were taken. The Duke of Richmond answered him, and I cannot help giving his Grace the commendation he deserves for his candour, courtesy and liberal treatment of his illustrious adversary. Lord Chatham's fit seized him as he was attempting to rise and reply to the Duke of Richmond: he fell back upon his seat and was to all appearance in the agonies of death. This threw the whole House into confusion: every person was upon his legs in a moment, hurrying from one place to another, some sending for assistance, others producing salts, and others reviving spirits; many crowding about the Earl to observe his countenance; all affected, most part really concerned, and even those who might have felt a secret pleasure at the accident, yet put on the appearance of distress, except only the Earl of Mansfield, who sat still almost as much unmoved as the senseless body itself. The debate was adjourned till yesterday, and then the former subject was taken up by Lord Shelburne in a speech of one hour and three-quarters. The Duke of Richmond answered; Shelburne replied: and the Duke who enjoys the privilege of the last word in that House closed the business."[1] The motion was rejected by a majority of only seventeen.[2]
Such was the end of the Earl of Chatham, for his political retirement was followed within a month by his death. The King showed little concern at the event. Far different was the verdict of the nation. They recollected that during his Administration "Divine Providence exalted Great Britain to a height of prosperity and glory unknown to any former age,"[3] and they refused to withhold the "tribute of esteem and veneration"[4] from his memory. To those indeed who think that a statesman is only another name for a superior clerk, the character of Chatham will be either incomprehensible, or merely seem that of an accomplished rhetorician. Nor are the reasons of this far to seek.
