FOOTNOTES:
[1] He had formerly written a letter against a Bishop’s sermon, which had carried very high the respect due to that day.
[2] Two Papers published weekly by the Opposition against Sir R. Walpole.
[3] [St. Michael, Cornwall.] E.
[CHAPTER II.]
Commencement of the War with France—War in America—Defeat and Death of General Braddock—Events at Sea—Fears for Hanover—Treaties made there—Dissensions in the Royal Family and in the Ministry—Disunion of Fox and Pitt—Ministers endeavour to procure support in Parliament—Fox made Secretary of State—Resignations and Promotions—Accession of the Bedford Party—Meeting of Parliament—New Opposition of Pitt—Debates on the Treaties—Pitt dismissed—Mr. Fox’s Circular to Members of Parliament—Debates on the number of Seamen.
July 15th, came news that three of Admiral Boscawen’s fleet, under the command of Captain Howe, had met, engaged, and taken three French men-of-war. The circumstances of this action were, that the three Frenchmen, on coming up with Howe, had demanded if it was, Peace or war? He replied, he waited for his Admiral’s signal; but advised them to prepare for war. The signal soon appeared for engaging: Howe attacked, and was victorious; but one of the French ships escaped in a fog: nine more were in sight, but, to the great disappointment of England, got safe into the harbour of Louisbourg. The Duke de Mirepoix had still remained in England, writing letters to his Court of our pacific disposition. The Duke of Newcastle, having nobody left at home undeceived, had applied himself to deceive this Minister; and had succeeded. On this hostile action, Monsieur de Mirepoix departed abruptly, without taking leave, and suffered a temporary disgrace at his own Court for his credulity. The Abbé de Bussy, formerly resident here, had been sent after the King to Hanover, with the civilest message that they had hitherto vouchsafed to dictate. Two days after he had delivered it, a courier was dispatched in haste to prevent it, and to recall him, upon the notice of our capture of the two French ships. They had meditated the war; we began it. They affected to call us pirates; their King was made to say, “Je ne pardonnerai pas les pirateries de cette insolente nation.” The point was tender, as we had at least prepared no alliances to give strength to such alertness. However, the stroke was struck; and it was deemed policy to follow up the blow. The Martinico fleet was returning: it occasioned great Debates in the Council, whether this too was not to be attacked; but the danger of giving pretence to Spain to declare against us, if we opened the scene of war in Europe, preponderated for the negative. In America we were not so delicate: the next advices brought a conquest from Nova Scotia. About three thousand of our troops, under the command of Colonel Monckton, had laid siege to the important fort of Beau-sejour, and carried it in four days, with scarce any loss: two other small forts surrendered immediately.
These little prosperities were soon balanced by the miscarriage of our principal operation in that part of the world. A resolution had been taken here to possess ourselves of the principal French forts on the Ohio, and in those parts; and the chief execution was to be entrusted to two regiments sent from hence. The Duke, who had no opinion but of regular troops, had prevailed for this measure. Those who were better acquainted with America and the Indian manner of fighting, advised the employment of irregulars raised on the spot. Unhappily, the European discipline preponderated; and to give it all its operation, a commander was selected, who, though remiss himself, was judged proper to exact the utmost rigour of duty. This was General Braddock, of the Guards, a man desperate in his fortune, brutal in his behaviour, obstinate in his sentiments, intrepid, and capable. To him was entrusted the execution of an enterprise on Fort Duquesne. His appointments were ample; the troops allotted to him most ill chosen, being draughts of the most worthless in some Irish regiments, and disgusted anew by this species of banishment.
As I am now opening some scenes of war, I must premise that it is not my intention to enter minutely into descriptions of battles and sieges: my ignorance in the profession would lead me certainly, the reader possibly, into great mistakes; nor, had I more experience, would such details fall within my plan, which is rather to develope characters, and the grounds of councils, and to illuminate other histories, than to complete a history myself. Indeed, another reason would weigh with me against circumstantial relations of military affairs: I have seldom understood them in other authors. The confusion of a battle rarely leaves to any one officer a possibility of embracing the whole operation: few are cool enough to be preparing their narrative in the heat of action. Historians collect relations from these disjointed or supplied accounts; and, as different historians glean from different relations, and add partialities of their own or of their country, it is seldom possible to reconcile their contradictions. The events of battles and sieges are certain; for of the Te Deums which are sometimes chanted on both sides, the mock one vanishes long before it can usurp a place in history. The decision of actions and enterprises shall suffice me.
At the beginning of July, Braddock began his march at the head of two thousand men. Having reached the Little Meadows, which are about twenty miles beyond Fort Cumberland, at Will’s Creek, he found it necessary to leave the greatest part of his heavy baggage at that place, under Colonel Dunbar, with orders to follow, as he should find it practicable; himself, with about twelve hundred men and ten pieces of artillery, advanced and encamped on the 8th, within ten miles of Fort Duquesne. He was warned against ambuscades and sudden attacks from the Indians: as if it were a point of discipline to be only prepared against surprises by despising them, he treated the notice as American panics, and advanced, with the tranquillity of a march in Flanders, into the heart of a country where every little art of barbarous war was still in practice. Entering on the 9th into a hollow vale, between two thick woods, a sudden and invisible fire put his men into confusion; they fired disorderly and at random against an enemy whom they did not see, and with so little command of themselves, that the greater part of the officers fell by the shot of their own men, who, having given one discharge, retreated precipitately. In vain were they attempted to be rallied by their officers, who behaved like heroes, and by Braddock, who, finding his generalship exerted too late, pushed his valour to desperation; he had five horses killed under him, and fell. Of sixty officers, near thirty perished; as many were wounded. Three hundred men were left on the field. The General was brought off by thirty English, bribed to that service by Captain Orme, his Aide-de-camp, for a guinea and a bottle of rum a-piece. He lived four days, a witness to the effects of his own rashness and to his erroneous opinion of the American troops, who alone had stood their ground. He dictated an encomium on his officers, and expired. In one respect it was a singular battle, even in that country; there was no scalping, no torture of prisoners, no pursuit; our men never descried above fifty enemies. The cannon was fetched off by the garrison of Fort Duquesne; and among the spoil were found the Duke’s instructions to Braddock, which the French published as a confirmation of our hostile designs. Colonel Dunbar hurried back in great precipitation with the heavier artillery on the first alarm from the fugitives.
What a picture was this skirmish of the vicissitude of human affairs! What hosts had Cortez and a handful of Spaniards thrown into dismay, and butchered, by the novel explosion of a few guns! Here was a regular European army confounded, dispersed by a slight band of those despised Americans, who had learned to turn those very fire-arms against their conquerors and instructors!
These enterprises on land were accompanied on our part by seizing great numbers of French vessels. Sir Edward Hawke was reprimanded for letting two East Indiamen pass; and repaired his fault by sending in two Martinico and two other ships; and these were followed by three rich captures from St. Domingo. The French with folded arms beheld these hostilities; and though our Admiralty issued Letters of Marque and Reprisal on the 29th of August, they immediately released the Blandford man-of-war, which, conveying Mr. Lyttelton to his new government of South Carolina, had been taken by some of their ships, who had not conceived that war on England and from England was not war with England. As late as the beginning of November, they persisted in their pacific civility, sending home ten of the crew of the Blandford, who had remained sick in France, and promising to dispatch another as soon as he should be recovered. Lord Anson, attentive to, and, in general, expert in maritime details, selected with great care the best officers, and assured the King that in the approaching war he should at least hear of no Courts-Martial. One happy consequence appeared of Sir Benjamin Keene’s negotiations: the Spanish court refused positively to embark in the war, having, as they declared, examined the state of the question, and found that the French were the aggressors. Had Ensenada remained in power, it is obvious with what candour the examination would have been made.
But, in the midst of all this ostentation of national resentment, symptoms of great fear appeared in the Cabinet: while Britain dared France, its Monarch was trembling for his Hanover. As we had given so fatal a blow to the navy of France in the last war; as we were undoubtedly so superior to them in America; as we had no Austrian haughtiness to feed and defend; no Dutch to betray and counteract us, we had a reasonable presumption of carrying on a mere naval war with honour—perhaps with success. As all our force was at home; as our fleet was numerous; as Jacobitism had been so unnerved by the late Rebellion, we were much less vulnerable in our island than ever: Ireland was the only exposed part, and timely attention might secure it. The King apprehended that he should be punished as Elector, for the just vengeance that he was taking as King,—the supposition was probable, and the case hard—but how was England circumstanced? was the necessary defence of her colonies to be pretermitted, lest her Ally, the Elector of Hanover, should be involved in her quarrel? While that is the case, do not the interests of the Electorate annihilate the formidable navies of Great Britain?
As the King’s Ministers had resolved on war, his Majesty, now at Hanover, precipitated every measure for the defence of his private dominions. He had no English Minister with him, at least only Lord Holderness, who was not likely to soar at once from the abject condition of a dangling Secretary to the dignity of a remonstrating patriot. One subsidiary treaty was hurried on with Hesse; another with Russia, to keep the King of Prussia in awe: while to sweeten him again, a match was negotiated for his niece, the Princess of Brunswick, with the Prince of Wales; in short, a factory was opened at Herenhausen, where every petty Prince that could muster and clothe a regiment, might traffic with it to advantage: let us turn our eyes and see how these negotiations were received at home. There the Duke of Newcastle was absolute. He had all the advice from wise heads that could make him get the better of rivals, and all the childishness in himself that could make them ashamed of his having got the better. If his fickleness could have been tied down to any stability, his power had been endless. Yet, as it often happens, the puny can shake, where the mighty have been foiled—nor Pitt, nor Fox, were the engines that made the Duke of Newcastle’s power totter. I have mentioned how early his petulant humour had humbled Legge—never was revenge more swiftly gratified. The treaties came over: as acquiescence to all Hanoverian measures was the only homage which the Duke of Newcastle paid to his master, he consented to ratify them. Being subsidiary, it was necessary that the Treasury should sign the warrants: he could not believe his eyes, when Legge refused to sign. He said, the contents had not been communicated to him, nay, not to Parliament: he dared not set his name to what the Parliament might disapprove. Nugent beseeched him to sign; he continued firm. The step was most artful; as he saw he must fall, and knew his own character, it was necessary to quit with éclat. If popularity could be resuscitated, what so likely to awaken it, as refusing to concur in a measure of profusion for interests absolutely foreign? Some coincident circumstances tended to confirm his resolution, and perhaps had the greatest share in dictating it.
I have mentioned the projected match with Brunswick: the suddenness of the measure, and the little time left for preventing it, at once unhinged all the circumspection and prudence of the Princess. From the death of the Prince, her object had been the government of her son; and her attention had answered. She had taught him great devotion, and she had taken care that he should be taught nothing else. She saw no reason to apprehend from his own genius that he would escape her; but bigotted, and young, and chaste, what empire might not a youthful bride (and the Princess of Brunswick was reckoned artful) assume over him? The Princess thought that prudence now would be most imprudent. She immediately instilled into her son the greatest aversion to the match: he protested against it: but unsupported as they were, how to balance the authority of a King who was beloved by his people, who had heaped every possible obligation on the Princess, who, in favour of her and her children, had taught himself to act with paternal tenderness, and who, in this instance, would be blindly obeyed by a Ministry that were uncontrolled? Here Legge’s art stepped in to her assistance; and weaving Pitt’s disgusts into the toils that they were spreading for the Duke of Newcastle, they had the finesse to sink all mention of the Brunswick union, while they hoisted the standard against subsidiary treaties.
Mr. Pitt, who had never contentedly acquiesced in remaining a cipher after the death of Mr. Pelham, and who was additionally inflamed at Mr. Fox’s being preferred to the Cabinet, had sent old Horace Walpole to the Duke of Newcastle the day before the King went abroad, with a peremptory demand of an explicit answer, whether his Grace would make him Secretary of State on the first convenient opportunity; not insisting on any person’s being directly removed to favour him. The response was not explicit; at least, not flattering. From that moment, it is supposed, Pitt cast his eyes towards the successor. Early in the summer Pitt went in form to Holland-house, and declared to Mr. Fox, that they could have no farther connexions; that times and circumstances forbad. Fox asked, if he had suspected him of having tried to rise above him. Pitt protested he had not. “Yet,” said Fox, “are we on incompatible lines?” “Not on incompatible,” replied Pitt, “but on convergent: that sometime or other they might act together: that for himself, he would accept power from no hands.” To others, Pitt complained of Fox’s connexion with Lord Granville; and dropped to himself a clue that led to an explanation of this rupture. “Here,” said Pitt, “is the Duke King, and you are his Minister!” “Whatever you may think,” replied Fox, “the Duke does not think himself aggrandized by being of the Regency, where he has no more power than I have.”
In fact, the Duke of Newcastle, as was mentioned before, had prevailed to have his Royal Highness named a Regent, without acquainting him or asking his consent. When Mr. Fox discovered the intention, and informed the Duke, he would not believe it, and said, “Mr. Fox, I beg your pardon, as you are to be of the number, but I shall not think myself aggrandized.” And it was so little considered as flattery to him, that the King did not name it to him, but sent Lord Holderness with the notification. After this interview and separation, Pitt and Fox imputed the rupture to each other. The truth seemed to be this: Pitt had learned, and could not forgive, Fox’s having disclaimed him; and being united with the Princess, he sought this breach; which was so little welcome to Fox, that, soon after it, a rumour prevailing that Pitt was to be Chancellor of the Exchequer, Fox desired Legge to advise Pitt to accept it, offering himself to take the Paymastership. Legge was suspected of not having reported this message, to which he affirmed Pitt had not listened. What seemed to confirm the Princess’s favour being the price of Pitt’s rupture with Fox, and consequently of his disclaiming the Duke, was Pitt’s appearing to pin it down to the individual day of his visit at Holland-house, as the date from whence his connexion with Fox was to cease. It was discovered, that the very day before he had had a private audience of the Princess. The only spy in the service of the Ministry was a volunteer; Princess Amelie, who traced and unravelled the mystery of this new faction.
However, the little junto forming at Leicester House would have made small impression, if the Duke of Newcastle, in a fit of folly and fear, had not dashed down his own security. Hearing that the Duke of Devonshire, Sir George Lee, Mr. Legge, and some others, declared their disapprobation of the treaties, his Grace took a panic, which with full as little sense he poured into the King the moment he returned. To soften the Duke of Devonshire, they consented to whatever Lord Hartington should ask as terms for treating with the Irish patriots; which disposition had such immediate effect, that the Address of the House of Commons of Ireland was voted without a negative, and the body of the Opposition there manifested their readiness to sell themselves, the moment they knew that the Lord Lieutenant had authority to buy them. Some faint efforts towards tumults were made by little people, who had no chance of being included in the purchase; and the face of Lord Kildare, one of the mollifying demagogues, was blackened on sign-posts; but when chiefs capitulate, they seldom recede for such indignities. But more material was, who should defend the treaties in the English Parliament? Murray shrunk from the service—what! support them against Pitt! perhaps against Fox! They looked down to Lord Egmont—he was uncertain, fluctuating between the hopes of serving under the Princess in opposition, and jealous at the prospect of serving under Pitt too. No resource lay, but in prevailing on either Pitt or Fox to be the champion of the new negotiations. When either was to be solicited, it was certain that the Chancellor and the Duke of Newcastle would not give the preference to the latter.
In this dilemma, his Grace sent for Mr. Pitt, offered him civilities from the King, (for to that hour his Majesty had never spoken to him but once,) a Cabinet Counsellor’s place, and confidence. He, who had crowded the whole humility of his life into professions of respect to the King, was not wanting now to strain every expression of duty, and of how highly he should think himself honoured by any ray of graciousness beaming upon him from the Throne—for the Cabinet Counsellor’s place, he desired to be excused. The Duke of Newcastle then lisped out a hint of the Hessian treaty—“would he be so good as to support it?” “If,” said Pitt, “it will be a particular compliment to his Majesty, most undoubtedly.”—“The Russian?” “Oh! no,” cried Pitt, hastily; “not a system of treaties.” When the Duke of Newcastle could not work upon him, he begged another meeting in presence of the Chancellor, who, being prepared with all his pomp, and subtilties, and temptations, was strangely disconcerted by Pitt’s bursting into the conversation with great humour by a panegyric on Legge, whom he termed the child, and deservedly the favourite child, of the Whigs. A conference so commenced did not seem much calculated for harmony; and accordingly it broke up without effect. Nothing remained but to have recourse to Fox: not expecting the application, he[4] too had dropped intimations of his dislike to the treaties; and he knew they had tried all men ere they could bend their aversion to have recourse to him: yet he was not obdurate: he had repented his former refusal; and a new motive, that must be opened, added irresistible weight to the scale of ambition.
In his earlier life Mr. Fox had wasted his fortune in gaming; it had been replaced by some family circumstances, but was small, and he continued profuse. Becoming a most fond father, and his constitution admonishing him, he took up an attention to enrich himself precipitately. His favour with the Duke, and his office of Secretary at War, gave him unbounded influence over recommendations in the Army. This interest he exerted by placing Calcraft in every lucrative light, and constituting him an Agent for regiments. Seniority or services promoted men slowly, unless they were disposed to employ Mr. Calcraft; and very hard conditions were imposed on many, even of obliging them to break through promises and overlook old friendships, in order to nominate the favourite Agent. This traffic, so unlimited and so lucrative,[5] would have mouldered to nothing, if Mr. Fox had gone into Opposition; his inclination not prompting him to that part, his interest dissuading and the Duke forbidding it; when the new overtures arrived from the Duke of Newcastle, he took care not to consult his former counsellors, who had been attentive only to his honour, but listened to men far less anxious for it. Stone and Lord Granville were the mediators; the latter, at once the victim, the creature, and the scourge of the Duke of Newcastle, undertook the negotiation. The Duke in his fright had offered to resign his power to him; Lord Granville, not weak enough to accept the boon, laughed, and said with a bitter sneer, “he was not fit to be First Minister.” He proposed that Fox should be Chancellor of the Exchequer—to that the Duke, still as jealous as timid, would not listen.
At last Lord Granville settled the terms; that Fox should be Secretary[6] of State, with a notification to be divulged, that he had power with the King to help or hurt in the House of Commons; and a conference being held to ratify the conditions, Fox said, “My Lord, is it not fit that this should be the last time that we should meet to try to agree?” “Yes,” replied the Duke, “I think it is.” “Then,” said Fox, “if your Grace thinks so, it shall be so.” His other terms were moderate, for not intending to be more scrupulous than he knew the Duke of Newcastle would be, in the observance of the articles of their friendship, he insisted on the preferment or promotion of only five persons, Mr. Ellis, Sir John Wynne, George Selwyn, Mr. Sloper, and a young Hamilton,[7] who, in the preceding spring, though connected with the Chancellor’s family, had gone with a frank abruptness, and offered his service to Mr. Fox, telling him “that he foresaw he must one day be very considerable; that his own fortune was easy and not pressing; he did not disclaim ambition, but was willing to wait.” His father had been the first Scot who ever pleaded at the English bar, and, as it was said of him, should have been the last; the son had much more parts. The only impediment to the new accommodation was no obstruction; Sir Thomas Robinson cheerfully gave up the Seals, with more grace from the sense of his unfitness, than from the exorbitant indemnification he demanded. “He knew,” he said, “a year and a half before, why he was selected for that office; for the business of it, he had executed it to the best of his abilities; for the House of Commons he had never pretended capacity.” He desired to be restored to his old office, the Great Wardrobe, in which he had been placed to reform it, and had succeeded. He asked it for his own life and his son’s. They gave it him during pleasure, with a pension of 2000l. a year on Ireland for thirty-one years. When he thanked the Duke of Newcastle, he added, with a touching tenderness, “I have seven children, and I never looked at them with so much pleasure as to-day.” As Lord Barrington was to be removed from the Wardrobe to make room for Sir Thomas, he had the good fortune to find the Secretaryship at War vacant, and slipped into it.
Lord Chesterfield hearing of this new arrangement, said, “The Duke of Newcastle had turned out every body else, and now he has turned out himself.” The whole was scarce adjusted before Mr. Fox had cause to see what an oversight he had committed in extending a hand to save the Duke of Newcastle, when he should have pushed him down the precipice; asking Stone what they would have done if he had not come into them, Stone owned that they would have gone to the King and told him they could carry on his business no longer, and that he must compose a new Ministry. How sincere the coalition was, even on Mr. Fox’s side, appeared by his instantly dispatching an express for Mr. Rigby, the Duke of Bedford’s chief counsellor, to concert measures for prevailing on that Duke to return to Court, and contribute to balance, and then to overthrow, the Duke of Newcastle’s influence.
While the Ministry was in this ferment, they received accounts of a victory, little owing to their councils, and which at once repaired and contrasted Braddock’s defeat. The little Army assembled by some of our West Indian governments, and composed wholly of irregulars, had come up with the French forces to the number of 2000, and defeated them near the Lake St. Sacrament, with slight loss on our part, with considerable on theirs. What enhanced the glory of the Americans was, taking prisoner the Baron de Dieskau, the French General, an able élève of Marshal Saxe, lately dispatched from France to command in chief, while the English Commander was a Colonel Johnson, of Irish extraction, settled in the West Indies, and totally a stranger to European discipline. Both Generals were wounded, the French one dangerously. Sir William Johnson was knighted for this service; and received from Parliament a reward of 5000l.
Mr. Fox’s great point was to signalize his preferment by the accession of the Duke of Bedford and his party; the faction were sufficiently eager for such a junction, the Duke himself most averse to it; especially as the very band of concord was to be an approbation of the treaties; the tenour of his opposition had run against such measures; these were certainly not more of English stamp. When the Duchess and his connexion could not prevail on him to give up his humour and his honour, to gratify their humour and necessities, Mr. Fox and Lord Sandwich employed Lord Fane, whom the Duke of Bedford esteemed as the honestest man in the world, to write him a letter, advising his Grace to vote for the treaties; and they were careful to prevent his conversing with Mr. Pitt, which he wished, or with any other person, who might confirm him in a jealousy of his honour; indeed, he did not want strong sensations of it; they drew tears from him before they could draw compliance. Fox would have engaged him to accept the Privy Seal, which he had prepared the Duke of Marlborough to cede; but the Duke of Bedford had resolution enough to refuse any employment for himself—acquiescing to the acceptance of his friends, they rushed to Court—what terms they obtained will be seen at the conclusion of the year.
November 12th.—The night before the opening of the Parliament, Mr. Fox presided at the meeting at the Cockpit, instead of Mr. Legge, who, with Mr. Pitt, the Grenvilles, and Charles Townshend, did not appear there. They were replaced by the Duke of Bedford’s friends. From thence Mr. Rigby was sent to his Grace with a copy of the Address; and to indulge him, an expression was softened that promised too peremptory defence of Hanover.
13th.—The Houses met. The expectation of men was raised; a new scene was ready to disclose. The inactivity of the late sessions was dispelled; a formidable Opposition, with the successor and his mother at the head, was apprehended: the Ministers themselves had, till the eve of Parliament, trembled for the event of the treaties. Legge, indefatigable in closet applications and assiduity, had staggered many; the promotion of Fox, it was supposed, had revolted many more. A war commenced with France; factions, if not parties, reviving in Parliament, were novel sights to a lethargic age. The immensity of the Debates during this whole session would, if particularized, fatigue the reader, and swell these cursory Memoirs to a tedious compilation: I shall select the heads of the most striking orations, and only mark succinctly the questions and events.
The King’s Speech acquainted the Houses with the outlines of the steps he had taken to protect and regain his violated dominions in America; of the expedition used in equipping a great Maritime Force; of some land forces sent to the West Indies; of encouragement given to the Colonies; of his Majesty’s disposition to reasonable terms of accommodation; of the silence of France on that head; of the pacific disposition of the King of Spain—it very briefly touched on the tender point of the new treaties. In the House of Lords, the Duke of Marlborough and Lord Marchmont moved the Address. Lord Temple, the incendiary of the new Opposition, and Lord Halifax, who could not endure any measure that diverted attention or treasure from the support of our American Settlements, dissented from the Address on the article of the treaties. The Duke of Bedford decently and handsomely excused his approbation of them: the Chancellor, the Duke of Newcastle, and Lord Bathurst, defended them; and no division ensued; yet Lord Temple protested: he had, unwarranted, expressed the Duke of Devonshire’s concern at being prevented by ill health from appearing against the treaties. His Grace was offended at, and disavowed, Lord Temple’s use of his name: he was more hurt at the property he had been made by old Horace Walpole, who no sooner snuffed the scent of new troubles on German measures, than he felt the long wished-for moment approach of wrenching a coronet from the unwilling King. He immediately worked up the Duke of Devonshire to thwart the treaties, declared against them himself, talked up the Whigs to dislike them; and then deserted the Duke and his Whigs, by compounding for a Barony, in exchange for a public defence of the negotiations.
But the clouds that only overcast the House of Lords were a tempest in the Commons; they did not rise till near five in the morning; the longest Debate on record, except on the Westminster election, in 1741. The question was opened disadvantageously for the Court, by the imprudence of Lord Hilsborough, who was to move the Address, and who arrived so late that the speech was read before he came: instead of veiling, he pointed out the tendency of the treaties as an Hanoverian measure; and seemed to describe, while he meaned to defend, the weakness of the Government. He said, the Address was so cautiously conceived, that it would not involve any man who agreed to it, in voting afterwards for the treaties. That it was plain no war on the continent was intended, or we should have seen a larger plan laid before Parliament: here we saw no names of the Queen of Hungary, or King of Sardinia: could we meditate a land war without Allies? That the Russians were only calculated to curb the King of Prussia. That such preparations both on land and sea were making in France, as bespoke a decisive stroke; that stroke could only fall here or on Hanover; here, our safety, there, our honour was concerned. That his Majesty had entered into great expense in his own particular, for defence of Hanover, though the quarrel was England’s not the Electorate’s; and he had taken his measures so successfully, that, with the junction of the Hessians, he could assemble 40,000 men.
Martin, who attended his master, Legge, into Opposition, proposed to omit that part of the Address that engaged assistance to Hanover; but forgetting the paragraph relative to the treaties, and the Court-party taking advantage of that slip, he corrected his Motion, and said, he wished to avoid any subterfuge of the Ministers; no manly Minister would steal approbation, in this surreptitious manner, to a measure that would heap destruction on his head. Young Hamilton[8] opened for the first time in behalf of the treaties, and succeeded admirably: his voice, manner, and language, were most advantageous; his arguments sound though pointed; and his command of himself easy and undaunted. Doddington, though nibbling at the negotiations, betrayed his willingness to turn defendant. He said, considering how greatly unanimity had prevailed of late, one should have thought that the ingenuity of man—or the want of it, could not have hit on means of disunion: these measures had accomplished it at once!—but the days of wantoning with the public were near at an end! That he could not frame a case where the interests of Hanover were less connected with Great Britain; and that therefore this would be a precedent to all posterity to make Hanover always in question. That all hire of troops, but for furnishing our quotas to our Allies, was wrong. That, if it was urged that this contract was cheap, as perhaps abstractedly it was, he should answer, no; you never can purchase a consumption cheap. That he sought for arguments to convince, not to inflame: that, to introduce Russians into the Empire, breaks through all the ties of the Germanic body: would the Princes of the empire submit to see Prussia overwhelmed?—but what must the people at home think, if taxed thus for foreign subsidies, when engaged in a war for defending their own property? That, acquiescing to these treaties concluded during the recess, was giving power to the Crown to raise money without Parliament. That the House was fallen into the dilemma of violating the constitution, or of disgracing the King. That he would concur for protecting Hanover, but the Journals would point out better methods of assistance: the effectual one was, to disable the enemy from attacking it. He wished to omit approbation of the treaties, but would let pass the assurances to the Electorate.
George Granville, in a fine, pathetic speech, drew a picture of the future bad peace, and made an encomium on the late cautious Minister[9]—if this was the caution of his successors, what would their imprudence be? Sir George Lyttelton owned, that, if the Hessians and Russians were retained, (as no doubt they were,) for defence of Hanover, it were a breach of the Act of Settlement; yet he approved the measure, as he urged how unpopular it would be to procrastinate a peace, till indemnification for Hanover could be obtained. Nugent recommended to differ like friends, as England had never been invaded but on supposition of our divisions. Murray, in answer to Beckford, who had wished to have the Duke Elector, argued that it was not in the King’s power to transfer his Electoral dominions, unseverable both by his Majesty and by the Empire in the present state of the Royal Family. He then painted with masterly touches the merit of the King, who might have ensured tranquillity to the evening of his life, had he studied only his own repose. The French would have accorded him fair terms—then they would have encroached a little; then referred the contested points to Commissaries—but his Majesty disdained such tranquillity as would entail greater difficulties on his successor and on the nation. How hard would it be, in return, if we declared against protecting Hanover! if we sowed his pillow with thorns! That he should be sorry if, at the peace, we were to restore our acquisitions in America, in exchange for Hanover, which we had abandoned!—He felt these pictures touched, and pursued them, till he over-acted the pathetic, almost to lamentation.
Sir George Lee (as representative of the Princess’s sentiments, though, not having declared herself openly, she frustrated her own views) was explicitly warm: he said, it was easy for the Ministers to produce unanimity, by pursuing British measures. It was necessary to take this up in a high style, to teach Ministers their duty to the House, which, under this precedent, they would every day more and more forget. Sir Thomas Robinson, still Ministerial, informed the House that the merchants of France had petitioned their Sovereign for redress—were told, “Be patient; you will have ample satisfaction from the divisions of the British Parliament.” Legge protested that he spoke not from a spirit of opposition or resentment; he disapproved the one, he despised the other. Would give his consent to distribute 500,000l., if it would make a good peace; would not give 300,000l. or 400,000l. to buy a war of ten millions. France will drive you to call for these troops, because they will undo you; and you will have superadded (having provoked) Prussia. The Crown can make treaties; it cannot issue money. The nation of money-lenders will distress you. He thought the time was come for leaving the empire to act for itself and its own interest. We ought to have done buying up every man’s quarrel on the continent.
Then ensued a variety of the different manners of speaking ill. Potter flimsily; old Horace Walpole shamelessly; Dr. Hay tritely; George Townshend poorly. The latter had concurred, he said, last year, in granting a large sum confidentially; and was shocked to see it so grossly misapplied. Lord Egmont assembled in one speech more defects than had been dispersed through all the others: he was capricious, obscure, contradictory, dubious, absurd; declared for the negotiations, but would vote against the Address, as it seemed to appropriate the treaties, which he thought beneficial to England, to the service of the Electorate.
These uninteresting discourses served to heighten what wanted no foil, Pitt’s ensuing oration. How his eloquence, like a torrent long obstructed, burst forth with more commanding impetuosity! He and Legge opened their new opposition in the very spirit of their different characters. The one, humble, artful, affecting moderation, gliding to revenge; the other, haughty, defiant, and conscious of injury, and supreme abilities. He began with his solicitude on the use that had been made of the sacred name of the King, so often and so unparliamentarily, and of the cruelty in using it so; formerly, a man would have been brought to the bar for using it so twice: but he had perceived for some time, that every art was practised to lower the dignity of the House; he had long observed it dwindling, sinking! it was to that abuse he objected. No man could feel more veneration for that name that had been mentioned. He particularly felt grateful returns for late condescending goodness and gracious openings. Nor did he as yet feel any other sensations; as yet he had no rancour to any man who had set himself at the head of this measure; as yet that man[10] had only his pity. He said, he did not propose to follow all the various flashy reasonings of the Debate, the scope of which tended to nothing but this, “Follow your leader.” He was lost amidst the number and contradictions, and should only skim over the most remarkable arguments.
One[11] had argued so strangely, as if we were to turn our eyes to these mercenaries as a reserve, if our navies should be defeated—what! must we drain our last vital drop, and send it to the North Pole! If you would traffic for succours with the Czarina, why, rather than her troops, did not you hire twenty of her ships?—he would say why? because ships could not be applied to Hanover. In the reign of Charles the Second, what efforts were made to procure fleets from Sweden and Denmark! Now, the natural system of Europe was lost! He did not know what majorities would do, but this would hang like a millstone about his neck, and sink any Minister along with the nation. We had been told, indeed, that Carthage, and that Spain in 88, were undone, notwithstanding their navies—true; but not till they betook themselves to land operations—and Carthage had, besides, a Hannibal,[12] who would pass the Alps. The present war was undertaken for the long-injured, long-neglected, long-forgotten people of America. That Hanover had been excepted as an Ally by the Act of Limitation, not so much for fear of prejudices, as for its locality. But we are told we must assist them, out of justice and gratitude—out of justice!—we can produce a charter against it—out of gratitude indeed we ought, if Hanover has done anything in our quarrel to draw upon her the resentments of France. Those expressions were unparliamentary, unconstitutional. With all his duty to his Majesty, he must say, that the King owes a supreme service to his people—would our ancestors have used adulation like this? the very paragraph ought to be taken notice of and punished.
Besides, is there anything in the speech about Hanover, that calls for this resolution? Grotius declares it is not necessary even socium defendere si nulla spes boni exitus—then half-turning with an air of the greatest contempt towards Sir George Lyttelton, he said, “A gentleman near me has talked too of writers on the Law of Nations—Nature is the best writer; she will teach us to be men, and not to truckle to power. The noble lord who moved the Address seemed inspired with it! I,” continued he, “who am at a distance from that sanctum sanctorum, whither the priest goes for inspiration, I who travel through a desert, and am overwhelmed with mountains of obscurity, cannot so easily catch a gleam to direct me to the beauties of these negotiations—but there are parts of this Address that do not seem to come from the same quarter with the rest—I cannot unravel this mystery—yes,” cried he, clapping his hand suddenly to his forehead, “I too am inspired now! it strikes me! I remember at Lyons to have been carried to see the conflux of the Rhone[13] and Saone;[14] this, a gentle, feeble, languid stream, and though languid, of no depth—the other, a boisterous and impetuous torrent—but they meet at last; and long may they continue united, to the comfort of each other, and to the glory, honour, and security of this nation! I wanted indeed to know whence came the feebleness of what goes upon too many legs; whose child it is—I see who breeds it up.
“These incoherent un-British measures are what are adopted instead of our proper force—it was our Navy that procured the restoration of the barrier and Flanders in the last war, by making us masters of Cape Breton. After that war, with even that indemnification in our hands, we were forced to rejoice at a bad peace; and bad as it was, have suffered infractions of it every year; till the Ministers would have been stoned as they went along the streets, if they had not at last shown resentment. Yet how soon have they forgotten in what cause they took up arms! Are these treaties English measures? are they preventive measures? are they not measures of aggression? will they not provoke Prussia, and light up a general war? If a war in Europe ensues from these negotiations, I will always follow up the authors of this measure. They must mean a land-war—and how preposterously do they meditate it? Hanover is the only spot you have left to fight upon. Can you now force the Dutch to join you? I remember, everybody remembers, when you did force them: all our misfortunes are owing to those daring wicked councils.[15] Subsidies annihilated ten millions in the last war; our Navy brought in twelve millions. This is the day, I hope, shall give the colour to my life; though it is a torrent, I fear, nothing will resist. Out of those rash measures sprung up a Ministry—what if a Ministry should spring out of this subsidy! I saw that Ministry; in the morning it flourished; it was green at noon; by night it was cut down and forgotten! But it is said, it will disgrace the King to reject these treaties—but was not the celebrated treaty of Hanau transmitted hither, and rejected here? If this is a preventive measure, it was only preventive[16] of somebody’s exit. A coalition followed; and long may it last!” He taxed Murray’s pathetic commiseration of the evening of the King’s life, with being premeditated—“he too,” he said, “could draw a pathetic commiseration of his Majesty; he had figured him far from an honest Council, had figured him surrounded all the summer with affrighted Hanoverians, and with no advocate for England near him—but, alas! we cannot suspend the laws of Nature, and make Hanover not an open defenceless country.” He then opposed a pathetic picture of the distressed situation of this country; and reverting to Murray’s image of the King, said, he believed that within two years his Majesty would not be able to sleep in St. James’s for the cries of a bankrupt people. He concluded with saying, that we imitated everything of France but the spirit and patriotism of their Parliament; and that the French thought we had not sense and virtue enough, perhaps he thought so too, to make a stand in the right place.
This speech, accompanied with variety of action, accents, and irony, and set off with such happy images and allusions, particularly in the admired comparison of the Rhone and Saone, (though one or two of the metaphors were a little forced,) lasted above an hour and a half, and was kept up with inimitable spirit, though it did not begin till past one in the morning, after an attention and fatigue of ten hours. The lateness of hours was become a real grievance, few Debates of importance commencing before three in the afternoon. It was a complaint so general, that some of the great money-offices in the city were forced to change their time of payment from the hours of ten to twelve, to those of from twelve to two.
Fox, tired and unanimated, replied in few words, that we were no longer a representative, if a great majority is not declarative of the sentiments of the nation. Are we to feel no justice and gratitude, unless the King asks it of us? that nobody had used the King’s name so often as Pitt. That the latter had showed a strange curiosity to know whose the measure was, while he said he intended to arraign only the measure. Legge having compared the treaty, (in the light of prevention to a man who, having quarrelled with another, tells him, I am going to such a place with sword and pistol, but don’t you come thither,) Fox said, that many a duel had been prevented, by knowing that your enemy will fight. The attention of the House was entirely put an end to, as it generally was, by Admiral Vernon; and then Doddington and Sir Francis Dashwood moving to leave in the words relative to Hanover, and to omit those that regarded the treaty; and the former question being first put, Pitt and those who were for leaving them out, but did not intend to divide on that, as the least unpopular question, said, no, faintly. The Speaker, who was strongly for leaving out the Hanoverian words, gave it for the noes; so they were forced to divide, and were but 105 to 311. The first division is generally understood as the sense of the House, though in this case it evidently was not; for though the majority for the Court was notorious, yet the real number that dissented from the treaties did not appear; for after the first division, many going away through fatigue, and from having seen the superiority of the Court, on the question of the treaties there were but 89 against 290. After the Debate, Fox said to Pitt, “Who is the Rhone?” Pitt replied, “Is that a fair question?” “Why,” said Fox, “as you have said so much that I did not desire to hear, you may tell me one thing that I would hear: am I the Rhone or Lord Granville?” Pitt answered, “You are Granville.” Lord Temple, no bad commentator of Pitt’s meaning, said that the Rhone meaned the Duke, Fox, and Lord Granville; the Saone, the Duke of Newcastle, the Chancellor, and Murray. Yet it was generally understood that the former was personal to Fox, the latter to Newcastle; the description, languid, yet of no depth, was scarce applicable to the Chancellor, by no means to Murray.
On the 15th, Mr. Fox received the Seals; and on the 20th, Lord Holderness wrote to Mr. Pitt, Mr. Legge, and George Granville, that his Majesty had no further occasion for their service. Pitt answered the letter with great submission. The next day James Granville resigned the Board of Trade. This was all the party that followed voluntarily. Charles Townshend made an offer to Mr. Pitt, (which being offered could not be accepted,) of resigning: Mr. Pitt chose to turn an offer so made into a colour for having so few followers; thanked him, but said, he desired nobody to resign on his account. Lord Temple wrote a supplicatory letter to his sister Lady Hesther, to use her interest with Mr. Pitt, whose fortune was very narrow, to accept a thousand pounds a year. It was accepted. But while this connexion was revolving to patriotism, a fatal ignis fatuus misled poor Sir George Lyttelton to clamber over the ruins of his old friends. Not able to resist his devotion to the Duke of Newcastle, or the impulse of his own ambition, he accepted the office of Chancellor of the Exchequer—had they dragged Dr. Halley from his observatory, to make him Vice-Chamberlain, or Dr. Hales from his ventilators, to act Bayes in the Rehearsal, the choice would have been as judicious: they turned an absent poet to the management of the revenue, and employed a man as visionary as Don Quixote to combat Demosthenes!
These changes had not been made before the opening of the Session, not so much with a view to what temper Mr. Pitt might observe, as to prevent the vacating Mr. Fox’s seat, which would have occasioned his absence on the first day. He had written the circular letters to the Court members, desiring their early attendance, as is usually practised by the ruling Minister in the House of Commons, but had marked that direction so much beyond the usual manner, and had so injudiciously betrayed his own aspirings, that the letter gave general offence. George Townshend, his personal enemy, and who was dragging his brother Charles into opposition to their uncle the Duke of Newcastle, merely on the forced connexion of the latter with Fox, determined to complain of the letter in Parliament. He chose the very day after Mr. Pitt’s dismission, when, under pretence of moving for a call of the House, he said, When a system was likely to be grafted on these treaties, unadopted and proscribed by the constitution, he wished the House should be full. Our Ministers, indeed, had taken upon them to add to the usual respectable summons, not only the Ministerial invitation, but invitation of their own. That they endeavoured to gain approbation individually, which formerly was acquired collectively. That he did not suppose such letters would greatly influence: who would engage themselves so precipitately? Whoever should, their country would despise them. That this was an unconstitutional act of a Minister as desirous of power as ever Minister was, and who was willing to avail himself of his colleague’s friends, though not fond of owning his colleague’s measures. However, that the foundation of his power was laid on a shattered edifice, disfigured by his novelties.
After these and some more such harsh and studied periods, he produced the letter; it did not want its faults, but he knew not how to relieve them; his awkward acrimony defeated his own purpose, and what had seemed so offensive, now ceased to strike any body. The letter was as follows:—
Sir,
The King has declared his intention to make me Secretary of State, and I (very unworthy as I fear I am of such an undertaking) must take upon me the conduct of the House of Commons: I cannot therefore well accept the office till after the first day’s Debate, which may be a warm one. A great attendance that day of my friends will be of the greatest consequence to my future situation, and I should be extremely happy if you would for that reason show yourself among them, to the great honour of,
Dear sir, your, &c. &c.
He did not know, continued Townshend, whose the letter was; he had heard of such a letter—he did not know that the first day of the Session he was electing a Minister; he thought he was called to express his duty to the King on the Address: now he was uncertain whether we were voting measures, or more people into place—but when gentlemen would not obey such letters, was not it necessary to issue other summons? He would advise a Minister to make the constitution the rule of his conduct.
Fox answered, with proper severity, that “it was usual for the informer to acquaint the House who signed such a letter, (though, said he, that is pretty well known,) and to whom it was addressed; though he should not insist on this; but,” continued he, “don’t let this additional imprudence be imputed to me, that I should be thought to have addressed one to that gentleman. I hope too that it is not a necessary part of prudence, that when one writes to a gentleman, one should consider what figure that letter will make, if shown. However, there was no undue influence in these letters; nor were they sent promiscuously, but to gentlemen of great consideration. But indeed the objectionable part proceeded from a false writing; between the words conduct and House of Commons, other[17] words which I will not name, were accidentally omitted.” He added, “I don’t believe that any gentleman gave a copy of this with a design of having it shown. Mr. Townshend allows me common sense; does he think I would say, conduct of the House of Commons? It is very early to treat me as Minister; but I should be proud of his advice. Was showing this letter behaving with the exactness of a gentleman? I protest I don’t know[18] who it was: whoever it was, I am persuaded he is very sorry for what he has done. I may have writ a silly letter; I am sure one of them was sillily addressed.”
Townshend replied, the man who received it was astonished; but hundreds at the distance of a hundred and fifty miles could repeat it by heart. He was sorry he did not receive one. He hoped there would be no more such. Beckford said, it was usual for those in great offices to be imprudent; he had a great regard for the gentleman in question; he has abilities; the rest have not: we have a better chance with a man of sense.
The same day, Mr. Ellis having moved for 50,000 seamen, including 9113 marines, and saying, that in peace we have but a fund of 40,000 sailors, it occasioned some talking, and people were going away, when Pitt rose and said, he shuddered at hearing that our resources for the sea service were so narrowed, especially as Murray had pronounced that we ought to be three times as strong as France, to cope with her. He remembered the fatal[19] measure of the reduction to 8000; he had stated the danger then in the face of power, and against that combined Administration, and that collusion[20] of power that was playing the land and sea into one another’s hands. He would pursue up the authors of such measures as make the King’s Crown totter on his head. That never was a noble country so perniciously neglected, so undone by the silly pride of one man,[21] or the timidity of his colleagues, who would share his power but not his danger. That this must one day be answered for, unless a fatal catastrophe from our hereditary enemy overtakes us. The peril comes from little struggles for a thing called power—is it the power of doing good? On an English question he would not hinder, but implore unanimity; would ask favours of any Minister for his country; would have gone that morning[22] to the honourable gentleman’s levée, to desire him to accept 50,000 seamen, not including marines. If he could obtain it, it would be the first thing done for this country since the peace of Aix. There would be proofs that this war had been colluded and abetted, till broad shame had stared them in the face, till shame and danger had come together. That he had been frightened into these sensations from the highest authority; that the House had adopted those terrors, and was willing to grant more assistance. The House indeed is a fluctuating body, but he hoped would be eternal. It was different from our councils, where everything was thought of but the public. On the contrary, we were a willing, giving House of Commons: the King might call for anything for an English object. That he did not dare to move for 10,000 more seamen, because he would not blemish unanimity. He concluded with a prayer for the King, for his posterity, for this poor, forlorn, distressed country.
Fox said, he was surprised that such a trifle as the reduction of 2000 seamen in 1751 should be made of such moment. So, not voting 2000 more, in a year after the war, was betraying this country! If voting one man more would raise one man, he would agree to it: but voting more, if they could not be raised, would only increase expense. That this number was greater than we had ever had on foot, even in declared wars against France and Spain. That he would never hear Mr. Pelham’s measures censured without defending them. That the reduction mentioned had been the consequence of Mr. Pelham’s economy, and of his provision against a war. He had discharged, too, artificers from the dockyards, and when Lord Anson represented against it, Mr. Pelham answered, you will never pay your debt, if you always go to the extent of what you can do. He had wanted, the same year, to reduce the garrison of Port Mahon, but was told by a great officer that Port Mahon could bear no diminution. With regard to struggles, he said, What the motives of these struggles have been, let those, who have struggled most and longest for power, tell. That for himself, he had been called to his present situation, and exerted his strength with cheerfulness upon a melancholy occasion. That we had been told that nobody who approached the King had sense and virtue; that sense and virtue are somewhere else—but how shall the King hear of them? he feared this House would not inform him. What conversation will lead him to that superior degree of it? that he would exert his degree as cheerfully as if he had struggled for it. Perhaps he had expressed his wishes for earlier augmentation. Mr. Pitt had asked, why it was not made sooner? he would ask, why not demanded sooner? why did Mr. Pitt not call sooner to arms? It came too late now, for no sense and virtue could be added to the reigning spirit of augmentation.
Mr. Pitt rose again, and said, that neither that day nor ever had he said that there were no sense and virtue near the Throne. If he had been misunderstood, he might too have been misrepresented. That if ever man had suffered by those stillettos of a Court which assassinate the fair opinion of a man with his master, he had. That the accusation of his having struggled for power had been received with such assent by the House, that he must speak to it. Was he accused of it, because he had not yielded to poor and sordid measures which he saw tended to destroy his country? That if he had, he might have been introduced to that august place. That it was impossible to go into all the private details of a whole summer, though compelled by such an uncandid manner. He should only say, he might have had, what the honourable gentleman at a long distance of time so gladly accepted. He had been unfortunate, but the measures were so ruinous that he could not with conscience and honour concur in them: would have strained the former a little, as far as to make a compliment, in order to be admitted to that august conversation. That having struggled for power was not the cause of his present situation. Was it not, that he could not submit to these treaties? The challenge, said he, is a bold one; let those who know the truth, tell it!—if they did not, he desired not their suffrage.
Fox rejoining, that the mention of struggles had called him up again, and that he had chosen to forget the gentleman’s former words of no sense and virtue near the Throne, Pitt interrupted him, and speaking to order, said, he averred on his honour those words were not his: his words had been, that France would found her hopes on the want of sense, understanding, and virtue, in those that govern here. That he had not interrupted Mr. Fox before, because he did not love to stop those whom plain truth would answer. Fox’s modesty had taken those words to himself. That nobody feared personal invectives less than himself, nor was he fond of using them. That he would not put the gentleman in mind of struggles to limit the power at which he had hinted. That he had urged these things strongly, in order to ground judicial proceedings. That Sir Thomas Robinson’s notable information of the answer of the Court of France to their merchants, had descended to the public papers. He must congratulate the Government on having some intelligence. Would France build too on his wishing for 50,000 seamen? He did believe our information would improve now Mr. Fox had got the Seals. Wished the latter would tell him what language to hold, which, instead of encouraging, would terrify France. He could not say he had treated Mr. Fox as the Minister—it was not quite that yet. He never went to the[23] place where so many bets were made, but, if he might talk familiarly, would bet on Mr. Fox’s sense and spirit—though some little things were against him.
“But he asks,” continued Pitt, “why I did not call out sooner? My calling out was more likely to defeat than promote. When I remonstrated for more seamen, I was called an enemy to Government: now I am told that I want to strew the King’s pillow with thorns: am traduced, aspersed, calumniated, from morning to night. I would have warned the King: did he? If he with his sense and spirit had represented to the King the necessity of augmentation, it would have been made—but what! if there is any man so wicked—don’t let it be reported that I say there is—as to procrastinate the importing troops from Ireland, in order to make subsidiary forces necessary! This whole summer,” continued he, “I have been looking for Government—I saw none—thank God! his Majesty was not here! the trade of France has been spared sillily—there has been a dead stagnation. Orders contradicting one another were the only symptoms of spirit. When his Majesty returned, his kingdom was delivered back to him more like a wreck, than as a vessel able to stem the storm. Perhaps a little sustentation of life to this country will be obtained by a wretched peace. These,” said he, “are my sentiments; and when a man has truth on his side, he is not to be overborne by quick interrogatories.” That he had not said a word of personality to Fox: that want of virtue was not only the characteristic of the Ministry, but of the age. That he was happy to show a zeal not inferior to that of the Ministers. Let them show him how to contribute to the King’s service, and then tax him with strewing the royal pillow with thorns! But what were the services of those who were so alert in loading him? Murray, indeed, had vaunted that 140,000 of the best troops in Europe were provided for the defence of Hanover—who boasts of what numbers are prepared for England? for America? Compare the countries, compare the forces that are destined for the defence of each! Two miserable battalions of Irish, who scarce ever saw one another, had been sent to America, had been sent to be sacrificed—if this parallel was exaggerated, he desired to be made happy by being told so.
Fox, with great temper, observed how unparliamentary it was to speak so long to order: said, he was glad to hear that he was not Minister, though he certainly had been treated so. That upon his honour he did not know to the offer of what Mr. Pitt had said no. He himself had stayed till everybody had said no. That he had lived near town[24] all the summer, as happy as any man that then heard him. His opinion had been for subsidies—was asked if it was: on affirming it, was told, “Then support them.” Would quit, when his opinion should be otherwise. Wished every ill might happen to him, if he had done Mr. Pitt any hurt in the closet: thought it the strongest point of honour not to accuse a man where he could not defend himself. If he underwent any loss of power, should be amply recompensed by not being treated as if he had it.
Fox, keeping thus almost wholly on the defensive, was chiefly to be admired for his great command of himself, which the warmth he had used to show now made remarkable. Murray, who had laid in wait to profit of any slips that Pitt might make in this contest, rose with an artful air of affected doubt; hinted at the irregularity of the Debate; observed that Mr. Pitt’s proposal of more seamen was unnecessary; “do not all estimates come from the Crown? The Ministers must know what supplies they shall want, and what to demand; invectives to be slighted—how great the power of eloquence that could dress up the want of 2000 men, in 1751, into the source of the war!—that there never was an honester man than the Minister who determined that reduction; thought he had died in friendship with that gentleman.” Pitt could not stand this severe reflection, but interrupted him to say, his friendship for Mr. Pelham had been as real as Murray’s. The latter, as if corrected, continued coolly, that Mr. Pelham had wanted to introduce a system of economy: were he alive, perhaps, we should have fewer struggles, if all who supported under him did still. He begged to ask one question; it was to clear up something to himself, and for the information of others: he believed those who sat near him understood that Mr. Pitt said he had refused Secretary of State;—pray had he? This cut still deeper. Pitt had certainly intended to insinuate so, but being pushed, replied, no, he had only refused to come into measures.[25]
I have dwelt the longer on this Debate, (though so little was said to the question, and though indeed there scarce was a question,) as it greatly opened the characters of the speakers, and tended to confirm the accounts I have given above.