Part 6

There is something touching in the idea of a struggle against such men having been maintained by a youth of twenty-three. It must, indeed, have been a marvelous sight to mark that young minister, with his plumes thus scattering on the Parliamentary gale, rise from the Treasury bench to do battle against his puissant foes. His form was tall, thin, and stately; his eyes blue, but bright with pride and intelligence; and on his wide brow, and in his disdainful air, were legibly written that proud and lofty scorn which had deeply struck its root in his imperial mind. Facing the Opposition with a glance of stern indignation, he gravely rebuked the untimely levity of the sage champion of oppressed India, and declared that he could not approve of the indiscretion which so unseasonably ran away with good sense and sober judgment. Then he chilled the spirit of the defiant author of the “School for Scandal,” by a contemptuous allusion to his theatrical pursuits, than which, perhaps, no thrust would have been more likely to tell with the gifted, but graceless and eccentric, senator’s patrician coadjutors. And ere his enemies had recovered from their surprise at a stroke, which the extreme and peculiar difficulty of his situation alone could justify, he turned indignantly upon the eminent rival of his life, branded him with sarcastic reprobation, and defended his noble colleague in another place from the strictures passed upon him. Then rising, for a time, above party strife and personal considerations, he denounced the coalition which was being formed as an event stretching to a point of political apostasy, that not only astonished so young a man as he was, but amazed and confounded the most veteran observers of the human heart; and he exclaimed with glowing eloquence and fervent patriotism, “If this baneful alliance is not already formed, if this ill-omened marriage is not already solemnized, I know a just and lawful impediment; and, in the name of the public safety, I here forbid the bans.” His high spirit sustained him in all attacks; and he delivered one of his most splendid orations at this period. But all his efforts were in vain; the Shelburne ministry had been weak from its formation; and it fell, after a brief but not inglorious tenure of power, during which Pitt had been gratified with the opportunity of proving his capacity for administration, and the power to defend what he did. Indeed, so clearly had his talent for government been shown, that the king was desirous that he should himself undertake the duties of prime-minister; but feeling that the strength of the party to which he belonged was as yet unequal to sustain him in the fierce struggle which, in such a case, would inevitably have ensued, he wisely refrained from grasping prematurely at a prize so flattering and fascinating to young ambition. However, it came into his hands much sooner than he could have contemplated. Having declined to lend his support to the administration of Lord North and Mr. Fox, and suffered a second defeat at Cambridge, he spent several months in France, and returned with the intention of resuming his legal pursuits. But events soon occurred which led him to abandon this resolution. His rivals had incurred much unpopularity; and their India bill was regarded with such dislike and apprehension, that the Peers thought fit to reject it, and by their vote terminate the official existence of its authors. On this taking place, Pitt was again requested to assume the reins of power; and he bravely consented. The position was arduous and difficult in the extreme; and he had scarcely completed his twenty-fifth year. He had to encounter, almost single-handed, an opposition conducted by men whose powers, genius, and eloquence might well have daunted the heart of the boldest, and appalled the imagination of the most experienced ministers; and they were supported by a party infinitely superior in numbers to that which followed him. Though they had formerly sought his services with eagerness, yet when a motion was made for the issue of a writ on his acceptance of the premiership, they met it with a loud and general shout of derisive laughter and provoking ridicule; many, who might otherwise have hastened to proffer their support, hesitated to enlist under a leader so young and inexperienced in affairs of state; and they confidently predicted his immediate fall from the dangerous eminence to which he had ascended at so early an age. Under such circumstances, Pitt was not upheld by the family or political connection which other ministers had used; but he had much confidence in his own resources, and in the support of the crown and people, who, whenever an opportunity was presented, proved that he had not erred in his calculations. His opponents it must be admitted, had no slight reason to predict his speedy retirement and his inability to conduct the public business; for in a House of Commons decidedly hostile to his pretensions, he had not a single ally capable of making himself formidable, with the exception of his chosen friend Dundas, better known as Lord Melville. With such aid as that skillful and sagacious debater could render, the tall, slender, stern, and dauntless minister, struggled with credit through a session against an enraged majority and a host of terrible foes, panting for a swift revenge. Their desire, however, was not destined to be gratified. Several resolutions, declaratory of the incompetence of ministers to conduct the business of the realm, were, indeed, carried; their speedy resignation frequently seemed inevitable; but the king encouraged them to persevere against the difficulties with which they were encompassed; the country, on being appealed to, ejected a hundred and sixty of Pitt’s opponents from their seats; and he received the thanks and the freedom of the city of London for the uprightness and disinterestedness he had exhibited. Pitt was, as he might well be, proud of, and emboldened by, his immense popularity; and when the new Parliament assembled in the month of May, 1784, he had to encounter an opposition so numerically feeble, that his arduous duties were entered upon with some degree of satisfaction. He was now in a position to maintain his ground; and that he could do so against the fierce and unsparing attacks of such potent adversaries as Burke, Fox, and Sheridan, amply proves the care, attention, and industry with which, by hard and continuous study, he had fitted and prepared himself to enact so great and heroic a part.

Pitt, as has been stated, was the pupil of Lord Shelburne, first Marquis of Lansdowne; and at that distinguished nobleman’s house he became acquainted with Dr. Price, a clever Dissenting Minister, who furnished him, among other suggestions, with his original scheme of redeeming the National Debt by means of a Sinking Fund, which, in 1786, he developed and submitted to the House, in a speech of six hours’ duration; and it was accepted without a division.

But the aspiring and ambitious statesman, however austere and absorbed he might be, had other arrangements to make, besides re-organizing a party, and, as the head of it, devising vast financial operations. It was necessary to find fair and bewitching ladies of rank to smile upon his efforts, and render his side attractive; and there can be no doubt that in this important respect Fox was much more propitiously situated. He had also to countervail the advantage which his great antagonist derived from troops of aristocratic friends, by arraying under his banner the adventurous genius and rising intellect of the country. His bearing in public was peculiar, and certainly not such as to attract the affectionate sympathies of his contemporaries; he displayed little of “the soft green of the soul,” and his manner was utterly unbending. Yet so enormous was his influence out of doors at this early period that he was solicited to represent numerous constituencies; but he preferred being returned, by a large majority, for the University of Cambridge, which had twice previously shut the door in his face, and of which he was afterward chosen High Steward.

On entering the House, he was in the habit of stalking along to the Treasury bench with a severe aspect and a scornful air, scarcely acknowledging the presence of even his most intimate friends and devoted adherents. When he rose to speak every tongue was hushed; his tones were lofty and arrogant; his sentences rolled forth fluently, and swelled with delightful harmony; and every word was heard with amazing distinctness. His speech delivered in 1791, on the slave-trade, is stated to have been the finest effort of his oratorical faculties; and his unreported war-speech, in 1803, was so surprisingly excellent that Fox, in replying, said that the orators of antiquity would have heard it with admiration, probably with envy. He had the power of speaking with the utmost clearness, though when the process of mystification was necessary no one could perform it with more skill or effect. That eloquence of which Lord Chatham had been too often the slave seems to have been completely under the control of his favorite son.

In private life Pitt was, as has been already stated, amiable in disposition, buoyant in spirits, and warm in friendship. He was not insensible to the charms of female grace, but office was “the pride of his heart and the pleasure of his life.” When a match between him and Mademoiselle Necker was proposed by her father, he is said to have answered, half jestingly, that he was already wedded to his country.

The schemes of Pitt for raising Great Britain to a state of high material prosperity were frustrated by the outbreak of the French Revolution, whose causes appear to have baffled the comprehension of the most sagacious, and whose consequences defied the foresight of the most prophetic. His entrance upon official life had been signalized by a treaty of peace, and his policy was founded on its maintenance; but he was urged by his new allies, who followed Burke and Windham, to support the war against France, and thus gratify the propensity of “an old and haughty nation, proud in arms.” The philosophy of Burke threw a halo around ancient institutions, and Pitt formed the great league for their defense. The spirit of Englishmen was roused; they clamored for war; and forthwith that long, terrible, and momentous contest, which was brought to a glorious close on the field of Waterloo, was entered upon.

Pitt continued to administer the affairs of the empire till 1801. He had been successful in accomplishing the Union with Ireland, and was anxious to carry a measure for the relief of the Roman Catholics of that country. However, he was foiled in this intention by the determination of the king and the feelings of the public. He then, suddenly and unexpectedly, retired from the helm of the state, and gave a guarded support to the ministry of his successor, who had formerly filled the Speaker’s chair, and who was subsequently raised to the peerage as Lord Sidmouth. That personage and his colleagues concluded, in 1802, the Peace of Amiens, which was of short duration; and they, being found inadequate to the functions they had, at a dark, awful, and perilous period, undertaken, were forced to retire in 1804. Then Pitt returned to power, and “bade the conqueror go forth,” nor in vain; but his situation was perplexing in the extreme. With shattered health and depressed spirits he was exposed to attack from every species of assailant, though unaided, except by the ardent genius of Canning――his most gifted, eloquent, and distinguished disciple. He was not destined much longer to endure the struggle. The news of the defeat of the allied armies at Austerlitz came with a most crushing effect upon his great and proud soul, and he sunk with rapidity. He was cheered in his last hours by the intelligence of the glorious victory at Trafalgar, but all hopes of recovery had passed away. His old tutor, who had now been promoted to the bishopric of Lincoln, attended his dying couch, and solicited him to join in devotional prayer. Then answered the expiring statesman, with that voice that had often thrilled listening audiences, and taught them that they were in presence of a ruler of mankind――“I fear that I have, like many others, neglected my religious duties too much to have any ground to hope that they can be efficacious on my death-bed. But,” he added, with fervor, “I throw myself entirely on the mercy of God.” He then joined in religious exercises with piety, calmness, and humility. On the morning of the 23d of January, 1806, he breathed his last, at his residence on Putney Heath.

A public funeral to his mortal remains, a national monument to his memory, and a sum of money to discharge the debts contracted by him while toiling in the service of the state, were voted; and he was interred in that corner of Westminster Abbey where the ashes of so many famous statesmen, who have shaken senates with the fierce conflict of oratory, repose in peace together. He was, indeed, well worthy of every token of respect which a great and enlightened nation could thus bestow; for though men may and do differ as to his genius for legislation, his success in administration, and the propriety and effects of his achievements, there are few who can contemplate without admiration his high talents, his majestic eloquence, and the zeal he ever manifested to serve the country which he loved so well, without reference to pecuniary gain or the gratification of mere vulgar ambition.

LORD ERSKINE.

Among the great men and accomplished orators who, during Pitt’s long and arduous tenure of office, strove energetically to curb his will, humble his pride, and exalt his celebrated rival, none was more conspicuous for ability and eloquence than the immortal Erskine, though it was not in a senatorial capacity that he displayed, to their full extent, those vast powers, or achieved the oratorical triumphs which added lustre to an ancestral name, and formed a reputation so splendid.

Thomas Erskine, unquestionably one of the most brilliant, courageous, and irresistible advocates who ever appeared at the English, or indeed at any, bar, was born on the 10th of January, 1750, in the ancient and historic city of Edinburgh. He was the third son of the Earl of Buchan, a Scottish nobleman of long and illustrious descent, but in circumstances so reduced and different from those enjoyed by the race for many centuries, that his yearly income was less than is now obtained, with ease, by not a few banker’s clerks. Some small portion of the family estate still remained, and on it an old castellated residence, probably in as ruinous a condition as the famous Wolf’s Crag, and, therefore, uninhabited by its proprietor. Had the Caledonian thane been a single man, and unblessed by connubial ties, he might have run a career similar to that of the great novelist’s proud, haughty, and restless hero, “the last Lord of Ravenswood.” But he had prudently married the daughter of a Lothian baronet, who speedily brought him several children: so he passed his life in chill poverty, and died in the odor of sanctity while at Bath, seeking consolation in the eloquent preaching of Whitefield, which was said to make sinners tremble as if a lion were roaring among them.

Although it is likely that this exemplary earl was a justice of the peace, and rather more than probable that there were lawsuits in the family, it does not appear that, previous to the chancellor’s birth, the repose of the noble countess was disturbed or agitated by such dreams as heralded the Spectator’s introduction into existence. However, that patrician matron was held in esteem as a woman of pious character and aspirations. She took pains to bring up her sons in the way they should go, and instruct them in the rudiments of education. She grounded them thoroughly in the Presbyterian catechism, and so imbued their young minds with the spirit of religion that Erskine, in after life, was in the habit of devoutly ascribing each piece of good fortune to a special interposition of an over-ruling Providence.

At an early age he was placed at the High School of the Scottish metropolis, then the most approved seminary north of the Tweed; and there he remained for several years. His natural talents shone forth; he distinguished himself sufficiently to be generally at the top of his class; and no doubt, also, he proved his courage and prowess in the boyish exploits undertaken in the neighborhood, and the juvenile warfare daily earned on in the play-ground. It was well for him to be exposed to such an ordeal, for the path that lay before him was not gaily strewed with roses, but thickly “beset with thorns and briers:” so also, though in a less degree, was that of his witty, cheerful, and able brother, Harry, afterward Lord Advocate for Scotland and Dean of Faculty.

When Erskine had reached the age of twelve, his high-born parents removed to St. Andrew’s, with the view of adopting a style of living more in accordance with their narrow finances than could be pursued by people of “note and quality” even in the Scottish capital. At St. Andrew’s he attended the grammar-school for a while, and subsequently took advantage of some classes in the college of the old town; though it appears that his opportunities of profiting by that ancient institution were extremely limited. Nevertheless, his talent appeared; he manifested a strong love of books, and he derived from those within his reach a considerable amount of miscellaneous information, which opened up his mind and fired his ambition. Bright dreams of future eminence began to illumine his young heart, and, feeling the urgent and paramount necessity of doing something for his support and advancement in life, he expressed a decided preference for the learned professions, and a desire to have his time and energies employed in the pursuit of one of them.

The requisite means, however, were wanting to gratify his inclination in this respect; and his parents were compelled to state, that the best thing they could do to promote his interest was to have him placed in some man-of-war as a midshipman. The prospect of donning a blue jacket and cocked hat, and of the consequent adventures――generally so pleasing to the juvenile imagination――was by no means so fascinating to the clever, studious, and intellectual young “honorable” as might have been expected; but, after some ineffectual efforts to make matters more to his liking, he felt himself bound to endure what he regarded as a hard fate, and was accordingly embarked about the completion of his fourteenth year. Doubtless the usual parting-scene was enacted with all due formality. Gil Blas is made to state that, when he left home, his parents made him a present of their blessing, which was all that he had ventured to expect, for the very competent reason that they had nothing else to bestow; and, no doubt, Erskine was similarly favored. Perhaps, also, the noble earl would gravely admonish the young sailor not to trifle or hurt himself with his sword; his mother would give him a last embrace; and his sisters would, with tears, give evidence of their grief.

The next few years of Erskine’s life were passed on board ship, where, however uncongenial the service, he gave all due attention to discipline, and besides found time for improving his mind and increasing his stores of knowledge. When ashore, he made a point of seeing something of life in the various places where he happened to be; and those who recollect his fine and beautiful passage about the Indian chief, in his speech for Stockdale, will hardly question the use he at this period made of his rare faculties. Having probably drawn his ideas of naval life from the interesting descriptions in the pages of “Roderick Random,” it is not wonderful that he found his situation more tolerable than he had been led to anticipate. He particularly enjoyed himself while stationed at Jamaica, relished its picturesque scenery, and experienced the delightful novelty of dancing at dignity balls with quadroon damsels, who chattered in broken English, exhibited grinning rows of ivory teeth, and whose white dresses contrasted strangely with their colored skins and their dark rolling eyes, which gave evidence rather of their African than their European descent.

Though unfortunately, as it then seemed, engaged in pursuits for which he had no real vocation, the aspiring Scot struggled manfully onward in his profession. Nor did he fail in after life to make judges and juries aware that he had profited largely by his naval experience, when engaged in cases connected with marine affairs, as he frequently was from his knowledge of technical phrases and other matters. Meantime he, at length, had the comfort of being appointed acting-lieutenant in the “Tartar,” and of making a voyage homeward in that capacity; but on arrival in England, finding that the ship was to be paid off, and that he would, from this circumstance, be reduced to his original rank, he desperately resolved to tempt the seas no more.

About this period his father’s earthly existence terminated; and Erskine, who appeared as one of the mourners, was much impressed with the solemnity of the funeral obsequies. Having abandoned all thoughts of a naval career, he turned his thoughts to a military life, and had sufficient influence to obtain an ensign’s commission in the 1st Regiment of Foot, with which he straightway went to Minorca. His commission had cost all the money he possessed, and an application for a small allowance had been refused by his eldest brother, the eccentric Earl of Buchan, who afterward, on this ground, boasted that the future chancellor owed every thing to him. Yet, under these inauspicious circumstances, he contracted a romantic marriage with a young lady of respectable parentage, which luckily proved more propitious than is usual with unions formed under circumstances so forbidding.

While stationed in Minorca, though there appeared little prospect indeed of his acquirements ever being turned to account, he devoted himself with remarkable assiduity to the cultivation of his mind, by a profound and earnest attention to the English classics. In this way, by long and deep study, he became most familiar with the works of Shakspeare and Milton; so that, with a very slight knowledge of Latin authors, and almost none of Greek, he――a native of the north――rendered himself a consummate master of the English tongue. His tastes were thoroughly intellectual, and he even indulged them by officiating as temporary chaplain to the regiment; to which he not only read prayers, but preached two sermons from the drumhead, with no small measure of success.

On returning to England, Erskine obtained six months’ leave of absence, part of which he spent in London. While there he had the advantage of meeting, conversing with, and encountering in discussion, no less eminent a person than Dr. Johnson, attended by his faithful dog and biographer. This was at the house of Sir Alexander Macdonald; and the “young officer in the regimentals of the Scots Royals,” attracted much attention by the fluency, precision, and vivacity of his discourse. At the same date Erskine appeared to advantage as the author of a pamphlet on the abuses of the British army, which had an extensive circulation, and procured him some fame. Soon after this he was promoted to a lieutenancy, and for some time longer endured the disagreeable process of marching with the regiment from one place to another. His family and his dissatisfaction gradually increasing, a gloomy cloud seemed to hang over his existence; and there was ever before him the dismal prospect of his life proving a long series of imaginings never to be realized, and of aspirations never to be gratified.