CHAPTER VII.
During his first session of Parliament, Pitt never opened his mouth: indeed, his only public performance was to tell in a division. In 1736 he became better known. He supported an address of congratulation to the Crown on the marriage of the Prince of Wales. This formal and complimentary speech has been absurdly scrutinised because of the speaker's subsequent fame, and much has been read into it which no impartial reader can now discern. A notorious eulogy describes it as superior even to the models of ancient eloquence. Others read into it piercing innuendoes and vitriolic sarcasm. All this was discovered, long after its delivery, by the light of Pitt's later achievements. It is said that George II. never forgave it. But George II.'s hatred of Pitt is more easily accounted for by other offences. It is rumoured that Walpole shuddered when he heard it, and said, 'We must muzzle that terrible cornet of horse.' The ordinary reader sees in the reported speech nothing which would provoke admiration or alarm in anybody were it attributed to any one who had remained obscure. But the report, though elaborate, was probably inaccurate; the speech may have been more vicious than appears; it must, at any rate, have been something very different from smooth platitudes on a royal marriage that would have made Walpole tremble, if indeed Walpole was liable to any such emotion. The truth, no doubt, is that the graces of voice, person, and delivery marvellously embellished this maiden effort, and produced a striking effect on the audience.
But, whatever its intrinsic merits, the success of this speech was immeasurably enhanced, if not altogether secured, by Walpole's action. It may indeed be said to have been made famous by the penalty which followed it rather than by its own merits. He deprived the young orator and cornet of his commission.
'The servile standard from the freeborn hand
He took, and bade thee lead the patriot band,'
sang Lyttelton to Pitt.
It was a vindictive act which seems alien to Walpole's boisterous good humour, but of a kind to which Walpole's arbitrary notions of political discipline made him singularly prone. So petty an act of vengeance wreaked on so young and subordinate an officer by a powerful Prime Minister seems incredible in our larger or laxer days. But it was perhaps the very slightness of Pitt's position which was an inducement to Walpole. He was determined, it may be, that the whole army, from the highest to the lowest, should feel the weight of his hand. The disgrace of political generals seemed just and proper, it was cutting off the heads of the tallest poppies, a proceeding recognised and respectable since the days of Tarquin. These penalties had left the mass of the army unmoved, not impossibly because the removal of chiefs means the promotion of subordinates. So Walpole may have resolved that all in the service of the Crown should feel that revolt against the minister of the Crown was a flagrant crime. Generals had been punished, and so all officers from the highest, to the lowest should be liable to the same pains and penalties; nay private soldiers, were their lot enviable, might suffer the same deprivation. 'The King,' wrote Lady Irwin, a lady of the Prince of Wales' household, to her brother, Lord Carlisle, 'two days ago turned out Mr. Pitt from a cornetcy for having voted and spoke in Parliament contrary to his approbation. He is a young man of no fortune, a very pretty speaker, one the Prince is particular to, and under the tuition of my Lord Cobham. The Army is all alarmed at this, and 'tis said it will hurt the King more than his removing my Lord Stairs and Lord Cobham, since it is making the whole army dependent, by descending to resent a vote from the lowest commission, which may occasion a representation in parliament to prevent all officers of the army from sitting there.'[110]
It may, however, have been that Pitt's dismissal was due not to his obscurity but to an exactly opposite consideration.
Pitt's nephew, Lord Camelford, asserts as an undoubted fact that the reputation both of Pitt and of Lyttelton was so considerable before they entered Parliament, and their political tendencies so notorious, that Walpole made considerable offers to Thomas Pitt on condition that he did not brings them in for any of his boroughs. 'William's early abilities,' writes Lord Camelford, 'induc'd Sir Robert Walpole to offer my father (Thomas Pitt) any terms not to bring him or his brother-in-law Mr. Lyttelton into Parliament,' but 'my father preferred their interests to his own, and laid the foundations, at his own expense, for all his brother's future fame and greatness.' It is a tradition that Canning, when in office, kept his eye on promising lads at Eton who might make eligible followers. One would not, however, have imagined that Walpole was so much in touch with the rising youth of the country. But if Camelford may be credited, and there seems no reason to doubt him, Walpole was prejudiced and on his guard against Pitt before Pitt opened his mouth; and he may have been hurried into a petulant act by previous friction unconnected with the speech, which may, moreover, have contained irritating innuendoes directed against Walpole, which Walpole alone understood.
The Minister had not been so foolish as to alienate without trying to secure, and his failure may have exasperated him the more. In later years Pitt told Shelburne that Sir Robert had offered him the troop which was afterwards given to Conway, so that had he remained in the army he would have stood high by seniority alone. This offer, we may conjecture, was just previous to the overtures to Thomas Pitt. Walpole, hearing reports of the young officer's conspicuous abilities and of his hostility to the Government, would try and fix his ambitions in the army. Failing that, he would try and exclude him from Parliament. And failing all pacific overtures, he would try different methods. It is possible, and even probable, that expressions passed during the negotiations which left a sting. But it now seems clear that no young private member, without means or influence, ever caused such active disquietude.
There is yet another, and, perhaps, a simpler reason. Pitt, as we have seen, had become identified with the fortunes and party of Cobham, who was Walpole's bitter enemy. Conciliation having been found futile, the Minister determined that the young soldier should suffer the same penalty as the old general. The old gamecock had lost his spurs, so should the young cockerel. If Pitt were so devoted to Cobham, he should have the gratification of sharing Cobham's martyrdom. Cobham had lost his regiment; Pitt should lose his commission. In striking Pitt he would also wound Cobham. So the removal was carried out in a spirit of pettiness which was criticised at the time, and seems incredible to posterity. 'At the end of the session,' says Hervey, 'Cornet Pitt was broke for this, which was a measure at least ill-timed if not ill-taken;' which he explained by saying that if done at all it should have been done immediately on his speech. Hervey, though an ardent Walpolian, evidently thought the whole proceeding was disproportionate to the offender and the offence. But the result of the intended disgrace was, we are told, immediate popularity. Pitt after his dismissal drove about the country in a one-horse chaise without a servant, and everywhere the people gathered round him with enthusiasm.[111]