Mr. Pitt expressed much concern at the flame that had arisen, and that the House, by losing its temper, had lost its reason, and degenerated into barbarism. His friend Beckford, he feared had thought more of him than he had done of himself; but the word guide, commented as it had been, had misled him. If the present question tended to make one individual minister, he should be against it; but when he looked at the complexion of the House, he had no such apprehension. Censured as he had been for using an expression so much condemned, he could not find reason to retract it. Lord Egremont, he believed, would not hold the Seals an hour, if not permitted to guide his own correspondence. Thus, he himself, who he hoped had not lessened his country, had insisted on the same right. In the Treasury, in the Military, in the Navy, he had never assumed or claimed any direction: had never spoken to the King on those heads, but had always applied to the ministers of those several departments; had transmitted everything through the channels of each office. He hoped, he said, to have these egotisms pardoned; he would now come to the question in agitation with a temper that nothing could ruffle. Even the virtues of the King, on which the House had been so much advised to rely, must be a little the fruit of time; hoped his Majesty would be aided by wholesome and deep-sighted advice. From the present motion what mischief could arise? he wished some necessity had made him absent—but would it be decorous in him to be shy? in a House where, he believed, he did not stand too well? He believed the bottom of the bottom of this affair would be dangerous; not so, while confined to memorials. Spain had made three demands in a most extensive manner; the right of fishery, which he had said he would as soon give up the Tower of London, as grant; nor would the King, he was sure, accord it; himself had never been ordered to hold any other language. But why, might it be said, call for these papers? because, if you temporized, or let Spain think you temporized, she would more assuredly push her claims. Suspense might be wholesome, if they were prepared, and you were not. The contrary being true, contrary measures should be pursued. Himself would not press the motion, if told by authority that it was premature; but then let the ministers say so, and mark the era, without moulting a feather of England’s crest. The note in the memorial, said to be delivered, was no departure from their demands. Did they even say they would not impede the peace on the consideration of these demands? Let ministers declare this, and he would second to withdraw the motion—but he saw, he said, he should not be told so. Or had France given up her insulting menace, that she would stand by the demands of Spain? This was the Gordian knot, that he himself had not been able to cut; had feared it would rise in judgment against him; hoped it would not against any other man. Divisions had always existed; when were twelve men cast in the same mould? Divisions were sometimes salutary. Queen Elizabeth had promoted them in her Councils. When he left administration, had never seen such unanimity; he had said in high place, that his consolation was, to leave such men in power; and had declared that he would only oppose what he would have opposed with the Seals in his hand—but to have stayed and have done that, would only have been prejudicial. It was the extent of Spain’s claims that had shocked him, not her lofty idioms, the most insignificant of all things. Whoever should cede to them but a cockboat, ceded all. But the very present debate would strengthen the King’s hands. He then made an encomium on the diligence, activity, and punctuality of the Earl of Bristol. Should the fisheries not be settled, the man who should give them up would one day or other be impeached. For himself he wished he had not been so much in the right; wished he had not known so much as he did. What he did know was buried in the centre of the earth. France had told us with good faith, that if we did not make up with Spain, they would break off the Treaty with us. If Spain declared war, he should think her felo de se. It would not be equal imprudence in her to abet France. Could the House proportion its supplies without knowing in what predicament Spain stood with France? Should the former declare war, she could lend money to the latter. The revenues of Spain were under five millions, and she employed seventy thousand men to collect them, besides twenty thousand that were engaged in the affair of tobacco. Was this a formidable enemy? To him it was indifferent to derive justification from this situation of things; should he prove to have been in the wrong, he should comfort himself with having thought he was right. All foreign Courts, especially Spain, would think the present motion wise. Were he not limited, or self-limited, he could enforce his arguments with more strength. The Gazette had been printed to persuade eight millions of people that Spain was amicable; but if there were indisputable proofs to the contrary, it was deceiving all the world. It was of no consequence to establish on which side lay truth; Bussy’s memorial had proved the connection between the two houses of Bourbon. Should the event end in a rupture, we had lost our opportunity—if affairs were in accommodation, would the honour of England be preserved? Would Spain be obliged to England who bowed, or to France, who should extort from us, in the height of our conquests, advantages for Spain?
Colonel Barré, whether (as he gave out afterwards) to show that he had not taken advantage of Mr. Pitt’s absence to abuse him the day before, or whether (as is more probable) to pursue the point to which he had been instigated, rose, and renewed the attack with redoubled acrimony. Insult of language, terms, manner, were addressed, and personally addressed, to Mr. Pitt, by that bravo. His variations, inconsistencies, arts, popularity, ambition, were all pressed upon Pitt with energy and bitterness, and the whole apostrophe wore the air of an affront more than of a philippic. He told the House he could not amuse, but he would not deceive them. That the disagreeable posture of our affairs with Spain was solely owing to the late resignation, which had thrown our councils and the nation itself into distraction. That Mr. Pitt, though professing it, had no confidence in the King himself. Here Pitt, who had remained in astonishment at so bold and novel an attack from a new speaker, called him to order, declaring that no word guilty of so foul a crime as want of confidence in the King had fallen from him, and sat down, leaving Barré to proceed in his invective; but the latter was interrupted by Fox, who said the King’s name was never to be mentioned in a debate; that the House had listened with pleasure while justice was done to his Majesty’s virtues; that Colonel Barré had a right to show to what he thought Mr. Pitt’s arguments had tended; and that he chose to give the former this hint, because he seemed so able and willing to make use of his right. Charles Yorke said the King’s name could not be used to influence debate. Pitt said he had referred to the King’s speech, because it asked advice of the House. Fox, still fearing lest the interruption and ignorance of the forms of the House should disconcert Barré, replied, that the speech might be quoted, because it is always understood as the speech of the minister. Barré went on, saying, that if any man opposed, and not from the truest reasons, he would wish him to be silent. Should there be a man whose whole life had been a contradiction and a series of popular arts, he would judge him from his actions, not from his words. Beckford called to have the question read, to prevent such deviation into personality. Rigby insisted that Beckford always deviated more than Barré had done. Barré added, that he had less reason to deviate than Beckford, not allowing himself to be so distracted; and that his front was not broad enough to write contradiction on; nor would he desert the King’s service when most wanted.
Pitt made no manner of reply; only turning to Beckford, and asking pretty loud, “how far the scalping Indians cast their tomahawks?” It seemed to some a want of spirit, but it was evident by the indignation of the House, that such savage war was detested: and Pitt perhaps did not care to put them in mind how far himself had often pushed invective; nor chose to risk their preferring the new master of abuse to the old. It had not been unwise, it should seem, to have uttered a few words, stating to Barré the indecence of treating an infirm and much older man with such licence, showing him that insult could not be resented when offered in a public assembly, who always interpose, and putting both him and the audience in mind, that a man, who had gained the hearts of his countrymen by his services, could only forfeit them by his own conduct, and not by the railing of a private individual. With the public this outrage did Mr. Pitt no injury. Barré was abhorred as a barbarian irregular, and Fox, who had lent such kind assistance to a ruffian, drew the chief odium on himself. Charles Townshend, being asked soon after, when the House would rise for the holidays, replied,[151] “I do not know; but when it does, the roads will be as dangerous as if the army were disbanded.” And Barré having said that he would not answer for his head, but would for his heart, “Yes,” said George Selwyn,[152] “if he could not, the former would have been broken long ago.”
The debate was terminated by Lord George Sackville and Elliot; the latter pleading against producing papers in the height of a negotiation; and adding, “perhaps an express is now on the road from Spain determined for war.” The motion was rejected without a division, scarcely six voices being given for the question. Not one Tory spoke in the debate but Sir John Glynn, and he declared against Pitt. The next time Barré went to Court, the King took most gracious notice of him.
The City of Dublin addressed Mr. Pitt on his resignation. The same was proposed at Lynn, and rejected; and at Leicester such a motion was stopped by a person producing and reading a libel called Mr. Pitt’s Letter versified. It was done by Francis,[153] a clergyman attached to Lord Holland, who supplied the notes. Another, by the same hand, called A Letter from the anonymous Author of the Letters versified, was published, reviling Mr. Pitt on bearing Barré’s ill-usage. Lord Melcomb, at Lord Bute’s table, constantly held the same language.
These specks were soon effaced in the confusion that fell on the ministers themselves, and by the justification, which, in spite of them, burst forth of Mr. Pitt’s measures. The war which they had so poorly attempted to ward off, broke upon them, when they had no longer his assistance. A courier arrived on the 24th from Spain, with a refusal of showing us their treaty with France. This treaty was the famous Family Compact, to which even the House of Austria had acceded, of which Mr. Pitt, by a masterpiece of intelligence, had got notice,[154] and of which our dastardly ministers had hoped to deprecate the effects by pusillanimous palliatives and submission: a compact formed because we were become so formidable, and the very signature of which had terrified Lord Bute and his associates into departing at once from our superiority. This was the secret at which Mr. Pitt had so often hinted, and which he had now the satisfaction of hearing published by the mouths of his enemies. We had avoided the interception of the Spanish fleet, as Mr. Pitt had earnestly recommended. It was now arrived, and they temporized no longer. Fuentes was recalled, and Lord Bristol was consequently forced to return. Previous to his departure Fuentes delivered a memorial to the foreign ministers, in which Mr. Pitt was arraigned by name; an honour almost unheard of. Alberoni had been accused by George the First; but though that precedent was not flattering, Mr. Pitt could want no vindication, when the Court of Spain, and Barré, the tool of Lord Bute, conspired to charge him with being author of the war.
We had been the willing dupes of the Spanish House of Bourbon. It was a more horrid insult on all good faith—on humanity—on ties of blood, that Spain summoned Portugal to declare against us. The ruins of Lisbon were almost smoking yet! The Queen of Portugal was the Spanish Monarch’s sister; her husband and children were dwelling in tents at a distance from their late capital. Assassination and conspiracies had beset the Throne. This was the moment that Charles the Third selected to invade their kingdom! France, it was said, in vain dissuaded this perfidy—not from delicacy; but the meditated conquest of Portugal was likely to engross the whole attention of the Court of Madrid. If we should support Portugal, it might be a division of our forces; but France needed all the assistance Spain could lend. Timber was wholly exhausted in France. She had sent even to Dalmatia, and to little purpose. The expense of ship-building is far greater in France than in England. Her cities and trading companies set themselves to building ships and presenting them to the King, but this was a distant and slow resource.
The Queen, who bore great affection to her brothers, was desirous that the second, Prince Charles of Mecklenburgh, should come over. The King would not venture to propose it to Lord Bute, but wrote to him, and after a reluctance of a fortnight on the part of the Favourite, the boon was granted.
The ministers were solicitous to remove Pratt[155] from the House of Commons, and offered him the dignity of Chief Justice of the Common Pleas. He demurred; but was forced to accept it, for they would not only have removed him from being Attorney-General, a post that required a more pliant officer, and which he was willing to give up; but they had the injustice to refuse him his gown as King’s counsel, and he must have pleaded below the bar, or have quitted his profession. Mr. Yorke was made Attorney, and Norton, Solicitor Generals. This enforced destination of Pratt to be Chief Justice, preserved the Constitution afterwards from the same men, whose policy exerted such rigour against him. Mr. Yorke had lost the precedence over Pratt when the latter was made Attorney-General. It was on the coalition of Mr. Pitt, after the affair of Minorca, with the Duke of Newcastle and Lord Hardwicke. Pitt then offered to restore Lord Anson to the lead at the Admiralty, or to make Yorke Attorney, but would not grant both. Lord Hardwicke preferred his son-in-law to his son; a partiality which the latter, whose eye was fixed on the Great Seal, and which, by these means, Pratt afterwards obtained to his prejudice, never forgave to his father.