Mr. Pelham was timorous, reserved, fickle, apt to despair. He would often not attempt when he was convinced it would be right; would sooner hurt himself by not telling his mind, than attain his aim by being communicative; and often gave up his party, indeed not to serve himself, but his enemies, and frequently disappointed himself of success, by never expecting to succeed. Presumption made Sir Robert Walpole many enemies; want of confidence in himself kept from Mr. Pelham many friends. Sir Robert Walpole was content to have one great honest view, and would overlook or trample upon the intermediate degrees. Mr. Pelham could never reach a great view, by stumbling at little ones; he would scruple to give an hundred pound to one opponent, and to buy off another would give up a question[200] that might endanger the nation. Sir Robert Walpole loved power so much, that he would not endure a rival; Mr. Pelham loved it so well, that he would endure anything. The one would risk his administration, by driving every considerable man from Court, rather than venture their being well there; the other would employ any means to take able men out of the Opposition, though he ventured their engrossing his authority and outshining his capacity; but he dreaded abuse more than competition, and always bought off his enemies to avoid their satire, rather than to acquire their support: whereas, Sir Robert Walpole never trading but for members, and despising invectives, and dreading rivals, gained but weak, uncertain assistance, and always kept up a formidable Opposition. His apprehension of competitors was founded on prudence, because great part of his authority depended upon the King’s favour: Mr. Pelham owing nothing to that, had the less reason to fear losing it; as he maintained himself in the Ministry in spite of the King’s partiality to abler men, he had no reason to be jealous of their getting interest at Court.

Sir Robert Walpole raised himself to the head of the Administration, without interest, without fortune, without alliances, and in defiance of the chiefs of his own party:[201] he rose by the House of Commons—he fell by it. Mr. Pelham found himself next upon the list, and was recommended to a strong party by their leader. He would never have risen, had he had no other foundation than the House of Commons, and would fall to-morrow if he had no other support; for he must be undone whenever his safety depends upon himself. Sir Robert Walpole’s eloquence was made for use, and he never could shine but when it was necessary[202] he should. He wanted art when he had no occasion for it; and never pleased, but when he did more than please. I am not going to contrast this part of their characters, nor to say that Mr. Pelham only shone upon trifling and unnecessary occasions, for he did not do even that; he was obscure upon the most trivial occurrences, perplexed even when he had but one idea, and whenever he spoke well, it was owing to his being heated; he must lose his temper before he could exert his reason. Sir Robert Walpole palliated too little, Mr. Pelham too much. The one would defend his errors by a majority; the other with a greater majority would excuse his merit, and would sooner obscure and depreciate his meaning when right and clear of itself, than not apologize for it. Sir Robert Walpole could not deviate but with openness and sincerity; the other degraded truth by timidity, sense by mystery, and right by asking pardon for it.

The one was honoured by his enemies, the other at best pitied by his friends. His most prejudiced opponents[203] often grew convinced that the former was in the right: the heartiest friends of the latter knew he meant to be so, but never found stronger reasons to confirm them in their opinion. The one durst do right and durst do wrong too; the other dared either so little, that it generally ended in his doing the latter. Sir Robert Walpole never professed honesty, but followed it; Mr. Pelham always professed it, and kept his word, when nothing happened to make him break it; and then he broke it for some other honest end, though perhaps far from being equally cogent.

Sir Robert Walpole’s mastery was understanding his own country, and his foible, inattention to every other country, by which it was impossible he could thoroughly understand his own. Mr. Pelham understood more of his own country than of others, though he would have made a better Minister for any other nation; for as he would not have met with opposition or contradiction, two things his nature could not bear, and as he meant exceedingly well, he would have served the country that employed him to the best of his understanding, and that might have cleared up as well as his temper, when he had nothing to perplex it. In the knowledge of the Revenue, he and all other men must yield to Sir R. Walpole, though he and all other men make the same use of that knowledge, which is to find new funds for the necessities of the Government, and for the occasions of the Administration: by those occasions, I mean corruption, in which I believe Mr. Pelham would never have wet his finger, if Sir Robert Walpole had not dipped up to the elbow; but as he did dip, and as Mr. Pelham was persuaded that it was as necessary for him to be Minister as it was for Sir Robert Walpole, he plunged as deep. The difference was, that Mr. Pelham always bribed more largely as he had more power; for whenever it tottered, he the less ventured to prop it by those means, as he was the more afraid of being called to account for putting them in practice.

Sir Robert Walpole, with the greatest confidence of himself, had no pride; Mr. Pelham had the most, with the least self-sufficience. Both were loved in private life. Sir Robert Walpole loved magnificence, and was generous to a fault: the other had neither ostentation nor avarice, and yet had little generosity. The one was profuse to his family and his friends, liberal indiscriminately, unbounded to his tools and spies: the other loved his family and his friends, and enriched them as often as he could steal an opportunity from his extravagant bounty to his enemies and antagonists. Indifferent people were too indifferent to him; and for intelligence, it was one of the greatest blemishes of his Administration, he wanted it so entirely—not resolution more! Sir Robert Walpole’s friendships were chiefly confined to persons much below him; Mr. Pelham’s were almost all founded on birth and rank: the one was too familiar, the other never so. Sir Robert Walpole was forgiving to a fault, if forgiveness can be faulty; Mr. Pelham never forgave, but when he durst not resent. Sir Robert Walpole met with much ingratitude; Mr. Pelham was guilty of much. Both were frequently betrayed: Sir Robert Walpole without being deceived; Mr. Pelham not half so often as he suspected it. The one was most depreciated while he was Minister; the other will be most when he ceases to be Minister. All men thought Mr. Pelham honest till he was in power; the other never was thought so till he was out.

Both were fortunate in themselves, unhappy in their brothers. With unbounded thirst for politics, the Duke of Newcastle and Horace Walpole were wretched politicians: each inferior to their brothers in everything laudable; each assuming and jealous of their own credit, though [neither] the Duke nor Horace could ever have been considerable, but by the fortune of their brothers. The one childish and extravagant, the other a buffoon and avaricious; Horace sunk into contempt when his brother fell with honour; the Duke was often on the point of dragging his brother down, and was the object of all contempt, even where his brother had still power and honour. Mr. Pelham maintained his inferiority to Sir Robert Walpole even in the worthlessness of his brother.

“J’aye dict le mot, pour ne frustrer la postérité.”

H. Etienne, Apologie d’Herodote.

FOOTNOTES:

[166] Lady Maria Walpole, since married to Charles Churchill.