remains "the Great Commoner" who, when his country was in despair, out of weakness brought forth strength; who appealed to the people, when such appeals were rare indeed; who used power not for personal aggrandizement, but for national glory; whose hands were clean in an age of foul corruption; a statesman who could persuade as an orator, and an orator who could command and govern as a statesman. On the retirement of Walpole, Pitt became vice-treasurer of Ireland, and, subsequently, paymaster of the forces during the ministry of the duke of Newcastle. The perquisites of the latter office were great, and no dishonour attached to their reception, but he would accept only the legal salary. The conduct of Pitt in the house was not distinguished by any submission to the inferior men placed above his head. Although holding a suboffice he ridiculed the government leader of the commons, or rather, with more cutting sarcasm, assisted that gentleman in bringing ridicule upon himself: on one occasion he boldly referred to the premier, and asked whether the house of commons sat only to register the edicts of one too powerful subject, and finally refused a seat in the cabinet when Newcastle almost fell at his feet entreating him to accept it, on condition of supporting the king in his wish to carry on the French war by a system of subsidies to Russia and the German states. Grave events, however, thickened day by day. The country was defenceless, and German mercenaries were imported—the Seven Years' war commenced in Europe—Minorca was lost. It was an evident necessity that political intriguers should make place for men of power and patriotism; and on December 4th, 1756, Pitt became secretary of state, in the administration of the duke of Devonshire. A fresh vigour was immediately infused into every branch of national life. A national militia was substituted for German mercenaries; the Highland clans were made friends instead of foes, by being converted into regiments of the line for foreign service; and the new minister who had opposed a "system of subsidies," proved no niggard in giving aid when he found in the field a great man, like Frederic of Prussia. George II. dismissed, however, both Pitt and Temple in April, 1757, declaring, that he did not consider himself a king in their hands; but the affairs of the nation became more and more disastrous, and Pitt was recalled, 27th June, 1757. "I am sure," said Pitt, in his proud consciousness of administrative power, "that I can save my country, and that nobody else can." The four following years during which Pitt held office, were the noblest of his life. He redeemed the government in some measure from the domination of corrupt factions, and his spirit breathed itself within his officers, animating them to deeds of daring which rang through Europe. Every man knew that there was more chance of being pardoned for an overbold enterprise than for a weak retreat. "Pitt," says a contemporary, "expressed himself with great vehemence against Earl Loudoun, who reported that he found the French too strong to justify an attack on Louisburg." The energy of the statesman pervaded the British forces both by land and sea. Wolfe climbed the heights of Quebec, and Canada was won. Hawke gained the famous victory at Belleisle, replying, in the spirit of the minister he served, to the master who reported the danger of the navigation—"You have done your duty in making this representation; now obey my orders, and lay me alongside the French admiral." It is one of the most significant signs of Pitt's genius that he thus created his captains. Hawke and Amherst, for instance, displayed abilities in the service of Pitt which never could have been called forth by the duke of Newcastle. Soon after the accession of George III., the "family compact" was concluded between France and Spain, and Pitt advocated against the latter country an immediate declaration of war; but, overruled in the cabinet, he resigned office in 1761, proudly declaring that he "held himself accountable to the people who had called him to power." Upon his retirement, his wife was created Baroness Chatham, with a pension. The Spanish war broke out within a few weeks, and Pitt showed his magnanimity by taking no party advantage of the fact that his rejected advice had become a necessary state policy. Burke remarks, that the behaviour of Pitt when the new parliament met, in which he made his own justification without impeaching the conduct of any of his colleagues, or taking one measure that might seem to arise from disgust or opposition, "set a seal upon his character." "A time of war," said the orator, "is no season for personal altercation. In the face of the common enemy, England should be united as one man." His future career was frequently and terribly overshadowed, through the agonies of his constitutional diseases—agonies so stern as to affect the healthful working of his mighty mind. During the proceedings taken against Wilkes, Pitt denounced that surrender by the house of its privilege of protection from arrest, which was voted for the purpose of enabling the government to arrest the democratic leader for libels in the North Britain. The importance attached by him to the liberty of the press, strikingly appears in all his private correspondence. When the stamp act threatened the American war, he used all his strength to secure its repeal. On the 14th January, 1766, he delivered one of his mightiest speeches in opposition to that act. "I rejoice," exclaimed Pitt, "that America has resisted. Three millions of people so dead to all the feelings of liberty as voluntarily to submit to be slaves, would have been fit instruments to make slaves of the rest." When noticing the legal technicalities of the question, he finely remarked that he did not come "with the statute-book doubled down in dogs' ears to defend the cause of liberty;" and drawing the distinction between legislation and taxation, and taxation as essential to freedom, altogether denied the right of the commons of Great Britain to give in grant even to the king the property of the commons of America. During the five years which had elapsed since Pitt's resignation (1761-66), he had three times been offered office; and in 1766 he returned to the government as Earl of Chatham. His bodily infirmities increased upon him to such an extent, that his greatness is hardly recognizable in the feebleness of that administration. He was one of the first, however, to discern the importance of Indian affairs, and the necessity of ameliorating the condition of Ireland. In the early part of 1767, he was so afflicted as to be incapable of transacting business. During his retirement his colleagues adopted measures entirely opposed to his principles, and on October 12th, 1768, he finally resigned. From time to time, when his strength permitted, he was carried to the house of lords, and continued to recommend the abandonment of coercive measures towards America. Even after the declaration of Independence, he endeavoured to induce the government to agree to some terms of reconciliation. Upon the conclusion of the treaty between France and America, the final separation of the colonies from the mother country, became certain; and then Pitt's pride in the glory of the British empire flamed forth in indignation against its dismemberment. Of all men, his personal happiness and honour were bound up inextricably with the greatness of his nation; and the loss of America was like an affliction brought down upon the very flesh and blood of the "old man eloquent." Few will agree with his policy, but all will feel as one of the most touching scenes in history, that last appearance of the earl of Chatham in the house of lords (April 8th, 1778), when he entered supported by his son, and his enthusiastic energy struggled with his feebleness as he opposed the withdrawal of the British troops from America, until he fell in a convulsive fit, and was carried forth a dying man. Upon May 11th, 1778, at Hayes in Kent, the earl of Chatham died. He was buried in Westminster abbey; the chief mourner being his second son, William Pitt, whose name, with his father's, will live for ever in the pages of British history.—L. L. P.
CHATTERTON, Thomas, was born at Bristol on the 20th November, 1752. There was nothing remarkable about the family, except that a taint of madness ran in the blood. The father had been for years subchanter at the cathedral, and master of the free school in Pyle Street. A few months previous to the birth of Chatterton he died, leaving a widow and daughter. In the straitened circumstances of this humble family the higher advantages of education were not to be thought of, and the little boy was therefore sent to the free school. From the subsequent versatility of his mind we naturally look for early indications of precocity. But he was remarkably stupid. The master gave him up in despair, and pronounced him utterly incapable of instruction. The mother undertook the task which had worn out the patience and baffled the skill of the stranger. Weeks and months passed; all the experiments which affection could suggest had been tried, yet, in the seventh year of his age, Chatterton showed no signs of intelligence. The saddest thought that can flash across a parent's mind, now struck her to the ground—she had given birth to an idiot! Lying about the house was an old musical manuscript in French, over which the deceased subchanter had spent many a noisy hour. Tossed about for seven years, in the recurring confusion of housewife
