Chapter III: Part 3

When Pitt left Cambridge, he was accomplished in no ordinary degree. In Latin authors he rarely encountered a difficulty; and he had, even at his entrance, been capable of translating pages of Thucydides with scarcely an error. He was intimately acquainted with the beauties and defects of the works he had perused. Indeed those who observed the ease with which at first sight he read obscure books, state, that his facility would have appeared beyond the compass of human intellect, if they had not actually witnessed it. During his residence at college his diligence in learning was exemplary, and his success remarkable. His education was conducted with a view to the struggles of the bar as well as the conflicts of the senate; his attention to study was of the strictest kind; and he displayed eminent qualifications for entering on either path of life. He made himself intimately acquainted with the legal history of the country, studied the policy of modern nations as well as their constitutions and forms of government, and acquired much knowledge of the origin, prosperity, and decline of states that had existed and been influential in remote times. His peculiar quickness of conception rendered his progress in these branches of information comparatively easy; and when he left college, after an unusually long residence, his mind was as perfectly formed as mere theory could make it. He long retained his love for ancient learning; and even amid the bustle of politics and the devising of budgets and subsidies, was seldom without some work from which to refresh his mind with classical lore.

Lord Chatham’s letters written to his son about this period overflow with parental affection and judicious advice. After the too eager and ambitious youth had recovered from a severe illness, he was thus touchingly addressed by his justly gratified father:

“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 have perpetually to be spurred and driven. I will not tease 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.”

After removing from the University the younger Pitt repaired to the Continent, and spent some time at Rheims, still resolutely pursuing his studies and adding to his stores of knowledge.

In 1778 his famous father died, under circumstances which rendered him dearer than ever to the country, of whose honor and interest he was ever so vigilant a guardian, and whose name he made so great, and dreaded among the nations of the earth. Pitt, who had been present when Lord Chatham fell down in the House of Lords while raising his enfeebled voice to cheer the drooping spirits of Englishmen, appeared at the public funeral as chief mourner, and ere long proved the inheritor of his father’s popularity. Between them had existed the strongest affection and the most complete confidence.

Having duly kept his terms at Lincoln’s Inn, Pitt was called to the bar in 1780, and went the western circuit with sufficient encouragement to justify expectations of success in his legal pursuits. Lord Mansfield, indeed, declared, that if he persevered in the profession he would be regarded as one of its chief ornaments. But it was perfectly natural that he should rather aspire to parliamentary distinction; and accordingly he engaged in an unsuccessful contest for the representation of Cambridge University. It was, however, for Appleby, a borough under the influence of the Lowthers, that he was first, through the friendship of the Duke of Rutland, returned to that house, which was so often stilled into silence as he rose to speak, delighted as his grand voice swelled in every ear, and filled with thunders of applause as he, with a coolness and self-possession unfelt by all listeners, resumed his place with a look of lofty contempt for his foes.

Pitt was not in any way bound by the political tenets of the patron of the constituency which he represented. He was free to act on his own convictions. He took his seat in January 1781, and next month made his first speech to the House, in support of Burke’s motion for an economical reform in the Civil List. He was eminently successful, and displayed an ease, fluency, and accuracy of language which riveted attention and sustained public hope. It is related, that when he had accomplished this his first parliamentary success, Fox hurried up to express his warm congratulations. As they were conversing, an honorable, gallant, and experienced member passed them, and remarked, “You may well praise his speech, for, excepting yourself, no man in the House could have made such another; and, old as I am, I expect to see you both battling it within these walls, as I’ve seen your fathers before you.” Fox looked rather sheepish and disconcerted at this somewhat blunt and embarrassing compliment; but Pitt answered with happy promptitude, “I’ve no doubt, General, you would like to live to the age of Methuselah.”

At the close of the session some one having remarked to Fox that Pitt promised to be one of the first orators ever heard in the House, that great man unhesitatingly answered, “He is so already.”

Pitt still continued to practice his industry and exercise his intellect at the bar, and was highly complimented for his ability by more than one legal sage; while in Parliament he was receiving the highest marks of admiration for his speeches against the ministers of the day, and their conduct in regard to the American War. At length Lord North was compelled to retreat from power, and Lord Rockingham empowered to form an administration. Pitt would have been a valuable auxiliary; but, from not belonging to what Lord Chatham had called “the Great Revolution families,” he was disqualified, like Burke, from sitting in the cabinet, and prudently declined taking office. He soon after submitted his motion for an inquiry into the representative system, with the view of lessening the influence of the dominant aristocracy. His efforts in this respect were unsuccessful, and he afterward endeavored circuitously to accomplish his object by creating a host of plebeian peers. Whatever opinions he may have subsequently entertained in regard to the necessity of Parliamentary Reform, were rendered vain and impracticable by the startling events which speedily changed the face of Europe. Meantime his family rapidly increased; he was described as a greater orator even than his father, and as possessing the full vigor of youth, with the wisdom and experience of the maturest age. Gaming――the vice of the period――he resolutely refrained from.

On the death of Lord Rockingham his administration fell to pieces; and Lord Shelburne became First Minister of the Crown. The latter nobleman was eminent for his intelligence, knowledge, and variety of information; a great linguist, fond of science and letters, and actuated by popular principles. He appointed Pitt Chancellor of the Exchequer, and intrusted him with the management of the House of Commons, within eighteen months of the young statesman’s having obtained a seat in Parliament. In this most responsible position he displayed consummate powers in debate, and proved himself entirely worthy of the confidence reposed in his ability and discretion. The opposition leaders conceived that they had been injured by Lord Shelburne, and showed no mercy to his chief colleague, either on account of his youth or hereditary claims to public respect; but Pitt faced their embattled host with haughty defiance. It certainly required no ordinary courage to do so.

Burke’s great soul was at that time heavy; he was not insensible of the humiliation he had recently experienced; and, like the Northumbrian Hotspur before breakfast, he was ready to vent his hoarded wrath on any one who appeared as an antagonist. Besides, he little relished the spectacle of the assembly, whose brightest ornament he was, being ruled by a lad who had not donned manly garments, when he was achieving conversational triumphs over Dr. Johnson, and contesting the palm of eloquence with “the great Commoner.” Sheridan even went the length of comparing the ministerial leader to one of Ben Jonson’s characters, “the angry boy in the ‘Alchymist;’” and Fox relentlessly poured forth against him the terrible torrent of his stirring and impetuous eloquence.

There is something touching in the idea of a struggle against such men having been maintained by a youth of twenty-three. It must, indeed, have been a marvelous sight to mark that young minister, with his plumes thus scattering on the Parliamentary gale, rise from the Treasury bench to do battle against his puissant foes. His form was tall, thin, and stately; his eyes blue, but bright with pride and intelligence; and on his wide brow, and in his disdainful air, were legibly written that proud and lofty scorn which had deeply struck its root in his imperial mind. Facing the Opposition with a glance of stern indignation, he gravely rebuked the untimely levity of the sage champion of oppressed India, and declared that he could not approve of the indiscretion which so unseasonably ran away with good sense and sober judgment. Then he chilled the spirit of the defiant author of the “School for Scandal,” by a contemptuous allusion to his theatrical pursuits, than which, perhaps, no thrust would have been more likely to tell with the gifted, but graceless and eccentric, senator’s patrician coadjutors. And ere his enemies had recovered from their surprise at a stroke, which the extreme and peculiar difficulty of his situation alone could justify, he turned indignantly upon the eminent rival of his life, branded him with sarcastic reprobation, and defended his noble colleague in another place from the strictures passed upon him. Then rising, for a time, above party strife and personal considerations, he denounced the coalition which was being formed as an event stretching to a point of political apostasy, that not only astonished so young a man as he was, but amazed and confounded the most veteran observers of the human heart; and he exclaimed with glowing eloquence and fervent patriotism, “If this baneful alliance is not already formed, if this ill-omened marriage is not already solemnized, I know a just and lawful impediment; and, in the name of the public safety, I here forbid the bans.” His high spirit sustained him in all attacks; and he delivered one of his most splendid orations at this period. But all his efforts were in vain; the Shelburne ministry had been weak from its formation; and it fell, after a brief but not inglorious tenure of power, during which Pitt had been gratified with the opportunity of proving his capacity for administration, and the power to defend what he did. Indeed, so clearly had his talent for government been shown, that the king was desirous that he should himself undertake the duties of prime-minister; but feeling that the strength of the party to which he belonged was as yet unequal to sustain him in the fierce struggle which, in such a case, would inevitably have ensued, he wisely refrained from grasping prematurely at a prize so flattering and fascinating to young ambition. However, it came into his hands much sooner than he could have contemplated. Having declined to lend his support to the administration of Lord North and Mr. Fox, and suffered a second defeat at Cambridge, he spent several months in France, and returned with the intention of resuming his legal pursuits. But events soon occurred which led him to abandon this resolution. His rivals had incurred much unpopularity; and their India bill was regarded with such dislike and apprehension, that the Peers thought fit to reject it, and by their vote terminate the official existence of its authors. On this taking place, Pitt was again requested to assume the reins of power; and he bravely consented. The position was arduous and difficult in the extreme; and he had scarcely completed his twenty-fifth year. He had to encounter, almost single-handed, an opposition conducted by men whose powers, genius, and eloquence might well have daunted the heart of the boldest, and appalled the imagination of the most experienced ministers; and they were supported by a party infinitely superior in numbers to that which followed him. Though they had formerly sought his services with eagerness, yet when a motion was made for the issue of a writ on his acceptance of the premiership, they met it with a loud and general shout of derisive laughter and provoking ridicule; many, who might otherwise have hastened to proffer their support, hesitated to enlist under a leader so young and inexperienced in affairs of state; and they confidently predicted his immediate fall from the dangerous eminence to which he had ascended at so early an age. Under such circumstances, Pitt was not upheld by the family or political connection which other ministers had used; but he had much confidence in his own resources, and in the support of the crown and people, who, whenever an opportunity was presented, proved that he had not erred in his calculations. His opponents it must be admitted, had no slight reason to predict his speedy retirement and his inability to conduct the public business; for in a House of Commons decidedly hostile to his pretensions, he had not a single ally capable of making himself formidable, with the exception of his chosen friend Dundas, better known as Lord Melville. With such aid as that skillful and sagacious debater could render, the tall, slender, stern, and dauntless minister, struggled with credit through a session against an enraged majority and a host of terrible foes, panting for a swift revenge. Their desire, however, was not destined to be gratified. Several resolutions, declaratory of the incompetence of ministers to conduct the business of the realm, were, indeed, carried; their speedy resignation frequently seemed inevitable; but the king encouraged them to persevere against the difficulties with which they were encompassed; the country, on being appealed to, ejected a hundred and sixty of Pitt’s opponents from their seats; and he received the thanks and the freedom of the city of London for the uprightness and disinterestedness he had exhibited. Pitt was, as he might well be, proud of, and emboldened by, his immense popularity; and when the new Parliament assembled in the month of May, 1784, he had to encounter an opposition so numerically feeble, that his arduous duties were entered upon with some degree of satisfaction. He was now in a position to maintain his ground; and that he could do so against the fierce and unsparing attacks of such potent adversaries as Burke, Fox, and Sheridan, amply proves the care, attention, and industry with which, by hard and continuous study, he had fitted and prepared himself to enact so great and heroic a part.

Pitt, as has been stated, was the pupil of Lord Shelburne, first Marquis of Lansdowne; and at that distinguished nobleman’s house he became acquainted with Dr. Price, a clever Dissenting Minister, who furnished him, among other suggestions, with his original scheme of redeeming the National Debt by means of a Sinking Fund, which, in 1786, he developed and submitted to the House, in a speech of six hours’ duration; and it was accepted without a division.

But the aspiring and ambitious statesman, however austere and absorbed he might be, had other arrangements to make, besides re-organizing a party, and, as the head of it, devising vast financial operations. It was necessary to find fair and bewitching ladies of rank to smile upon his efforts, and render his side attractive; and there can be no doubt that in this important respect Fox was much more propitiously situated. He had also to countervail the advantage which his great antagonist derived from troops of aristocratic friends, by arraying under his banner the adventurous genius and rising intellect of the country. His bearing in public was peculiar, and certainly not such as to attract the affectionate sympathies of his contemporaries; he displayed little of “the soft green of the soul,” and his manner was utterly unbending. Yet so enormous was his influence out of doors at this early period that he was solicited to represent numerous constituencies; but he preferred being returned, by a large majority, for the University of Cambridge, which had twice previously shut the door in his face, and of which he was afterward chosen High Steward.

On entering the House, he was in the habit of stalking along to the Treasury bench with a severe aspect and a scornful air, scarcely acknowledging the presence of even his most intimate friends and devoted adherents. When he rose to speak every tongue was hushed; his tones were lofty and arrogant; his sentences rolled forth fluently, and swelled with delightful harmony; and every word was heard with amazing distinctness. His speech delivered in 1791, on the slave-trade, is stated to have been the finest effort of his oratorical faculties; and his unreported war-speech, in 1803, was so surprisingly excellent that Fox, in replying, said that the orators of antiquity would have heard it with admiration, probably with envy. He had the power of speaking with the utmost clearness, though when the process of mystification was necessary no one could perform it with more skill or effect. That eloquence of which Lord Chatham had been too often the slave seems to have been completely under the control of his favorite son.

In private life Pitt was, as has been already stated, amiable in disposition, buoyant in spirits, and warm in friendship. He was not insensible to the charms of female grace, but office was “the pride of his heart and the pleasure of his life.” When a match between him and Mademoiselle Necker was proposed by her father, he is said to have answered, half jestingly, that he was already wedded to his country.

The schemes of Pitt for raising Great Britain to a state of high material prosperity were frustrated by the outbreak of the French Revolution, whose causes appear to have baffled the comprehension of the most sagacious, and whose consequences defied the foresight of the most prophetic. His entrance upon official life had been signalized by a treaty of peace, and his policy was founded on its maintenance; but he was urged by his new allies, who followed Burke and Windham, to support the war against France, and thus gratify the propensity of “an old and haughty nation, proud in arms.” The philosophy of Burke threw a halo around ancient institutions, and Pitt formed the great league for their defense. The spirit of Englishmen was roused; they clamored for war; and forthwith that long, terrible, and momentous contest, which was brought to a glorious close on the field of Waterloo, was entered upon.

Pitt continued to administer the affairs of the empire till 1801. He had been successful in accomplishing the Union with Ireland, and was anxious to carry a measure for the relief of the Roman Catholics of that country. However, he was foiled in this intention by the determination of the king and the feelings of the public. He then, suddenly and unexpectedly, retired from the helm of the state, and gave a guarded support to the ministry of his successor, who had formerly filled the Speaker’s chair, and who was subsequently raised to the peerage as Lord Sidmouth. That personage and his colleagues concluded, in 1802, the Peace of Amiens, which was of short duration; and they, being found inadequate to the functions they had, at a dark, awful, and perilous period, undertaken, were forced to retire in 1804. Then Pitt returned to power, and “bade the conqueror go forth,” nor in vain; but his situation was perplexing in the extreme. With shattered health and depressed spirits he was exposed to attack from every species of assailant, though unaided, except by the ardent genius of Canning――his most gifted, eloquent, and distinguished disciple. He was not destined much longer to endure the struggle. The news of the defeat of the allied armies at Austerlitz came with a most crushing effect upon his great and proud soul, and he sunk with rapidity. He was cheered in his last hours by the intelligence of the glorious victory at Trafalgar, but all hopes of recovery had passed away. His old tutor, who had now been promoted to the bishopric of Lincoln, attended his dying couch, and solicited him to join in devotional prayer. Then answered the expiring statesman, with that voice that had often thrilled listening audiences, and taught them that they were in presence of a ruler of mankind――“I fear that I have, like many others, neglected my religious duties too much to have any ground to hope that they can be efficacious on my death-bed. But,” he added, with fervor, “I throw myself entirely on the mercy of God.” He then joined in religious exercises with piety, calmness, and humility. On the morning of the 23d of January, 1806, he breathed his last, at his residence on Putney Heath.

A public funeral to his mortal remains, a national monument to his memory, and a sum of money to discharge the debts contracted by him while toiling in the service of the state, were voted; and he was interred in that corner of Westminster Abbey where the ashes of so many famous statesmen, who have shaken senates with the fierce conflict of oratory, repose in peace together. He was, indeed, well worthy of every token of respect which a great and enlightened nation could thus bestow; for though men may and do differ as to his genius for legislation, his success in administration, and the propriety and effects of his achievements, there are few who can contemplate without admiration his high talents, his majestic eloquence, and the zeal he ever manifested to serve the country which he loved so well, without reference to pecuniary gain or the gratification of mere vulgar ambition.

LORD ERSKINE.

Among the great men and accomplished orators who, during Pitt’s long and arduous tenure of office, strove energetically to curb his will, humble his pride, and exalt his celebrated rival, none was more conspicuous for ability and eloquence than the immortal Erskine, though it was not in a senatorial capacity that he displayed, to their full extent, those vast powers, or achieved the oratorical triumphs which added lustre to an ancestral name, and formed a reputation so splendid.

Thomas Erskine, unquestionably one of the most brilliant, courageous, and irresistible advocates who ever appeared at the English, or indeed at any, bar, was born on the 10th of January, 1750, in the ancient and historic city of Edinburgh. He was the third son of the Earl of Buchan, a Scottish nobleman of long and illustrious descent, but in circumstances so reduced and different from those enjoyed by the race for many centuries, that his yearly income was less than is now obtained, with ease, by not a few banker’s clerks. Some small portion of the family estate still remained, and on it an old castellated residence, probably in as ruinous a condition as the famous Wolf’s Crag, and, therefore, uninhabited by its proprietor. Had the Caledonian thane been a single man, and unblessed by connubial ties, he might have run a career similar to that of the great novelist’s proud, haughty, and restless hero, “the last Lord of Ravenswood.” But he had prudently married the daughter of a Lothian baronet, who speedily brought him several children: so he passed his life in chill poverty, and died in the odor of sanctity while at Bath, seeking consolation in the eloquent preaching of Whitefield, which was said to make sinners tremble as if a lion were roaring among them.

Although it is likely that this exemplary earl was a justice of the peace, and rather more than probable that there were lawsuits in the family, it does not appear that, previous to the chancellor’s birth, the repose of the noble countess was disturbed or agitated by such dreams as heralded the Spectator’s introduction into existence. However, that patrician matron was held in esteem as a woman of pious character and aspirations. She took pains to bring up her sons in the way they should go, and instruct them in the rudiments of education. She grounded them thoroughly in the Presbyterian catechism, and so imbued their young minds with the spirit of religion that Erskine, in after life, was in the habit of devoutly ascribing each piece of good fortune to a special interposition of an over-ruling Providence.

At an early age he was placed at the High School of the Scottish metropolis, then the most approved seminary north of the Tweed; and there he remained for several years. His natural talents shone forth; he distinguished himself sufficiently to be generally at the top of his class; and no doubt, also, he proved his courage and prowess in the boyish exploits undertaken in the neighborhood, and the juvenile warfare daily earned on in the play-ground. It was well for him to be exposed to such an ordeal, for the path that lay before him was not gaily strewed with roses, but thickly “beset with thorns and briers:” so also, though in a less degree, was that of his witty, cheerful, and able brother, Harry, afterward Lord Advocate for Scotland and Dean of Faculty.

When Erskine had reached the age of twelve, his high-born parents removed to St. Andrew’s, with the view of adopting a style of living more in accordance with their narrow finances than could be pursued by people of “note and quality” even in the Scottish capital. At St. Andrew’s he attended the grammar-school for a while, and subsequently took advantage of some classes in the college of the old town; though it appears that his opportunities of profiting by that ancient institution were extremely limited. Nevertheless, his talent appeared; he manifested a strong love of books, and he derived from those within his reach a considerable amount of miscellaneous information, which opened up his mind and fired his ambition. Bright dreams of future eminence began to illumine his young heart, and, feeling the urgent and paramount necessity of doing something for his support and advancement in life, he expressed a decided preference for the learned professions, and a desire to have his time and energies employed in the pursuit of one of them.

The requisite means, however, were wanting to gratify his inclination in this respect; and his parents were compelled to state, that the best thing they could do to promote his interest was to have him placed in some man-of-war as a midshipman. The prospect of donning a blue jacket and cocked hat, and of the consequent adventures――generally so pleasing to the juvenile imagination――was by no means so fascinating to the clever, studious, and intellectual young “honorable” as might have been expected; but, after some ineffectual efforts to make matters more to his liking, he felt himself bound to endure what he regarded as a hard fate, and was accordingly embarked about the completion of his fourteenth year. Doubtless the usual parting-scene was enacted with all due formality. Gil Blas is made to state that, when he left home, his parents made him a present of their blessing, which was all that he had ventured to expect, for the very competent reason that they had nothing else to bestow; and, no doubt, Erskine was similarly favored. Perhaps, also, the noble earl would gravely admonish the young sailor not to trifle or hurt himself with his sword; his mother would give him a last embrace; and his sisters would, with tears, give evidence of their grief.

The next few years of Erskine’s life were passed on board ship, where, however uncongenial the service, he gave all due attention to discipline, and besides found time for improving his mind and increasing his stores of knowledge. When ashore, he made a point of seeing something of life in the various places where he happened to be; and those who recollect his fine and beautiful passage about the Indian chief, in his speech for Stockdale, will hardly question the use he at this period made of his rare faculties. Having probably drawn his ideas of naval life from the interesting descriptions in the pages of “Roderick Random,” it is not wonderful that he found his situation more tolerable than he had been led to anticipate. He particularly enjoyed himself while stationed at Jamaica, relished its picturesque scenery, and experienced the delightful novelty of dancing at dignity balls with quadroon damsels, who chattered in broken English, exhibited grinning rows of ivory teeth, and whose white dresses contrasted strangely with their colored skins and their dark rolling eyes, which gave evidence rather of their African than their European descent.

Though unfortunately, as it then seemed, engaged in pursuits for which he had no real vocation, the aspiring Scot struggled manfully onward in his profession. Nor did he fail in after life to make judges and juries aware that he had profited largely by his naval experience, when engaged in cases connected with marine affairs, as he frequently was from his knowledge of technical phrases and other matters. Meantime he, at length, had the comfort of being appointed acting-lieutenant in the “Tartar,” and of making a voyage homeward in that capacity; but on arrival in England, finding that the ship was to be paid off, and that he would, from this circumstance, be reduced to his original rank, he desperately resolved to tempt the seas no more.

About this period his father’s earthly existence terminated; and Erskine, who appeared as one of the mourners, was much impressed with the solemnity of the funeral obsequies. Having abandoned all thoughts of a naval career, he turned his thoughts to a military life, and had sufficient influence to obtain an ensign’s commission in the 1st Regiment of Foot, with which he straightway went to Minorca. His commission had cost all the money he possessed, and an application for a small allowance had been refused by his eldest brother, the eccentric Earl of Buchan, who afterward, on this ground, boasted that the future chancellor owed every thing to him. Yet, under these inauspicious circumstances, he contracted a romantic marriage with a young lady of respectable parentage, which luckily proved more propitious than is usual with unions formed under circumstances so forbidding.

While stationed in Minorca, though there appeared little prospect indeed of his acquirements ever being turned to account, he devoted himself with remarkable assiduity to the cultivation of his mind, by a profound and earnest attention to the English classics. In this way, by long and deep study, he became most familiar with the works of Shakspeare and Milton; so that, with a very slight knowledge of Latin authors, and almost none of Greek, he――a native of the north――rendered himself a consummate master of the English tongue. His tastes were thoroughly intellectual, and he even indulged them by officiating as temporary chaplain to the regiment; to which he not only read prayers, but preached two sermons from the drumhead, with no small measure of success.

On returning to England, Erskine obtained six months’ leave of absence, part of which he spent in London. While there he had the advantage of meeting, conversing with, and encountering in discussion, no less eminent a person than Dr. Johnson, attended by his faithful dog and biographer. This was at the house of Sir Alexander Macdonald; and the “young officer in the regimentals of the Scots Royals,” attracted much attention by the fluency, precision, and vivacity of his discourse. At the same date Erskine appeared to advantage as the author of a pamphlet on the abuses of the British army, which had an extensive circulation, and procured him some fame. Soon after this he was promoted to a lieutenancy, and for some time longer endured the disagreeable process of marching with the regiment from one place to another. His family and his dissatisfaction gradually increasing, a gloomy cloud seemed to hang over his existence; and there was ever before him the dismal prospect of his life proving a long series of imaginings never to be realized, and of aspirations never to be gratified.

Under such circumstances, while he was quartered in a provincial town, a great thought was born within him. One day, to drive away care, dispel annoyance, and perhaps to gratify a rational curiosity, he strolled into the assize court, where the great Lord Mansfield was presiding, with his wonted serene and impenetrable dignity. Perhaps birds of Erskine’s feather were rarely seen in such haunts. At all events, his regimentals quickly attracted the eye of the veteran judge, who, struck, no doubt, by the peculiarly elegant and aristocratic appearance of the singularly intelligent-looking officer, even condescended to inquire who he was. On being informed that he was a younger son of the late Earl of Buchan, and very much in the same position in which the noble, learned, and influential Chief Justice might have found himself, but for the good fortune which had early led him to fatten and flourish in the pastures of the South, the latter kindly accommodated the lieutenant of foot with a place beside him on the bench, and courteously explained the case that was being tried. Thus seated by a man who had raised himself, by his genius, from the oatmeal porridge and aristocratic poverty of Scone Palace to wealth and an illustrious position, it struck the aspiring and discontented subaltern that here was a sphere in which his intellect might be exercised with advantage and renown. He therefore availed himself of his distinguished countryman’s politeness, which took the shape of an invitation to dinner, to state the hardship of his lot, and explain his views. So truly great a man as Lord Mansfield would hardly, at such a moment, forget his own early trials and struggles. In any case, his young acquaintance was rewarded with some slight encouragement, and the sage advice to consult his friends. Erskine’s surviving parent readily approved of the plan; and, between jest and earnest, she said he must be Lord Chancellor. Accordingly, having formed his plans, he was admitted as a student of law at Lincoln’s Inn, and, at the same time, entered himself as a fellow-commoner of Trinity College, Cambridge, where in spite of narrow means, his wit and talent soon brought him into notice. The sale of his military commission produced him a serviceable sum of money; and, divesting himself of scarlet uniform, he proceeded to accomplish himself in the composition of English. An amusing specimen of his skill in versifying is a parody of Gray’s “Bard,” which gained him some applause. It was produced on the occasion of his being detained from dinner at the College hall by the tardiness of his hair-dresser, and begins with this not very complimentary stanza:

“Ruin seize thee, scoundrel Coe!
Confusion on thy frizzing wait!
Hadst thou the only comb below,
Thou never more should’st touch my pate.
Club, nor queue, nor twisted tail,
Nor e’en thy chatt’ring, barber, shall avail,
To save thy horse-whipped back from daily fears,
From Cantab’s curse, from Cantab’s tears!”

Having taken the honorary degree of A.M. in 1778, the future defender of Lord George Gordon was called to the bar in the same year. When settled in London, he practiced his oratorical powers at debating-clubs, and pursued his legal studies in the chambers of a special pleader; yet it does not appear that his knowledge of the law was ever very profound, notwithstanding his possessing, in some measure, a legal intellect. His domestic arrangements were on the most economical principle; there is even a tradition to the effect that his honorable spouse was under the necessity of acting as washerwoman for their family. His fare was of the humblest description; his dress was remarkable only for its shabbiness; he frequently found it no easy matter to provide the necessaries of life for the passing day; and he was heard thanking God that, out of his own family, he did not know a lord. It appears that his acquaintance with attorneys was still more limited in extent. Being complimented on his health and spirits, he answered sportively that he ought to look well, having nothing else to do, as had been remarked of somebody’s trees.

But a man with the blood of a long line of earls in his veins, and with the consciousness of already having given proof of superior endowments, was not likely, while enduring galling poverty, to be wanting in aspirations after fame, or to lose an opportunity of winning a name and bettering his circumstances. Erskine felt within him both the stirrings of ambition and the capacity to do and dare with success, if an occasion were presented. His affairs were probably at the worst, when accident threw Captain Baillie in his way.

That brave and gallant officer had, as Lieutenant-governor of Greenwich Hospital, written and published a statement of abuses existing in the establishment, reflecting with particular acerbity on Lord Sandwich, first lord of the Admiralty. For this pamphlet Baillie was forthwith suspended by the Board, and a prosecution commenced against him by some of the less important individuals, whom he had assailed in pursuance of what he regarded as the performance of his duty. While the case was in prospect of being tried, Erskine happened to meet the redoubted captain at a dinner-party, and, without being aware of his presence, expatiated on the subject of the prosecution with so much warmth and animation, that though they were not introduced on that occasion, the ex-lieutenant-governor declared that the briefless barrister should be one of his counsel; but as there were to be four seniors, the latter naturally despaired of receiving any attention. However, at a consultation, when the others were inclined to consent to a favorable compromise, Erskine respectfully dissented, and advised them to stand the hazard of a trial; whereupon the captain swore a round oath, and cried, as he caught the future occupier of “the marble chair” in his strong arms, “You are the man for me!” When the case came on, the seniors were heard at great length on behalf of Captain Baillie; and the last of them, Mr. Hargrave, being in some way indisposed, was obliged to retire several times during his lengthened argument, and thus so protracted the proceedings, that on his concluding Lord Mansfield said that the remaining counsel should be heard next morning. This was precisely what Erskine desired, and indeed appeared almost providential, as it afforded him time to arrange during the night the heads of what he was to say. Besides, he had the advantage of addressing the court with refreshed energies and revived faculties. When the judges took their places next morning, he rose from the back row, and delivered a speech of such marvelous ability, that it has since been regarded by sagacious critics as the most brilliant forensic display ever witnessed under similar circumstances. As he left the hall attorneys flocked around to congratulate him on his extraordinary triumph, and from that memorable day business flowed in upon him. Being asked how he could so boldly face a venerable judge like Lord Mansfield――the very type and figure of justice――his feeling reply was, that he fancied his children were tugging at his gown, and saying, “Now is the time to get us bread!”

Erskine was next selected, on account of his naval intelligence, to draw up the defense to be spoken by Admiral Keppel, on his trial. This he did with much success; and the admiral, on being acquitted, presented him with bank-notes to the amount of a thousand pounds, which he flourished in triumph before his friends, exclaiming, with the almost boyish and mirthful fancy, ever freely indulged in private, “_Voilà_ the nonsuit of cow-beef!”

The skill, dexterity, and eloquence, together with the complete devotion to the interests of his client, which he displayed in the conduct of cases, led to an extensive and lucrative practice; and in 1781 he was retained as counsel for the silly but then enthusiastically Protestant Lord George Gordon, whom he defended with brilliant power and signal success. In 1783, though having then been only five years at the bar, and delivered for a still briefer space from the horrors of “cow-beef” and threadbare garments, it was thought advisable to confer on him a patent of precedency. This gave him the privilege of donning a silk gown and sitting within the bar. It was likewise deemed prudent to have him brought into Parliament, and he was returned to the House of Commons as member for Portsmouth, to try his skill as a debater among the giants who then ruled the Legislature. The result was by no means gratifying to his numerous friends and admirers, who really seem to have entertained the unreasonable expectation that he was to trample Pitt in the dust as easily and proudly as he had done the nameless creatures of Lord Sandwich. In fact, his acquaintance with political matters was limited, from the keen and earnest attention which he had given to his professional pursuits; and his new position was so utterly different from that to which he had been accustomed, as to render him somewhat like a fish out of the water. In Westminster Hall, his ardor, his enthusiasm, the sparkle of his piercing glance, the grace and nobleness of his figure, the freedom and celerity of his movements, the clearness and flexibility of his voice, the surpassing beauty of his diction, the correct taste with which he conceived and the singular felicity with which he executed most difficult flights, and his figures of speech characterized by a boldness which unexceptional success alone could redeem from the charge of temerity, had fascinated juries, startled dignified sages of the law out of their propriety, and commanded the admiration of experienced advocates. But in the House of Commons his ardent spirit was chilled, his enthusiastic temperament damped, and his eloquent tongue made to falter by the scornful stare, the contemptuous indifference, and the cold sarcasm of the dread son of Chatham.

Meantime his fame at the bar ascended rapidly. His powerful memory, wakeful vigilance, and knowledge of those with whom he had to deal, enabled him to conduct cases with wonderful skill. He defended the Dean of Asaph in a speech of much merit and high courage; and in 1786 was appointed Attorney-general to the Prince of Wales, an office of which he was deprived for appearing, with dauntless determination, on behalf of the notorious Thomas Paine, author of “the Rights of Man,” in spite of the threatening frowns of royal power and the suggestive warnings of northern craft.

Though bold and conscientious above all others in the performance of his duty, Erskine had good reason to say to his admirers, “Gentlemen, I am but a man.” He had, indeed, a considerable amount of vanity in his nature, and even in his best days liked well, after the case had been called, to keep a crowded and impatient audience waiting in court for a few minutes till he should make his appearance with something like stage effect. When he entered, to conduct some most important case on which, perhaps, he believed “the last and best gift of God to his creatures” depended, it was a little too apparent to intelligent spectators that his new yellow gloves and carefully-dressed wig were recognized by him as essential parts of the solemn proceedings. But if he did too assiduously cultivate popular favor he can not be justly accused of having shrunk from fear of court proscription, even when his fortunes hung trembling in the balance.

The period of the state trials was that of Erskine’s greatest triumph and highest popularity. His grave, sturdy, and sensible-looking antagonist, on that occasion, was Sir John Scott, afterward Lord Eldon, who had worthily risen to distinction by “living like a hermit and working like a horse.” He was then attorney-general, and his duty, as public prosecutor, could hardly have been very agreeable. Indeed, he seemed at times to have been in no small danger from the excitement of the mob, who daily bestowed upon Erskine frenzied applause. After the acquittal of Hardy, the ringleaders insisted upon taking the horses out of the brilliant counsel’s carriage, that they might draw him to his house in triumph. Years after, when he was relating this circumstance in presence of Lord Eldon, that distinguished personage managed to turn the laugh against his old opponent by adding, with quiet humor, “Yes, and I believe you never saw more of them.”

In 1802 Erskine visited Paris, and was presented to the Emperor Napoleon, then First Consul, who, however, only honored him with the single question, “_Êtes vous légiste?_” On returning home, he was restored to his office of Attorney-general to the Prince of Wales, who revived in his favor the dormant functions of Chancellor to the Duchy of Cornwall.

On the death of Pitt, Lord Grenville, who had previously left the party of his illustrious relative and former colleague, formed, in conjunction with Fox and Addington, the ministry of “All the Talents.” Erskine was nominated to the woolsack, and being advanced to the peerage became Lord Chancellor; thus fulfilling his mother’s jocular prediction. He resigned, with his political friends, in 1807, and shortly after made his celebrated speech in the House of Lords against the Jesuit’s Bark Bill; but henceforth he ceased to play a prominent or influential part in public affairs. In 1815 the Prince Regent bestowed on him the Order of the Thistle. He is reported to have regretted that, from having been Lord Chancellor, he was prevented from pleading at the bar, where had been won his crown of fame; and to have remarked frequently to his friends, that the only reason he had for accepting the great seal and a peerage at the time, was to place the maternal prophecy beyond all hazard of breaking down. However, he consoled himself for the loss of his position in the forum by reciprocating compliments with his friend Dr. Parr. When the great scholar once promised to write the ex-chancellor’s epitaph, Erskine replied, “Such an intention on your part is almost enough to make one commit suicide.”

Dr. Johnson said that every man has a lurking wish to appear considerable in his native place, and no doubt Erskine was actuated by this natural feeling; yet it was somewhat late in life before he turned his steps toward the land of his fathers. There, however, his reception was so flattering that he conceived a strong desire to revisit it in 1823. He insisted upon going by sea, as being an old and experienced sailor, and was so unfavorably affected by the voyage that he never recovered the shock.

He expired at Almondale, near Edinburgh, on the 17th of November, 1823, and was buried, in accordance with the fashions and customs of the country, in the family vault at Uphall, in West Lothian.

LORD COLLINGWOOD.

The ancestors of this noble-hearted and patriotic Englishman were “dreaded in battle and loved in hall.” Their courage has been recorded in history, and their courtesy celebrated in song. Yet it is less than probable that any mailed warriors of the knightly race possessed these attributes in greater perfection than did this gallant and heroic admiral, who, in the nineteenth century, on that boundless empire which his countrymen claim as their heritage, made the ancient name he bore so widely and gloriously known in Europe and the world. The Collingwoods were for several centuries planted in the proud and extensive county of Northumberland. There they owned large territorial estates, held a high social position, and formed distinguished matrimonial alliances. Their prowess and valor were displayed in the perpetual conflicts which, previous to the auspicious period when King James united the crowns of the two realms upon his learned forehead, laid waste and impoverished the wild and unruly borders. When the Civil Wars occurred, being staunch and fearless cavaliers, they adhered to the cause of the first Charles, and lost much land in the gloomy and disastrous struggle for the prerogatives of that ill-fated Prince. In later days the chief of the name――being a friend and companion of the popular, munificent, and deeply-lamented Lord Derwentwater――engaged in the hapless insurrection of 1715, had his estates forfeited to the crown, and was called upon to lay his head on the block for that royal house, against whose subjects the Collingwoods of another age had ever been ready to fight to the death. From these and other causes a representative of the family, in the middle of last century, appears to have found himself in a position the reverse of convenient, and in circumstances by no means affluent. In any case he settled at Newcastle, married a lady of Westmoreland and was blessed with several children.

Cuthbert Collingwood, who inherited little beside the Christian and surnames, described by the old ballad-maker as being “so worthy to put in verse,” and the stainless courage of “that courteous knight,” taken prisoner at Redswire, was the eldest of his parents’ three sons, and born on the 26th of Sept. 1750. No doubt he sported, during childhood, on the banks of the Tyne, regarded the shipping in the port with a curious eye, and was carried on fine afternoons, like other juvenile inhabitants of Newcastle, to buy shortcake in the neighboring village of Chester-le-Street.

In due time he was sent to the Grammar School, and there trained to fear God, serve his country, and honor the king. The master of the institution at that time was the Rev. Hugh Moises, a most worthy and successful teacher of the old stamp, who never spared the rod when the application of it was likely to promote the improvement and welfare of his pupils; nor refrained from bestowing the meed of praise which they had fairly earned by meritorious conduct. By such means, in all probability, Collingwood――a pretty, gentle, and generous boy――was taught those wholesome lessons of obedience and self-respect which he afterward knew so well how to practice himself and to inculcate on others, at once with the benevolence of a philanthropist and the firmness of a despot. At this educational establishment religious exercises were regularly attended to; and, perhaps, in the sentiments there instilled into his mind may be traced the origin of those habits of practical, unpretending piety, which characterized his illustrious career. Among the youths who were there being instructed by Mr. Moises, who marched to church under his auspices on Sundays, feared his chastening birch on week-days, and who in after years acknowledged the benefit they had derived from his tuition, were the two Scotts, sons of a wealthy coalfitter in the place, and destined to arrive at the highest rewards and honors of the branches of the legal profession to which their time and talents were devoted. The younger of them, who ere long occupied so high a position, and exercised so much influence as Lord Eldon, was Collingwood’s class-fellow, and used to state, somewhat unnecessarily, that both of them were placed at the time-honored seminary because their fathers could not conveniently afford to have them educated elsewhere. The fame which they worthily attained in different spheres proves that they lay under no considerable disadvantages on that account. When Collingwood’s dispatch narrating the battle of Trafalgar arrived, the king expressed his extreme surprise that a naval officer, who had spent so much of his life at sea, should write in so admirable a style. But on being informed that his brave and patriotic subject had been a scholar of Moises, his majesty considered that fact sufficient to explain the excellence shown.

In subsequent life, when experience had sharpened his powerful faculties, it was Collingwood’s opinion that a boy intended for the sea should be early placed at a mathematical school, and carefully initiated into the science of navigation; as otherwise there is little likelihood of his achieving much progress on board a man-of-war. We are told of Lord St. Vincent, that the only instruction he ever received was from a considerate old sailing-master, whom he encountered while stationed at Jamaica; but it does not appear where Collingwood acquired his theoretic knowledge on this subject. It is probable, however, that he enjoyed the advantage of being grounded by the celebrated Hutton, who, just as Collingwood attained his tenth year, commenced a mathematical class in the town, and was, in some capacity, connected with instructing the mischievous imps under the sternly just sway of Moises. At the age of eleven Collingwood was dedicated to the profession of which he became so useful a member, and so bright an ornament.