. These considerations furnish a sort of excuse; though they must be acknowledged not to amount to a complete defence. In the second session of his ministry, a motion, for shortening the duration of parliaments, was negatived. In the mean time, a bill of some of importance was passed, for ascertaining the qualification of electors; and, shortly after, another, respecting that of representatives in parliament. It was also, during his secretaryship, that the militia bill was, first carried into a law, and afterwards improved. This measure, though narrowed, by the jealousy of the old ministers, till it became, in a manner, abortive, was certainly founded in the principles of liberty. It had been formerly introduced, and was now patronised, by Mr. Pitt.

But there is yet another view, in which this period may be considered, which does considerable honour to the secretary. Though nothing permanent was indeed established, in favour of freedom; yet his administration must certainly be regarded, as the temporary triumph of the people. By their voice, he

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was called into power. By their verdict, he was supported. He carried his measures, by the unbought suffrages of their representatives. An unanimity of this sort in parliament, was altogether unexampled.—And, when he fell, he fell, covered with popular honours: the gratitude of a mighty people followed, and illustrated him; and their indignation, and their curse was the inheritance of his successors.

(Pages 109-139 missing)

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CHAP. VI.

Mr. Pitt becomes lord privy seal, and earl of Chatham.—His coadjutors in administration. Measures of government.—Lord Chatham withdraws from public business—System of American taxation renewed.—Middlesex election.—Earls of Shelburne and Chatham resign.—Subsequent transactions.

THE generous mind would wish to draw a veil over the scene, which followed. We have beheld Mr. Pitt, at the head of the moist strenuous and most successful administration, this country ever knew. We are now to behold an administration formed under his auspices, the feeblest, the most disunited, I had almost said, the most pernicious, that the present reign, fruitful in such administrations, has exhibited. In treating of it however, let us endeavour, to distinguish the blameable, from that, which is simply unfortunate in the story of our

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hero; and to draw the line, between what an undistinguishing vulgar may stigmatise, and what cool and disinterested philosophy must condemn.

One of the first unfavourable circumstances, attending its formation, was its displacing a connection of men, virtuous in their intrinsic character, who had been gradually advancing in the public esteem. The jealousy between these two parties, has perhaps been one of the principal misfortunes of the reign. Could they have firmly united, and forgotten all their petty differences, for the sake of the public good; they might probably have formed an immoveable barrier against that secret influence, of which each of them has complained in his turn; and an invincible phalanx, in the cause of public liberty, and the vindication of national honour.

The plan too, upon which the new administration was formed, was, to say the least of it, a very hazardous one. The precarious and infirm health of Mr. Pitt ren-

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dered it impracticable for him, to engage in any of the great responsible offices, or regularly to superintend the helm of government. In a word, he had no other alternative but that of composing an administration of such persons, as he could best trust; and delegating his credit to colleagues, who should studiously fill up his plans, and, from conviction, pursue his measures. To give efficiency to a system of this sort, implicit confidence, and unlimited friendship were necessary.

In the mean time, it must not be concealed, that Mr. Pitt, with all his abilities and all his virtues, was not of a temper, the best adapted to the milder ties of friendship. His unbounded ambition could not admit of a perfect participation of interests; and the imposing superiority of his talents was calculated to keep lesser minds at an awful distance. Something of this sort will probably be thought visible, in the misunderstanding, that now broke out, between him, and his noble brother in law, earl Temple.

[143] They had long preserved the most perfect harmony upon every political question, and the great commoner had warmly declared in parliament, that he would "live and die with his noble brother." But,—such is the mutability of all human things!—these illustrious persons could not now agree, in the very outset of the business; and seem to have displayed that harsh and unaccommodating humour, that would have been ungraceful in perfect strangers. As lord Temple was designed, to hold the first ostensible place in government, and Mr. Pitt meaned what had usually been considered, as an irresponsible office, for himself; that nobleman, it seems, expected to have been treated upon an equality; and conceived, that he might claim a regular share in nominating the whole administration. The ideas too, which these two great men had formed of the plan, upon which their ministry should be adjusted, appear to have been different. Lord Temple was for such a coalition of parties, as, he apprehended, would best conduce to give solidity to the system, and form the most effectual barrier against any extrinsic

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influence. Accordingly he proposed one noble lord, out of their own connexion; and another, earl Gower, who adhered to an opposite party, for two of the most considerable places. Mr. Pitt answered, that those places were already engaged; and, upon this, his lordship immediately broke off the conference.

Thus far we perceive nothing, that pointedly interferes with any general principles of government, or strongly impeaches the character of either of the persons in question. We have only to lament, that they discovered this uncomplying temper, at a time, when their union was moist desirable; and that Mr. Pitt was deprived, by the means of it, of one of the most valuable securities he could have had, for the uniform pursuit of his measures.——What followed is not equally indifferent.

Not satisfied with the sinister consequences, inseparable from their discord, they proceeded to the disreputable length of a paper war. Mr. Pitt was first attacked in a pamphlet, which is said, by lord Chesterfield,

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to have been written by the earl himself; and of which a more proper character cannot be given, than that which he has subjoined to this information; that it is "very scurrilous and scandalous, and betrays private conversation." The answer was written, not by Mr. Pitt himself, but probably by one of his friends, and under his sanction. The character of earl Temple however, lord Chesterfield conjectures, from the manner, in which it is expressed, to have been Mr. Pitt's own. As excellent satire is seldom wholly unfounded, and as it may serve, at the same time, to illustrate the disposition of our hero, it may not be unworthy of insertion.

"Lord Temple, though he has possessed some very considerable offices in the government, has never been remarkable for any astonishing share of abilities; and, till his resignation with Mr. Pitt, on the accession of his present majesty, he was looked upon, merely, as a good-natured, inoffensive nobleman, who had a very fine seat, and was always ready to indulge any body, with a walk in his garden, or look at his

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furniture. How be has suddenly commenced such a statesman, as to be put in competition with Mr. Pitt, is not easy to determine: but so far is clear, that, had he not fastened himself into Mr. Pitt's train, and acquired, by his affinity, such an interest in the history of that great man; he might have crept out of life, with as little notice, as he crept in, and gone off with no other degree of credit, than that of adding a single unit to the bills of mortality."

The noble earl being now out of the question, the duke of Grafton was appointed first lord of the treasury; and, at the same time, Mr. Charles Townshend, was constituted the minister of the house of commons. Both of them were remarkable, for the versatility of their political conduct. Their characters however were not entirely similar.—The duke had originally formed himself, under the auspices of Mr. Pitt. He afterwards joined the Rockingham administration. When it began to be pretty generally perceived, that their power was drawing to a close, and

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it was in contemplation to apply to the great commoner; the duke of Grafton resigned, declaring, that he thought that administration too weak, to do any essential service; but that, under his illustrious patron, he would be content, "to accept the most insignificant office, and to wield a spade, or a mattock."—He is represented, by a very penetrating writer, as having been "sullen and severe, without probity;" as having been "unprincipled and dissipated, without gaiety." In him were supposed to have been blended, whatever is most odious, with whatever is moil contemptible. With parts, plausible enough, to disgrace and betray the first and wisest head in Britain; he had not penetration enough, to hinder him from being the tool of men, who were happy to meet with a person, that seemed ready to pursue any plan, however unprecedented; and to adopt any measure, however absurd.

In Mr. Townshend, on the contrary, fickleness and levity were so shaded, under a thousand beautiful accomplishments, that they

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seemed, to stand up, and claim their pardon. He possessed the most brilliant wit, and the most lucid eloquence. He was the delight and ornament of the senate; and the charm of every private society, that he graced with his presence. In a word, he was capable of becoming the first character of his age, had there been any connexion of men, by whom he could have been trusted.—Such were the persons, to whom, in some manner, the whole success of a system, upon the event of which the very existence of this country possibly depended, was committed.

Lord Camden, the firmest patriot, and the truest friend, was made chancellor. The two secretaries were the earl of Shelburne, and general Conway. The former, though he had once opposed our hero with peculiar acrimony, was now his most professed admirer and pupil. The latter was one of those persons, who retained their appointments, upon the dismission of lord Rockingham. Mr. Pitt himself accepted the office of lord privy seal. As this post had been constantly annexed to a peerage, he was, at the same time, created earl of Chatham.

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Should it be the fate of this essay, to survive the period, in which it was immediately written, it is to be feared that some of the reflections it contains, will become scarcely intelligible. If our hero were fortunate, in an unexampled degree of popularity and reputation; he, at least experienced the fate of all shining characters, to have his actions subjected to the harshest constructions, and his faults exaggerated with laborious asperity. Nothing could be more natural, or more reasonable, than his acceptance of a peerage, in the circumstances I have described. Few, one would have imagined, would have envied him the repose, that his infirmities required; or the dignity, he had earned, by the unremitted patriotism of a whole life of services. And yet this promotion involved him in the bitterest obloquy.

It happened, as, without any great hazard of disappointment, might have been readily predicted. Scarcely was the administration adjusted, ere it was disunited. Mr. Townshend was not formed to be the deputy of any man. His conscious abilities

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forbad it; and the versatility of his disposition rendered it impracticable. In the mean time, it is not improbable, the secret influence, we have so repeatedly mentioned, was not without its share, in this inauspicious event; and that the division was fomented by the most dishonourable artifices. Taking it for granted, for a moment, that such an influence existed, all that would be necessary, would be an ostensible administration; which, the more it was divided in itself, the more easy it would be to defeat, in any of their deviations, from that unseen line, that was marked out for them. In that case, it might possibly be the height of their ambition, to outwit the abilities, and fix a blot upon the name of the most illustrious statesman, that ever existed.

Short was the date of the ministry of lord Chatham. There are but two measures, that can properly be ascribed to it. One of them was certainly defective in the designing; and neither were productive of any benefit to his country. The former related to the state of the kingdom with regard to corn. The harvest of 1766 had proved so unfa-

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vourable, that the nation was threatened with a famine. In this exigency, the ministry issued a proclamation of embargo, though corn was yet at a price, at which it might legally be exported. Thus far they did perhaps what was necessary; and their proceedings might be justified by the maxim, that the preservation of the people is superior to every other consideration. But they ought to have had the wisdom and magnanimity, immediately to have proposed an act of indemnity, of the most general nature. Instead of which, they brought in a bill, that comprehended only the inferior ministers of the executive power; and, when an amendment was offered, that should extend its operation to themselves, they vigorously opposed it. In a word, the public had the astonishment, to see the lords Chatham and Camden, whom they had ever considered, as the grand supporters of liberty and the constitution, pleading for that most dangerous of all prerogatives, a power of dispensing with the laws of the land.

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The second measure of this administration, was the appointment of a committee, to enquire into the state of the East-India company. Lord Chatham certainly felt, with the deepest regret, the immense load of debt, under which his country appeared ready to sink. We had already miscarried in an attempt, to discharge part of our burden upon the shoulders of America. The apparent prosperity of our affairs in the East, at that time, attracted very general attention; and it was natural to think of turning so extraordinary successes, to the public advantage. But, before the committee had come to any resolutions, lord Chatham was attacked with that long and dangerous illness, which necessary sequestered him from public business, and finally deprived the nation of his further services. What his plan was, it is difficult now, with any certainty, to determine. By many, at that time, it was supposed, that he intended entirely to deprive the company of their acquisitions, and finally to vest them in the crown.

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The administration had originally been composed of such, as had immediately enlisted themselves under the banners of Mr. Pitt; in conjunction with several persons, who were contented to retain their preferments, upon the dismission of lord Rockingham. It was only advanced thus far in its progress, when it received a severe shock, from the resignation of the greater part of those, who came under the latter description. Upon this emergency, lord Chesterfield asserts, that the earl of Chatham made proposals to the duke of Bedford. Certain it is however, that no coalition of this kind took place; and the men, who were now introduced into office, were principally composed of the personal friends of lord Bute.

It was, by this time, sufficiently obvious, that lord Chatham's arrangement must finally prove abortive. The changes, that had now taken place, seemed to prove, that the secret influence, so often complained of, continued to exist. The breach between Mr. Townshend, and his political creator, instead of being healed, grew wider and wider. And it

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is probable, that the noble lord began, by this time, to experience that coolness and desertion in his treasurer, which he is said afterwards to have stated, as one of the causes of his miscarriage. To complete the whole, his constitutional distemper was risen to a height, that rendered him absolutely incapable of public business. It is probable, that the unfavourable appearances, I have described, sat strongly upon his mind, and, concurring with his disorder, precipitated him into that state of imbecility, of which he now became the victim.

Such is the history of lord Chatham's second administration. Humanity drops a tear upon it; and the generous spirit, warmed, even to enthusiasm, by the contemplation of his former services, would wish to blot it from the records of time.——But it does not end here. In its commencement, it displaced an administration, as virtuous, as disinterested, as ever sat at the helm of government. Britain seemed to derive new vigour from their fostering hand. Her wounds, which erewhile appeared all livid and ghastly, seem-

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ed fast converging to a perfect recovery.—And what kind of an administration did lord Chatham leave in the possession of government? An administration, unprincipled and disunited, made up of the deserters of all parties. An administration, to whose errors; their full effect was carefully preserved, and whose virtues, all thinly sown, as they were, by an unseen, malignant influence, were blasted in the bud. In a word, an administration, which, with a slight reinforcement, retained their posts fourteen years, and reduced their country to the lowest abyss of poverty, contempt, and dishonour.

One of the first acts, that followed lord Chatham's demission of the government, was an act, for granting certain duties in the American colonies. This is certainly one of the most extraordinary events, that history records. Three principal members of the cabinet, with the first lord of the treasury at their head, afterwards declared, that it had never received their approbation. While the baleful effects of the stamp-act were yet fresh

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in the memory of every man; the same measure was renewed, with circumstances of additional irritation. While every thing was carried on, with great parade, in the name of lord Chatham; this was the period they chose for their operations. Lord Chatham, who had distinguished himself, by being the first public man in this country, to declare the exclusive right of America, to grant her own money. Lord Chatham, to whom the gratitude of America had raised statues, and erected monuments; and whose name had been repeated, from one end of the continent to the other, as the symbol of liberty.

Mr. Townshend was the official author of this measure. The constant object of his pursuit was applause. When the voice of this country seemed to call for a revenue from America, he had been an advocate for the stamp act. In the following session, when events had changed the popular opinion, he voted for its repeal. The fail of the Rockingham administration naturally brought their favourite measure into disrepute. To conform therefore to the temper, which be-

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gan to prevail, Mr. Townshend declared, very early in the session, that a revenue must be had out of America. He was instantly tied down to his engagements. And, that he might fulfil them in the most plausible manner, he introduced his bill, with a preamble, declaring the necessity of a revenue, to make it palatable to the high-fliers at home; and he adopted the American distinction, of restricting himself to external imposition. But the measure had the usual state of all exquisite policy.

Its author had, by this time, probably begun to flatter himself with the idea, that he was, in reality, the first minister of his country. But the men, he had to deal with, seemed perfectly to understand the art of degrading patriotism, and mortifying arrogance. To convince him of his dependency, he found himself, towards the close of the session, in a question, relative to the business of the East-Indian committee, together with Mr. secretary Conway, in a very inconsiderable minority.

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Soon after the session was concluded, Mr. Townshend died; the secretary resigned; and the remaining members of administration formed that coalition with the Bedford party, which, unlike all the former political manoeuvres of the reign, proved so durable. What principally attracted the public attention, in the next, and last session of this parliament, was an attempt, made by administration, to deprive the duke of Portland of an estate, that had continued in his family for seventy years, by virtue of a grant of king William the third. The attempt itself was scarcely more odious, than the unfair and precipitate methods, that were taken to accomplish it.

The ministry was, by this time, become so unpopular, that the ensuing elections were very generally and warmly contested, throughout the kingdom. But the person, who made himself principally noticed on this occasion, was the celebrated Mr. Wilkes. While the methods, employed in his prosecution, were declared illegal by the Rockingham administration, he himself was, in a

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great measure, forgotten. Upon the ensuing change, when the duke of Grafton, who had always professed the strongest attachment for him, was placed at the head of the treasury, his hopes revived. He applied, with confidence, to that nobleman, to solicit his pardon. Finding himself here treated with neglect, if not with insult, he became desperate. The despair of a man of his intrepid spirit, is always formidable. He took the resolution to come over to England; and offered himself a candidate, to represent, first the city of London, and afterwards the county of Middlesex. In this latter attempt he was successful. The nation saw, with astonishment, an obscure individual, with courage enough to engage in so arduous an undertaking, though in continual fear of his creditors, and with the terrors of an outlawry hanging over his head: the administration of a mighty kingdom, so dastardly and pusillanimous, as not to venture to take him into custody, when they might have done it; almost without animadversion; but suffering him to go such a length, as, in the event, to be able to defy their utmost, efforts.

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When, at last, he was apprehended, the populace declared themselves strongly in his favour. In the mean time, the ministry encreased the general resentment, by appearing studiously forward, to call in the assistance of the military; and afterwards by screening, with a thousand arts, the ministers of their vengeance, from the hands of justice, in cases, in which they had gone beyond, what even military rules could authorise.

Lord Chatham had long ceased, to have any concern in public affairs. Partly upon account of his health, and partly from the disgust and mortification he conceived from the conduct of ministers, the business of his office had, for a considerable time, been transacted by commission. At this time, there happened an event, which, in some measure, roused him from his torpor, and determined him finally to withdraw his name from an administration, with which he had long ceased to have any connexion.

The brave Corsicans had long struggled against the tyranny of the Genoese. Tired

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of an unprofitable and disputed dominion, that republic had lately made over her claim to the crown of France. But, though, in consequence of this cession, their new masters poured upon them an immense military force; yet, by the independent, unsubmitting spirit, that had long animated them, they were induced, to hold out to the last, and defend themselves to their rocks and fastness. They hoped, that some friendly power would, at length, be roused to their relief; and were persuaded, that it was better to die in the cause of freedom, than to submit, and be slaves. Such a determination naturally commanded the sympathy of Britain. Separately too from this consideration, the island, from its site in the Mediterranean, was generally esteemed of considerable importance in the commercial world. Quietly to permit it therefore, to be thrown into the scale of a power, whose superior strength had long rendered her formidable in the eyes of Europe, was certainly contrary to the politics, by which that quarter of the globe had been actuated, for more than a centuary past. Most persons imagined, that

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a strong remonstrance, from our court, would have deterred France from her undertaking, without the risk of a war.

In this however, they seem to have been mistaken. Such a remonstrance was actually transmitted to our ambassador by the earl of Shelburne, and by him delivered to the court of Versailles. From the opinion they formed of the imbecility of our government, it was treated with contempt. The conclusion was simply this. The ambassador insisted upon a recal, and, at the same time, lord Shelburne was dismissed from his office. The intimacy, that now subsisted between this nobleman and lord Chatham, induced the aged leader, to display, at once, his resentment of the affront, offered to his friend, and his sense of the national disgrace, by an immediate resignation.

It will probably be asked, how lord Chatham, who, in the beginning of the reign, had declared, that he would never make himself responsible for measures, which he was not allowed to guide, came now to defer this step to so late a period? I will not assert

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that his conduct, upon this head, was entirely blameless. In the mean time, much might be said, in his excuse, with regard to the distemper, under which he laboured; which, especially in the former part of this period, had debilitated his faculties, and rendered him incapable of public business, to the degree, that, for a considerable time, he did not open a single pacquet, that was sent to him, of a public concern. Much also might be said, respecting the desertion of his friends. The last lesson of a generous, untainted heart, is that of suspicion. This is one part of the apology, he is said afterwards to have offered in his own behalf. At the same time, he complained of a circumstance, which could only be ascertained by repeated experience, that the open treachery, that was practised against him, was abetted by secret influence; and that he found "a power behind the throne, greater, than the throne itself."

In the mean time, the discontents in America, and particularly in the capital of Boston, had risen to a very formidable height. Several regiments of soldiers however were

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ordered upon that station, and a temporary tranquillity re-established. In the first session of the new parliament, these affairs formed a principal object of their attention. They voted several very strong censures on the Bostonians, and addressed his majesty, to cause the delinquents there, to be brought over to this country for trial. These seemingly resolute measures were, in the mean time, accompanied to America, with a circular letter of the secretary of state, promising a repeal of the greater part of the obnoxious duties, and assuring, that the idea, of deriving a parliamentary revenue from that country, was entirely abandoned.

Nothing can be more truly deplorable, than to behold the possession, of the most valuable jewel of the British crown thus egregiously trifled with. By a partial repeal, we displayed a spiritless temper of insidious concession: at the same time, that the tax we retained, not being sufficient, to pay the charge of collection, demonstrated, that we retained it, for the sake of asserting our imaginary rights; and gave the lie to our most solemn declarations. The minister's engag-

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ing the honour of the sovereign, for an act hereafter to take place in parliament, was also considered, as not a little extraordinary. In a word, there appeared nothing manly, decisive and ingenious in the whole transaction. "If we contend for a revenue," such was the language of opposition, when the affair came afterwards to be canvassed, "let us establish a revenue, that shall be worth contending for. But if with maturer wisdom, and juster principles, we mean concession, let us come forward like men, and confess our error. Let our acknowledgment of the rights of others, be as honest and undisguised, as we would wish, upon a proper occasion, to be the assertion of our own."

In the mean time, the most extraordinary domestic occurrences of the present reign had taken place, in the affair of the Middlesex election. Mr. Wilkes was expelled the house of commons; re-elected by his constituents; and, in return, declared incapable of sitting in the present parliament. As the county was not be diverted to another

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choice, the ministry offered the seat to any one, who would propose himself as a candidate, though he should have but four voices. Upon this principle, Mr. Luttrel was afterwards declared, by the house of commons, the legal member. Never did any determination spread a more universal flame of discontent. The city of London led the way, and many of the most considerable counties in the kingdom, imitated them, in petitioning the sovereign for the dissolution of parliament.