[Sidenote: March 1744.]
Soon after this memorable debate France formally declared war against
Great Britain in a document reciting the injuries sustained by France at
the hands of the 'King of England, Elector of Hanover,' and faction was
for the moment laid on one side, though Pitt, while supporting the
Government, managed to declare that perdition would attend Carteret as
the 'rash author of those measures which have produced this disastrous,
impracticable war.' Still Parliament adjourned with comparative harmony
in May. Before it met again two events occurred of the greatest
importance to Pitt.
The first was the death of that vigorous old termagant Sarah, Duchess of
Marlborough. All through life she had been more bellicose, though with
less success, than her illustrious husband, and of late years had
devoted her peculiar powers of hatred to Walpole. This bitterness
extended even beyond the grave, for by a codicil dated two months before
her death she bequeathed legacies to the two men who had most
distinguished themselves by their attacks on that Minister. One was
Chesterfield, to whom she left 20,000_l._; the other was Pitt, to whom
she left 10,000_l._, 'for the noble defence he made for the support of
the laws of England, and to prevent the ruin of his country.' Moreover,
she seems to have bequeathed to him her 'manor in the County of
Buckingham, late the estate of Richard Hampden Esq: and leasehold in
Suffolk; and lands etc. in Northampton.'[159] Pitt, in acknowledging the
bequest to Marchmont, her executor, demurely and ambiguously replies:
'Give me leave to return your Lordship my thanks for the obliging manner
in which you do me the honour to inform me of the Duchess of
Marlborough's great goodness to me. The sort of regard I feel for her
memory I leave to your Lordship's heart to suggest to you.'[160] Nor was
this legacy all, for she settled her Wimbledon estate on her favourite
grandson John Spencer, and after him on his only son; should that only
son die without issue, it was to be divided between Chesterfield and
Pitt. She, moreover, induced John Spencer to make a will bequeathing his
own Sunderland estates to Pitt after his own sickly son.[161] Two years
afterwards Spencer himself died at the age of thirty-seven 'because he
would not be abridged of those invaluable blessings of an English
subject, brandy, small beer and tobacco,'[162] so that only a child
stood between Pitt and this great inheritance. Fortunately the splendid
contingency did not take effect. For Chesterfield died without
legitimate issue, and the Pitts have long been extinct; but the
descendants of John Spencer's only son have been men of a purity of
character and honour which have sweetened and exalted the traditions of
English public life.
The legacy was opportune in more respects than one. It came as a solace
to Pitt, who was desperately ill at Bath with gout in his stomach,
which the waters were unavailing to remove; his friends indeed feared
that he would be disabled for life. It also made him independent.
Bolingbroke indeed thought it made him too independent.[163] Cynics soon
declared it to be timely from another point of view, for immediately
after the Duchess's death there was a crisis which was to put an end to
Pitt's opposition and so to his claims on her sympathies. Carteret fell,
and with his fall disappeared the object of Cobham's hatred and Pitt's
philippics. The tempting contrast between Pitt receiving a legacy as the
leading member of the Opposition, and Pitt immediately reconciled to the
Ministry, and so ceasing to be a 'Patriot,' could not escape satire. Sir
Charles Hanbury Williams lost no time in penning the coarse but vigorous
lampoon which depicts the ghost of the old Duchess appearing to Pitt.
'Return, base villain, my retaining fee,' says the spectre, reminds the
legatee that even Judas returned the wage of betrayal, and leaves him to
the 'lash of lost integrity.'[164] But these taunts were wide of the
mark. It was not Pitt's integrity that had disappeared, but the object
of his opposition, now that Carteret had fallen.
The story of that fall is material to the life of Pitt; it is that
second event of importance to him at this time to which we have alluded.
We have seen that Walpole's last journey to London was caused by the
King's struggle to retain Carteret whom the Pelhams insisted on
removing. This indeed was a matter of necessity for them, as they could
never enjoy real power while Carteret engrossed the King's confidence.
Moreover, owing to the ill success of the Austro-British alliance during
1744 in operations with which he was identified he had become extremely
unpopular. He himself was dissatisfied with his position, for though he
had the ear of the King he was constantly outvoted in the Cabinet.
'Things cannot go on as they are,' he said to the ruling brother. 'I
will not submit to be overruled and outvoted on every point by four to
one. If you will undertake the Government, do so. If you cannot or will
not I will.' This rash declaration of war sealed his fate. As a matter
of fact the main division in the Cabinet of which we have record at this
time was nine to four; but the majority was no doubt steady and
inflexible against Carteret. The brothers now concentrated their
energies on his overthrow. But before making any open attack on so
strong a position, they wisely endeavoured to secure new sources of
strength by negotiation with the Opposition.
During the year 1744 the leaders of the Opposition had reunited, 'upon
one principle,' says the malignant Glover, 'which was to get into
place.' This may fairly be said, without disparagement, to be the
legitimate object of all Oppositions. In any case these politicians may
well have realised that divided and scattered they were impotent, and
they may have desired to make themselves felt in Parliament with or
without office. So they appointed a committee of nine to treat with the
Government. The junto, as it was termed in the jargon of that day,
consisted of Bedford, Chesterfield, Gower, Cobham, Pitt, Lyttelton,
Waller, Bubb, and Sir John Hinde Cotton.[165] This powerful body was
approached by Carteret, always tardy and unskilful in such
negotiations; but he had been anticipated by the brethren in power, who,
in such intrigues, displayed all the skill that he lacked. He obtained,
however, the powerful mediation of the Prince of Wales, who had a regard
for him. Carteret's offers were liberal enough. He offered that the
administration should be transformed, and places found for all of them;
but they replied that they could make no terms with him. He turned, as
we have seen, to Walpole in his despair, but in vain. Every hole was
stopped. The Pelhams had secured both Walpole and the Committee.
Five of the junto, including Pitt and Lyttelton, were, it is said, in
favour of joining the Pelhams without any stipulation. The minority,
including Cobham, who considered that the pass had been sold, and who
cursed the less scrupulous tactics of the majority, were for making
conditions as regards future policy. However, all, both of the majority
and the minority, were brought into the scheme; Cobham, who received a
regiment, having, it is said, also obtained an assurance from Newcastle
that the interests of Hanover should be subordinated to the interests of
Great Britain. Bedford became First Lord of the Admiralty; Gower, Privy
Seal; Waller, Cofferer; Lyttelton, a Lord of the Treasury; Bubb,
Treasurer of the Navy; and Cotton, a notorious Jacobite, Treasurer of
the Chambers. It should be added, however, that the narrative of this
negotiation, however probable it may appear, rests on the doubtful
authority of Glover, who is too venomous to be trustworthy. But in any
case it is not necessary to condemn the Committee, even if Glover's
statement be accepted as fact. Should so powerful a body of men enter
the feeble Government of the Pelhams, they might well feel confident of
controlling its policy with or without previous stipulation. A severer
judgment may be passed when it is seen that the policy remained
substantially unaltered, and that Pitt found himself able to
discriminate between Carteret's policy with Carteret in office, and the
same policy with Carteret out of office.
Fortified by this treaty, which included, of course, places for Pitt and
Chesterfield, to be given when the King could be induced to give them,
the Pelhams executed their stroke of state; and having, as we have seen,
made sure of the oracle at Houghton to which the King was sure to have
recourse, they sent the Chancellor to the King to inform him of the
determination of the entire Cabinet to resign unless he would remove
Carteret. Still the King could not be brought to abandon his favourite
Foreign Minister and his favourite foreign policy. It was not until
Orford gave the decision against Carteret that the Sovereign succumbed,
three weeks after the delivery by the Pelhams of their ultimatum.
The fall of Carteret left the brothers, Newcastle and Pelham, absolute
masters of the situation. The King had been completely defeated, and had
sullenly to submit. He would scarcely speak to his Ministers. When he
broke silence it would be to say, 'I have done all you asked me, I have
put all the power into your hands, and I suppose you will make the most
of it.' To that Hardwicke, the Lord Chancellor, with more than legal
subtlety replied, 'The disposition of places is not enough if your
Majesty takes pains to show the world that you disapprove of your own
work.' This was more than the King could endure. 'My work!' he broke
out; 'I was forced, I was threatened.' The Chancellor was shocked at
these expressions. He knew of nothing of the kind. Such harshness was
utterly alien to the ministerial mind. The mere idea of compulsion was
shocking to it. 'No means were employed but what have been used in all
times, the humble advice of your servants supported by such reasons as
convinced them that the measure was necessary for your service.' This
was the legal and fastidious method of describing the threatened strike
of the Ministry in the previous November.
Carteret resigned in the last week of November (1744), and the Pelhams
used their victory wisely and well by building up during the following
month a strong administration on a large basis. It comprised men of all
parties, Whigs, Tories, even Jacobites, forgotten Whigs, forgotten
Tories, forgotten Jacobites, and was called in the canting phrase of
that day the Broad Bottom Administration, as being a coalition of all
parties. The only flaw in it was that it omitted the only men worth
having. Among the new officials were George Grenville and George
Lyttelton, who became subordinate Lords of the Treasury and Admiralty.
'Do what you will,' Cobham had said, 'provided you take care of my
boys,' from whom Pitt now seemed to be excluded; for Cobham found him
positive and unbending, differing, sometimes, it may be presumed, from
Cobham. When complete, this Ministry was so comprehensive as to
annihilate opposition, and render the next few years unprecedentedly
placid and dull from the parliamentary point of view.
Outside the forgotten worthies who were provided with places, there
towered the two memorable men, Pitt and Chesterfield, the one great and
the other considerable. Against them the King remained implacable. But
he had at last to yield to the admission of Chesterfield. At first 'he
shall have nothing,' had said the King, 'trouble me no more with such
nonsense.' But now Chesterfield was to combine the Lord Lieutenancy of
Ireland with a special embassy to the Hague. On Pitt alone was the veto
still absolute. And yet he was the only man whom the Ministers really
dreaded.[166]
The Pelhams, through Cobham, had promised him the Secretaryship at War,
on which his heart was set; but they were unable to fulfil their pledge,
and soothed him for the time with promises that they would persevere in
pressing him upon the Sovereign. With these fine words Pitt professed
himself satisfied, and promised support, all the more readily as he knew
himself to be inevitable. In the meantime, however, he gave up the only
post he held, a course to which he was impelled both by the Marlborough
legacy and the fall of Carteret; for while the first made him
independent of salary, the second had alienated the Prince of Wales. So
in April (1745) he resigned his groomship of the bedchamber, and met
Parliament in the unadorned character of the most powerful private
individual in the country.
On the army estimates he spoke for the first time, and with vehemence,
as a supporter of the Government. On this occasion, too, he first
utilised the apparatus of gout with the demeanour of a graceful invalid,
whose end was approaching. Were it to be the last day of his life, he
exclaimed, he would spend it in the House of Commons, since he judged
the condition of his country to be worse than that of his own health.
Formerly these expressions would have meant that the Government was
ruining the nation. But now, he explained, that though Carteret had
nearly wrecked the kingdom, the present object was, by connecting
Hanover with Holland, to arrive at a prompt and fair pacification. He
paid warm compliments to Pelham on his patriotism and capacity for
business, and commended his Government with oblique and friendly
expressions directed towards the King. A dawn of salvation to this
country had broken forth (which, apparently, had hitherto been obscured
by the form of Carteret), and he would follow it as far as it would lead
him. His 'fulminating eloquence,' we are told, 'silenced all
opposition.'[167]
In February 1745 a question arose of peculiar delicacy for Pitt. Through
one of the compromises sometimes required by political emergency the
question of the employment of the Hanoverians, against which Pitt was so
strongly pledged, was arranged by transferring them to Maria Theresa,
with an extra subsidy to enable her to pay them. This somewhat
transparent artifice was boldly and dexterously defended by Pitt
himself. On such occasions it is well not to hesitate or refine, and
Pitt spoke without visible qualms. 'It was,' he said, 'a meritorious and
popular measure, which did honour to the minister who advised it, and
the Prince, who so graciously vouchsafed to follow it, and must give
pleasure to every honest heart. As to what had been thrown out that the
Queen of Hungary might take them into her pay, when they were dismissed
from ours, what of that? She was at liberty to take them or not. They
would not be forced on her, but God forbid that these unfortunate troops
should by our votes be proscribed at every court in Europe.' It was
enough that, 'by his Majesty's wisdom and goodness,' they were no longer
voted annually as a part of our army, and so forth.[168]
It is obvious from the meagre report that Pitt was now as copious in his
praise of the King as he had formerly been niggard. His Sovereign had
become wise and good and gracious; the Hanoverian troops, which had been
so short a time ago cowardly and contemptible troops, were now
unfortunate and meritorious, well worthy the attention and employment of
Maria Theresa. One or two members could not help smiling; they called
the measure collusive, and declared that if we were to pay the
Hanoverians at all it were better to pay them directly, when they would
at least be under our direction and control, than through the Queen of
Hungary, when they would not. It is not on record that any one asked
what advantage would be reaped by the taxpayer under the method
proposed, when he would pay at least as much as before, but without the
least check as to the way in which the money was spent. Nevertheless,
there were complaints enough. Pitt must have hinted that it was better
that they should fight under the Hungarian flag than the British, as
they did not fight in harmony by the side of British troops; for this
called up a Northumbrian baronet to explain that this was contrary to
the fact, and that he should raise the point in a motion. Pitt at once
rose again, not in his high line, but 'with all the art and temper
imaginable,' soothed and complimented the honest member, hinted that his
motion would only serve the purposes of Carteret, whom they both
rejoiced to see removed, and generally allayed the debate with complete
success.[169]
This is again a notable mark in his career. For the first time he
appears, not as the fierce hero of declamation and invective, but as the
dexterous official diplomatist, coaxing and reassuring. He was fast
moving onwards.
The official character of Pitt's speeches is all the more marked because
there was little to commend and much to attack in the conduct of the
Ministry, which had, to say the least, been singularly unfortunate. The
disastrous battle of Fontenoy was not redeemed by the capture of
Louisbourg, a gallant affair for which local volunteers and local
enterprise, rather than the Government, deserve the credit. And now
during the Parliamentary recess from May to October there suddenly
appeared a fresh danger, the one against which Walpole's policy had been
mainly directed for a generation. On August 19, Charles Edward, eldest
son of the exiled Prince of Wales, and grandson of King James II.,
raised the standard of civil war at Glenfinnan; on September 17 he was
living in the palace of his ancestors at Holyrood; four days afterwards
he completely defeated the forces sent against him. Had he at once
marched South he might well have reached London, and had he reached
London the face of history in this island might have been changed. The
Cabinet was panic-stricken, not merely at the advance of Charles, but at
the anger of their legal Sovereign, who seemed likely to recall
Carteret to his side. Dutch troops were hastily fetched over and sent to
the North, and English troops from Flanders followed. Had these
reinforcements been detained by contrary winds but a few weeks Pelham
declared that London could not have been defended against the Jacobites.
Two days before the victory of Charles Edward, Henry Fox wrote that 'had
five thousand (French) troops landed in any part of this island a week
ago, I verily believe the entire conquest would not have cost them a
battle.'
But Charles contented himself with a reign at Holyrood of six weeks, and
this delay lost him his chances of success. When Parliament met on
October 17 he was still in Edinburgh, but adequate measures had been
taken to render his enterprise abortive. All this does not concern Pitt,
except as giving him an opportunity of expressing his devoted loyalty to
George II.; but while Charles Edward was marching on Derby a desperate
struggle was going on which related entirely to him. In the new session
he had begun to show signs of irritation and of impatience with the
Government; the emollients of the Pelhams began to lose their virtue,
and he was determined not to be fooled any longer. His amiability had
disappeared, and though his speeches are unreported, it is evident that
the Ministers were now made to feel the terrors of his tongue.
'Yesterday,' writes Horace Walpole, 'they had another baiting from Pitt,
who is ravenous for the place of Secretary at War: they would give it
him: but as preliminary, he insists on a declaration of our having
nothing to do with the Continent,' a stipulation which reads strangely
enough by the light of the years to come. The Pelhams saw that they
could no longer defer the fulfilment of their promises, and that it was
necessary to approach the King. The moment was singularly unfavourable.
The King had never forgiven the compulsion put on him to dismiss
Carteret, nor the fact of his separation from Carteret. He had
shrewdness enough to see that in ability and grasp of affairs Carteret
towered above the other ministers except the Chancellor; and he despised
Newcastle, who was principally thrown into contact with him. It was a
shame, he declared, that a man who was not fit to be a chamberlain at
the pettiest of German courts should be forced on the nation and on the
Crown as a principal minister. All through 1745 the royal resentment
smouldered, though it was kept in suspense by the rebellion. But when
that movement lost in importance and became clearly doomed, the King
felt more free to display his feelings. Foreign policy, with which we
are not here concerned, was part of his grievance; but the main cause of
irritation was the threatened intrusion of Pitt on his councils. And yet
this was obviously impending and even inevitable. Pitt, at first so
patient, had begun to show his teeth in public, and probably in private
as well. The crisis could not be any longer avoided.
In the preceding autumn there had been conferences between the Pelhams
on the one side and Pitt and Cobham on the other. On November 20, 1745,
Newcastle records a meeting at which Pitt put forward his demands, and
'apprehended great difficulties in bringing about what we so much
desired,' his accession to office. His conditions were finally melted
down to an extension of the Place Bill so as to exclude from Parliament
all officers in the Army under the rank of lieutenant-colonel, and in
the Navy below the rank of captain; the removal of all the remaining
adherents of Carteret, notably the two Finches, from Court; and a 'total
alteration of the foreign system, by feeding only the war on the
Continent, acting there as auxiliaries, and particularly by confining
all the assistance we should give to the Dutch to the bare contingent of
10,000 men; but to increase our navy, and to act as principals at sea in
the war against France and Spain. For a peace with France, at present,
was not to be thought of.'
The first condition presented no complications. The second seemed
inexpedient on grounds of prudence and decency. The third presented more
difficulty. Newcastle had two long conferences upon it, first with Pitt
and then with Cobham. Finally a meeting was held between the Chancellor,
Hardwicke, Harrington, Pelham, and Newcastle on one side, and Gower,
Bedford, Cobham, and Pitt on the other.[170]
The situation of affairs at this moment was this: Charles Edward was
marching from Holyrood towards London. The French had won Fontenoy and
were overrunning the Austrian Netherlands, without difficulty and almost
without resistance. Maria Theresa was about to conclude peace at Dresden
(December 25, 1745) by a renewed cession of Silesia. This was the
juncture at which the Pelhams resolved to force on a Cabinet crisis in
order to obtain the services of Pitt. The fact at least displays the
value and importance of the personage who was the subject of contest.
The real point at issue between the Government and Pitt was this: The
Government wished to give general and unlimited assurances of
assistance, amounting almost to a guarantee, to the Dutch. Pitt wished
the assistance definitely limited to a force of 10,000 men; and that we
should then, free of all other continental complications (for both
parties agreed that Austria must come to terms with Prussia), carry on a
purely naval war against France and Spain.
At this conference between the Ministers and the Cobham
plenipotentiaries, Newcastle was the spokesman of the Government. He
declared that the Queen of Hungary had forfeited her rights to any
further assistance, and that we were about to tell her that she could
have no more from us. On this point all were apparently agreed, so that
Austria was eliminated from the discussion. The case of Holland was,
however, in the opinion of Ministers, different; her existence was
necessary to us, and we must proffer help to her, if only to prevent her
concluding a separate peace with France. But an offer limited to 10,000
men would not prevent such a peace; we must show a general disposition
to assist. Lord Cobham answered that this sort of defensive war could
never bring about a peace, that the Dutch would evade their engagements,
and we should find ourselves with as formidable a continental war on our
hands as if we were again actively supporting Maria Theresa. Pitt warmly
supported Cobham; spoke strongly against the Dutch; 'insisted that
10,000 men in our present circumstances was a generous and noble
succour.... He insisted on the necessity of coming to some precision as
to the contingent in order to satisfy the people; and talk'd much of the
great impression we could make upon France, when our efforts were singly
at sea.'
At this point Bedford and Gower separated themselves from Cobham and
Pitt. It was not possible, they said, to increase our navy. In fine, the
plenipotentiaries of the Government pointed out that if France and
Holland came to terms, we might have France and Spain free to devote
their whole energies against us, and, as the others chimed in, 'they
might easily keep the rebellion on foot for years, if not destroy us
quite.'
Cobham and Pitt, however, departed unshaken, though with great civility
and good-humour. Newcastle glumly sums up the position. The King may say
that he was ready to take these gentlemen into the Government, but, as
they will not come in, ask if the Ministry will thereupon desert him?
'To which, to be sure, no other answer can be given but that we are not
in a condition to carry it on. To depend upon my Lord Granville's
friends to support this administration against Lord Granville is a
contradiction in itself. To bring in Mr. Pitt against his own will is
impossible. And, therefore, at present there seems to be nothing to be
done, if Mr. Pitt is determined (which, I should still hope, he would
not finally be), but with your lordship (Chesterfield), the Duke of
Bedford, my Lord Gower, to get as many individuals as we can to carry us
through till the rebellion is over: and then we shall be at liberty to
take such part as we shall think most consistent with our own honour and
the public service.'[171]
Observe: without Pitt we are not in a condition to carry on. That is
what this letter amounts to, for of Bedford and Gower the Ministry felt
sure, and Cobham was an auxiliary who was on and off like a freebooter.
The adhesion of Pitt, a private member, poor and almost unconnected,
was vital to a Government which in the public opinion had already
collected every possible element of strength. So matters continued till
the meeting of Parliament after the Christmas recess in January 1746.
Pitt held aloof, and had no further commerce with the Government.
A few days before Parliament met, however, he went to the Duke of
Bedford, inquired as to the foreign policy of the Government, showed a
disposition to come into it, and expressed a wish that some minister
would talk it over with Lord Cobham, 'into whose hands they had now
finally committed themselves.'[172] On this hint Newcastle hurried to
Cobham, who was reasonable, and 'seemed very desirous to come into us
and bring his Boys, as he called them.... The terms were, Mr. Pitt to be
Secretary at War; Lord Barrington in the Admiralty; and Mr. James
Grenville to have an employment of L1000 a year. He flung out Lord
Denbigh, the Duke of Queensbury, and some Scotch politicians, but not as
points absolutely to be insisted on.'
It is useful and edifying to be allowed behind the scenes in this way;
for such negotiations are now, one would imagine, obsolete, or as nearly
obsolete as the corruption of our fallen nature will allow. Still, one
may drop a tear in passing over the 'Scotch politicians,' so lightly
proffered, so lightly dismissed. But let Newcastle continue his
narrative. 'Upon this I opened the Budget to the King, which was better
received than I expected, and the only objection was to the giving Mr.
Pitt the particular office of Secretary at War.' Still the Pelhams
pressed the appointment. Then the goaded and distressed monarch
determined to make a desperate effort to break from the dominion of the
Whig hierarchy, so as to carry out his own foreign policy, and avoid the
admission of Pitt to his counsels. At this juncture Bath gained
admittance to the Closet, and fortified the King's repugnance. He
'represented against the behaviour of his ministers in forcing him in
such a manner to take a disagreeable man into a particular office, and
thereby dishonouring his Majesty both at home and abroad; and
encouraging the King to resist it by offering him the support of his
friends in so doing.'[173] The King caught at this forlorn hope, and
gave Bath full power to form a new Government. Bath released himself
from his vow against holding office, accepted the charge with alacrity,
instantly summoned Carteret, and obtained from the City a promise of
supplies on terms more favourable than those to which Pelham had agreed.
Carteret, it need scarcely be said, joyfully acceded. The misfortune was
that there was no one else who did. The Pelham ministry resigned in a
body. Bath kissed hands as First Minister, and received the seals of the
Secretaries of State to transmit to Carteret, who was ill. The new
Secretary at once announced by circular his appointment to the foreign
ministers. But there all ended. When old Horace Walpole was told that
this ministry was settled he shrewdly remarked: 'I presume in the same
manner as what we call a settlement in Norfolk; when a house is cracked
from top to bottom and ready to fall, we say it is settled.'[174]
Winnington was to have been the new Chancellor of the Exchequer. Thrice
did the King press the seal into his hand, and thrice did Winnington
return it. 'Your new ministers, sir, can neither support Your Majesty
nor themselves,' said he.[175] He insisted, moreover, that they could
not depend on more than 31 peers and 80 commoners. History does not
confirm even so moderate a computation, but it may be presumed that this
was the Court contingent on which any minister could count.
Harrington, one of the actual Secretaries of State, on whom the King
confidently reckoned for assistance in the new arrangement, resigned,
after a stormy scene with his master, who never forgave him. Every one
resigned or tried to resign, and there was no one to fill their places.
To Pelham himself Carteret had made overtures; but Pelham told the King
that the Whig junto would have nothing to do with Bath or Carteret. At
last, the only measure left to the hapless monarch was to shut himself
up and forbid his door to the crowd that sought admittance in order to
give up their keys and staves and official insignia. He was soon
compelled to send for Bath and to tell him that it would not do. Bath
exhorted him to be firm, and offered by means of the Prince of Wales to
secure Tory support. But with Charles Edward still in arms in the
Highlands, the King could not bring himself to approach the foes of his
house, and under no circumstances would he owe salvation to his son.
Both Princes of Wales, the real and the titular, were almost equally
repugnant to him. Another version of the story states that it was Bath
who told the King that the project would not work. It matters little
which is correct, for the position was self-evident, but George was
probably stouter than Bath.
Bath kissed hands on February 10 (1746). Two days afterwards his
ministry had come to an end, and the King had sent for Pelham to return.
Carteret saw the humour of the situation and laughed it away; he owned
it a mad escapade, but was all the more ready to repeat it. It was all
over, the King had to surrender to the Whigs, who condescended to resume
the seals on easy terms, which were the proscription of Bath's following
and the admission of Pitt. The first condition was simple enough, it was
the natural result of Bath's defeat. _Vae victis._ 'We immediately
desired,' writes Newcastle, 'that the Court might be purged of all their
friends and dependents, that Lord Bath might be out of the Cabinet
Council, the Duke of Bolton, Lord Berkeley of Stratton, Mr. William
Finch, the Vice-Chamberlain, Mr. Edward Finch, the Groom of the
Bedchamber, Mr. Boone, and the Lord Advocate of Scotland (which were all
that were left of that sort), should be removed.' We have an impression
that, in spite of all, 'the black, funereal Finches' were preserved to
the Bedchamber and to the card table, but that does not concern this
narrative.
As to the second condition, it was inevitable sooner or later, and took
place in the form least offensive to the Sovereign. But the ministerial
crisis and the desperate venture with Bath and Carteret testify to the
formidable position of Pitt and to the equal aversion of the Sovereign.
In no less an instance than Pitt's could this repulsion have been
overcome.
Pitt himself had begged that his pretensions to the Secretaryship at War
should not act as an obstacle to an accommodation with the King, for
there was evidently nothing so repugnant to the Sovereign. The King had
said first that he would not have him in that office at any price, then
that he would use him ill if he had it, then that he would not admit him
to his presence to do the business of the office if he had it.[176]
There is, if the matter be candidly considered, no just cause of
reproach in this obstinacy. George II. was a gentleman, and a brave
gentleman. The Hanoverians were his own people, of his own blood and
language. Hanover was the home in which he had been brought up, the
paradise to which he always looked longingly from his splendid exile in
England. The King's personal courage Pitt had publicly and wantonly
aspersed; Hanover and the Hanoverians he had held up to every form of
public hatred and contempt. One cannot be surprised that George II.
would have nothing to say to him except under compulsion, and refused,
as between one gentleman and another, to have personal relations with
him. As a constitutional ruler his duty was another matter, but he would
not perform a duty so odious except in the last resort. He ignored Pitt
even after Pitt had entered office. It was four years after Pitt became
Paymaster that Newcastle, as the result of long pressure or intrigue,
induced the King even to speak to him. This was considered a triumph for
the ministry.[177]
[Sidenote: Mar. 6, 1746.]
Perhaps the Pelhams understood the King's feelings. Pitt did without
doubt. The King was not now pressed beyond endurance, and Pitt was
content for the moment with the joint Vice Treasurership of Ireland, in
which his partner was Walpole's son-in-law, Cholmondeley. The office was
understood to be lucrative, but he was not destined to hold this
sinecure for more than a few weeks. He had scarce time to ask for
exemption from the land tax of four shillings in the pound which was
charged on his salary for not residing in Ireland, or for admission to
the Irish Privy Council, both customary requests.[178] Two months after
he was gazetted Winnington died, and Pitt succeeded him in the rich
office of Paymaster-General. This is a Privy Councillor's place, so Pitt
had to be admitted to the King's presence to take the oath. The King
shed tears as Pitt knelt before him. A constitutional Sovereign has
these bitter moments.
During the interval between the two appointments Pitt had to pay a heavy
fee for the first. A vote was demanded for 18,000 Hanoverians to be
taken into British pay. Cobham's young men, one of whom, afterwards Lord
Temple, 'had declared in the House that he would seal it with his blood
that he never would give his vote for a Hanoverian,' voted the money in
silence. Pitt however was not content to play so abject a part. He stood
boldly forth, speaking, said Pelham, his new chief, with the dignity of
Wyndham, the wit of Pulteney, and the knowledge blended with judgment of
Walpole. Walpole's son thought differently: Pitt, he declared, added
'impudence to profligacy; but no criminal at the Place de Greve was ever
so racked as he was by Dr. Lee, a friend of Lord Granville, who gave him
the question both ordinary and extraordinary.' Probably both accounts
are true. Lee was one of the Prince of Wales's men, and Pitt's relations
with his late master were strained to the point of rupture by his
acceptance of office.