Part 5

“What! you in the Council, and you do not go to mass!” exclaimed the First Minister of the Crown, with every feature of his countenance marked with surprise.

“Sully did not go to mass, and yet he was admitted to the Council,” replied the Swiss financier, with becoming dignity; but in vain. The minister offered to comply with his request, if he would become a Roman Catholic; but, as in duty bound, Necker resolutely refused to sacrifice his religious convictions to political advancement, and sent in his resignation to the king. His majesty, painfully aware of the value of the services he was thus about to lose, accepted it mournfully; and those who had coalesced to overthrow the obnoxious statesman rejoiced for a brief season over the triumph they had, for their misfortune, achieved.

Meantime Necker had made a noble and philanthropic use of the influence he possessed, and of the immense wealth which he had amassed by his talents and industry. His private character was so unexceptionable, and his morality so unimpeachable, as to contrast remarkably with those among whom he acted so prominent a part; and, with the assistance of his precious wife, he had done much to relieve and alleviate the wants and distresses of the poor and indigent. Madame Necker had expressed a wish to devote her talents to literature, but her husband hinted his objection to such a course being pursued; and she betook herself to those acts of charity and beneficence, to which he proudly appealed in a day of darkness and gloom. Thus, at a great cost of time, labor, and money, they had founded the hospital in Paris which still bears their name; and there, in contemplating the good effected by their exertions, they found consolation in times of trouble. On the day preceding his resignation, they went thither; and the Sisters of Mercy who attended the patients sang portions of the Psalms――the only poetry with which they were acquainted――and loudly extolled the Neckers as the helpers and benefactors of the poor and needy. The fallen minister was, perhaps, much more moved with such demonstrations of affection than by all his trials, and felt a pang at losing a position which gave him the power of conferring blessings on his less-favored fellow-creatures.

Necker now retired to St. Omer, a short distance from Paris, where he soon had conclusive proofs of his wide popularity. He received hundreds of communications from people of the highest rank and importance, regretting his removal from office: the road between his residence and the city was crowded with the carriages of persons who went to pay their respects to him in his retreat; and ere long he had it in his power to decline the proposals of three foreign sovereigns, who each hastened to offer him the management of their exchequers.

In 1787 he published his celebrated attack on Calonne, then presiding over the financial department; and so bitter did the controversy become, that the king judged it necessary to banish the ex-minister twenty leagues from Paris. Next year, however, the feeling against his successor became so strong, the monetary embarrassments so perplexing, and the public excitement so great, that there appeared no other politic course than to recall Necker from his retirement. Accordingly he was privately applied to by the queen, through the Austrian embassador, to resume his former functions; but he declined doing so without possessing complete control. He was, therefore, recalled, as a kind of financial dictator. His return was a triumph of the most brilliant description. He was welcomed along the road from Bale with expressions of joy, gratitude, and admiration, by the inhabitants of the district. The day of his entry into Paris was kept as a festive holiday, and the popular enthusiasm manifested itself in shouts of applause: but he came too late to be permanently of service to the disordered and agitated state. Few men have ever met with so hearty a reception from their fellow-subjects; and Necker had sufficient ambition and vanity not to be altogether insensible to the glowing triumphs of such an hour. Yet, when congratulated on his recall, under circumstances so flattering, he regretfully remarked――“Ah, would that I could recall the last fifteen months!”

Nevertheless, his influence was, as anticipated, speedily and beneficially felt in the restoration of public credit, and the relief of the capital from the famine which had threatened and terrified its inhabitants. Events had, indeed, arrived at a crisis which baffled the strength of his guiding-hand and the resources of his busy brain; and he soon found questions arising which the public excitement prevented him from dealing with, or settling, to advantage. The wearisome and invidious duty of being responsible for proceedings over which he had no control, was his for a brief period; and he, unfortunately, lacked the qualities which enable a public man to stand and save himself and others in an age of revolution. His popularity vanished as the storm approached; and, at length, on the 4th of September, 1790, sick at heart, and tired of contending with difficulties which no human power could have subdued, he finally resigned the high office which, in ordinary times, he was capable of filling with so much honor to himself, and so much advantage to the country, disappeared from the stage, and was quickly forgotten amid the excitement and bloodshed of a revolutionary tempest. He betook himself to Coppet, and felt his banishment from the moving world less than most men who have been compelled to relinquish power. He had that admiration of his learned, virtuous, and amiable wife, which swallowed up such considerations. Her influence over his heart was as unlimited as was her devotion to his wishes. Though she was somewhat cold, formal, and precise, in his eyes she seemed perfect, and he had ever regarded her with a feeling approaching to idolatry; and in days of adversity she shone forth, and exhibited domestic love, noble truth, and high-souled purity. On her death, in 1794, Necker was solaced by the affection and friendship of their accomplished daughter, Madame de Staël, since generally recognized as one of the most distinguished women who ever lived. In 1800 he was visited by Bonaparte, when marching to Marengo. Necker expired in the year 1803, and was buried in the grounds at Coppet, by the side of his departed spouse.

This famous man was not endowed with that splendid genius which has elevated many from obscure situations to positions of power and dignity; but his industry was untiring, and his integrity beyond question. He rose with credit, by habits of steady and incessant exertion and independence, which were transferred from one sphere to another, adhered to with resolution, and might have proved successful in raising the land of his adoption to a condition of enviable wealth and prosperity, but for the mighty event which tortured the foresight of the most sagacious, and defied the valor of the bravest.

PITT.

The name and memory of a great statesman, who has led and ruled senates by the might of eloquence, carried measures beneficial to millions, or impressed immortal principles on public conviction, are generally, in spite of political disputes and disagreements, regarded by a free and favored people with feelings of respect, admiration, and gratitude. They are associated in the mind of a community with periods of peril or prosperity, and recalled by each succeeding generation with national pride. “Great men,” said Burke, “are the guide-posts and land-marks of the state;” and, assuredly, history presents few more spotless or splendid reputations than that of the son of Chatham, who came forth and signalized his prowess as a ripe politician, accomplished debater, and skillful tactician, prepared for the work and warfare of the senate by his comprehensive views in what have been termed the proper sciences of a statesman――those of government, politics, commerce, economics, history, and human nature――at an age when many are making their first and last crude efforts at public speaking, or expending their faculties in frivolous dissipation and enervating luxury.

Doubtless the name which Chatham had made immortal was a tower of strength; and his brilliant example could hardly fail to inspire with a love of kindred fame the son on whom his fondest hopes rested. Indeed, there were both interest and curiosity experienced as to whether the power of the Pitt family would be increased or diminished. And, moreover, there was not wanting that encouragement to noble and patriotic exertion which is usually given by a generous public to the sons of great and popular ministers of state. It may, therefore, be truly said, that

“With prospects bright upon the world he came, Pure love of virtue, strong desire of fame; Men marked the lofty path his mind would take, And all foretold the progress he should make.”

The family to which this illustrious man belonged was rich and respectable, though not patrician in origin or descent. The Pitts were for ages settled in Dorsetshire, but at length one of them became Governor of Madras, and brought home from the East that celebrated diamond, the largest then known to be in existence, which was sold to the Regent Orleans for more than three millions of livres, and took its place as the most precious of the crown jewels of France. The son of this fortunate functionary was a gentleman of Cornwall, and hereditary patron of some boroughs; for one of which, Old Sarum, his second son, a cornet in the Blues, was returned to Parliament. The talents of the latter were speedily exerted in such a way as to give offense to Sir Robert Walpole, who manifested the annoyance he felt by dismissing him from the army: but nothing could restrain the course of that terrible eloquence, which, in reality, was hardly under its possessor’s control. Instead of depending, as others had done, on oligarchies and “pocket-lists,” he relied for support on the middle classes, then struggling into importance, and, with their aid, ere long became the greatest war-minister who ever presided over the destinies of England. He married a daughter of the political house of Grenville, whose members played so conspicuous a part in the affairs of the eighteenth century, and had several children, of whom William Pitt, the second son, was born at Hayes, in the county of Kent, on the 28th of May, 1759.

The boy destined to exhibit so wonderful an instance of precocious statesmanship received the rudiments of his education under the paternal roof; and, although so delicate in health that he could only devote half the wonted time to study, his progress was remarkably rapid, and his talents evident to all who knew him. When eight years old, he was seen by the mother of Fox, who instinctively prognosticated the rivalry between her distinguished son and the young prodigy. The contention which had long existed between their sires no doubt suggested this idea to the anxious parent; and when she marked the singular cleverness of the little boy, and observed the wonderful propriety of his behavior, the maternal solicitude sharpening her penetration, enabled her to augur the fierce and bitter strife which was to shake senates and shatter parties. Lord Chatham was justly proud of his son, and predicted that he would add honor to the name; nay, more, he expressed a belief that he would some day be one of the first men in Parliament; and, if a minister of state, that he would arrive at the highest dignity. He therefore gave his utmost assistance in forming the future premier’s mind, and incited him to lofty and laudable aspirations. These labors were not in vain; and the Great Earl lived long enough to feel assured that a useful and brilliant career lay before the object of his tender care.

One evening a member of Parliament proposed to take the veteran statesman’s two boys to hear a debate in the House of Commons; but he refused to allow the younger to go. “If William,” he is reported to have said, “heard any arguments of which he did not approve he would rise to controvert them; and, young as he is, he has not even in that assembly many equals in knowledge, reasoning, and eloquence.” He must indeed have been a “marvelous boy,” to be spoken of even by a fond father, at such an age and in such circumstances. At this date he is stated to have had a turn for poetry, and to have composed, along with his brothers and sisters, a play in rhyme, which was acted by them before some friends of the family. He subsequently, while at college, produced a tragedy, which, when at the head of public affairs he calmly committed to the flames in presence of a friend, by whom this emanation of his poetic faculty had just been eagerly perused and spoken of in terms of high admiration; though perhaps the merits of the piece might not altogether have justified the praise.

Pitt’s earlier education was conducted by a tutor, but, as has been stated, under the vigilant superintendence of his father, who noted his progress, and rejoiced at the constant indications he gave of superior endowments. Haughty, vehement, and despotic in his nature as that extraordinary minister――the pride of England and the terror of her enemies――was to foes and friends in public life, no such characteristics were allowed to interfere with the quiet and happiness of his domestic circle.

In his fourteenth year, young Pitt was sent to the University of Cambridge, and entered at Pembroke Hall, where Dr. Prettyman, afterward Bishop of Lincoln, was his tutor. In age and appearance, indeed, he was a mere boy; but he was by no means boyish in mind or intellect. His acquirements were wonderful, and he could converse on various subjects with all the seriousness of manhood. He was much liked by his youthful compeers for his lively and amiable disposition; and at the same time esteemed by the tutors on account of his decorum in conduct and diligence in study. His manners in private life were then, as ever, frank, easy, agreeable, and utterly devoid of the cold arrogance and unbending demeanor he exhibited in his senatorial capacity.

Lord Chatham had desired and intended that Pitt should become a candidate for academical honors, but the gifted youth was prevented by weak health from keeping the requisite terms. Nevertheless, he obtained the degree of A.M. in compliment to his illustrious parentage, without any public examination. His juvenile contemporaries on the occasion testified their approval of his being thus distinguished by interrupting the public orator with loud and vehement acclamations. One of his warmly-attached college friends was Wilberforce, who entered upon public life about the same date as himself.

When Pitt left Cambridge, he was accomplished in no ordinary degree. In Latin authors he rarely encountered a difficulty; and he had, even at his entrance, been capable of translating pages of Thucydides with scarcely an error. He was intimately acquainted with the beauties and defects of the works he had perused. Indeed those who observed the ease with which at first sight he read obscure books, state, that his facility would have appeared beyond the compass of human intellect, if they had not actually witnessed it. During his residence at college his diligence in learning was exemplary, and his success remarkable. His education was conducted with a view to the struggles of the bar as well as the conflicts of the senate; his attention to study was of the strictest kind; and he displayed eminent qualifications for entering on either path of life. He made himself intimately acquainted with the legal history of the country, studied the policy of modern nations as well as their constitutions and forms of government, and acquired much knowledge of the origin, prosperity, and decline of states that had existed and been influential in remote times. His peculiar quickness of conception rendered his progress in these branches of information comparatively easy; and when he left college, after an unusually long residence, his mind was as perfectly formed as mere theory could make it. He long retained his love for ancient learning; and even amid the bustle of politics and the devising of budgets and subsidies, was seldom without some work from which to refresh his mind with classical lore.

Lord Chatham’s letters written to his son about this period overflow with parental affection and judicious advice. After the too eager and ambitious youth had recovered from a severe illness, he was thus touchingly addressed by his justly gratified father:

“How happy the task, my noble, amiable boy, to caution you only against pursuing too much all those liberal and praiseworthy things to which less happy natures have perpetually to be spurred and driven. I will not tease you with too long a lecture in favor of inaction and a competent stupidity――your two best tutors and companions at present. You have time to spare; consider, there is but the Encyclopedia. And when you have mastered all that, what will remain? You will want, like Alexander, another world to conquer.”

After removing from the University the younger Pitt repaired to the Continent, and spent some time at Rheims, still resolutely pursuing his studies and adding to his stores of knowledge.

In 1778 his famous father died, under circumstances which rendered him dearer than ever to the country, of whose honor and interest he was ever so vigilant a guardian, and whose name he made so great, and dreaded among the nations of the earth. Pitt, who had been present when Lord Chatham fell down in the House of Lords while raising his enfeebled voice to cheer the drooping spirits of Englishmen, appeared at the public funeral as chief mourner, and ere long proved the inheritor of his father’s popularity. Between them had existed the strongest affection and the most complete confidence.

Having duly kept his terms at Lincoln’s Inn, Pitt was called to the bar in 1780, and went the western circuit with sufficient encouragement to justify expectations of success in his legal pursuits. Lord Mansfield, indeed, declared, that if he persevered in the profession he would be regarded as one of its chief ornaments. But it was perfectly natural that he should rather aspire to parliamentary distinction; and accordingly he engaged in an unsuccessful contest for the representation of Cambridge University. It was, however, for Appleby, a borough under the influence of the Lowthers, that he was first, through the friendship of the Duke of Rutland, returned to that house, which was so often stilled into silence as he rose to speak, delighted as his grand voice swelled in every ear, and filled with thunders of applause as he, with a coolness and self-possession unfelt by all listeners, resumed his place with a look of lofty contempt for his foes.

Pitt was not in any way bound by the political tenets of the patron of the constituency which he represented. He was free to act on his own convictions. He took his seat in January 1781, and next month made his first speech to the House, in support of Burke’s motion for an economical reform in the Civil List. He was eminently successful, and displayed an ease, fluency, and accuracy of language which riveted attention and sustained public hope. It is related, that when he had accomplished this his first parliamentary success, Fox hurried up to express his warm congratulations. As they were conversing, an honorable, gallant, and experienced member passed them, and remarked, “You may well praise his speech, for, excepting yourself, no man in the House could have made such another; and, old as I am, I expect to see you both battling it within these walls, as I’ve seen your fathers before you.” Fox looked rather sheepish and disconcerted at this somewhat blunt and embarrassing compliment; but Pitt answered with happy promptitude, “I’ve no doubt, General, you would like to live to the age of Methuselah.”

At the close of the session some one having remarked to Fox that Pitt promised to be one of the first orators ever heard in the House, that great man unhesitatingly answered, “He is so already.”

Pitt still continued to practice his industry and exercise his intellect at the bar, and was highly complimented for his ability by more than one legal sage; while in Parliament he was receiving the highest marks of admiration for his speeches against the ministers of the day, and their conduct in regard to the American War. At length Lord North was compelled to retreat from power, and Lord Rockingham empowered to form an administration. Pitt would have been a valuable auxiliary; but, from not belonging to what Lord Chatham had called “the Great Revolution families,” he was disqualified, like Burke, from sitting in the cabinet, and prudently declined taking office. He soon after submitted his motion for an inquiry into the representative system, with the view of lessening the influence of the dominant aristocracy. His efforts in this respect were unsuccessful, and he afterward endeavored circuitously to accomplish his object by creating a host of plebeian peers. Whatever opinions he may have subsequently entertained in regard to the necessity of Parliamentary Reform, were rendered vain and impracticable by the startling events which speedily changed the face of Europe. Meantime his family rapidly increased; he was described as a greater orator even than his father, and as possessing the full vigor of youth, with the wisdom and experience of the maturest age. Gaming――the vice of the period――he resolutely refrained from.

On the death of Lord Rockingham his administration fell to pieces; and Lord Shelburne became First Minister of the Crown. The latter nobleman was eminent for his intelligence, knowledge, and variety of information; a great linguist, fond of science and letters, and actuated by popular principles. He appointed Pitt Chancellor of the Exchequer, and intrusted him with the management of the House of Commons, within eighteen months of the young statesman’s having obtained a seat in Parliament. In this most responsible position he displayed consummate powers in debate, and proved himself entirely worthy of the confidence reposed in his ability and discretion. The opposition leaders conceived that they had been injured by Lord Shelburne, and showed no mercy to his chief colleague, either on account of his youth or hereditary claims to public respect; but Pitt faced their embattled host with haughty defiance. It certainly required no ordinary courage to do so.

Burke’s great soul was at that time heavy; he was not insensible of the humiliation he had recently experienced; and, like the Northumbrian Hotspur before breakfast, he was ready to vent his hoarded wrath on any one who appeared as an antagonist. Besides, he little relished the spectacle of the assembly, whose brightest ornament he was, being ruled by a lad who had not donned manly garments, when he was achieving conversational triumphs over Dr. Johnson, and contesting the palm of eloquence with “the great Commoner.” Sheridan even went the length of comparing the ministerial leader to one of Ben Jonson’s characters, “the angry boy in the ‘Alchymist;’” and Fox relentlessly poured forth against him the terrible torrent of his stirring and impetuous eloquence.