Fox felt he was bubbled—yet was irresolute. He seemed unaccountably to have lost the spirit which the Duke seemed as unaccountably to have acquired. But in this transaction, and in many subsequent instances, it appeared, that his timidity was consistent with extreme rashness: his brother’s timorousness more unallayed, had predominated, and given the colour of fear to their joint Administration. The Duke left to himself, always plunged into difficulties, before he shuddered for the consequences: the other had possessed more foresight.
Lord Hartington acquainted the Chancellor with what had passed. He seemed struck; but, as if conscious to the violation of the terms, or determined at once to profit of it, said, he could not see the Duke that evening, but would next morning. At night, the Duke sent for Lord Hartington; not repentant; he was not apt to repent of advantageous treachery. He would not deny the breach of his engagements, but honestly declared he would not stand to them. Lord Hartington, as if avowal of treachery repaired it, expressed no resentment. His impartiality was ludicrous; he thought he displayed sufficient friendship to Fox, by publishing the Duke of Newcastle’s breach of faith; and he knew he should not offend the latter, by adhering to a simple relation of his perfidy.
Fox in the meantime consulted his friends. The Duke of Cumberland dissuaded his complying with terms infringed ere ratified. Horace Walpole, the younger, laid before him the succession of the Duke of Newcastle’s wiles and falsehoods; and being persuaded that this coalition was intended only to prejudice Mr. Fox, and that he would be betrayed, mortified, disgraced, as soon as the new Minister should have detached him from his connexions, and prevented his strengthening them, urged him to refuse the Seals. Sir Charles Williams, who happened to be in England, and whose interest as a Minister in Foreign Courts, indubitably pointed to make him wish Mr. Fox Secretary of State, yet with great honesty laboured in the most earnest manner to tear him back from the precipice on which he stood. He yielded, yet never[243] forgave Sir Charles Williams, whose dissuasion having been most vehement, had made most impression on him. He sent the following letter by Lord Hartington to the Duke of Newcastle:
March 14th, 1754.
My Lord Duke,
As your Grace intends to wait upon his Majesty to-day, I must lose no time to desire your Grace would not acquaint his Majesty that I have accepted the office of Secretary of State. But, if his Majesty has already been acquainted with my acceptance of it, your Grace will, I hope, tell his Majesty that I purpose, with the utmost submission, to beg his Majesty’s leave to decline it. It is impossible his Majesty could think of raising me to so exalted a station, but with a design that I should, with and under your Grace, have the management of his affairs in the House of Commons. This was the whole tenour of your Grace’s messages by Lord Hartington, which, in your Grace’s conference with Lord Hartington and me yesterday morning, and with Lord Hartington last night, have been totally contradicted. Unable, therefore, to answer what, I dare say, is his Majesty’s expectation (though your Grace has frankly declared it not to be yours), that I should be answerable for his Majesty’s affairs in the House of Commons, I beg leave to remain where I am, heartily wishing success to his Majesty’s affairs, and contributing all that shall be in the power of a single man towards it. I am, &c.
On 16th, Fox saw the King. The former said, with humility, that in seven years he had never presumed to enter first on other affairs than of his province. The King interrupted him, “It was a great place I designed for you; I thought I did much for you; many Dukes have had it.” Fox answered, “Sir, your Majesty has been told that I asked for too much.” The King said, “You did; the Secret Service money has never been in other hands than the person’s at the head of the Treasury.” “Perhaps, Sir,” replied Fox, “I did ask too much; but they were more in fault who promised and broke their word: Lord Hartington is witness. I shall speak with truth, not with modesty. I might be a great man in the House of Commons, if I would be Secretary of State at the head of an Opposition—but I prefer serving your Majesty as a private man, without seeing the Duke of Newcastle. He promised me his confidence: I never can believe him more. I am honest, he is not.” The King concluded, “I know it cannot be made up; you are not apt to depart from your resolution—it is a great office! but I have learned nemini obtrudere beneficium.”
The triumphant Duke having disabled Fox, and being possessed of Murray, or rather the agent of power for him, had little trouble with the remaining competitor. Sir George Lyttelton, whose warmest prayer was to go to heaven in a Coronet, undertook to be factor for his friends. Unauthorized, he answered for Pitt’s acquiescence under the new plan. He obtained a great employment for himself, overlooked Lord Temple, and if he stipulated without commission for George Grenville, at least it was for a preferment, large beyond the latter’s most possible presumption.
All impediments thus removed, Newcastle obtained his full list of preferments; and the rest of the month was employed in forming and establishing his new court. Legge, as has been said, was made Chancellor of the Exchequer—unwillingly: he preferred his own more profitable place, less obnoxious to danger and envy. The meanness of his appearance, and the quaintness of his dialect, made him as improper for it as unwilling. Sandys’s solemn dulness had made men regret Sir Robert Walpole’s cheerful dignity: Legge’s arch gravity struck no impression after Mr. Pelham’s peevish authority: men had no notion of an epigrammatic Chancellor of the Exchequer. Lord Barnard, Lord Duplin, and Nugent composed the rest of the Treasury. George Grenville succeeded Legge as Treasurer of the Navy. Sir George Lyttelton was made Cofferer; Lord Hilsborough Comptroller of the Household, and Lord Barrington Master of the Great Wardrobe, in the room of Sir Thomas Robinson, who, to give some relief to Lord Holderness, and no possibility of umbrage to the fretful Duke, was nominated to the Seals, which Mr. Fox had declined.
Sir Thomas had been bred in German Courts, and was rather restored than naturalized to the genius of that country: he had German honour, loved German politics, and could explain himself as little as if he spoke only German. He might have remained in obscurity, if the Duke of Newcastle’s necessity of employing men of talents inferior even to his own, and his alacrity in discovering persons so qualified, had not dragged poor Sir Thomas into light and ridicule; yet, if the Duke had intended to please his master, he could not have succeeded more happily than by presenting him with so congenial a servant: the King, with such a Secretary in his closet, felt himself in the very Elysium of Herenhausen!