Barrington, the orator continued, had cited the Romans. He need not go so far afield, our own days had produced as great examples. In 1746, thirteen regiments had been raised by noblemen who, though they had not like the Romans left their ploughs, had left their palaces to save their country. With what scorn, depression, and cruelty, so far as contempt is cruelty, had they been treated!
He wished the country gentry encouraged to raise a militia, for he was anxious to call the country out of that enervated condition that the menace of twenty thousand men from France could shake it. It was our Government that was degenerate, not our people. He wished the breed restored that had formerly carried our glory so high. What did those Ministers deserve, and again he insinuated mysterious hints of connivance and collusion, what did those Ministers deserve, who, after Washington had been defeated and our forts taken, advised his Majesty to trust to so slender a force as had been sent. He was for no vindictive proceedings against them; they erred from the weakness of their heads rather than their hearts. But a sagacity something less than that of a Richelieu or a Burleigh could have foreseen what would happen.
Fox replied with urbanity and compliment, for there was at this time a marked courtesy in the language of the two protagonists, as of men who did not know how soon they might be allies. Pitt denounced Newcastle, and Fox did not defend him. This, too, must be noticed. Why, Fox now asked, had Pitt not made this noble speech sooner, when we were indeed asleep, before the French had wakened us. 'If he had made it,' said Fox, 'I am sure I should have remembered it: I am not apt to forget his speeches.' Let Pitt himself take in hand a Militia Bill. It was evidently Fox whom Pitt had described as treating the thirteen regiments with contempt, at least Fox now fitted the cap on himself. He said that he thought obloquy too harsh a term to apply to his language on that occasion; nevertheless, he should not disown anything he had said. But he must make a clear distinction between these noble persons. He thanked God there was one noble duke, able and willing to save his country, who went to the King, and offered to go and try if, with his lowlanders, he was not a match for any highlanders. This was an elaborate compliment to Bedford, whose political lowlanders were now at the service of the Government, though not the Chief himself. Fox at the same time made an invidious comparison to the detriment of the Duke of Montagu, and was on the point of saying that he must discriminate between dukes, for though some deserved everything from their country for the part they took, yet he should not be for trusting others to raise a regiment who could not raise half a crown. There was evidently money to be made out of these patriotic impulses.[312]
Pitt excused himself for not having sooner raised the cry of danger on the ground that he had been lulled into composure by the previous Speech from the Throne. When he became alarmed he made representations in private, so long as he was allowed to do so. But now the alarm must be sounded in Parliament itself, for we have invited into our bowels a war that was the child of ignorance and connivance. If there be justice in Heaven, Ministers must some day answer for this.
Nugent, an Irish adventurer of the type known to comedy, paid his court to Newcastle by a burlesque attack on Pitt. And even Robinson appeared once more on the scene with a panegyric on himself, which, though ridiculous to his audience, was by no means superfluous. The other notable speeches, delivered by Charles Townshend, Sackville, and Beckford, do not affect our subject.[313]
Dec. 8, 1755.
Five days later, George, who was afterwards Marquis, Townshend, brought forward a Militia Bill. Pitt took this occasion of responding to Fox's challenge by unfolding a plan of his own. No scheme, he said, could be carried out without the co-operation of the Government, the Army, the Law, and the country gentry. But he unfortunately came under none of these descriptions. He knew no secrets of Government; he had too early been driven from the profession of arms; he had never studied the law; he was no country gentleman.
His plan was made the groundwork of a Bill, which occupied much time in the Commons, but was lost in the Lords.
It provided for an infantry militia of fifty or sixty thousand men, to be summoned compulsorily by the civil power: to be exercised twice a week, one of these days to be Sunday, if the clergy did not raise too much objection. It was to have the same pay as the infantry, but plain clothing, 'not pretending to all the lustre of the army.' The non-commissioned officers were to be private soldiers, not fewer than four to every eighty men.
What millions, he said, would have been saved by such a force during the last thirty years! And what an inglorious picture for this country, to figure gentlemen driven by an invasion like a flock of sheep, and forced to send money abroad to buy courage and defence! If this scheme should prove oppressive, provincially or parochially, he was willing to give it up. But surely it was preferable to waiting to see if the wind would blow you subsidiary troops. These, always an eyesore, you would never want again if this Bill were passed. This speech marked another step forward in Pitt's career; for he opened his plan with a plain precision, a mastery of detail, and a business-like clearness the House had not expected from him. 'He had never shone in this light before.'[314]