r a day in auditing accounts with
his butler would have made all secure. He had neither wife, child nor
dependent kinsmen, yet it was found that his household consumed nine
hundred pounds of meat a week and enough beer to float a ship. For a man
to waste his own funds in riotous living is only a trifle worse than to
allow others to do the same.

Literature, music and art owe little to Pitt: only lovers care for
beauty--the sensuous was not for him. He knew the Classics, spoke French
like a Parisian, reveled in history, had no confidants, and loved one
friend--Wilberforce.

Pictures of Pitt by Reynolds and Gainsborough reveal a face commonplace
in feature save for the eye--"the most brilliant eye ever seen in a
human face." In describing the man, one word always seems to creep in,
the word "haughty." That the man was gentle, kind and even playful among
the few who knew him best, there is no doubt. The austerity of his
manner was the inevitable result of an ambition the sole aim of which
was to dictate the policy of a great nation. All save honor was
sacrificed to this end, and that the man was successful in his ambition,
there is no dispute.

When he died, aged forty-seven, he was by popular acclaim the greatest
Englishman of his time, and the passing years have not shaken that proud
position.

JEAN PAUL MARAT

Citizens: You see before you the widow of Marat. I do not come here
to ask your favors, such as cupidity would covet, or even such as
would relieve indigence--Marat's widow needs no more than a tomb.
Before arriving at that happy termination to my existence, however,
I come to ask that justice may be done in respect to the reports
recently put forth in this body against the memory of at once the
most intrepid and the most outraged defender of the people.

--_Simonne Evrard Marat, to the Convention_

[Illustration: JEAN PAUL MARAT]

The French Revolution traces a lineal descent direct from Voltaire and
Jean Jacques Rousseau. These men were contemporaries; they came to the
same conclusions, expressing the same thought, each in his own way,
absolutely independent of the other. And as genius seldom recognizes
genius, neither knew the greatness of the other.

Voltaire was an aristocrat--the friend of kings and courtiers, the
brilliant cynic, the pet of the salons and the center of the culture and
brains of his time.

Rousseau was a m