THE GOSSIP OF HISTORY.

Thames Star, Volume VII, Issue 2644, 29 June 1877, Page 2

THE GOSSIP OF HISTORY.

It is part of the ill-natured gossip of history that Nelson's last signal was not "England" but "Nelson expects erery man to do his duty," and that the officer to whom the order was given affected to * ; have misunderstood his directions, and*'' substituted the sentence' which was actually telegraphed. Southey says it was received by the fleet with enthusiasm, but an eye-witness of the battle has recorded the equally probable fact, that some unideal Britons cou'd not well make out what it meant. "Do your duty ? " quoth one of the men, «• why, of- course we shall". In truth, the English dislike of rhetoric (strange enough in a country which has given Parliamentary institutions to the world) amounts to a fault; it makes us think that heroic words are never found in company with heroic acts. This is far from being the caae, as a notable incident in the life of General Wolfe will show. After his appointment to the command of the expedition against Canada, and on the day preceding his embarkation, Pitt invited him to dinner. The only other guest was Lord Temple, Pitt's brother-in-law, who afterwards told the story to Thomas Greenville. As the evening advanced Wolfe, ever so slightly warmed with wine, or, it may be, merely fired by his own thoughts, broke forth into a strain of gasconade. He drew his sword —he rapped the table with it—he flourished it round the room - —he talked of the mighty things that sword was to achieve. The two ministers sat aghast, at an exhibition so unusual from any man of real sense and spirit; and when at last Wolfe had taken his leave and * his carriage was heard to roll from the door Pitt seemed for the moment shaken in the high opinion which he had formed of Wolfe; he lifted up his eyes and arms, and exclaimed to Lord Temple, "Good God! that I should have entrusted the fate of the country and the Administration to such hands! " Few anecdotes rest on better authority; yet it may be hoped that Lord Temple or Mr Greenville was guilty of a slight inaccuracy .in putting into the mouth of Pitt the words " and of the Administration," whirfx sound like pathos, whereas Pitt always spoke and thought in the loftiest strain. Indeed, in judging Wolfe the great statesman might have known, from the best of evidence, that " tall talk "js occasionally the herald of great actions. "My lord," he had said in 1757 to the Duke of Devonshire, "I am sure that I can save this country, and that nobody else can"—which proved to be the true state of the case. In spite of •'goody" books, which profess that genius is invariably accompanied by modesty, at least half the famous men of history have been intensely egotistical* and strenuous asserters of their: own merits. " After all, what have I done?" exclaimed Napoleon one day, as if to silence a flatterer. "Is it anything compared with what Christ has done P " Indeed, one of Napoleon's arguments for the truth of Christianity seemed to be that Christ, having founded a mightier empire than his own; must necessarily hare been more than mortal. Heroes are apt to reason curiously. Nelson told Lord Holland that he often felt pain in the arm he had lost, "which," added the gallant warrior, " is a clear proof of the immortality of the soul, and sets the question completely at rest." This remark would have been hailed with delight by that ingenious theorist who held that puzzleheadedness conduced to celebrity, and who, by the way, defended his opinions with singular skill. He had onoe maintained at a dinner-party that.most men. who have attained suddenly and rapidly to fame have been puzzle-headed " What do you say," objected one of the company, "to Mr Pitt ? He was an ad> mired statesman at the age of 23; and was he a puzzle-headed man ? " " Why, not generally such," was the answer, " but he was such in reference to the, particular point which mainly contributed to obtain him that early and speedy popularity. Look at the portraits of him at that time, and you will see a paper in his hand, or on his table, inscribed, ' Sinking Fund.' It was his eloquent advocacy of that delusion (as all now admit to have been) which brought him such sudden renown. And he could not have so ably recommended—nor, indeed, would he probably have adopted—that juggle of Pr. Price's if he had not been himself the Duke of his fallacy; as Lord Grenville also was; who afterwards published a pamphlet in which he frankly exposed the delusion.—Cornhill Magazine, . ,'