1

be accepted." Pitt, of course, declined the honour, to the manifest advantage of himself and of his country. Such a marriage would have turned the course of history. France was not large enough to hold both Napoleon and Madame de Staël, and how, with the author of 'Corinne' at his side, could Pitt have championed successfully the cause of England? The journey to France, however, was an interlude. As Pitt had surrendered literature to the claims of politics, so he renounced the pleasures of foreign travel. Henceforth it was his business to wage war or to make peace upon the Continent, not to visit it; and even the charms of Mademoiselle Necker were

1 This story has been dismissed by Lord Stanhope and others as ridiculous. But it is given in Wilberforce's 'Sketch of Pitt' without a word of doubt, and nobody was in a better position than Wilberforce to test its truth.

soon forgotten in the bustle of affairs.

At

When Pitt in January 1781 took his seat in the House of Commons, the political outlook was black enough to appal the stoutest patriot. England was at war with France, Spain, and Holland. The American colonies were independent in all except name. the head of affairs was an amiable gentleman "in a blue ribbon," whose devotion to his King was far greater than his ability to combat his King's enemies. Lord George Germaine, who had displayed as little talent in the council as on the battlefield, was a Secretary of State. The old parties were replaced by small groups, none of which could act independently of all the others. Fox, North, and Shelburne, each had his following. What England needed was a single-minded

statesman, who would combine the discordant elements of Parliament, and face the country's enemies abroad. The coming of Pitt, therefore, was watched with more than ordinary interest, and he had not been a member of the House for more than a month when, in response to a universal cry, "Mr Pitt! Mr Pitt!" he made his first speech. The imperious wish of the House to hear him was proof enough of the respect which his appearance inspired. If he was not a member of a ruling house, he was something yet greater: he was the son of the Great Commoner, who had saved England from ruin and brought two empires beneath her sway. But, as the tall, gaunt youth, sharp-nosed and small-chinned, rose to address the House, he was heard no less for his own than for his father's sake. His reputation was al

ready as high as his courage, and all men expected success, though few foresaw the marvellous triumph which he achieved. Truly the day, the 26th of February 1781, will always be glorious in the annals of Parliament, since it began the career of one of the greatest Ministers that ever held the reins of government.

The occasion was the debate on Mr Burke's Bill for the Regulation of the Civil List, and Pitt's speech was received with a chorus of enthusiastic applause.1 Before what seemed his genius the dissension of parties was hushed. Whigs and Tories, the parti

1 Even that uninspired compilation, 'The Parliamentary History,' takes a lofty flight, when it considers this first effort of William Pitt. "His voice is rich and striking," it says, "full of melody and force; his manner easy and elegant; his language beautiful and luxuriant. He gave in this first essay a specimen of eloquence not unworthy the son of his immortal parent."

sans of peace and war, combined to honour the youthful statesman. North proved his magnanimity by declaring it the best first speech he had ever heard. "He is a chip of the old block," said one; "he is the old block itself," retorted Burke. Anthony Storer told Lord Carlisle that in the whole course of the speech "there was not a word or a look which one would have wished to correct." Pitt's own account was more modest. "I heard my own voice yesterday," he wrote to his mother.

. . All I can say is that I was able

to execute in some measure what I intended, and that I have at least every reason to be happy beyond measure in the reception I met with." When we turn to the speech itself, disappointment is inevitable. The orator's art is

as fleeting as the actor's. A speech, composed for the ear, too often makes