Chapter II: Part 2

In the spring of 1744 Burke was entered as a pensioner at Trinity College, Dublin. Two years later he was elected a scholar of the house. To obtain the latter distinction a candidate had to go through a successful examination in the classics, before the provost and senior fellows, after which he was entitled to a small annuity, a vote for the representatives of the University, and free chambers and commons for a certain period. But it does not appear that Burke generally sought opportunities of proving the might of that genius which he must have felt to be in him. On the contrary, he silently hoarded up that universal information, which, in other days and in very different circumstances, he exhibited in forms so grand and magnificent. Thus, when the proper time arrived, he was able to speak or converse with eloquence and correctness on almost any subject that presented itself. He gave much attention to rhetoric, and improved his mind by perpetual and sagacious reflection. While at college his habits were quiet, his character unpretending, and his conduct marked by regularity.

Burke had, long before leaving the University, been enrolled as a student of law at the Middle Temple, but he was in no particular haste to keep his terms. It is even related that, while studying with zeal and earnestness at home to improve his capacity and extend his learning, he was induced to apply for the Logic chair at Glasgow, but too late to gain his object. At length, seeing no fair field for the exercise of his talents in the land of his birth, he resolved to betake himself to London, trusting to achieve for himself, by ability and industry, a position of honor and independence. He had already devoted much time to accomplish himself in composition, and written several essays to counteract the doctrines of a democratic Irish apothecary, whose daring lucubrations had won their author considerable local fame. Thus were exercised the rare strength and invincible courage in political controversy which afterward enabled him to trample many a potent and well-appointed adversary in the dust. It might have been that his success in this contest inspired him with the desire of signalizing his singular prowess in a wider field. At all events he repaired to the English metropolis.

His journey thither was not undertaken without feelings of sadness; and his eyes often filled with tears, as, after crossing the Channel, he was rolled through a country ornamented with pleasant mansions, neat cottages, and villages, whose cheerful and industrious appearance he could not help contrasting with the poverty of his native isle. Agriculture, he says, was his favorite science, and would have been his chosen pursuit if Providence had blessed his youth with acres. He was, therefore, highly interested in, and pleased with, its progress in the country he was now adopting.

At the time of his arrival in London, Burke was by no means unfitted, by knowledge or experience, to struggle with advantage. His classical and philosophical acquirements were enormous, and he had no slight conception of life and society. He was an eager observer of mankind, and had seen enough of the gay and fashionable while hanging on in Dublin to acquit himself with propriety in any company to which his marvelous conversational powers might procure him access. His stories and anecdotes were characterized by interest and variety. They did not lose any thing in effect by the look and manner with which they were set off, nor by the slight Irish accent, which to the last was perceptible, especially in his colloquial displays. Thus accomplished, he commenced his career of intellectual triumph by contributing to periodicals; thereby sharpening his wits and increasing his intelligence. The character of Englishmen immediately commanded his respect, and, celebrated as his birth-place ever has been for its display of female beauty, the graces of Englishwomen excited his enthusiastic admiration. He complained, indeed, that there was less regard paid to men of letters than he had been led to imagine, and that genius was in small danger of being enervated by the patronage of power. But he probably felt that his must in the end bear him upward, in spite of every obstacle: so he strove against discontent, and adhered steadfastly to habits of temperance, keeping his glorious intellect unobscured by the cloud which is certain to follow dissipation. The buildings in the wonderful city of which he was now an inhabitant, struck him as being very fine; and in good time, attracted, probably, by the descriptions of Addison, he visited the edifices of Westminster. He was deeply impressed with awe and veneration for the sacredness and solemnity of the place, and thought that sound and useful lessons might be learned from the monuments. Indeed, it is not difficult to conceive what fine thoughts and high imaginings must have crossed the mind and irradiated the brain of Burke, as, for the first time, he wandered through the venerable Abbey, and perambulated that historic Hall, which, in later days, was the scene of the most surpassing effort of his genius.

While earning a livelihood by literary labor, the income of the brilliant aspirant was no doubt small; but his industry was unceasing. He produced essays on various literary and political subjects for weekly and daily publications, and he studied with singular diligence. He usually read with a pen in his hand to make notes, extracts, and reflections. His apprehension was peculiarly quick, and his memory retentive; and he could thus travel with rapidity over a wide field. But it is impossible to work incessantly without impairing the health. A somewhat severe illness caused him to resort, for medical advice, to Dr. Nugent, a physician of skill and talent, who, considering that proper care and attention were more likely to prove beneficial than any medicine administered in the dust and solitude of the Temple, kindly invited the invalid to take up his quarters for a time under his roof. Burke wisely accepted the hospitality thus offered.

During the restoration of his patient to health and vigor, the Doctor found in his daughter an efficacious assistant; Burke found in her an amiable and agreeable companion, who soon made an impression on his heart. In such circumstances, even “the greatest philosopher in action the world ever saw” acted like other mortals; he told his enamored tale, and they were forthwith united. This step was most fortunate; the lady proved herself eminently worthy of his affection; and when years had brought trouble and anxiety in their train, her husband often declared, that all his racking cares departed whenever he crossed the threshold of his own house.

Burke had now a double motive to exertion. Animated by that love of fame――

“Which the clear spirit doth raise
To scorn delights, and live laborious days.”

and at the same time by that sense of duty which is not the least laudable incitement to mental energy, he applied himself to the production of some work that might establish his name; and accordingly his “Vindication of Natural Society,” in which the writer covertly, and with admirable effect, imitated the style and principles of Bolingbroke, made its appearance. The treatise exhibited much historical knowledge, versatility of genius, and sagacity of mind; but it failed to meet with the success or notice which its ingenious irony might have been expected to secure. It was published in the year 1756, and soon followed by his “Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful,” which so much pleased and delighted the author’s father, that a remittance of a hundred pounds was the consequence.

From this auspicious period Burke’s celebrity and importance may be dated; and his reputation speedily secured him a worthy position among men of letters and eminence. Sir Joshua Reynolds sought his society; and at the hospitable mansion of the immortal painter he formed the acquaintance of Dr. Johnson, who declared his new friend to be the greatest man living. “Take up whatever topic you will,” he was in the habit of saying, “Burke is ready to meet you. If he were to go into a stable and talk to the ostlers for a short time, they would venerate him as the wisest of human beings. No person of sense ever met him under a gateway to avoid a shower who did not go away convinced that he was the first man in England.”

In the year 1764 Reynolds proposed the formation of a club, which met at the Turk’s Head, and soon comprehended several of the most distinguished literary and political characters of whom Great Britain boasted. It long flourished without a name, but was at length recognized as the Literary Club. One of the nine original members was Oliver Goldsmith, who had been a college contemporary of Burke, and afterward gone to study medicine in Edinburgh. He had since traveled over much of the Continent, holding learned disputations at the different Universities that came in his way, where success entitled him to a dinner, a night’s lodging, and a small sum of money. He had now thrown himself into the republic of letters, and much amused the brilliant circle at the Turk’s Head by his strange eccentricities and ludicrous blunders.

At their meetings Burke was found fully a match for Johnson; and it was observed, that he was almost the only man living from whom the huge sage would bear contradiction. The subject of Bengal was sometimes under discussion; and Burke, even at that period, showed an extent and accuracy of information in regard to it rarely to be met with.

Burke had already projected and brought into operation the “Annual Register,” which was for years carried on under his sagacious inspection; though political matters soon occupied so much of his attention that he had little leisure for literary pursuits not strictly connected with affairs of state: but his introduction to public life was gradual. In the year 1759 he became acquainted with _Singlespeech_ Hamilton, son of a Scottish advocate who had come to England at the Union. This mysterious individual had, a short while previously, made the solitary but successful oratorical effort from which his nickname was derived, in a debate long remembered as one of the greatest in which the parliamentary personages of that generation had partaken. In 1761 he went to Ireland as Secretary to the Lord-lieutenant, and Burke accompanied him as a friend and adviser. For his services on this occasion the latter was granted a pension of £300 a year, which he sacrificed, after enjoying it for eighteen months, on his rupture with Hamilton.

Soon after making this sacrifice, which did not prevent him tendering his aid and drawing his purse to forward the interests of his whimsical countryman, Barry the painter, Burke had the gratification of playing a part in the political world. On the dismissal of George Grenville from the head of affairs, Lord Rockingham, chief of the Whig magnates, was intrusted with the duty of forming an administration. That nobleman, having been filled with admiration of Burke’s occasional papers in the “Public Advertiser,” was led to desire the acquaintance of the writer, who speedily became his private secretary, and member of parliament for Wendover. He was, not, however, “swaddled, rocked, and dandled into a legislator.” He set himself studiously to comprehend official forms and parliamentary proceedings, used every means to accomplish himself in voice and action――with that view even frequenting the theatre to derive hints and instruction from the tones, looks, and gestures of Garrick. Both by solitary study and debating at a society, he prepared himself to take an active part in the business of the House of Commons. He made his first speech on the bill for repealing the American Stamp Act, with an eloquence which excited the admiration of all present, and evoked the valuable praise of the great Earl of Chatham. Sir John Hawkins expressed his amazement at the extraordinary eminence to which Burke had suddenly ascended; upon which Dr. Johnson said,

“Sir, there is nothing marvelous in it; we who know Burke feel sure that he will be one of the first men in the country.”

On the fall of the Rockingham ministry, to which his genius had imparted some degree of dignity, Burke wrote and circulated a plain and simple defense of its measures. He soon after made an ironical reply to his own pamphlet in the form of a letter, signed “Whittington,” and professing to be the production of a tallow-chandler, who aspired to the office of lord-mayor. In this epistle a severe attack was made on the cabinet which Lord Chatham had just put together.

By this time Burke, from his intimacy with patrician senators, was known and appreciated in the world of fashion, where his talents and acquirements qualified him to shine, in spite of those social demarcations whose lines are not always justly drawn. He was an especial favorite, and won golden opinions in the “blue-stocking” circles; and he was wisely careful not to mortify the vanity nor incur the wrath of learned ladies, by pointing out their errors or exposing their fallacies. His position in Parliament was soon ascertained and ere long recognized. On the very day when he broke ground in the House of Commons, the first Pitt addressed it for the last time, and men were in doubt which of them was the more splendid speaker. Ere two years had elapsed, Burke had established his oratorical supremacy.

About this period a tract of Grenville’s exhibited so much ill-nature that the Rockingham party felt the necessity of retaliating. Accordingly, Burke published his “Observations on the Present State of the Nation.” The popular error that a man of genius can not deal with practical matters as successfully as those who are less richly endowed by nature, was the consolation of mediocrity very much earlier than the days of Burke, and from him it now met with a signal refutation. He executed his task with complete triumph on every point of consequence, and proved his mastery over the dry, minute, financial, and statistical details, which were supposed to form the stronghold and peculiar province of his sharp but narrow-minded adversary.

Burke had, ere this, purchased a pleasant villa near Beaconsfield, in Buckinghamshire, where he could enjoy rural privacy and rest his eye on lawns, woods, meadows, and corn-fields. Attached to his residence was land worth about six hundred a-year, of which he retained the greater part in his own occupation, that he might indulge in the satisfaction of farming. Without adopting any expensive system, he proved himself one of the most successful agriculturists in the county. When living in town he had various articles of produce carted up with his own stout nags, which were employed one day to draw his carriage, and on the next to plow the soil. As a country gentleman he exerted himself to the utmost to ameliorate the condition of the peasantry among whom he lived; he was daily earning their blessings by the schemes he devised for their benefit. He planned various institutions for enabling mechanics and laborers to save something from their wages against the season of sickness, and his hand was ever open as day to the poor or distressed. Thus he won and enjoyed the respect and admiration of the neighborhood. To his numerous guests his hospitality was overflowing. He neither affected style nor studied display, but regaled them with substantial fare, and delighted them with cheerful and entertaining conversation. Among his visitors he counted Dr. Johnson, for whose talents and virtues he always expressed a sincere esteem, and by whose death-bed his voice faltered with grief and emotion.

As one of the freeholders of Bucks, Burke drew up a petition concerning the Middlesex election, which was approved of by a county meeting, and presented by him to Parliament. He likewise set forth his views and opinions of the political affairs of the day, in a treatise entitled “Thoughts on the Present Discontents,” wherein he advocated the claims of the great Whig connection to the government of the empire. In the House of Commons he maintained their interests with unrivaled eloquence; he led their ranks, in opposition to Lord North, during the American War; and he was justly regarded as by far the most formidable assailant whom that minister had to encounter in the arena of debate. His magnificent speech on American taxation was considered one of the most extraordinary on record; but his fanciful flights and profound reasoning were often too little adapted to the taste of his audience to be relished or followed; and his contemporaries became careless of attending to orations which, nevertheless, will last as long as the English language. His own friends, who crept stealthily away to avoid listening to his rich effusions, were, on their publication, surprised at the delight experienced in perusing them. Such was their treatment of an orator who spoke for posterity.

A dissolution occurring in 1774, Burke was, without his knowledge, put in nomination as a candidate for the representation of Bristol. He had just been elected for Malton, in Yorkshire, when the intelligence of this unsought distinction arrived; and straightway he proceeded to the ancient city. There his eloquence was exerted with such force that it penetrated even the heads of the wealthy traders in rum and sugar, who, after a protracted contest, placed him at the top of the poll. An amusing anecdote is related of his colleague in the canvass――a colonial merchant. After one of the mighty orator’s most glowing addresses to the inhabitants, the worthy individual feeling himself quite overpowered by the torrent, instead of attempting to explain his views to the audience as expected, exclaimed with grave but excited earnestness, “I say _ditto_ to Mr. Burke! I say _ditto_ to Mr. Burke!” It happened, however, that when the next general election took place, Burke had rendered himself so unpopular to the constituency by his support of the Catholic claims and of the Irish Trade Acts, that he judged it prudent to decline a contest; and he again took shelter in the borough of Malton, which he represented during the remainder of his parliamentary career.

The party, which Burke had all but created by his intellect and determination, had, meantime, been reinforced by an ally of rare prowess and extraordinary capacity. Charles James Fox, a younger son of that Lord Holland who had sprung into political life under the auspices of Sir Robert Walpole, and been ennobled for services rendered to Lord Bute, had entered the House before he was of legal age. For a while Fox held a subordinate appointment in the Government of Lord North, but was dismissed from it on account of some refractory votes. He then, in spite of his unfortunate gaming propensities, made himself one of the most accomplished debaters ever heard, by speaking every night but one during five sessions. He became the pupil of Burke, from whom he frankly avowed having learned more than from all other men and authors. Gradually he superseded his master in the leadership, and their united efforts forced Lord North from power.

The Marquis of Rockingham now returned to his former position, and Burke received the appointment of Paymaster-general, then one of the most lucrative in the state, and was admitted into the privy council. But, in defiance of all fairness and gratitude, he was excluded from the cabinet. The death of Lord Rockingham, in 1782, terminated his party’s tenure of office; and Lord Shelburne being called on to undertake the duties of government, intrusted the lead of the Lower House to Pitt, then little more than twenty-three years of age. Upon this was formed the celebrated Fox and North coalition which speedily drove Lord Shelburne into retirement, though his youthful colleague had struggled with signal skill, dauntless courage, and commanding eloquence to baffle the efforts of the terrible foes ranged in fierce opposition. The Duke of Portland then became nominal premier; Fox and his ancient enemy, Lord North, were the principal secretaries of state; and Burke calmly went back to the Pay-office. But Pitt succeeded in defeating their East India Bill, and returned to power in the capacity of prime minister.

Burke on this set out on his crusade against the abuses and tyranny, which had long occupied his thoughts. Fourteen years previously the affairs of India had become a subject of Parliamentary deliberation and national interest; and Burke had proceeded to investigate the matter with restless energy. The East India Directors had proposed to send him out at the head of a commission for the reformation of abuses, with discretionary powers. He declined the offer, but applied himself with persevering industry to acquire a thorough knowledge of the question. The time had now arrived when it was to be turned to account; and forthwith commenced the long and fierce contest, in the course of which he shook the old oak roof of Westminster Hall with his denunciations of the great Eastern culprit.

Warren Hastings, originally sent out to India as a poor orphan, whom his guardian was glad to be rid of, landed in 1785 on the free soil of Britain, after having maintained and extended the English empire in the East, administered its affairs with singular capacity, and gathered a large fortune for himself. Burke believed him to be sullied with various crimes, and within a week of his triumphant arrival gave notice of a motion seriously affecting his character as a ruler. With fiery zeal, relentless animosity, and unflagging industry, he commenced and carried on the assault, till, in February 1788, the memorable trial began in Westminster Hall, which was gorgeously fitted up for the occasion. On the third day Burke addressed the court, and his opening speech occupied four sittings. The passion and energy of the orator were worked up to a pitch which overbore, for a time, the conviction of those who entertained friendly feelings for the accused. With all the ardor of his great soul, with all the powers of his splendid imagination, and with all the might of his marvelous intellect, he denounced in the loftiest language the misconduct with which Hastings stood charged. Ladies shrieked and fainted; men muttered and execrated the dark deeds his rich mind and brilliant fancy portrayed with all the eloquence of the highest genius; and even the feelings of the criminal were so carried away by the resistless flood, that he almost believed himself guilty. The effect, however, was evanescent; the ceremony proceeded languidly; and years after it was brought to a termination by the acquittal of the Governor-general. Meantime, on the breaking out of the French Revolution, Burke, indignant at the removal of ancient landmarks, took a most gloomy view of its tendency, and was thus separated in opinion from his former associates, who did not hesitate to express their satisfaction at the event, and their admiration of the principles that had produced it. A party rupture was the consequence; and in 1791, during a Canadian debate, Burke, who had previously declared that he and Sheridan had parted forever, solemnly renounced all political and private friendship with Fox. “My separation,” he stated, “is a principle, and not a passion. I hold it my sacred duty to confirm what I have said and written by this sacrifice. And to what purpose would be the reunion of a moment? Henceforth I can have no delight with him, nor he with me.” Even when on his death-bed, he adhered sternly and steadfastly to this resolution, and declined an interview with his old friend and pupil. He had already published his “Reflections on the French Revolution,” which soon overshadowed and agitated Europe. Dublin University conferred on him the degree of LL.D. for the wondrous power with which he had pleaded for established governments; and Oxford communicated to him an address of thanks. Though long exposed to multitudinous annoyances, and irritated by inferior men, his intellect had not suffered in the slightest degree. Doubtless, his counsels in regard to Continental affairs were somewhat fierce, arbitrary, and impracticable, as was not unnatural at a time when blood was flowing like water. But his genius and knowledge were still gloriously conspicuous; and this crowning effort of his powers as a writer was more than equal in strength, ability, and imagination to the splendid achievements of his earlier and more vigorous years.

In 1795 a pension was bestowed upon him for his long and faithful services to the State. This, although the slightest reward which a grateful monarch could have bestowed on his most gifted subject for labors on which Englishmen, to the latest generations, will look back with pride, as they profit by his burning sentences and words of wisdom, brought upon him most rancorous attacks. He was still mourning the loss of his only son, a youth of great promise; but, nevertheless, produced an answer characterized by his tried ability and scornful sarcasm. But no defense was necessary; and he who had sacrificed his repose, pleasures, and satisfactions to what he considered his duty to the country, and who had ever, without fear, favor, or affection, obeyed the dictates of conscience and the promptings of patriotism, need have cared little for the puny assailants who now crawled forth with their ragged mops to bespatter the wide and broad mirror that reflected his unrivaled greatness to an admiring world.

At length, in 1797, his bodily health began, rapidly to decline, though his mental faculties continued unimpaired to the last. On the 8th of July in that year he expired, after a brief struggle, and was buried in Beaconsfield church, where a plain mural tablet has been erected to his immortal memory.

NECKER.

Ardent admirers of such mental and imaginative power as was displayed by the marvelous man whose career has just been sketched, will be unable to discover any striking signs of that sublime quality in Necker. Yet history hardly presents a more impressive and agreeable instance of moderate talents honestly exercised, and resolute industry unflinchingly practiced, conducting an obscure individual――in spite of countless obstacles――to boundless wealth and supreme distinction, in an exclusive country of which he could not even boast of being a native. His example is, therefore, of peculiar value to youth, and eminently worthy of attentive consideration, as showing what may be achieved by integrity and perseverance against all disadvantages.

The forefathers of this celebrated person whose name justly occupies so conspicuous a place in the political annals of continental Europe, are stated to have been Irish Protestants, at a time when there was particularly little personal safety to those holding the doctrines of the reformed faith. At a troublous period they fled from persecution, and sought refuge in Prussia, whence another generation found their way into Switzerland. Thus it happened that Necker was born in Geneva, on the 3d of September, 1732, where his parents were in respectable circumstances, and where his father held the Professorship of Public Law. The boy was doubtless educated with care in his native city, whose beautiful situation on the Rhône and at the end of Lake Leman, with its fine walks and pleasant prospects, furnished a fitting scene wherein to indulge his youthful and ambitious aspirations after fame and fortune. But at the same time the manners and customs of the place conveyed to him impressions still more salutary, and predisposed him in favor of those habits of rigid virtue on which he subsequently built his high power and enviable reputation, as also those sound religious principles which, in after life, distinguished him and his house from those among whom his lot was cast.

The opinion that the true genius is a mind of large general powers, determined by accident to some particular direction, is rather confirmed than otherwise by the instance of Necker. His natural bent was toward political and philosophical studies, and had they been encouraged and pursued, he might have become a fanciful and brilliant thinker; but his parents did not regard his prepossessions with satisfaction. On the contrary, they deemed it better that his time should be devoted to the lucrative labor which fortune supplies to a votary of activity, energy, and intellect. While commerce fills the purse it clogs the brain; and, though highly favored in his efforts, Necker was not luckier than others in this respect. In earlier years he is said to have written two comedies; but the extraordinary struggle which must have been required to metamorphose a friendless clerk into one of the richest men of his time would naturally tend to crush and destroy any of the more precious particles of talent and enthusiasm with which he had been endowed by nature. His uncompromising virtue, rare amiability, common sense, amazing industry, and well-proved philanthropy, are the claims which his name possesses to the respect and gratitude of posterity.

Regarding the wishes of his parents as law, Necker sacrificed his own inclinations, and was sent at the age of fifteen to acquire a knowledge of mercantile affairs in the establishment of Vernet, a banker in Paris. Notwithstanding his aspiring vein, it would, indeed, have been difficult at that critical period of his existence for any one to imagine the possibility of the young Genevan adventurer rising to be first minister of royal France――figuring as the centre of literary society in the most polished of European capitals, and exercising a mighty influence on the destinies of the world.

Nevertheless his ability and industry were soon proved, and brought him into notice; his employers duly considering, of course, that it was their interest to do so, afforded him such assistance as was likely to redound to their own profit and advantage. His perseverance was encouraged; he rapidly ascended to a place of trust and confidence in the banking-house, and thus laid the foundation of that character for care and aptitude in business which, as years passed on, made him Chairman of the French East India Company――the highest of his commercial distinctions.

The reputation, however, on which he rose to political eminence had to be created by unflinching assiduity, and the exhibition of intellect. Female inspiration was essential to its proper formation in the capital on the Seine; and presently an influence of no unworthy kind was present to nerve the hand, elevate the mind, and fire the soul of the young banker’s clerk, struggling, though unaided, to make a name and form a reputation.

As has been well observed, “Women are the priestesses of predestination. It is the spirit of man that says, I will be great; but it is the sympathy of women that usually makes him so.” That influence, in a very pure and elevating degree, it was ere long Necker’s good fortune to find. While in the employment of Thelusson, a rich banker, he was in the habit of visiting at the house of Madame de Vermenoux, who had just engaged a remarkably learned and accomplished Swiss governess, of captivating appearance, to teach Latin to her son. This foreign instructress, though young, had run no ordinary career. She had encountered and borne up against troubles and disappointments with heroic courage and dauntless energy. In the gay days of girlhood she had been wooed, won, and sighed for by no less eminent a person than the embryo historian of the Roman empire. In obedience to the mandate of his family, who relished not the idea of so strange a match, Gibbon philosophically abandoned, though he could not altogether forget, the learned and beautiful object of his attachment. The death of her father, the venerable pastor of a mountain village, left her quite unprovided for; but, far from sinking under the circumstances, she conveyed her surviving parent to Geneva, where the liberal education she had received enabled her to maintain both by teaching young females. On the death of her mother she had been induced to remove to Paris, and thus met the man whose aspirations she was to guide and whose ambition she was to direct. Necker was immediately impressed by the charms and accomplishments of the erudite damsel, and, on becoming better acquainted, her grave style of beauty and noble character of mind threw over him a potent spell, and produced upon his heart an effect of no ordinary kind. Then, however, he could offer nothing but a devoted heart, with such worldly prospects as the enthusiasm of youth, especially in such circumstances, can readily conjure up. Thus, in consequence of their mutual poverty, they were under the harsh necessity of submitting to the delay of years. Soon, however, did the hero of this somewhat romantic engagement emerge from that chill obscurity which aspiring spirits like his can ill brook. He became a partner of the flourishing banking-house in which he was employed, and hailed the sun of fortune’s better day all the more eagerly that it gave him the power of completing their union without any violation of prudential considerations. Madame Necker’s ardent desire for honorable fame speedily exercised an effect on her husband. It quickened his efforts after distinction, and prompted him to apply his intellect to huge adventures and important speculations. By his transactions in corn he realized an immense fortune, which was employed and increased by large financial operations with the Government.

Meantime he was steadily advancing in social favor, to which his amiability and uprightness highly recommended him, and he was chosen envoy for the republic of Geneva at the court of Versailles. When that State was, in some crisis, contemplating the appointment of an embassador to Paris, the Minister of the Crown assured Necker that such an envoy was altogether unnecessary. “I will have nothing to do with any one in this affair but yourself, Monsieur Necker,” he said. This office opened up a passage for him to aristocratic circles, where his known wealth and accurate information secured him a tolerable degree of respect. As he rose to affluence and social importance, his natural inclination began to assert its dormant claim; he withdrew from active business, and devoted much attention to the pursuits toward which his heart had originally been turned. He had studied finance with singular determination; and his extensive knowledge of that subject, as shown in several pamphlets written at this period, excited much interest, and won him considerable praise.

In 1773 he carried off the prize at the Academy, with his _Eloge de Colbert_; and soon after won even greater distinction by his able essay, entitled _La Législation et le Commerce des Grains_. His information was extensive, and his views of questions as intelligent and comprehensive as his training and education admitted of their being. His regular and precise habits were, doubtless, rare as the conjugal devotion which raised the wonder of sneering skeptics and gay courtiers. His conversation, though a little pedantic, was lively, refined, and instructive, and his manner characterized by the courage of honesty.

Indeed the time had now arrived when the upright character, financial skill, and approved ability of the Swiss adventurer, rendered him a personage whom the Government could not overlook. His disposition was so amiable that it inspired love and esteem in those who were best acquainted with him; while his generosity and munificence had fascinated the masses, and won him popular applause. Besides, his intellect had impressed itself on public feeling, and on the national mind. He enunciated the doctrine, not under all circumstances agreeable, that no new tax was lawful till all the resources of economy had been tried; and he held opinions in favor of retrenchment before the idea was in fashion with the multitude. Such a man was unquestionably of no small value in the administration of affairs. The finances were in all but hopeless disorder, and war was apparently approaching. Therefore, though he was, as a foreigner, distasteful to the nobles, and as a Protestant an object of aversion――not unmingled, perhaps, with dread――to the clergy, urgent necessity overbore considerations which might not have yielded to a less imperious monitor, and he was nominated Director-general of the Finances. To allay the foolish murmurs of the privileged classes, he was not admitted to a seat in the cabinet; and to the complaints of the clergy, who naturally remonstrated against a Protestant being intrusted with an office of such importance, the prime minister of the day used this very significant and conclusive argument: “I will give him up to you, if you will pay the debts of the State.”

Having thus placed his foot on the ladder of power, Necker speedily made his influence beneficially felt. Various reforms, great and small, in the administration of the national finances, testified that a strong hand and a clear head were enlisted in the service of a country that much required them. He commenced his official career by prudently declining to receive the emoluments pertaining to the post he occupied, and forthwith signalized his accession to office by suppressing some six hundred places about the Court and Treasury. His early education had strongly impressed him in favor of free institutions; and his system of government was essentially popular. His plan was, to render as public as possible the national accounts and expenditure, and to form provincial assemblies, in which local affairs and taxation might be discussed and debated. His schemes, however, were not in any respect agreeable to the courtiers, and he was assailed by a continuous shower of pamphlets from the members of the Parliament of Paris. Under these untoward circumstances he deemed a place in the Council requisite, that he might be in a proper position to defend his measures when they were under the deliberation of that body.

“What! you in the Council, and you do not go to mass!” exclaimed the First Minister of the Crown, with every feature of his countenance marked with surprise.

“Sully did not go to mass, and yet he was admitted to the Council,” replied the Swiss financier, with becoming dignity; but in vain. The minister offered to comply with his request, if he would become a Roman Catholic; but, as in duty bound, Necker resolutely refused to sacrifice his religious convictions to political advancement, and sent in his resignation to the king. His majesty, painfully aware of the value of the services he was thus about to lose, accepted it mournfully; and those who had coalesced to overthrow the obnoxious statesman rejoiced for a brief season over the triumph they had, for their misfortune, achieved.

Meantime Necker had made a noble and philanthropic use of the influence he possessed, and of the immense wealth which he had amassed by his talents and industry. His private character was so unexceptionable, and his morality so unimpeachable, as to contrast remarkably with those among whom he acted so prominent a part; and, with the assistance of his precious wife, he had done much to relieve and alleviate the wants and distresses of the poor and indigent. Madame Necker had expressed a wish to devote her talents to literature, but her husband hinted his objection to such a course being pursued; and she betook herself to those acts of charity and beneficence, to which he proudly appealed in a day of darkness and gloom. Thus, at a great cost of time, labor, and money, they had founded the hospital in Paris which still bears their name; and there, in contemplating the good effected by their exertions, they found consolation in times of trouble. On the day preceding his resignation, they went thither; and the Sisters of Mercy who attended the patients sang portions of the Psalms――the only poetry with which they were acquainted――and loudly extolled the Neckers as the helpers and benefactors of the poor and needy. The fallen minister was, perhaps, much more moved with such demonstrations of affection than by all his trials, and felt a pang at losing a position which gave him the power of conferring blessings on his less-favored fellow-creatures.

Necker now retired to St. Omer, a short distance from Paris, where he soon had conclusive proofs of his wide popularity. He received hundreds of communications from people of the highest rank and importance, regretting his removal from office: the road between his residence and the city was crowded with the carriages of persons who went to pay their respects to him in his retreat; and ere long he had it in his power to decline the proposals of three foreign sovereigns, who each hastened to offer him the management of their exchequers.

In 1787 he published his celebrated attack on Calonne, then presiding over the financial department; and so bitter did the controversy become, that the king judged it necessary to banish the ex-minister twenty leagues from Paris. Next year, however, the feeling against his successor became so strong, the monetary embarrassments so perplexing, and the public excitement so great, that there appeared no other politic course than to recall Necker from his retirement. Accordingly he was privately applied to by the queen, through the Austrian embassador, to resume his former functions; but he declined doing so without possessing complete control. He was, therefore, recalled, as a kind of financial dictator. His return was a triumph of the most brilliant description. He was welcomed along the road from Bale with expressions of joy, gratitude, and admiration, by the inhabitants of the district. The day of his entry into Paris was kept as a festive holiday, and the popular enthusiasm manifested itself in shouts of applause: but he came too late to be permanently of service to the disordered and agitated state. Few men have ever met with so hearty a reception from their fellow-subjects; and Necker had sufficient ambition and vanity not to be altogether insensible to the glowing triumphs of such an hour. Yet, when congratulated on his recall, under circumstances so flattering, he regretfully remarked――“Ah, would that I could recall the last fifteen months!”

Nevertheless, his influence was, as anticipated, speedily and beneficially felt in the restoration of public credit, and the relief of the capital from the famine which had threatened and terrified its inhabitants. Events had, indeed, arrived at a crisis which baffled the strength of his guiding-hand and the resources of his busy brain; and he soon found questions arising which the public excitement prevented him from dealing with, or settling, to advantage. The wearisome and invidious duty of being responsible for proceedings over which he had no control, was his for a brief period; and he, unfortunately, lacked the qualities which enable a public man to stand and save himself and others in an age of revolution. His popularity vanished as the storm approached; and, at length, on the 4th of September, 1790, sick at heart, and tired of contending with difficulties which no human power could have subdued, he finally resigned the high office which, in ordinary times, he was capable of filling with so much honor to himself, and so much advantage to the country, disappeared from the stage, and was quickly forgotten amid the excitement and bloodshed of a revolutionary tempest. He betook himself to Coppet, and felt his banishment from the moving world less than most men who have been compelled to relinquish power. He had that admiration of his learned, virtuous, and amiable wife, which swallowed up such considerations. Her influence over his heart was as unlimited as was her devotion to his wishes. Though she was somewhat cold, formal, and precise, in his eyes she seemed perfect, and he had ever regarded her with a feeling approaching to idolatry; and in days of adversity she shone forth, and exhibited domestic love, noble truth, and high-souled purity. On her death, in 1794, Necker was solaced by the affection and friendship of their accomplished daughter, Madame de Staël, since generally recognized as one of the most distinguished women who ever lived. In 1800 he was visited by Bonaparte, when marching to Marengo. Necker expired in the year 1803, and was buried in the grounds at Coppet, by the side of his departed spouse.

This famous man was not endowed with that splendid genius which has elevated many from obscure situations to positions of power and dignity; but his industry was untiring, and his integrity beyond question. He rose with credit, by habits of steady and incessant exertion and independence, which were transferred from one sphere to another, adhered to with resolution, and might have proved successful in raising the land of his adoption to a condition of enviable wealth and prosperity, but for the mighty event which tortured the foresight of the most sagacious, and defied the valor of the bravest.

PITT.

The name and memory of a great statesman, who has led and ruled senates by the might of eloquence, carried measures beneficial to millions, or impressed immortal principles on public conviction, are generally, in spite of political disputes and disagreements, regarded by a free and favored people with feelings of respect, admiration, and gratitude. They are associated in the mind of a community with periods of peril or prosperity, and recalled by each succeeding generation with national pride. “Great men,” said Burke, “are the guide-posts and land-marks of the state;” and, assuredly, history presents few more spotless or splendid reputations than that of the son of Chatham, who came forth and signalized his prowess as a ripe politician, accomplished debater, and skillful tactician, prepared for the work and warfare of the senate by his comprehensive views in what have been termed the proper sciences of a statesman――those of government, politics, commerce, economics, history, and human nature――at an age when many are making their first and last crude efforts at public speaking, or expending their faculties in frivolous dissipation and enervating luxury.

Doubtless the name which Chatham had made immortal was a tower of strength; and his brilliant example could hardly fail to inspire with a love of kindred fame the son on whom his fondest hopes rested. Indeed, there were both interest and curiosity experienced as to whether the power of the Pitt family would be increased or diminished. And, moreover, there was not wanting that encouragement to noble and patriotic exertion which is usually given by a generous public to the sons of great and popular ministers of state. It may, therefore, be truly said, that

“With prospects bright upon the world he came,
Pure love of virtue, strong desire of fame;
Men marked the lofty path his mind would take,
And all foretold the progress he should make.”

The family to which this illustrious man belonged was rich and respectable, though not patrician in origin or descent. The Pitts were for ages settled in Dorsetshire, but at length one of them became Governor of Madras, and brought home from the East that celebrated diamond, the largest then known to be in existence, which was sold to the Regent Orleans for more than three millions of livres, and took its place as the most precious of the crown jewels of France. The son of this fortunate functionary was a gentleman of Cornwall, and hereditary patron of some boroughs; for one of which, Old Sarum, his second son, a cornet in the Blues, was returned to Parliament. The talents of the latter were speedily exerted in such a way as to give offense to Sir Robert Walpole, who manifested the annoyance he felt by dismissing him from the army: but nothing could restrain the course of that terrible eloquence, which, in reality, was hardly under its possessor’s control. Instead of depending, as others had done, on oligarchies and “pocket-lists,” he relied for support on the middle classes, then struggling into importance, and, with their aid, ere long became the greatest war-minister who ever presided over the destinies of England. He married a daughter of the political house of Grenville, whose members played so conspicuous a part in the affairs of the eighteenth century, and had several children, of whom William Pitt, the second son, was born at Hayes, in the county of Kent, on the 28th of May, 1759.

The boy destined to exhibit so wonderful an instance of precocious statesmanship received the rudiments of his education under the paternal roof; and, although so delicate in health that he could only devote half the wonted time to study, his progress was remarkably rapid, and his talents evident to all who knew him. When eight years old, he was seen by the mother of Fox, who instinctively prognosticated the rivalry between her distinguished son and the young prodigy. The contention which had long existed between their sires no doubt suggested this idea to the anxious parent; and when she marked the singular cleverness of the little boy, and observed the wonderful propriety of his behavior, the maternal solicitude sharpening her penetration, enabled her to augur the fierce and bitter strife which was to shake senates and shatter parties. Lord Chatham was justly proud of his son, and predicted that he would add honor to the name; nay, more, he expressed a belief that he would some day be one of the first men in Parliament; and, if a minister of state, that he would arrive at the highest dignity. He therefore gave his utmost assistance in forming the future premier’s mind, and incited him to lofty and laudable aspirations. These labors were not in vain; and the Great Earl lived long enough to feel assured that a useful and brilliant career lay before the object of his tender care.

One evening a member of Parliament proposed to take the veteran statesman’s two boys to hear a debate in the House of Commons; but he refused to allow the younger to go. “If William,” he is reported to have said, “heard any arguments of which he did not approve he would rise to controvert them; and, young as he is, he has not even in that assembly many equals in knowledge, reasoning, and eloquence.” He must indeed have been a “marvelous boy,” to be spoken of even by a fond father, at such an age and in such circumstances. At this date he is stated to have had a turn for poetry, and to have composed, along with his brothers and sisters, a play in rhyme, which was acted by them before some friends of the family. He subsequently, while at college, produced a tragedy, which, when at the head of public affairs he calmly committed to the flames in presence of a friend, by whom this emanation of his poetic faculty had just been eagerly perused and spoken of in terms of high admiration; though perhaps the merits of the piece might not altogether have justified the praise.

Pitt’s earlier education was conducted by a tutor, but, as has been stated, under the vigilant superintendence of his father, who noted his progress, and rejoiced at the constant indications he gave of superior endowments. Haughty, vehement, and despotic in his nature as that extraordinary minister――the pride of England and the terror of her enemies――was to foes and friends in public life, no such characteristics were allowed to interfere with the quiet and happiness of his domestic circle.

In his fourteenth year, young Pitt was sent to the University of Cambridge, and entered at Pembroke Hall, where Dr. Prettyman, afterward Bishop of Lincoln, was his tutor. In age and appearance, indeed, he was a mere boy; but he was by no means boyish in mind or intellect. His acquirements were wonderful, and he could converse on various subjects with all the seriousness of manhood. He was much liked by his youthful compeers for his lively and amiable disposition; and at the same time esteemed by the tutors on account of his decorum in conduct and diligence in study. His manners in private life were then, as ever, frank, easy, agreeable, and utterly devoid of the cold arrogance and unbending demeanor he exhibited in his senatorial capacity.

Lord Chatham had desired and intended that Pitt should become a candidate for academical honors, but the gifted youth was prevented by weak health from keeping the requisite terms. Nevertheless, he obtained the degree of A.M. in compliment to his illustrious parentage, without any public examination. His juvenile contemporaries on the occasion testified their approval of his being thus distinguished by interrupting the public orator with loud and vehement acclamations. One of his warmly-attached college friends was Wilberforce, who entered upon public life about the same date as himself.