that this spirit was manifested, but uniformly, progressively through their whole ministry, the same disposition has been shown, until at last it came to its full undisguised demonstration on the question of the Russian war, when the house of commons was degraded to the lowest state of insignificance and contempt, in being made to retract its own words, and to acknowledge that it was of no consequence or avail what were its sentiments on any one measure. The minister has regularly acted upon this sort of principle, to the vilification of the popular branch of the constitution. What is this but to make it appear that the house of commons is in reality what Thomas Paine, and writers like him, say it is, namely, that it is not the true representative and organ of the people. Is it not wonderful that all the true constitutional watchfulness of England should be dead to the only true danger that the day exhibits; and that they should be roused only by the idiotic clamour of republican frenzy, and of popular insurrection which do not exist?

"Sir," he concluded, "I have done my duty. I have—with the certainty of exposing myself to the furor of the day-delivered my opinion at more length than I intended; and perhaps I have intruded too long on the indulgence of the house. I have endeavoured to persuade you against the indecent haste of committing yourselves to these assertions of an existing insurrection, until you shall make a rigorous inquiry where it is to be found; to avoid involving the people in the calamity of a war, without at least ascertaining the internal state of the kingdom, and prevent us from falling into the disgrace of being, as heretofore, obliged perhaps in a week to retract every syllable that we are now called upon to say."

He concluded with moving an amendment, simply pledging the house, "that inquiry should be made into the facts stated in his majesty's speech."

In the debate of the 1st of February, 1793, on Pitt moving an address of thanks to his majesty, Fox, after arguing that no just pretext for going to war with France existed, said: "That war was unjust which told not an enemy the ground of provocation, and the measure of atonement; it was as impolitic as unjust,-for without the object of contest clearly and definitely stated, what opening could there be for treating of peace? Before going to war with France, surely the people who must pay and suffer, ought to be informed on what object they were to fix their hopes for its honourable termination! After five or six years' war, the French might agree to evacuate the Netherlands as the price of peace; was it clear that they would not do so now, if we would condescend to propose it in intelligible terms? Surely in such an alternative, the experiment was worth trying. But then we had no security against the French principles:-What security would they be able to give us, after a war, which they could not give now? If there were any danger from French principles, to go to war without necessity was to fight for their propagation. On these principles, as reprobated in the proposed address, he would freely give his opinion. It was not the principles that were bad and to be reprobated, but the abuse of them; from the abuse, not the principles, had flowed all the evils that afflicted France. The use of the word equality by the French was deemed highly objectionable. When taken as they meant

it, nothing was more innocent; for what did they say? all men are equal in respect of their rights.' To this he assented; all men had equal rights, equal rights to unequal things; one man to a shilling,another to a thousand pounds; one man to a cottage, another to a palace; but the right in both was the same,-an equal right of enjoying, an equal right of inheriting or acquiring,—and of possessing inheritance or acquisition. The effect of the proposed address was to condemn, not the abuse of those principles, and the French had much abused them, but the principles themselves. To this he could not assent, for they were the principles on which all just and equitable government was founded. He had already differed sufficiently with a right honourable gentleman (Burke) on this subject, to wish not to provoke any fresh difference; but, even against so great an authority, he must say, that the people are the sovereigns in every state; that they have a right to change the form of their government, and a right to cashier their governors for misconduct, as the people of this country cashiered James II., not by parliament, or any regular form known to the constitution, but by a convention speaking the sense of the people; that convention produced a parliament and a king. They elected William to a vacant throne, not only setting aside James-whom they had justly cashiered for misconduct-but his innocent son. Again they elected the house of Brunswick, not individually, but by dynasty; and that dynasty to continue while the terms and conditions on which it was elected are fulfilled, and no longer. He could not admit the right of doing all this but by acknowledging the sovereignty of the people as paramount to all other laws. But it was said, that although we had once exercised this power, we had in the very act of exercising it, renounced it for ever. We had neither renounced it, nor, if we had been so disposed, was such a renunciation in our power. We elected first an individual,— then a dynasty, and lastly, passed an act of parliament in the reign of queen Anne, declaring it to be the right of the people of this realm to do so again without even assigning a reason. If there were any persons among us who doubted the superior wisdom of our monarchical form of government, their error was owing to those who changed its strong and irrefragable foundation in the right and choice of the people to a more flimsy ground of title. The justifiable grounds of war," he argued, were insult, injury, or danger. For the first, satisfaction; for the second, reparation; for the third, security, was the object. Each of these too was the proper object of negotiation, which ought ever to precede war, except in case of an attack actually commenced. How had we negotiated? When the triple league was formed to check the ambition of Louis XIV., the contracting parties did not deal so rigorously by him as we were now told it was essential to the peace of Europe that we should deal by the French. They never told Louis that he must renounce all his conquests, in order to obtain peace. But then it was said to be our duty to hate the French for the part they took in the American war.-He had heard of a duty to love, but a duty to hate was new to him. That duty, however, ought to direct our hatred to the old government of France, not to the new, which had no hand in the provocation. Unfortunately the new French government was admitted to be the successor of the old in nothing but its faults and its offences. It was a successor to be hated and to be

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warred against; but it was not a successor to be negotiated with. feared, however, that war would be the result; and from war apprehending greater evils than he durst name, he should have shrunk from his duty if he had not endeavoured to obtain an exposition of the distinct causes. Of all wars he dreaded that the most which had no definite object, because of such a war it was impossible to see the end. Our war with America had a definite object,-an unjust one indeed, but still definite; and after wading through years on years of expense and blood, after exhausting invectives and terms of contempt on the vagrant congress, one Adams, one Washington, &c. &c., we were compelled at last to treat with this very congress, and those very men. The Americans, to the honour of their character, committed no such horrid acts as had disgraced the French; but we were as liberal of our obloquy to the former then as to the latter now. If we did but know for what we were to fight, we might look forward with confidence, and exert ourselves with unanimity; but while kept thus in the dark, how many might there not be who would believe that we were fighting the battles of despotism? To undeceive those who might fall into this unhappy delusion, it would be no derogation from the dignity of office to grant an explanation."

In the course of this year, a meeting of noblemen and gentlemen took place in London for the purpose of expressing their gratitude to Mr Fox for his exertions in opposing the war with France, and their admiration of the talents and consistency he had displayed throughout a long political career. It was resolved to purchase for Mr Fox a handsome annuity, which, it was well-known, his circumstances required. In reply to the preliminary communication from the committee appointed to carry this measure into effect, Mr Fox addressed the following manly letter to its chairman, Serjeant Adair :

"ST ANNE'S HILL, June 6th, 1793.

"Dear Sir,-You will easily believe that it is not a mere form of words, when I say, that I am wholly at a loss how to express my feelings upon the event which you have in so kind a manner communicated to me. In difficult cases it is not unusual to inquire what others have said or done in like circumstances; but, in my situation, this resource is denied me; for where am I to look for an instance of such a proof of public esteem, as that which is offered to me? To receive at once from the public such a testimony of the disinterestedness of my conduct, and such a reward as the most interested would think their lives well-spent in obtaining, is a rare instance of felicity which seems to have been reserved for me. It would be gross affectation, if, in my circumstances, I were to pretend that what is intended me is not in itself of the highest value. But it is with perfect sincerity that I declare, that no manner in which a fortune could have come to me, would have been so gratifying to the feelings of my heart. I accept, therefore, with the most sincere gratitude, the kindness of the public; and consider it as an additional obligation upon me, if any were wanting, to continue steady to the principles which I have uniformly professed; and to persevere in the honest and independent line of conduct, to which alone I am conscious that I am indebted for this, as well as for every other mark of public approbation. I hope I need not add, my dear

Sir, that I could not have received this honourable message through a more acceptable channel. I am, &c."

In 1796 Fox was again elected for Westminster. In the course of the next year, as a privy-councillor, he obtained an audience of the king, and represented to him in energetic language the alarming state of the kingdom, and the necessity of adopting public measures conceived in a different strain of policy from those now pursuing by his ministers. Soon after this, finding himself supported only by a small minority of the house, he, and his principal political friends, seceded from parliament. He passed the years from 1797 to 1802 chiefly in the retirement of his little establishment at St Anne's hill. "I knew Mr Fox," says Mr Trotter, who for some years acted as his private secretary, “at a period when his glories began to brighten,-when a philosophical and noble determination had, for a considerable time, induced him to renounce the captivating allurements and amusements of fashionable life, -and when, resigning himself to rural pleasures, domestic retirement, and literary pursuits, he became a new man, or, rather more justly may I say, he returned to the solid enjoyment of a tranquil, yet refined, rural life, from which he had been awhile withdrawn, but had never been alienated." " "The domestic life of Mr Fox," says Mr T., 66 was equally regular and agreeable. In summer, he arose betwixt six and seven; in winter, before eight. The assiduous care and excellent management of Mrs Fox rendered his rural mansion the abode of peace, elegance, and order, and had long procured her the gratitude and esteem of those private friends whose visits to Mr Fox, in his retirement at St Anne's Hill, made them the witnesses of this amiable woman's exemplary conduct. I confess I carried with me some of the vulgar prejudices respecting this great man. How completely was I undeceived! After breakfast, which took place betwixt eight and nine in the summer, and a little after nine in winter, he usually read some Italian author with Mrs Fox, and then spent the time preceding dinner in his literary studies, in which the Greek poets bore a principal part. A frugal but plentiful dinner took place at three, or half-past two, in summer, and at four in winter, and a few glasses of wine were followed by coffee. The evening was dedicated to walking and conversation till tea-time, when reading aloud in history commenced, and continued till near ten. A light supper of fruit, pastry, or something very trifling, finished the day; and at half-past ten the family were gone to rest.' This, we learn, was the diurnal system of a man whose gaiety, perhaps exaggerated, was once the theme of every tongue, but who, certainly, when forming the central point of one political hemisphere, could not, however he might wish to shrink from the continual stretch of mental energy, and pant for a philosophical retreat, at a less price than the abandonment of his connexions, obtain it."

"

In July, 1802, Mr and Mrs Fox set out for Paris. His principal object in this visit was to examine materials for his projected historical work on the reign of James II. which were deposited in the Scotch college there. He was received with great courtesy and even public honours. On his entering the theatre, "every eye was fixed on him,

Preface to Memoirs of the Latter Years of the Right Hon. Charles James Fox.'

and every tongue resounded, Fox! Fox! The whole audience stood up, and the applause was universal. He alone, to whom all this admiration was paid, was embarrassed. His friends were gratified by the honour bestowed on this great man by a foreign, and, till lately, hostile people. It was that reward which crowned heads cannot purchaserespect and gratitude from his fellow-men for his exertions in favour of humanity." He was introduced to Buonaparte by the British ambassador. Mr Trotter thus describes the interview of these two great men: "We reached the interior apartment where Buonaparte, first consul, surrounded by his generals, ministers, senators, and officers, stood betwixt the second and third consuls, Le Brun, and Camberceres, in the centre of a semicircle, at the head of the room! The numerous assemblage from Salle des Ambassadeurs formed into another semicircle, joined themselves to that at the head of which stood the first consul. Buonaparte, of a small, and by no means commanding figure, dressed plainly, though richly, in the embroidered consular coat, without powder in his hair, looked, at first view, like a private gentleman, indifferent as to dress, and devoid of all haughtiness in his air. The two consuls, large and heavy men, seemed pillars too cumbrous to support themselves, and, during the levee, were sadly at a loss what to do, -whether the snuff-box or pocket-handkerchief was to be appealed to, or the left leg exchanged for the right. The moment the circle was formed, Buonaparte began with the Spanish ambassador; then went to the American, with whom he spoke some time, and so on, performing his part with ease, and very agreeably, until he came to the English ambassador, who, after the presentation of some English noblemen, announced to him Mr Fox. He was a good deal flurried, and, after indicating considerable emotion, very rapidly said: 'Ah, Mr Fox, I have heard with pleasure of your arrival; I have desired much to see you; I have long admired in you the orator and friend of his country, who, in constantly raising his voice for peace, consulted that country's best interests those of Europe-and of the human race. The two great nations of Europe require peace; they have nothing to fear; they ought to understand and value one another. In you, Mr Fox, I see with much satisfaction that great statesman, who recommended peace because there was no just object for war,-who saw Europe desolated to no purpose, and who struggled for its relief.' Mr Fox said little or rather nothing in reply; to a complimentary address to himself he always found invincible repugnance to answer, nor did he bestow one word" expressive "of admiration or applause upon the extraordinary and elevated character who addressed him. A few questions and answers relative to Mr Fox's tour terminated the interview."

After the renewal of the war, he again withdrew into seclusion at St Anne's Hill; but, on the dismissal of the Addington administration, and the resumption of power by Pitt, he once more stood forth to confront and oppose his great rival. On the death of his illustrious antagonist, Fox coalesced with Grenville, and accepted the office of secretary of state for foreign affairs. "I am," says Mr Trotter, "much inclined to think that Mr Fox had determined to devote himself to history previously to Mr Pitt's death; nor do I think that event would have altered his intentions, unless the voice of the people reaching the throne had concurred in seeing placed at the head of the ministry a