The evening of this novel day was still more tempestuous. The Committee of Elections opened. Mr. Gray, a steady but plausible Tory, favoured by the Chancellor and Sir George Lyttelton, desired to have the petition against him from Colchester deferred, till it was sure of being heard. Sir Thomas Robinson said, “That might be soon, for the Reading election, which was to precede it, could not last long; there was but a majority of one vote for Lord Fane, and it was a poor cause.” Pitt sprung up, and attacked Sir Thomas fiercely; told him how ignorant he was to talk in that style of a cause unheard; that he was not to be thus taught his duty by any man; but if the first officer in the State could make so gross a supposition, there would be short work with elections: he never thought to see so melancholy a day! Sir Thomas replied with pomp, confusion, and warmth, that spirit should be shown: could gentlemen, could merchants, could the House bear, if eloquence alone was to carry it? he hoped words only would not prevail! that for himself, he executed an office, of which he had never been ambitious. Pitt replied with cool art, and showed that he had only aimed the stroke at the Duke of Newcastle, through Sir Thomas, to whom he now spoke with respect, and with esteem of his integrity; adding, that he thought him as able as any man that had of late years filled that office, or was likely to fill it. The weapons that Pitt laid down Fox took up, and exercised them with still more inveteracy and warmth on poor Sir Thomas and his ignorance: “If one of the greatest men in the House pronounced it a poor cause, it would indeed be a poor cause; but he imputed it to his inexperience: he was the first great man, and he hoped would be the last, that ever pronounced so on a cause unheard!” It was plain that Pitt and Fox were impatient of any superior; and as plain by the complexion and murmurs of the House in support of Sir Thomas Robinson, that the inclinations of the members favoured neither of them.
27th.—The Committee sat on the Army, late but without a division; and in general the Debate was dull: the subject had long been exhausted, and during the former Opposition had been a constant day for teaching young and callow orators to soar. The younger Beckford, who had been announced for a genius, and had laid a foundation for being so, by studying magazines and historical registers, made a tedious harangue against standing armies; and moved for 15,000 men, instead of the old number of 18,800. Lord Barrington answered him well, and told him how little difference it would make to the constitution; if eighteen thousand intended to overturn it, fifteen might. That none of the usual number could be spared; from whence could they? The licentiousness of the capital, the mutinous miners and colliers, the smugglers, the destroyers of turnpikes, all the outlaws that increase of riches and licence produces and encourages, all were to be kept in awe. And so far from soldiers being a burthen, the country rejoices in being under their protection. That instead of squabbling for trifles, everybody should unite at this conjuncture to make the late great man as little missed as possible. That the great men he has left will show spirit; and spirit never brought on a war. His Majesty has the hearts of the people, of all who can feel gratitude or the benefits of their own situation. The Ministry have popularity, and it must be owing to Beckford’s absence in Jamaica, that he did not know that the period which he had wished to see of a popular King and Administration, was actually arrived—but perhaps Jamaica Newspapers were as faulty as our own. Fox told the elder Beckford, that if he was Sheriff next year, he hoped he would not keep the resolution he had declared, of not calling in the military, if they are wanted: and added, that the soldiers behave so discreetly, that in eight years that he had been Secretary at War, he had not received three complaints in a year, even from innkeepers.
Nugent added in reply to Beckford (who had said that the Opposition were Whigs and the Ministry Tories,) that he hoped he had not taken his idea of Whigs from those who refused King William his Dutch troops: if he had, he did not wonder that he mistook the Ministers for Tories. He applied the old apologue of the hen and ducklings; and then flew out into this gross and barefaced strain, that there did not exist an honester man than the Duke of Newcastle! professing that he should be the most crouching slave if he meant this for flattery. Pitt, only smiling at this Drawcansir in adulation, and bent to pursue the humiliation of Murray, said that the moderation of the Estimate was a proof of the Crown’s attention to economy; but he could by no means agree in our opulence, and would recommend it to gentlemen not to deceive themselves or others. We are in reality a distressed people: he hated declamation, and was as little given to anger, but nothing should hinder him from asserting what he felt, and from averring what he knew. Young members may allow too much to what is spoken in that place: when anybody says he don’t believe that Jacobitism exists, he would tell him to his face he did not believe what he said. Nugent called him to order.
Pitt was a little disconcerted, but resuming himself said, “For the nursing mother, the hen, he had been bred under such an one,[250] and he would tell the House what she had been doing for these twenty years; she had been raising a succession of treason—there never was such a seminary! but he would throw himself into the gap, and would as cheerfully make his protest alone, as in the most applauding assembly. He knew what he was; he knew what he would be; and was too cool not to know what he said. That the body he meant (Oxford) was learned and respectable: so much the more dangerous! he would mention what had happened to himself the last summer on a party of pleasure thither. They were at the window of the Angel Inn; a lady was desired to sing God save great George our King! The chorus was re-echoed by a set of young lads drinking at a college over the way, but with additions of rank treason. He hoped, as they were lads, he should be excused from not having taken more notice of it. After this, walking down the High Street, in a Bookseller’s shop he observed a print of a young Highlander with a blue ribbon: the Bookseller, thinking he wanted to buy it, held it out to him—but what was the motto!—hunc saltem everso Juvenem!—This was the prayer of that learned body—for it was in Latin!” Colours, much less words, could not paint the confusion and agitation that worked in Murray’s face during this almost apostrophe! his countenance spoke everything that Fawcett had been terrified to prevaricate away.
Two days after this, an incident happened of a private nature, scarce worth mentioning, but as it served to dissolve the remains of so historic a friendship as that of Mr. Pitt and Sir George Lyttelton, and brought out all the colours of some remarkable characters. Mr. Conway was repeating with concern to the younger Walpole the lamentations of Sir George on Mr. Pitt’s coldness[251] and his own apprehensions that the complexion of the times denoted new troubles. Walpole, who had not so pacific a disposition, but whose passion to see a new Opposition had been considerably damped by Mr. Fox’s acquiescence under the Duke of Newcastle’s sole power, and who loved Mr. Conway enough to sacrifice to his love of peace, when he had little prospect of gratifying his own love of party, owned to him carelessly, that he knew the Duke of Bedford had a propensity to reconcile himself to the Court, that the Duchess and her friends were eager for it, and gave Mr. Conway leave to talk it over with Sir George Lyttelton, if by any means they could make use of this disposition to reconcile the growing humours. It was singular, that Horace Walpole, who had so eagerly attacked the promotion both of Pitt and Lyttelton, should, in the most distant manner, negotiate their re-union. However, on reflection (for it is certain that he had dropped this discourse without any), he recollected, that it was not acting handsomely by Mr. Fox, who at least was out of humour, to throw new strength into the Duke of Newcastle; and accordingly went to Mr. Conway to retract the permission he had given, and to desire no mention might be made of what had passed in their conversation—but how was he surprised to meet Mr. Conway coming to him in the greatest anxiety, and begging his pardon, for what indeed Mr. Conway was not to blame.
In short, Sir George Lyttelton, who had before professed to Mr. Conway a resolution of quitting his employment, unless he could hold it with Mr. Pitt’s good opinion, had been so struck with the first idea of what he heard of the Duke of Bedford, and saw such an opening to favour by transacting the treaty, that instead of consulting with, or leaving it to Mr. Conway’s coolness or fitness to chalk out the path of negotiation, he hurried to Newcastle House, and whispered his intelligence. Newcastle said, with his usual hurry, “My dear Sir George, there is nothing I would not give to accomplish such a reconciliation.” Sir George, accepting this declaration as full powers, and forgetting at once that he was aggravating his breach of friendship with Mr. Pitt, and that of all men living he was the most improper to transact with the Duke of Bedford on so nice a point, having quitted him for Newcastle, and being involved in a private family quarrel with him too, posted away to Bedford House, demanded an audience, took no measures to soften the abruptness of his commission, but at once told that Duke, that he understood his Grace was a little mollified, and in the Duke of Newcastle’s name, offered him charte blanche.—How was the volunteer Ambassador astonished at a flat refusal! The hot little Duke was transported with the importance this gave him; and notwithstanding the solicitation of the Duchess and his Court, whose measures were all overset by Lyttelton’s awkward policy, the Duke immediately sent for Mr. Pitt, and communicated the message. Pitt flattered his steady virtue and disinterestedness, and broke openly with Sir George, who was first disavowed by the Duke of Newcastle, and then disavowed his own having gone so far as he had done. Horace Walpole, who would have had art indeed, had he planned and foreseen how the event would blow up the six months’ labour of the pacific part of Bedford House, but who had acted merely from inadvertence, laughed and confirmed the Duke of Bedford in his highest opinion of his own importance and steady virtue.
The late impetuous and joint attack on Sir Thomas Robinson had alarmed his principal: the Duke of Newcastle saw his mighty power totter; yet he could not determine to share it. The first thought was to dismiss Pitt. This was too bold a measure to have the preference long: the next, more natural, was to try to sweeten Fox: accordingly, on the morning of the 29th, the King sent for Fox, and reproached him for concurring to worry Sir Thomas Robinson, and asked him if he had united with Pitt to oppose his measures? Fox assured him he had not, and that he had given him his honour he would resign first. “Then,” said the King, “will you stand up and carry on my measures in the House of Commons, as you can do, with spirit?” Fox replied, “I must know, Sir, what means I shall have, or I cannot answer for what I cannot answer.” “It will be better for you,” said the King; “you shall have favour, advantage, and confidence”—but would not explain particulars, only asking, if he would go to the Duke of Newcastle. “I must, if you command me,” answered Fox, “go and say I have forgot everything.” “No,” replied the King: “I have a good opinion of you; you have abilities and honesty, but you are too warm. I will send a common friend, Lord Waldegrave.” He told him too, “I have obligations to you that I never mentioned; my son (the Prince) tried you, and you would not join him; and yet you made no merit of it to me.”
The negotiation was entrusted to Lord Waldegrave: Stone, probably from perceiving that Murray dared not undertake the rudder of the House of Commons, promoted the treaty—and did himself no service with the Princess, who prevailed on Lord Egmont to accept, and on the King to offer him an employment. The Junto, who had laboured to keep Pitt and Fox disunited, more than to secure either of them, were reduced to take the one or the other. The Chancellor had discovered so much of the secret of his breast, as to ask Pitt, “Could you bear to act under Fox?” Pitt replied, “My Lord, leave out under; it will never be a word between us; Mr. Fox and I shall never quarrel.” Originally, Pitt had assured the Chancellor and the Duke of Newcastle that he would not unite with Fox. When he saw that to promote division was their only drift, he sought heartily and sincerely to league with Fox, and told him that they had formalized at his professions.
Fox, irresolute, affecting content, borne down by the Duke from opposition, and aspiring at sole power, conferred with Pitt, but would not enter into real measures. The King proposed that Fox should write his demands: he asked for time, waiting to see what should be their decision on Pitt, who set them at defiance. The Duke of Marlborough proposed to Fox, to limit his demands to a Cabinet-Counsellor’s place, “For,” said he, “you don’t mind money.” The Duke of Cumberland disapproved the advice: “The King,” said his Royal Highness, “could do better and more sensibly than he will, but he will do just as the Duke of Newcastle bids him. He has a good memory; he will remember this; and when he sees a proper occasion, perhaps some years hence, he will tell you you did right—but he will never tell you so till he sees that occasion. I don’t know him, but by what you tell me, Pitt is, what is scarce—he is a man. If they should give you this Cabinet-Counsellor’s place, and Pitt should hereafter attack the Duke of Newcastle, and you should not defend him, they will say you have broke your word.”