So the falling Minister in his straits tried to play upon the King's two strongest passions, fear of being dominated and fear for Hanover. How wise Pitt was to go straight to Lady Yarmouth! But Newcastle had tried other measures as well after Fox's resignation. The very day he received it he had hurried to his old enemy Granville, now comfortably ensconced in the Presidency of the Council, and offered to exchange offices with him, giving him his friend Fox as Chancellor of the Exchequer.[354] Granville, he remembered, had once been willing to face far greater hazards with Pulteney. But Granville was ten years older; he had, to use his own expression, put on his nightcap; and he laughed the suppliant Duke out of the room. 'I will be hanged a little before I take your place,' he said, not perhaps without some relish for his chief's terror and distress, 'rather than a little after.' But he added more gravely that 'we must determine either to give Mr. Fox what he wants, or to take in Mr. Pitt; who,' Newcastle adds piteously, 'will not come.'[355] Then Newcastle tried Egmont and Halifax. Egmont was willing to take the seals with a British peerage. But it was in the House of Commons that strength was wanted. No such strength was to be found without Pitt or Fox. Dupplin, one of the Paymasters, an able man of business and much in Newcastle's confidence, said broadly and truly, 'Fox and Pitt need only sit still and laugh, and we must walk out of the House!' And yet the House of Commons was almost unanimous in devotion to the Minister. Was there ever so strange a situation?
In view of this last fact Hardwicke urged Newcastle to hold on; and Lyttelton, to inspirit him, offered to accept any office. This well-intentioned proposal failed to animate the Duke, though it was gratefully recognised. There was nothing left but the rank and file; ardent supporters with nothing to support. The Government was doomed.
Instructions from counties and boroughs were coming up as in the days of the impeachment of Walpole. Addresses were presented to the Throne. The country was thoroughly roused. And its hopes and gaze were fixed solely on Pitt, a private member, untried in affairs, with scarce a follower in Parliament. He, at any rate, had not failed, a negative merit indeed, but one which he alone of the leading statesmen of the time could claim.
Newcastle was left alone with Hardwicke. Around them that desert had begun to form which portends the fall of a Ministry; though their faithful Commons still awaited their bidding in silence. And at last the old Duke realised that he must resign, but determined that Hardwicke should resign too, perhaps to make his own resignation regretted, perhaps because he would not leave behind him an asset of such value. 'My dearest, dearest Lord,' he wrote, 'you know how cruelly I am treated and indeed persecuted by all those who now surround the King.' Hardwicke's friendship, he said, was now his only comfort, Hardwicke's resignation would be his honour, glory, and security. 'But, my dearest Lord, it would hurt me extremely if yours should be long delayed.' And indeed, Hardwicke, to the regret of all, consented to leave the woolsack and follow his friend. Newcastle was shrewd enough to know that under the existing conditions in Parliament he could scarcely fail soon to return to office. But Hardwicke did not return.
When the King was sure that Newcastle was really going, he sent for Fox and bade him try if Pitt would join him. 'The Duke of Newcastle whom you hate will retire,' said the Sovereign; 'try your hand and see what youOct. 28, 1756. can do with Pitt.'[356] Next day Fox went to the Prince's levee at Saville House, and engaged Pitt in close and animated conversation for some twenty minutes. 'Mr. Pitt exceeding grave, Mr. Fox very warm. They did not seem to part amicably.'[357] Of this talk a famous fragment survives, characteristic of political language in those days. 'Are you going to Stowe?' asked Fox. 'I ask because I believe you will have a message of consequence from people of consequence.' 'You surprise me,' answered Pitt, 'are you to be of the number?' 'I don't know,' said Fox, taken aback. 'One likes to say things to a man of sense,' rejoined Pitt, 'and to men of your great sense, rather than to others. And yet it is difficult even to you.' Fox caught his hint at once. 'What! You mean that you will not act with me as Minister.' 'I do,' replied Pitt. But a moment after he felt that he had been too abrupt, and expressed a courteous hope that Fox would take an active part, which his own health would not permit him to do.[358]
Was Pitt right in refusing the concurrence of Fox? On that question we must allow him to be the best judge, as it is obvious that he did not act in heat or passion, and that we cannot know the situation as he did. To us now, viewing the poverty of his following and the useful abilities of Fox, it would seem that he made a palpable mistake. Fox would have taken the second place; as a matter of fact he was content to subside into the gilded subordination of the Paymastership. His talents as a debater were second only to Pitt's with the possible exception of Charles Townshend's; but Townshend was only a shooting star, and did not, like Fox, represent the important influence of Cumberland. Fox would have fought stolidly for the side he espoused; he had a leaning to Pitt, and shared Pitt's detestation of Newcastle, who was the common enemy. But Pitt evidently had determined that he must sever himself entirely from Newcastle and Newcastle's Minister in the House of Commons. On both these rested the taint of corruption and national disaster. He must, if he was to keep the confidence of the country, cut himself clear from these personalities and their traditions. He could estimate the weight of odium which rested upon them, which we cannot. He had all the facts of the case before him, which we have not. He knew, what we do not know for certain but cannot doubt, that Leicester House made the exclusion of Fox or of Cumberland in any form a condition of cordial support. He realised the weakness of his own parliamentary position, he well understood the value of Fox's co-operation, but he also knew the temper of the nation, and so we cannot doubt that he came to the right decision.
In any case Fox was not to blame. He offered, and we think cordially offered, to co-operate with Pitt, and, indeed, serve under Pitt. Public spirit perhaps was not his main motive. He did not, he confessed, feel equal to the principal place. He had written in July: 'Though I see how fatally things are going, as I don't know how to mend them, I am not unreasonable enough to wish for what I could not conduct.'[359] And things were much worse now. Moreover, he saw, as others saw, that it was only the combination of himself with Pitt that could keep out Newcastle. But in public affairs the best and fairest course is not to analyse motives. He made the offer, he made it sincerely, and must have the credit of it.
But Pitt was inflexible. Those who had made him feel the weight of their proscription should feel the weight of his. Fox would have liked to be Paymaster. In that subordinate but opulent post he would have been content to give support. But Pitt would have none of him. He refused him this slight favour on the mysterious ground that it 'would be too like Mr. Pelham in 1742.'[360] He would not touch Fox or Newcastle.