Chathamic style."

But the disdain of Burke was really complimentary--it took a worthy foe
to draw his fire. Chatham's faults were mostly on the surface, and were
more a matter of manner than of head or heart. America has cause to
treasure the memory of Chatham. He opposed the Stamp Act with all the
vigor of his tremendous intellect, and in the last speech of his life he
prophesied that the Americans would never submit to taxation without
representation, and that all the power of England was not great enough
to subdue men who were fighting for their country. Yet his appeal to
George the Third and his minions was like bombarding a fog. But all he
said proved true.

On the occasion of this last great speech Chatham was attended by his
favorite son William, then nineteen years old. Proud as was this father
of his son, he did not guess that in four short years this boy would,
through his brilliancy, cast his own splendid efforts into the shadow;
and that Burke, the querulous, would give the son a measure of
approbation he never vouchsafed to the father.

William Pitt, the Younger, is known as the "Great Pitt," to distinguish
him from his father, who in his day was known as the greatest man in
England.

* * * * *

William Pitt, the second son of the Earl of Chatham, was born of poor
but honest parents, in the year Seventeen Hundred Fifty-nine. That was
the year that gave us Robert Burns--between whom and Pitt, in some
respects, averages were held good. The same year was born William
Wilberforce, philanthropist and emancipator, father of Canon
Wilberforce.

At this time the fortunes of William Pitt the Elder were at full flood.
England was in a fever of exultation--drunk with success. Just where the
thought got abroad that the average Englishman is moderate in success
and in defeat not cast down, I do not know. But this I have seen: all
London mad, howling, exultant, savage drunk, because of the report that
the Redcoats had subjugated this colony or that. To subdue, crush, slay
and defeat, has caused shrieking shouts of joy in London since London
began--unless the slain were Englishmen.

This is patriotism, concerning which Samuel Johnson, reporter in the
House of Commons, once made a remark slightly touched with acerbity.

In the years Seventeen Hundred Fifty-eight and Seventeen Hundred
Fifty-nine not a month passed but bonfires burned bright from Cornwall
to Scotland in honor of Eng