[Image] The Last Speech Of The Earl Of Chatham.
He let himself fall back on his seat exhausted and fainting. Soon he tried to rise in order to answer the Duke of Richmond; his strength failed him; for the last time the wavering flame of this great torch had flung out its brilliancy. A weakness seized him. The House, silent and anxious, surrounded him. They carried out the great orator, the illustrious adversary of France who had lately conquered her, and who was about to succumb while yet following her "with his sad and inflexible looks." [Footnote 5]
[Footnote 5: Bossuet, _Sur le Cardinal de Retz_.]
Some days later he breathed his last in his country house at Hayes, encompassed by national regret and respect, and soon afterwards was buried at the expense of the state in Westminster Abbey. He was to await his son there only twenty-seven years--that son who was the enthusiastic witness of his glory, the emulator of his eloquence and political virtues; who was greater than he in the governance of his country, and who sleeps at his feet without other monument than a simple name, "William Pitt," without other epitaph than the funeral oration which his father, with outstretched arm, seems constantly to pronounce over his tomb.
The proposals of the Duke of Richmond had been rejected, but Lord North's bills had excited great uneasiness in Washington's mind. He knew better than any one else at what price the war had been hitherto sustained; he dreaded for his country those concessions which had no effect upon his own soul. He wrote immediately to his friends, "Accept nothing that is not independence. We can never forget the outrages which Great Britain has made us suffer; a peace on other conditions would be a source of perpetual broils. If Great Britain, impelled by her love of tyranny, sought anew to bend our foreheads beneath the yoke of iron--and she would do it, be certain, for her pride and ambition are indomitable--what nation would hereafter believe in our professions of faith and lend us her aid? It is now to be feared that the proposals of England may have great effect in this country. Men are naturally friendly to peace; and more than one symptom leads me to believe that the American people are generally tired of war. If it is so, nothing is more politic than to inspire confidence in the country by putting the army on an imposing footing, and giving a greater activity to our negotiations with the European powers. I believe that at the present hour France ought to have recognized our independence, and that she is going to declare war immediately on Great Britain."