Chatham now became one of the foremost advocates for the maintenance of the supremacy of Great Britain over its dependencies, however opposed he had been to the fatal policy that brought the country to such a crisis; and it was to him that Lord North, who had long wished to withdraw from the ministry, advised the king to apply for aid. Even if the king had been willing to trust Chatham, which he was not, the state of the Earl's health would scarcely have allowed him to accept a position of such responsibility. His days were in fact numbered. On Tuesday, the 7th April, he unexpectedly appeared in the House of Lords, having risen from a sick bed with the sole object of opposing a motion of the Duke of Richmond, virtually conceding the independence of the American Colonies. When the Duke had finished his speech, Chatham, slowly and with difficulty, rose from his seat. In words that at first were scarcely audible he explained that ill-health had prevented him from attending, at so important a crisis, to his parliamentary duties. He had that day made an effort, almost beyond his strength, to attend the House where, perhaps he might never speak again, and to express his indignation at the suggestion that had been made of yielding up the sovereignty of America. "My lords," he said, "I rejoice that the grave has not closed upon me: that I am still alive to lift up my voice against the dismemberment of the ancient and most noble monarchy," and he concluded a spirited and affecting speech by exhorting his countrymen to make an effort to maintain their supremacy [that supremacy to which he himself had contributed so much] and, if they fell, to fall like men.[429] Even as he spoke, his words began to falter, and on rising to make a second speech, he staggered and fell back in a fit of apoplexy. To all appearance he was in a dying state. He rallied however, but only for a few weeks, and on the 11th May he died.
His funeral, 9 June, 1778.
The City lost no time in petitioning Parliament that the remains of the statesman "whose vigour and counsels had so much contributed to the protection and extension of its commerce," might rest in St. Paul's, and the Lord Chamberlain was asked to give timely notice of the funeral in order that the Common Council might pay their last token of respect. The Chamberlain promised to accede to this request, but the City's petition to Parliament met with no further notice than an order that it should lie on the table.[430] Having failed in this direction the City determined to approach the king himself on the subject, and a "remarkably decent and respectful" address was prepared for the purpose in the Common Council.[431] Unfortunately the City had incurred the king's displeasure not only on account of its recent addresses, but also for the respect and affection it had always entertained towards Chatham, who for years had been the object of his special aversion. When asked to name a day for the reception of the address, the first question was as to its nature. He was afraid of having to listen to more "stuff." His curiosity, however, on the point was not gratified. The sheriff (Clarke) respectfully declined to inform him of the nature of the address, and for his "prudent conduct" was rewarded with the thanks of the Common Council.[432]
At length Friday, the 5th June, was appointed for receiving the address. By that time arrangements had been made for the interment to take place in Westminster Abbey, and the king notified the citizens of the fact in a somewhat dry and ungracious manner.[433] Although the ceremony was fixed for the 9th no notice had been sent to the City, notwithstanding the Lord Chamberlain's promise. The Common Council therefore, finding themselves thus trifled with, rescinded their resolution to attend.[434] Indeed the attitude taken up by the king and his ministers throughout the whole business was singularly childish and undignified.
The City's monument to Chatham.
The citizens, on the other hand, though prevented from showing their respect at the grave-side of the deceased statesman, were resolved to erect a memorial to one who, when in power, had never (as they declared) allowed them to return from the throne dissatisfied. A sculptured monument by Bacon, with an inscription from the pen of the great Edmund Burke, was in due course erected in the Guildhall, for the express purpose that citizens might "never meet for the transaction of their affairs without being reminded that the means by which Providence raises a nation to greatness are the virtues infused into great men; and that to withhold from those virtues, either of the living or the dead, the tribute of esteem and veneration, is to deny themselves the means of happiness and honour."