Newcastle, became First Lord of the Treasury. Pitt’s wishes certainly
pointed to the office of Secretary of State, vacated by the Duke, but he
received no promotion. This was excused on the ground of the King’s
personal dislike; but Pitt felt himself aggrieved; and having neither
regard nor respect for the prime minister, he gradually placed himself
in decided opposition to the government. Still he retained his place as
Paymaster, until November 20, 1755, on which day, with his friends Legge
and George Grenville, he was dismissed. In opposition, he resumed his
former activity; and he had abundant ground for invective against the
incapacity which led to those reverses in the Mediterranean, in America,
and in India, which raised a general cry of indignation through the
country. The Duke tried in vain to strengthen himself, by making
overtures of reconciliation to Mr. Pitt, and at last resigned, November
11, 1756. The Duke of Devonshire went to the Treasury, Pitt was made
Secretary of State, and Legge and Grenville both were taken into office.
This arrangement was short-lived. The King was ill-pleased at the way in
which the present ministry had been forced upon him; and he had a
personal dislike to some of them, especially to Pitt, and to the first
Lord of the Admiralty, Lord Temple, who was dismissed in April, 1757.
Upon this Pitt resigned. During the short period of this administration,
he had displayed his vigour and decision in originating measures to
repair the loss which we had sustained in America; and had endeavoured,
but in vain, to save the unfortunate Admiral Byng.
A sort of ministerial interregnum succeeded, and lasted until the
beginning of June. The King tried in vain to construct an
administration. Meanwhile Pitt was at the height of popularity; and
addresses of approbation were showered on him from all parts of the
kingdom. At last the King was compelled to recall him; and, after
considerable negotiation, he consented to form a government in union
with the Duke of Newcastle, whose parliamentary influence conferred on
him a degree of importance quite disproportioned to the weakness of his
character. Pitt, with the power of Premier, returned to his post as
Secretary, and the Duke took the office of First Lord of the Treasury.
Pitt found the country engaged in an unsuccessful war, and hampered with
a system of continental alliances, against which he had often directed
the full vigour of his eloquence. By pursuing that system he endangered
his popularity, and incurred the charge of having sacrificed his
principles to his ambition. There is no doubt (and this ought to teach
us moderation in our censures), that even honest men, in administration
and in opposition, may view the same measures under very different
aspects. Objectionable as he had thought and called that policy, he
probably persuaded himself that, under existing circumstances, it was
inexpedient to change it; and he followed it up with an energy and
decision, which at least led to results very different to those which
had disgraced the administration of his predecessors. He is reported to
have said to the Duke of Devonshire, “My Lord, I am sure I can save this
country, and nobody else can;” and the success which attended him made
good one half at least of the boast. France was alarmed by frequent,
and, on the whole, successful descents upon her shores; our connexion
with Frederic of Prussia was strengthened and improved; the plans for
the expulsion of the French from North America, which Pitt had formerly
conceived, were now carried into effect; and the result of his judgment
in selecting officers for foreign service, and of his indefatigable care
that no preliminary steps were neglected at home, was seen in those
various successes which were crowned by the glorious capture of Quebec,
and the ultimate cession of Canada by the French. In three years he
raised England from depression and despondency into a situation to give
laws to Europe; and during that time he converted into confidence and
favour that obstinate dislike with which George II. had so long regarded
him. But with the accession of George III., October 25, 1760, a new
favourite, Lord Bute, rose into power. Pitt continued at the head of
administration for a time, but he found that his counsels had ceased to
be the mainspring of government; and having been outvoted in the cabinet
when he urged the necessity of immediately declaring war against Spain,
he resigned, October 5, 1761, to use his own words, “in order not to
remain responsible for measures which he was no longer allowed to
guide.” The King bestowed on him a pension of 3000_l._, and raised his
wife to the rank of Baroness Chatham.
Not many months elapsed before the new ministers found it absolutely
necessary to declare war against Spain, the very point upon which Pitt
had resigned. A general peace was effected by the treaty of Paris,
signed February 10, 1763, by which Canada and other French possessions
in North America were ceded to England. Pitt inveighed strongly, more
strongly perhaps than was quite fair and candid, against the terms of
this treaty; but he took no active part to overthrow the existing
administration. In August, 1763, the King made overtures to induce him
to return to office; and it is not very clearly known upon what account
this negotiation failed. When Wilkes’s case brought forward the question
of general warrants, Pitt took a strong part in condemning the use of
them. In January, 1765, he received a second uncommon testimony of
respect for his public conduct from Sir William Pynsent, an aged baronet
of ancient family in Somersetshire, who, dying, bequeathed to him his
property, to the amount of nearly 3000_l._ a year.
To the scheme for raising a revenue in America, Mr. Pitt was very
strongly opposed. Illness prevented his attendance in the House of
Commons when that scheme was first brought forward; but in his speech on
the meeting of parliament, January 14, 1766, after tidings of the
disturbances in America had been received, he declared his opinion in
the strongest terms. “It is a long time, Mr. Speaker, since I have
attended in parliament. When the resolution was taken in the House to
tax America, I was ill in bed. If I could have endured to have been
carried in my bed, so great was the agitation of my mind for the
consequences, I would have solicited some kind friend to have laid me
down on this floor, to have borne my testimony against it.... It is my
opinion that this kingdom has no right to lay a tax upon the colonies.
At the same time I assert the authority of this kingdom over the
colonies to be sovereign and supreme in every circumstance of government
and legislation whatsoever.” He recommended that the Stamp Act should be
repealed absolutely and immediately, but that the repeal should be
accompanied with an assertion of the sovereign power of this country
over the colonies, couched in the strongest terms that could be devised,
in every point whatsoever, except that of taking their money out of
their pocket without their consent. These declarations coincided with
the policy of the Marquis of Rockingham, who had been summoned by the
King to form an administration in July, 1765, and who, without any fault
on his side, was involved in all the difficulties and dangers which
resulted from his predecessor’s ill-judged scheme for taxing America.
Mr. Pitt had previously been applied to, but declined taking office upon
the terms proposed; and he showed a coolness towards the Rockingham
administration, which appears to have been uncalled for by any
difference in their political opinions, and which, as far as we can
conjecture from the course of events, was very prejudicial to the
country. Disliked by the King, slighted by Mr. Pitt, whose influence in
the nation was at this time at its height, harassed by a powerful
opposition which regarded it base to yield to the demands of America,
the Rockingham government rather fell to pieces than was broken up,
little more than a year after its formation; and Mr. Pitt reached the
utmost limit of ambition in being commissioned by the King to form a
ministry, without the smallest limitation as to terms, in July, 1766.
Whatever gratification he may have felt at the moment, this high
position added neither to his glory nor his happiness. It led in the
first place to a violent quarrel with his most intimate friend and
political associate, Lord Temple, who felt himself slighted by Mr.
Pitt’s arrangements. Many of the most important persons, whose support
he desired, felt aggrieved by his past conduct, or were offended by the
haughtiness of his demeanour: Lord Rockingham, in particular, refused
even to grant him an interview. And when the government was formed at
last, it was of that ill-assorted and motley character which led Burke,
in an often-quoted passage of his great speech on American taxation, to
describe it as a “tesselated pavement without cement.” The Duke of
Grafton was placed at the Treasury, and for himself Pitt took a peerage
and the Privy Seal. The astonishment of every body at this was extreme.
Lord Chesterfield says, “Mr. Pitt, who had a carte blanche given him,
named every one of them (the new ministry); but what would you think he
named himself for?—Lord Privy Seal, and (what will astonish you as it
does every mortal here) Earl of Chatham. The joke here is, that he has
had a fall up stairs, and has done himself so much hurt that he will
never be able to stand upon his legs again. Every body is puzzled how to
account for this step; though it would not be the first time that great
abilities have been duped by low cunning. But, be it what it will, he is
now certainly only Earl of Chatham, and no longer Mr. Pitt in any
respect whatever. Such an event, I believe, was never heard nor read of.
To withdraw in the fullness of his power, and in the utmost
gratification of his ambition, from the House of Commons (which procured
him his power, and which could alone insure it to him), and to go into
that hospital of incurables, the House of Lords, is a measure so
unaccountable, that nothing but proof positive could have made me
believe it; but true it is.”
At this time often recurring paroxysms of gout had greatly shattered
Lord Chatham’s constitution, and incapacitated him for that
comprehensive superintendence over the affairs of government which he
had exercised during his former glorious administration. Surrounded by a
disjointed set of men, fluctuating in opinion, attached neither to each
other nor to their chief, it was more than ever necessary that the
master-hand should retain its wonted dexterity and power. But the case
was very different. During the whole session of Parliament in 1767, Lord
Chatham was prevented from attending to business by illness; and after
the rising of Parliament he was compelled to inform the King, that “such
was his ill state of health, that his Majesty must not expect from him
any further advice or assistance in any arrangements whatever.” This
declaration may be considered as equivalent to a resignation; but
unfortunately he continued nominally in office until October 15, 1768,
lending the sanction of his great name to a course of policy the reverse
of that which he had advocated, especially in regard of the renewal of
the attempt to tax America. On this subject Mr. Thackeray remarks, “A
greater contrast in the feelings of the Cabinet and of the nation upon
the present resignation of Lord Chatham, to those which were evinced
upon his dismission from office in 1757, and upon his retirement in
1761, can hardly be imagined. His dismission in 1757 excited one common
cry of enthusiastic admiration towards himself, and of indignation
against his political opponents. The attention, not only of Great
Britain, but of the whole of Europe, was attracted by his resignation in
1761; and, although the voices of his countrymen were not so universally
united in his favour as upon the former occasion, the event was
considered as affecting the interests of nations in the four corners of
the globe. The resignation of Lord Chatham in 1768 was in fact nothing
more than the official relinquishment of an appointment in which he had
long ceased to exercise his authority, or to exert his abilities. It was
expected by the ministry, it was little regarded by the people of Great
Britain, it was almost unknown on the Continent of Europe.”
Repose soon wrought a favourable change in Lord Chatham’s health, for in
1770 he led the opposition in the House of Lords. The proceedings in the
House of Commons against Mr. Wilkes formed the principal topic of his
first attack: but he warned the House against the fatal tendency of the
attempts to raise a revenue in America; and he took occasion, at an
early period of the session, to express his belief of the necessity of
introducing some reform into the representation of the people, and to
proclaim his cordial reconciliation and union with the Rockingham party.
At the end of January, to the general surprise, the Duke of Grafton
resigned; and Lord North succeeding him, formed the first durable
administration which had existed since the death of Henry Pelham. During
the years 1771, 1772, 1773, and 1774, Lord Chatham very seldom appeared
in Parliament. At the beginning of 1775, he made two vain attempts to
induce the government to offer overtures of reconciliation to America:
but during the greater part of that year, and the whole of 1776, the
shattered state of his health prevented him from taking any part in
public affairs. May 30, 1777, he came down to the House swathed in
flannel, to move an address imploring the King to take the most speedy
and effectual measures for putting a stop to hostilities in America, by
removing the accumulated grievances of that country: and predicted, with
his usual energy and eloquence, the certain results of the conduct which
we were pursuing. “You may ravage, you cannot conquer; it is impossible,
you cannot conquer the Americans. You talk of your numerous friends to
annihilate the Congress, and of your powerful forces to disperse their
army. I might as well talk of driving them before me with this crutch.
What you have sent there are too many to make peace, too few to make
war. If you conquer them, what then? You cannot make them respect you,
you cannot make them wear your cloth: you will plant an invincible
hatred in their breasts against you. Coming from the stock they do, they
can never respect you.” The events of that year, the capture of
Philadelphia, and the surrender of Burgoyne, fully justified his
predictions. These events had not been announced in England in November,
when Parliament again met; but in the debate on the Address on the 18th,
Lord Chatham again raised his warning voice to predict the certain
failure of the contest in which we were engaged. “I love and honour the
English troops: I know their virtues and their valour: I know they can
achieve anything except impossibilities; and I know that the conquest of
English America is an impossibility. You cannot, I venture to say it,
you cannot conquer America.” His speech on this occasion fortunately is
very fully reported, and the records of our Parliament contain none more
eloquent.
In February, 1778, Lord North announced the resolution of government to
yield every point in question to the Americans, except their nominal
independence of the crown. To this, little opposition was offered in
either house; it probably was the line of conduct which Lord Chatham at
this late hour would have advised. But the Americans had declared their
independence, and were not now to be satisfied with anything short of a
formal acknowledgment of it; and here the two great sections of
opposition, the Rockingham and Shelburne parties, were divided. The
latter, with Lord Chatham at their head, regarded such an acknowledgment
as the prelude to the total ruin and degradation of the country. The
former held that it was impossible to avoid it at last, and earnestly
desired, since the colonists could not be retained as subjects, to
secure their alliance to this country, and not to drive them into the
arms of France. The Duke of Richmond moved an address embodying these
views, April 7th, a day memorable for the most affecting scene ever
witnessed within the walls of Parliament. We relate it as nearly as
possible from the account communicated to Mr. Seward by an eyewitness,
and published in his Anecdotes of distinguished Persons.
“Lord Chatham came into the House of Lords leaning on two friends,
wrapped up in flannel, pale and emaciated. Within his large wig little
more was to be seen than his aquiline nose, and his penetrating eye. He
looked like a dying man; yet never was seen a figure of more dignity; he
appeared like a being of superior species.
“He rose from his seat with slowness and difficulty, leaning upon his
crutches, and supported under each arm by his two friends. He took one
hand from his crutch, and raised it, casting his eyes towards Heaven,
and said, ‘I thank God that I have been enabled to come here this day,
to perform my duty, and to speak on a subject which has so deeply
impressed my mind. I am old and infirm—have one foot—more than one foot,
in the grave. I am risen from my bed, to stand up in the cause of my
country!—perhaps never again to speak in this House.’
“The reverence, the attention, the stillness of the house, was most
affecting: if any one had dropped an handkerchief, the noise would have
been heard. At first he spoke in a very low and feeble tone; but as he
grew warm his voice rose, and was as harmonious as ever; oratorical and
affecting perhaps more than at any former period; both from his own
situation and from the importance of the subject on which he spoke. He
gave the whole history of the American war; of all the measures to which
he had objected; and all the evils which he had prophesied in
consequence of them; adding, at the end of each, ‘And so it proved.’” He
concluded with an energetic appeal against the “dismemberment of this
ancient and most noble monarchy.” To the Duke of Richmond’s reply he
listened with attention and composure: he then rose again, but his
strength failed, and he fell back in convulsions in the arms of the
Peers who surrounded him. The House immediately adjourned. On the
following day the Duke of Richmond’s motion was negatived.
Lord Chatham was removed to Hayes, where he languished until May 12,
1778, on which day he expired. He was honoured with a public funeral,
and a public monument in Westminster Abbey; a sum of 20,000_l._ was
voted in discharge of his debts; and a pension of 4,000_l._ a year was
annexed to the earldom of Chatham. He left five children by his wife,
Lady Hester Grenville, sister of Earl Temple, whom he married November
6, 1754. He warmly loved and was beloved by his family, and in domestic
life enjoyed all the happiness which unbroken confidence and harmony can
bestow.
The character of this great man is thus drawn by Lord Chesterfield:—“His
constitution refused him the usual pleasures, and his genius forbade him
the idle dissipations of youth; for so early as the age of sixteen, he
was the martyr of an hereditary gout. He therefore employed the leisure
which that tedious and painful distemper either procured or allowed him,
in acquiring a great fund of premature and useful knowledge. Thus, by
the unaccountable relation of causes and effects, what seemed the
greatest misfortune of his life, was perhaps the principal cause of its
splendour. His private life was stained by no vice, nor sullied by any
meanness. All his sentiments were liberal and elevated. His ruling
passion was an unbounded ambition, which, where supported by great
abilities, and crowned with great success, makes what the world calls a
great man. He was haughty, imperious, impatient of contradiction, and
overbearing; qualities which too often accompany, but always clog great
ones. He had manners and address, but one might discover through them
too great a consciousness of his own superior talents. He was a most
agreeable and lively companion in social life, and had such a
versatility of wit, that he would adapt it to all sorts of conversation.
He had also a happy turn for poetry, but he seldom indulged, and seldom
avowed it. He came young into Parliament, and upon that theatre he soon
equalled the oldest and the ablest actors. His eloquence was of every
kind, and he excelled in the argumentative, as well as in the
declamatory way. But his invectives were terrible, and uttered with such
energy of diction, and such dignity of action and countenance, that he
intimidated those who were the most willing and best able to encounter
him. Their arms fell out of their hands, and they shrunk under the
ascendant which his genius gained over theirs.”
Mr. Thackeray’s ‘History of the Right Hon. W. Pitt, Earl of Chatham,’ in
addition to the fullest account of his public and private life, contains
copious extracts from the reports of his speeches, and his
correspondence. The letters to his nephew, afterwards Lord Camelford,
deserve notice, as exhibiting his private character in a very amiable
light. The same may be said of the letters to his son, William Pitt,
printed by Dr. Tomline in his life of that statesman.
[Illustration: [Death of Chatham, from the picture by J. S. Copley,
R.A.]]
[Illustration]
MOZART.
That most of those who are now by universal consent numbered among the
benefactors of the human race reaped little benefit from their genius,
however actively exerted, is a melancholy truth not to be disputed, and
seldom more strongly exemplified than in the instance of the great
composer, who is the subject of this memoir. He to whom all the really
civilized parts of the world are so deeply indebted for the increase, to
an almost incalculable amount, of the stock of an intellectual and
innocent pleasure, scarcely ever enjoyed a moment’s respite from
ill-requited labour and corroding anxieties: few, not in a state of
actual want, ever suffered more from the evils of poverty; and he who
left so valuable a treasure to mankind had not in the hour of death the
consolation of feeling that he had been able to secure against the
miseries of dependence, an affectionate wife and her helpless offspring.
JOHANN-CHRYSOSTOMUS-WOLFGANG-GOTTLIEB MOZART was born at Salzburg,
January 26, 1756. His father, Leopold, was sub-chapel master, or
organist, to the Prince-Archbishop of Salzburg, and a skilful performer
on the violin, a valuable treatise on which instrument he published, in
quarto, under the title of ‘Violinschule,’ in 1769. Whatever time the
duties of his office left at his disposal, he devoted to the education
of his two children, and he began to give his daughter, who was four
years older than her brother, instructions on the harpsichord, when the
latter had scarcely completed his third year. The boy’s strong
disposition for music then immediately developed itself: his delight was
to seek out _thirds_ on the instrument, and his joy was unbounded when
he succeeded in discovering one of these harmonious concords.
[Illustration:
_Engraved by J. Thomson._
MOZART.
_From a Print engraved by C. Kohl, 1793._
Under the Superintendence of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful
Knowledge.
_London, Published by Charles Knight & C^o. Ludgate Street._
]
When Wolfgang had attained his fourth year, says M. Schlichtegroll, his
father began, though hardly in earnest, to teach him a few minuets and
other short pieces of music. It took the child half an hour to learn a
minuet, and proportionately more time to master compositions of greater
length. In less than two years he had made such progress, that he
invented short pieces of music, which his father, to encourage such
promising talent, committed to writing. It is to be regretted that not
one of these curious manuscripts, if preserved, has ever been produced.
Before he began to manifest a predilection for music, his amusements
were like those of other children; and so ardent was he in the pursuit
of them, that he would willingly have sacrificed his meals rather than
be interrupted in his enjoyment. His great sensibility was observable as
soon as he could make his feelings understood. Frequently he said to
those about him, “Do you love me well?” and when in sport he was
answered in the negative, tears immediately began to flow. He pursued
everything with extraordinary ardour. While learning the elements of
arithmetic, the tables, chairs, even the walls, bore in chalk the marks
of his calculations. And here it will not be irrelevant to state,—what
we believe has never yet appeared in print,—that his talent for the
science of numbers was only inferior to that for music: had he not been
distinguished by genius of a higher order, it is probable that his
calculating powers would have been sufficiently remarkable to bring him
into general notice.