Where then, sir, is this war, which on every side is pregnant with such horrors, to Peroration. be carried? Where is it to stop? Not till we establish the house of Bourbon! And this you cherish the hope of doing, because you have had a successful campaign. Why, sir, before this you have had a successful campaign. The situation of the allies, with all they have

tingencies in which he will treat with Bonaparte? He will excite a rebellion in France. He will give support to the Chouans, if they can stand their ground; but he will not make common cause with them; for, unless they can depose Bonaparte, send him into banishment, or execute him, he will abandon the Chouans, and treat with this very man, whom, at the same time, he describes as holding the reins and wield-gained, is surely not to be compared now to ing the powers of France for purposes of unexampled barbarity.

Retort upon Mr. Pitt as to cruelties

Naples.

Sir, I wish the atrocities, of which we hear so much, and which I abhor as much as any man, were, indeed, unexampled. practiced at I fear that they do not belong exclusively to the French. When the right honorable gentleman speaks of the extraordinary successes of the last campaign, he does not mention the horrors by which some of these successes were accompanied. Naples, for instance, has been, among others, what is called delivered; and yet, if I am rightly informed, it has been stained and polluted by murders so ferocious, and by cruelties of every kind so abhorrent, that the heart shudders at the recital. It has been said, not only that the miserable victims of the rage and brutality of the fanatics were savagely murdered, but that, in many instances, their flesh was eaten and devoured by the cannibals, who are the advocates and the instruments of social order! Nay, England is not totally exempt from reproach, if the rumors which are circulated be true. I will mention a fact, to give ministers the opportunity, if it be false, to wipe away the stain that it must otherwise affix on the Brit

ish name. It is said, that a party of the republican inhabitants of Naples took shelter in the fortress of the Castel de Uovo. They were besieged by a detachment from the royal army, to whom they refused to surrender; but demanded that a British officer should be brought forward, and to him they capitulated. They made terms with him under the sanction of the British name.

It was agreed that their persons and property should be safe, and that they should be conveyed to Toulon. They were accordingly put on board a vessel; but, before they sailed, their property was confiscated, numbers of them taken out, thrown into dungeons, and some of them, I understand, notwithstanding the British guarantee, actually executed !31

what it was when you had taken Valenciennes, Quesnoy, Condé, &c., which induced some gentlemen in this House to prepare themselves for a march to Paris. With all that you have gained, you surely will not say that the prospect is brighter now than it was then. What have you gained but the recovery of a part of what you before lost? One campaign is successful to you; another to them; and in this way, animated by the vindictive passions of revenge, hatred, and rancor, which are infinitely more flagitious, even, than those of ambition and the thirst of power, you may go on forever; as, with such black incentives, I see no end to human misery.

We

And all this without an intelligible motive. All this because you may gain a better peace a year or two hence ! So that we are called upon to go on merely as a speculation. must keep Bonaparte for some time longer at war, as a state of probation. Gracious God, sir! is war a state of probation? Is peace a rash system? Is it dangerous for nations to live in amity with each other? Are your vigilance, your policy, your common powers of observation, to be extinguished by putting an end to the horrors of war? Can not this state of

and property should be guaranteed, and that they should, at their own option, either be sent to Toulon or remain at Naples, without being molested either in their persons or families. This capitulation was accepted; it was signed by the Cardinal, and the Russian and Turkish commanders, and, lastly, by Captain Foote, as commander of the British force. About six-and-thirty hours afterward, Nelson arrived ing his cruise, consisting of seventeen sail of the line, in the bay, with a force, which had joined him durwith seventeen hundred troops on board, and the Prince Royal of Naples in the Admiral's ship. A flag of truce was flying on the castles and on board the Sea-horse. Nelson made a signal to annul the treaty, declaring that he would grant rebels no other terms than those of unconditional submission. The Cardinal objected to this; nor could all the arguments of Nelson, Sir W. Hamilton, and Lady All this was literally true, and took place in Hamilton, who took an active part in the conferthe summer of 1799. Lord Nelson was the officer ence, convince him that a treaty of such a nature, referred to: he was led by his infatuated attach- solemnly concluded, could honorably be set aside. ment to Lady Hamilton, the favorite of the Queen He retired at last, silenced by Nelson's authority, of Naples, into conduct which has left an indelible but not convinced. Captain Foote was sent out stain on his memory. After the retreat of the French of the bay; and the garrisons, taken out of the casfrom Southern Italy, the leaders of the republican tles under pretense of carrying the treaty into ef government, which had been organized at Naples, fect, were delivered over as rebels to the vengeance were besieged in the castles of Uovo and Nuovo by of the Sicilian court.-A deplorable transaction! A the Cardinal Ruffo at the head of the Royalists. The stain upon the memory of Nelson, and the honor of remainder of the story will be given in the words Eugland! To palliate it would be in vain; to justof Mr. Southey, the biographer of Nelson. Theyify it would be wicked: there is no alternative, for [these castles] were strong places, and there was reason to apprehend that the French fleet might arrive to relieve them. Ruffo proposed to the garrison to capitulate, on condition that their persons

one who will not make himself a participator in guilt, but to record the disgraceful story with sorrow and with shame."-Life of Nelson in Harper's Family Library, vol. vi., 177-8.

550

[1800.

I conclude, sir, with repeating what I said before: I ask for no gentleman's vote who would have reprobated the compliance of ministers with the proposition of the French government. I ask for no gentleman's support to-night who would have voted against ministers, if they had come down and proposed to enter into a negotiation with the French. But I have a right to ask, and in honor, in consistency, in conscience, I have a right to expect, the vote of every honorable gentleman who would have voted with

MR. FOX ON THE REJECTION OF BONAPARTE'S OVERTURES. probation be as well undergone without adding | ocally as heretofore. But I will not go into the to the catalogue of human sufferings? "But internal state of this country. It is too afflictwe must pause !" What! must the bowels of ing to the heart to see the strides which have Great Britain be torn out-her best blood be been made by means of, and under the miseraspilled her treasure wasted-that you may ble pretext of this war, against liberty of every make an experiment? Put yourselves, ob! that kind, both of power of speech and of writing; you would put yourselves in the field of battle, and to observe in another kingdom the rapid apand learn to judge of the sort of horrors that proaches to that military despotism which we you excite! In former wars a man might, at affect to make an argument against peace. I least, have some feeling, some interest, that know, sir, that public opinion, if it could be colserved to balance in his mind the impressions lected, would be for peace, as much now as in which a scene of carnage and of death must 1797; and that it is only by public opinion, and inflict. If a man had been present at the bat- not by a sense of their duty, or by the inclinatle of Blenheim, for instance, and had inquired tion of their minds, that ministers will be brought, the motive of the battle, there was not a soldier if ever, to give us peace. engaged who could not have satisfied his curiosity, and even, perhaps, allayed his feelings. They were fighting, they knew, to repress the uncontrolled ambition of the Grand Monarch. But if a man were present now at a field of slaughter, and were to inquire for what they were fighting-"Fighting!" would be the answer; "they are not fighting; they are pausing." Why is that man expiring? Why is that other writhing with agony ? What means this implacable fury ?" The answer must be, "You are quite wrong, sir, you deceive your-ministers in an address to his Majesty, diametself-they are not fighting-do not disturb them rically opposite to the motion of this night. -they are merely pausing! This man is not expiring with agony-that man is not deadhe is only pausing! Lord help you, sir! they are not angry with one another; they have now no canse of quarrel; but their country thinks that there should be a pause. All that you see, sir, is nothing like fighting-there is no harm, nor cruelty, nor bloodshed in it whatever it is nothing more than a political pause! It is merely to try an experiment-to see whether Bonaparte will not behave himself better than heretofore; and in the mean time we have agreed to a pause, in pure friendship!" And is this the way, sir, that you are to show yourselves the advocates of order? You take up a system calculated to uncivilize the world-to destroy order to trample on religion-to stifle in the heart, not merely the generosity of noble sentiment, but the affections of social nature; and in the prosecution of this system, you spread terror and devastation all around you.

These eloquent reasonings are said to have produced a powerful effect on the House, but Mr. Pitt's political adherents could not desert him on a question of this nature. Not to have passed the address approving of his conduct, would have been the severest censure, and it was accordingly carried by a vote of 265 to 64.

Bonaparte made this the occasion of appealing to a new class of feelings among the French. Hitherto liberty had been the rallying word in calling them to arms; the First Consul now addressed their sense of honor, and roused all by the appeal. Russia had already with drawn from the contest, leaving Austria as the only ally of England on the Continent. Bonaparte instantly assembled his troops on the Rhine and Alps; made his celebrated passage of the St. Bernard in the month of June; crushed the Austrian power in Italy by the battle of Marengo (June 17th, 1800); and concluded the cam

ans were again defeated by Moreau in the battle of Hohenlinden (Dec. 3d, 1800), and compelled to sue for peace, which was concluded between them and the French by Napoleon about a year after this debate, Feb. 9th, 1801. Mr. Pitt resigned nine days after, chiefly (as became afterward known) in consequence of a difference with the King on the subject of Catholic Emancipation.

Sir, I have done. I have told you my opin-paign in forty days! In Germany, the Austriion. I think you ought to have given a civil, clear, and explicit answer to the overture which was fairly and handsomely made you. If you were desirous that the negotiation should have included all your allies, as the means of bringing about a general peace. you should have told Bonaparte so. But I believe you were afraid of his agreeing to the proposal. You took that method before. Ay, but you say the people were anxious for peace in 1797. I say they are friends to peace now; and I am confident that you will one day acknowledge it. Believe me, they are friends to peace; although by the laws which you have made, restraining the expression of the sense of the people, public opinion can not now be heard as loudly and unequiv

Mr. Addington [afterward Lord Sidmouth] succeeded as minister, and in a short time opened negotiations for peace, the preliminaries of which were signed Oct. 1st, 1801. These were followed by the treaty of Amiens, which was concluded about six months after, March 27th, 1802.

WILLIAM PITT.

WILLIAM PITT, the younger, was born at Hayes, in Kent, on the 28th of May, 1759, and was the second son of Lord Chatham and of Lady Hester Grenville, Countess of Temple. His constitution was so weak from infancy that he was never placed at a public school, but pursued his studies as he was able, from time to time, under a private tutor, at his father's residence in the country. After eight years spent in this way, half of which time, however, was lost through ill health, he was sent, at the age of fourteen, to the University of Cambridge; and so great had been his proficiency, notwithstanding all his disadvantages, that, according to his tutor, Dr. Prettyman, afterward Bishop of Lincoln, "in Latin authors he seldom met with difficulty; and it was no uncommon thing for him to read into English six or eight pages of Thucydides which he had not previously seen, without more than two or three mistakes, and sometimes without even one." His ardor of mind and love of study may be inferred from a letter written by his father at this time, which gives a beautiful view of the familiarity and affection which always reigned in the intercourse of Lord Chatham with his children. "Though I indulge with inexpressible delight the thought of your returning health, I can not help being a little in pain lest you should make more haste than good speed to be well. You may, indeed, my sweet boy, better than any one, practice this sage dictum [festina lentè] without any risk of being thrown out (as little James would say) in the chase of learning. All you want at present is quiet; with this, if your ardor to excel can be kept in till you are stronger, you will make noise enough. 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 are perpetually to be spurred and driven! I will not teaze 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! Your mamma joins me in every word, and we know how much your affectionate mind can sacrifice to our earnest and tender wishes. Vive, vale, is the increasing prayer of your truly loving faCHATHAM."

ther.

But all these cautions were unavailing. His constitution was so frail, and his strength so much reduced by the illness referred to, that during the first three years of his college life he was never able to keep his terms with regularity; It was not until the age of eighteen that he gained permanent health, and from that time onward few persons had greater powers of application to the most exhausting study or business. But though his early life at Cambridge seems to have been "one long disease," his quickness and accuracy of thought made up for every deficiency arising from bodily weakness. His whole soul from boyhood had been absorbed in one idea -that of becoming a distinguished orator; and when he heard, at the age of seven, that his father had been raised to the peerage, he instantly exclaimed, "Then I must take his place in the House of Commons.' To this point all his efforts were now directed, with a zeal and constancy which knew of no limits but the weakness of his frame, and which seemed almost to triumph over the infirmities of nature. studies at the University were continued nearly seven years, though with frequent

His

intervals of residence under his father's roof; and the reader will be interested to know how the greatest of English orators trained his favorite son for the duties of public life.

Three things seem to have occupied his time and attention for many years, viz., the classics, the mathematics, and the logic of Aristotle applied to the purposes of debate. His mode of translating the classics to his tutor was a peculiar one. He did not construe an author in the ordinary way, but after reading a passage of some length in the original, he turned it at once into regular English sentences, aiming to give the ideas with great exactness, and to express himself, at the same time, with idiomatic accuracy and ease. Such a course was admirably adapted to the formation of an English style, distinguished at once for copiousness, force, and elegance. To this early training Mr. Pitt always ascribed his extraordinary command of language, which enabled him to give every idea its most felicitous expression, and to pour out an unbroken stream of thought, hour after hour, without once hesitating for a word, or recalling a phrase, or sinking for a moment into looseness or inaccuracy in the structure of his sentences. One of the great English metaphysicians was spoken of by Voltaire as "a reasoning machine," and the mind of Mr. Pitt might, in the same way, be described as a fountain ever flowing forth in clear, expressive, and commanding diction. In most persons, such a mode of translating would have a tendency to draw off the mind from the idiomatic forms of the original to those of our own language, but it was otherwise with him. "He was a nice observer," says Dr. Prettyman, "of the different styles of the authors read, and alive to all their various and characteristic excellences. The quickness of his comprehension did not prevent close and minute application. When alone, he dwelt for hours upon striking passages of an orator or historian, in noticing their turns of expression, marking their manner of arranging a narrative, or of explaining the avowed or secret motives of action. He was in the habit of copying any eloquent passage, or any beautiful or forcible expression, which occurred in his reading." The poets, in the mean time, had a large share of his attention; his memory was stored with their finest passages; and few men ever introduced a quotation in a more graceful manner, or with a closer adaptation to the circumstances of the case. 'So anxious was he to be acquainted with every Greek poet, that he read with me," says his tutor, "at his own request, the obscure and generally uninteresting work of Lycophron, and with an ease, at first sight, which, if I had not witnessed it, I should have considered beyond the compass of the human intellect. The almost intuitive quickness with which he saw the meaning of the most difficult passages of the most difficult authors, made an impression on my mind which time can never efface. I am persuaded that, if a play of Menander or Eschylus, or an ode of Pindar, had been suddenly found, he would have understood it as soon as any professed scholar." Dr. Prettyman adds, that there was scarcely a Greek or Latin classical writer of any eminence, the whole of whose works Mr. Pitt had not read to him, in this thorough and discriminating manner, before the age of twenty.

The mathematics, in the mean time, had their daily share of attention, being regularly intermingled with his classical studies. Here he was equally successful, showing surprising promptitude and acuteness in mastering the greatest difficulties, and especially in solving problems in algebra, trigonometry, &c.—an employment which, though many consider it as dull and useless, is better fitted than almost any mental exercise to give penetration, sagacity, and fixedness of thought, and to establish the habit of never leaving a subject until all its intricacies are fully explored. When we remember the high standard of mathematical study at Cambridge, we learn with surprise that, in addition to all his attainments in the classics, "he was master of every thing usually known by young men who obtain the highest academical honors,

66

and felt a great desire to fathom still farther the depths of the pure mathematics." When the connection of tutor and pupil was about to cease between us," says Dr. Prettyman, "from his entering on the study of the law, he expressed a hope that he should find leisure and opportunity to read Newton's Principia again with me after some summer circuit; and, in the later periods of his life, he frequently declared that no portion of his time had been more usefully employed than that which had been devoted to these studies, not merely from the new ideas and actual knowledge thus acquired, but also on account of the improvement which his mind and understanding had received from the habit of close attention and patient investigation."

In regard to dialectics, Dr. Prettyman gives us less information as to the course pursued; but Mr. Pitt being asked by a friend how he had acquired his uncommon talent for reply, answered at once that he owed it to the study of Aristotle's Logic in early life, and the habit of applying its principles to all the discussions he met with in the works he read and the debates he witnessed. Dr. Prettyman thus describes a mode of studying the classics, which opened to Mr. Pitt the widest scope for such an exercise of his powers: "It was a favorite employment with him to compare opposite speeches on the same subject, and to examine how each speaker managed his own side of the argument, or answered the reasoning of his opponent. This may properly be called a study peculiarly useful to the future lawyer or statesman. The authors whom he preferred for this purpose were Livy, Thucydides, and Sallust. Upon these occasions his observations were often committed to paper, and furnished a topic for conversation at our next meeting." But he carried this practice still farther. He spent much of his time at London during the sessions of Parliament, and as he listened to the great speakers of the day, Burke, Fox, Sheridan, and others, he did so, not to throw his mind on the swelling tide of their eloquence, not even to analyze their qualities as orators, and catch the excellences of each with a view to his own improvement, but to see how he could refute the arguments on the one side, or strengthen them on the other, as he differed or agreed with the speakers. It was this practice which enabled him to rise, at the end of a debate of ten or twelve hours, extending over a vast variety of topics, and reply to the reasonings of every opponent with such admirable dexterity and force, while he confirmed the positions of his friends, and gave a systematic thoroughness to the whole discussion, such as few speakers in Parliament have ever been able to attain.

This severe training prepared Mr. Pitt to enter with ease and delight into the abstrusest questions in moral and political science. Locke on the Human Understanding was his favorite author upon the science of mind; he soon mastered Smith's Wealth of Nations, which was first published when he was a member of college; he gave great attention to an able course of lectures by Dr. Halifax on the Civil Law; and, in short, whatever subject he took up, he made it his chief endeavor to be deeply grounded in its principles, rather than extensively acquainted with mere details. “Multum haud multa" was his motto in pursuing these inquiries, and, indeed, in most of his studies for life. The same maxim gave a direction to his reading in English literature. He had the finest parts of Shakspeare by heart. He read the best historians with great care. Middleton's Life of Cicero, and the political and historical writings of Bolingbroke, were his favorite models in point of style; he studied Barrow's sermons, by the advice of his father, for copiousness of diction, and was intimately acquainted with the sacred Scriptures, not only as a guide of his faith and practice, but, in the language of Spenser, as the true "well of English undefiled."

How far Lord Chatham contributed by direct instruction to form the mind and habits of his son, it is difficult now to say. That he inspired him with his own lofty and generous sentiments; that he set integrity, truth, and public spirit before him as the best means of success even in politics; that he warned him against that fashion