d.
His son William, and his son-in-law Lord Mahon, accompanied him to
Westminster. He rested himself in the Chancellor's room till the debate
commenced, and then, leaning on his two young relations, limped to his
seat. The slightest particulars of that day were remembered, and have
been carefully recorded. He bowed, it was remarked, with great
courtliness to those peers who rose to make way for him and his
supporters. His crutch was in his hand. He wore, as was his fashion, a
rich velvet coat. His legs were swathed in flannel. His wig was so
large, and his face so emaciated, that none of his features could be
discerned except the high curve of his nose, and his eyes, which still
retained a gleam of the old fire.

When the Duke of Richmond had spoken, Chatham rose. For some time his
voice was inaudible. At length his tones became distinct and his action
animated. Here and there his hearers caught a thought or an expression
which reminded them of William Pitt. But it was clear that he was not
himself. He lost the thread of his discourse, hesitated, repeated the
same words several times, and was so confused that, in speaking of the
Act of Settlement, he could not recall the name of the Electress Sophia.
The House listened in solemn silence, and with the aspect of profound
respect and compassion. The stillness was so deep that the dropping of a
handkerchief would have been heard. The Duke of Richmond replied with
great tenderness and courtesy; but, while he spoke, the old man was
observed to be restless and irritable. The Duke sat down. Chatham stood
up again, pressed his hand on his breast, and sank down in an apoplectic
fit. Three or four lords who sat near him caught him in his fall. The
House broke up in confusion. The dying man was carried to the residence
of one of the officers of Parliament, and was so far restored as to be
able to bear a journey to Hayes. At Hayes, after lingering a few weeks,
he expired in his seventieth year. His bed was watched to the last, with
anxious tenderness, by his wife and children; and he well deserved their
care. Too often haughty and wayward to others, to them he had been
almost effeminately kind. He had through life been dreaded by his
political opponents, and regarded with more awe than love even by his
political associates. But no fear seems to have mingled with the
affection which his fondness, constantly overflowing in a thousand
endearing forms, had inspired in the little circle