William Pitt generally called the Younger Pitt, the second son of the earl of Chatham, born May 28, 1759. In 1780 he entered into public life, and took his seat in the House of Commons as member for Appleby. The opposition against the party in power, the cabinet of Lord North, consisted of two factions—one led by Rockingham and Fox, and the other by Lord Shelburne. Pitt joined the latter which mostly consisted of old friends of his father, and his speeches made such an impression that Lord Shelburne, when he became first lord of the treasury in July 1782, offered him a place in the cabinet as chancellor of the exchequer. Lord North although at one time driven from power by Rockingham and Fox, now formed a coalition with them against the cabinet of Lord Shelburne, and in 1783 Lord Shelburne had to give in his resignation, and Pitt with him. But in the very next session, when Fox brought in his bill for transferring the government of India from the E. I. Co. to Parliament—that is to say, to the ministry—the coalition was defeated and the cabinet compelled to retire. Pitt was called upon to form the new cabinet, and after dissolving Parliament and gaining a majority at the general election of 1784, he established himself firmly in the most powerful position which a subject can occupy in England, and he maintained himself in this position without interruption for 14 years. The principal feature of his administration is his war with France, but no English historian has yet been able to give sufficient reason for this war which England began in 1793 and continued to 1815. It seems to have been a whim, a chimera of the minister; he would imitate his great father in this point too. But his war administration was weak and confused, and when losses and disasters followed, the chimera grew into a mania. In 1801 he retired from office. In Feb. he resigned, and in May the Peace of Amiens was concluded. In 1804, however, he was recalled, and the war was renewed. But the surrender of the Austrian army at Ulm, the battle of Austerlitz, the Peace of Presburg filled the haughty but impotent minister with such chagrin that he died from disappointment, Jan. 23, 1806.

Personal

  Pitt … was merely a statesman, he was formed to seize occasions to possess himself of power, and to act with consummate craft upon every occurrence that arose. He belonged to ancient Carthage—he belonged to modern Italy—but there is nothing in him that expressly belongs to England.

  Mr. Pitt, had received regular and systematic instruction in the principles of the Christian religion, in the doctrine and discipline of the Church of England, and in every branch of general ecclesiastical history. His knowledge on these subjects was accurate and extensive. He was completely armed against all sceptical assaults, as well against all fanatical illusion; and in truth he was not merely a faithful and dutiful, but a learned member of our Established Church.

  Plain in feature, but with clear, grey, watchful eyes—with high and massive forehead, in which what phrenologists call the perceptive organs were already prominently marked—with lips which when in repose were expressive much of reserve, more of pertinacity and resolve, but in movement were singularly flexible to the impulse of the manlier passions, giving a noble earnestness to declamation and a lofty disdain to sarcasm—this young man sate amongst the Rockingham Whigs, a sojourner in their camp, not a recuit to their standard. He had, indeed, offered himself to their chief, but that provident commander had already measured for his uniform some man of his own inches, and did not think it worth while to secure the thews of a giant at the price of wasting a livery and disappointing a dwarf.

  The impression left by the great Minister on all who knew him was indeed on several points, of no common kind. It is the more striking, since, in many cases, we find it come forth incidentally. “Pitt, the most forgiving and easy-tempered of men,”—so says Lord Malmesbury while treating of another subject. “Pitt is the most upright political character I every knew or heard of,”—so writes Wilberforce to Bankes. The observation of Rose upon another feature of his character is no less weighty:—“With respect to Mr. Pitt, I can say with the sincerest truth, that in an intercourse almost uninterrupted during more than twenty years I never saw him once out of temper, nor did ever one unpleasant sentence pass between us.”

  In all descriptions of Pitt’s appearance in the House of Commons, a certain aloofness fills an odd space; he is “a thing apart,” different somehow from other members. Fox was the exact opposite,—he was “a good fellow;” he rolled into the House, fat, good-humored, and popular. Pitt was spare, dignified, and reserved; when he entered the House, he walked to the place of the Premier without looking to the right or to the left, and he sat at the same place. He was ready to discuss important business with all proper persons, upon all necessary occasions; but he was not ready to discuss business unnecessarily with any one, nor did he discuss anything but business with any save a very few intimate friends, with whom his reserve at once vanished, and his wit and humor at once expanded, and his genuine interest in all really great subjects was at once displayed.

  His was one of those minds which dawns at rare intervals upon the world, yet with the exception of his lofty intellect, and his splendid sense of independence, which commanded the homage of all, he possessed few of the qualities which Englishmen admire in their rulers, and many of the faults which they detest. He was intensely proud, and, save in the presence of his family, where he was warmly loved, stiff, cold, and ungenial. When he appeared in public, even when he was cheered and fêted, his harsh features seldom relaxed their haughty, repellent expression. Kings bowed and smiled, but Pitt, the commoner, the son of a newly-created peer, took scant pains not to show that he held such homage in contempt. His conduct was irreproachable…. He seemed never to forget that he was so rigidly virtuous, so highly honourable, so pure and disinterested, and endowed with such splendid talents; from the lofty pedestal of his superiority he never descended, he always spoke and acted as if the world were at his feet, and he the only man who should stand upright. He wanted humility, toleration, charity; had he possessed these great virtues, he would have been one of the noblest characters in history. As it was, his circle of friends was small, though intensely devoted, whilst that of his enemies was both numerous and powerful. His austerity alienated the sympathies of what is called society…. On the bead-roll of English Ministers, there have been men more popular, more kindly, more generous, but none more able, more straightforward, or more worthy of the high position he held, than the great, the disinterested, the austere William Pitt.

  Pitt, however, will always be measured and weighed by Englishmen according to two different modes of reckoning. Interpreted by his personal character, by the pureness, the loftiness, the public spirit and disinterestedness of his life, he stands on a higher pedestal than ever his genius for organization and administration has raised for him. To have been the least self-seeking politician that had wielded supreme power up to his own times—to have established and handed down a grand tradition of republican honour and simplicity in English statesmanship—is in itself a nobler triumph than the praise of his followers, or the success of his intrigues, or the votes of parliament, or the monument in Westminster Abbey.

  His friendship, although like all worthy friendship, not lavishly given, was singularly warm and was enthusiastically returned. Nothing in history is more credible and interesting than his affectionate and lifelong intimacy with Wilberforce, so widely differing from him in his views of life. Hardened politicians such as Rose and Farnborough were softened by their intercourse with him, and cherished his memory to the end of their lives with something of religious adoration. This indeed was the posthumous feeling which he seems to have inspired more than any person in history. Even Sidmouth, who had loved him little during the last lustre of his life, shared this, and boasted that he had destroyed every letter of Pitt’s which could cause the slightest detriment to Pitt’s reputation. Canning, Pitt loved as a son. There is nothing more human in Pitt’s life than the account of his affectionate solicitude and absorption at Canning’s marriage. Canning’s love for Pitt was something combined of the sentiments of a son, a friend, and a disciple.

  He had the genius of command, and was one of the greatest Parliamentary leaders England has ever seen; but it may be questioned if his public efficiency would not have been enhanced, had he possessed some of that “subordinate” experience he so haughtily repudiated, and had his long public life been more tempered by some of the teachings of Opposition. He came to regard rule and office almost as his right…. The life of this great statesman must be judged after taking into account, not only his actions and his motives, but also the times in which he lived, with all their difficulties and all their emergencies. In his review his “personal purity, disinterestedness, integrity, and love of country” stand out conspicuous. His aims, his gifts, and his powers were great, and William Pitt must forever be regarded as a very noble figure in the public life of England.

Speeches

  In his luminous and comprehensive speeches in Parliament Pitt has explained his motives and unfolded his views, his objects, and his designs.

  Before Mr. Pitt had a seat in parliament, he had been a constant attendant in the gallery of the house of commons, and near the throne in the house of lords, upon every important debate; and whenever he heard a speech of any merit on the side opposite to his own opinions, he accustomed himself to consider, as it proceeded, in what manner it might be answered; and when the speaker accorded with his own sentiments, he then observed his mode of arranging and enforcing his ideas, and considered whether any improvement could have been made, or whether any argument had been omitted. To this habit, and to the practice already mentioned of reading Greek and Latin into English, joined to his wonderful natural endowments, may be attributed that talent for reply, and that command of language, for which he was from the first so highly distinguished. At whatever length he spoke, he avoided repetition and it was early and justly observed of him, that “he never failed to put the best word in the best place.”

  Mackintosh said that Pitt’s speeches are miserably reported. He was himself present at the speech on the Slave Trade in ’92 (which Mr. Fox declared was the finest he had ever heard), and the report, he says, gives no idea whatever of its merits.

  Pitt, tall and slender, had an air at once melancholy and sarcastic. His delivery was cold, his intonation monotonous, his action scarcely perceptible. At the same time, the lucidness and the fluency of his thoughts, the logic of his arguments, suddenly irradiated with flashes of eloquence, rendered his talent something above the ordinary line…. Ill dressed, without pleasure, without passion, greedy of power, he despised honours, and would not be any thing more than William Pitt.

  His declamation was admirable, mingling with and clothing the argument, as to be good for any thing declamation always must; and no more separable from the reasoning than the heat is from the metal in a stream of lava. Yet, with all this excellence, the last effect of the highest eloquence was for the most part wanting; we seldom forgot the speaker, or lost the artist in the work.

  The almost unanimous judgment of those who were in the habit of listening to that remarkable race of men, placed Pitt, as a speaker, above Burke, above Windham, above Sheridan, and not below Fox. His declamation was copious, polished, and splendid. In power of sarcasm he was probably not surpassed by any speaker, ancient or modern; and of this formidable weapon he made merciless use. In two parts of the oratorical art which are of the highest value to a minister of state he was singularly expert. No man knew better how to be luminous or how to be obscure.

  The early speeches of Pitt were masterpieces. Eloquence was his heritage, and the House of Commons the predestined theatre for its display. The lucidity of his exposition, the vigour of his declamation, the sting of his sarcasm, the regular flow and careful finish of his sentences, were as notable and striking when he first entered Parliament as they were after he had become its acknowledged ornament. His oratory had neither spring nor autumn. His mind never seemed to have been youthful. No one knew him as a mediocre speaker; it was difficult to believe that he ever had been a boy.

  All his classicism was but a weapon to smite with, or from which to forge the links of those shining parentheses by which he strangled an opponent. Nothing beyond or below the cool, considerate humanities of the cultured, self-poised gentleman (unless we except some rare outbreak of petulance) belongs to this great orator, who could thrust one through with a rapier held by the best rules of fence; and who never did or could say a word so warm as to touch a friend or make an enemy forget his courtliness.

General

  Of the letters thus printed in the course of the present summer, we have had the honour to receive a copy, and we feel no hesitation in saying that—written though many of them were, in the very height of the session, or the utmost hurry of business—they appear to us models in that kind of composition. We can scarcely praise them more highly than by saying that they rival Lord Bolingbroke’s celebrated diplomatic correspondence, of which, as we know from other sources, Mr. Pitt was a warm admirer. They never strain at any of those rhetorical ornaments, which, when real business is concerned, become only obstructions, but are endowed with a natural grace and dignity—a happy choice of words, and a constant clearness of thought. Although scarce ever divided into paragraphs, they display neither confusion, nor yet abrupt transition of subjects, but flow on, as it were, in an even and continuous stream.

  If it is impossible now to read his private letters, written in the darkest hours of his official adversities, without a throbbing of the heart at the calm fortitude and indomitable hopefulness of their tone, it may be easily conceived how overpowering was the influence of these qualities over the minds of the small men, and the superficial men, and the congenial men, and the affectionate idolators, by whom he was surrounded.