with him, conceived that the wisest
course now open to England was to acknowledge the independence of the
United States, and to turn her whole force against her European enemies.

Chatham, it should seem, ought to have taken the same side. Before
France had taken any part in our quarrel with the colonies, he had
repeatedly, and with great energy of language, declared that it was
impossible to conquer America; and he could not without absurdity
maintain that it was easier to conquer France and America together than
America alone. But his passions overpowered his judgment, and made him
blind to his own inconsistency. The very circumstances which made the
separation of the colonies inevitable made it to him altogether
insupportable. The dismemberment of the Empire seemed to him less
ruinous and humiliating, when produced by domestic dissensions, than
when produced by foreign interference. His blood boiled at the
degradation of his country. Whatever lowered her among the nations of
the earth, he felt as a personal outrage to himself. And the feeling was
natural. He had made her so great. He had been so proud of her; and she
had been so proud of him. He remembered how, more than twenty years
before, in a day of gloom and dismay, when her possessions were torn
from her, when her flag was dishonored, she had called on him to save
her. He remembered the sudden and glorious change which his energy had
wrought, the long series of triumphs, the days of thanksgiving, the
nights of illumination. Fired by such recollections, he determined to
separate himself from those who advised that the independence of the
colonies should be acknowledged. That he was in error will scarcely, we
think, be disputed by his warmest admirers. Indeed, the treaty by which,
a few years later, the republic of the United States was recognized was
the work of his most attached adherents and of his favorite son.

The Duke of Richmond had given notice of an address to the throne,
against the further prosecution of hostilities with America. Chatham
had, during some time, absented himself from Parliament, in consequence
of his growing infirmities. He determined to appear in his place on this
occasion, and to declare that his opinions were decidedly at variance
with those of the Rockingham party. He was in a state of great
excitement. His medical attendants were uneasy, and strongly advised him
to calm himself, and to remain at home. But he was not to be controlle