By infusing his own spirit, his own patriotism, his own belief

in his country, and his own belief in himself, into those who worked

with him--ay, and into the better half of England--he wrought a

seeming miracle.

See, for instance, what Mr. Walpole wrote to Sir Horace Mann in

September, 1757. 'For how many years,' he says, 'have I been telling you

that your country was mad, that your country was undone! It does not

grow wiser, it does not grow more prosperous! ... How do you behave on

these lamentable occasions? Oh, believe me, it is comfortable to have an

island to hide one's head in! ...' Again he writes in the same month,'

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'It is time for England to slip her own cables, and float away into some

unknown ocean.' With these compare a letter dated November, 1759. 'Indeed,' he says to

the same correspondent, 'one is forced to ask every morning what victory

there is, for fear of missing one.' And he wrote with reason. India,

Canada, Belleisle, the Mississippi, the Philippines, the Havanna,

Martinique, Guadaloupe--there was no end to our conquests. Wolfe fell in

the arms of victory, Clive came home the satrap of sovereigns; but day

by day ships sailed in and couriers spurred abroad with the news that a

new world and a nascent empire were ours. Until men's heads reeled and

maps failed them, as they asked each morning 'What new land, to-day?'

Until those who had despaired of England awoke and rubbed their

eyes--awoke to find three nations at her feet, and the dawn of a new and

wider day breaking in the sky.

And what of the minister? They called him the Great Commoner, the

heaven-born statesman; they showered gold boxes upon him; they bore him

through the city, the centre of frantic thousands, to the effacement

even of the sovereign. Where he went all heads were bared; while he

walked the rooms at Bath and drank the water, all stood; his very sedan,

built with a boot to accommodate his gouty foot, was a show followed and

watched wherever it moved. A man he had never seen left him a house and

three thousand pounds a year; this one, that one, the other one,

legacies. In a word, for a year or two he was the idol of the

nation--the first great People's Minister.

Then, the crisis over, the old system lifted its head again; the

mediocrities returned; and, thwarted by envious rivals and a jealous

king, Pitt placed the crown alike on his services and his popularity by

resigning power when he could no longer dictate the policy which he

knew to be right. Nor were events slow to prove his wisdom. The war with

Spain which he would have declared, Spain declared. The treasure fleet

which he would have seized, escaped us. Finally, the peace when it came

redounded to his credit, for in the main it secured his conquests--to

the disgrace of his enemies, since more might have been obtained.




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