their good will."[1] The exact words of the motion did not necessarily imply the recognition of American independence. Richmond however informed Shelburne that he intended to support the idea strongly in the course of his speech. "I said everything I could," the latter at once wrote to Chatham, "to dissuade him from this idea, as I see nothing but endless evil and dissension. I am in some doubt about my own conduct in this complicated scene. I have already declared very opposite opinions so distinctly, that no man can suspect me of abandoning them. On the other hand, answering the Duke of Richmond whenever he reasserts them, is in fact doing the business of Ministers, who are abundantly content to look on, hear themselves abused (to which a certainty of indemnity has long rendered them indifferent), and these delicate points otherwise discussed; and as long as I can bring no fresh authority with me, the cause may wear out in such weak hands. Lord Camden seems of opinion that the measure of independence, however wise before, would be useless and disgraceful since the French declaration; but is not sufficiently decided to take a part, unless your lordship's answer, as he knows of my writing, or your opinion conveyed as you may think proper, to which he has an excessive deference, may determine him. The Duke of Grafton may then take the same line."[2]
It was however found to be impossible to dissuade Richmond, and the debate took its course. Then ensued that memorable scene, when Chatham for the last time came to utter the words of confidence and patriotism, and died in the attempt. "He spoke," says Lord Camden, "but was not like himself; his speech faltered, his sentences broken, and his mind not master of itself. He made shift with difficulty to declare his opinion, but was not able to enforce it by argument. His words were shreds of unconnected eloquence, and flashes of the same fire which he, Prometheus like, had stolen from heaven, and were then returning to the place from whence they
