[Sidenote: 1754.]
On November 14, the very day of the opening of Parliament, Pitt brought
forward a bill for the relief of the Chelsea Pensioners, who, from
receiving their pensions a year in arrear, fell inextricably into the
hands of usurers. He was in haste to perform this useful duty, for on
November 16 he was married by special licence to Lady Hester at Argyll
Buildings, Dr. Ayscough officiating; and Solomon and Esther, as Lady
Townshend called them, thence departed for the honeymoon to West's house
of Wickham in Kent. That interval of seclusion did not last long, but it
would seem to have effected a striking transformation. The marriage
marks a new ascent in Pitt's career; love seemed to have transformed
him; always powerful and eloquent, he became sublime. Into his former
qualities there had passed an inspiration kindred to the divine passion
which makes the poet. The timid warblers of the grove, as he was
afterwards to call them, the politicians who sought quiet lives and safe
places, the arch-jobber himself who had for years deluded him, were in
an instant to realise that a new terror was added to life. For on
November 25 he was once more in the House of Commons. At this time, just
before or just after the meeting of Parliament, he had come to open
words with Newcastle. The Duke had offered the usual palliatives.
'Fewer words, if you please, my Lord,' replied Pitt contemptuously, 'for
your words have long lost all weight with me.' Fox had said much the
same to Newcastle in March. The new Minister had therefore been grossly
insulted by the two first men in the House of Commons. He must have felt
that there were menacing symptoms in the political horizon. It is
strange, therefore, to find Walpole writing that, as 'Newcastle had
secured by employments almost every material speaker in Parliament,' it
was hoped that the session might pass in settling election
petitions.[268]
It seems incredible that the Duke can have so flattered himself. But no
doubt he relied on two main considerations. One was that, though
official discipline was then incomparably more lax than now, it was
scarcely possible for Pitt or Fox to mean mischief so long as they kept
their places, and these they had not resigned. The other was this. The
General Election had just been conducted under his auspices, and had
returned a House of Commons devoted to himself. Indeed in all England
there were only forty-two contests. In some Continental countries a
general election always returns a ministerial majority; there are
mysteries connected with the proceeding of which only ministers have the
key. This to some extent was the case in England at this period; and no
Secretary of the Treasury, no Martin or Robinson, understood his
particular business better than Newcastle. But whatever his illusions,
they were soon destined to be disturbed, for on November 25 Pitt opened
fire on him. Of that famous scene and outburst we are fortunate enough
to possess two brilliant descriptions: one by Horace Walpole, and one,
even more graphic, which has the additional value of being written by
Pitt's rival, Henry Fox. Fox, writing in a white heat of generous
admiration, describes it summarily as 'the finest speech that ever Pitt
spoke, and perhaps the most remarkable.' This last epithet was probably
due to the fact that the speech was apparently made on the spur of the
moment. The occasion was one of those election petitions on which the
Duke had relied as a sedative and a pastime for his faithful Commons.
Wilkes, the pleasant, worthless demagogue, who was afterwards to cause
so much trouble, had petitioned against the return of Delaval, the
sitting member for Berwick. Delaval had defended his seat in a speech
full of wit and buffoonery, which kept the House in a roar of laughter;
much the same speech, one would guess, that Pitt himself had delivered
on the proceedings at his own election for Seaford when those were
attacked. But to-day he was in a different mood, and, as the debate
proceeded, came down from the gallery where he was seated, and
intervened with a frown. He was 'astonished to hear this merriment when
such a matter was concerned. Was the dignity of the House on so sure a
foundation that we could afford to shake it with scoffs?' In an instant
the House was cowed into silence, like schoolboys found in fault by
their master. You could have heard a pin drop as he continued.
'Had it not, on the contrary, been diminishing for years, till now we
were brought to the very brink of a precipice where, if ever, a stand
must be made? Were we ourselves within the House to try and lessen that
dignity when such attacks were made upon it from without that it was
almost lost? On the contrary, it wanted support, for it was scarcely
possible to recover it.' He appealed to the Speaker (Onslow) with
profuse compliments, for the Speaker only could restore it--yet scarcely
even he. Then he eloquently adjured all Whigs to rally and unite in
defence of their liberties, which were attacked, nay, dying, 'unless,'
he passionately added, 'you will degenerate into a little assembly
serving no other purpose than to register the arbitrary edicts of _one_
too-powerful _subject_;' laying an emphasis on the words 'one' and
'subject' that might well send a shudder to the soul of Newcastle, when
the echo should reach him. He ended by a recapitulation as to 'our being
likely to become an appendix to--I know not what: I have no name for
it.' 'All,' adds Fox, 'whether pleased or displeased, declare this speech
to be the finest that ever was made.'[269] The effect of this sudden
menace in the midst of the Duke's comfortable arrangements to appease
and silence everybody, was appalling. It came with the shattering effect
of a shell, and a shell falling in some quiet picnic. The Ministers were
in consternation; every member sat confounded. Murray, pale and
miserable, shrunk his head in silence. Wilkes used to narrate his dread,
as he heard the awful tone of Pitt's exordium, lest the thunder that he
saw was gathering should fall on him. Never, he said, when at
Westminster School had he felt greater terror when summoned for a
flogging, never when let off a greater relief than on this occasion;
terror when uncertain where the bolt would fall, relief when he found it
was destined for another.[270] Fox himself only came in as Pitt was
finishing, just in time to witness the devastation which had been
caused. Legge, on the part of the Government, had to rise and humbly
deprecate the wrath of the orator.
Pitt allowed no respite. On the same evening a discussion arose as to
the dates on which the various petitions would be taken. That relating
to Reading was fixed for a particular day, and that for Colchester on a
day soon afterwards. Pitt moved the postponement of the Colchester
petition; as the Reading one would take time, and concerned a noble
lord, Lord Fane, for whom he had a particular regard. A malignant fate
here tempted the new Secretary of State to a needless and unhappy
intervention. He declared that the Reading petition would be a short
case, and, so far as concerned the sitting member, a poor case; that
Lord Fane had only a majority of one.
This gave Pitt his opportunity, and he soundly trounced the unfortunate
Minister. What did Sir Thomas know about it? It was ignorant presumption
to lay down the law about a case which had not been heard. If this was
the method of the Minister, there would be short work with elections. He
himself had little thought to see so melancholy a day as this, but he
was not to be taught his duty by Sir Thomas or any one else. Sir Thomas
replied, 'with pomp, confusion, and warmth,' to deprecate the misleading
effects of mere eloquence. He hoped that words would not be allowed more
than their due weight. For his own part, he was performing the duties of
an office which he had never desired. Pitt in his rejoinder affected to
believe this last statement, with the unkind commentary that if anybody
else had wished for the post, Sir Thomas would not have had it. Then,
artfully cooling down, he showed that he was only aiming at Newcastle,
for he professed the highest respect for Sir Thomas with this cruel,
backhand blow at the Duke, 'that he thought him, Sir Thomas, as able as
any man that had of late years filled that office, or was likely to fill
it.' Fox could no longer resist joining in the sport of baiting his
hapless leader. He also could only explain and excuse Sir Thomas's
pronouncing hastily and summarily on a case which he had not heard by
his long residence abroad, and by his consequent and total inexperience
of parliamentary matters.
It was clear that neither of the formidable lieutenants was in the least
appeased, or likely to contribute to the tranquillity of the session.
Still it was also clear that the members of the House were loyal to
Newcastle and his deputy, and that they were not moved from their
allegiance by the oratory to which they had listened. But when the
display was over, the frightened ministerialists gathered into small
groups whispering their terrors to each other. Pitt's fury breaking out
at this moment might be due, thought Fox, in some measure to accident.
'But break out I knew it would. And the Duke of Newcastle may thank
himself for the violence of it (he) having ... owned to Pitt that he had
acquainted the King with part of their last conversation; adding, like
an idiot, "to do you good, to do you good," and that he had not
mentioned that part which could do him harm.'[271] We do not know what
is the interview to which this refers; it can hardly be that which
occurred at the beginning of October in which Pitt had said, 'Your
Grace, I suppose, knows that I have no capacity for such things.' So we
are at a loss to know the immediate cause of Pitt's outbreak, though no
divination is required to know that ever since Pelham's death he had
been explosive.
Nothing can better illustrate the extraordinary power which Newcastle
wielded in the House of Commons than the dumb terrified fidelity of the
great majority who clung to his knees in spite of the attacks of Pitt
and Fox. Hapless majority! They had neither voice nor faith; they
despised almost equally their nominal chief Robinson, and their real
chief Newcastle; so they huddled together for warmth and sympathy. And
this was a House of Commons produced by a general election carried on
under the auspices of a consummate manipulator and by long years of
cozening, patronage, and corruption. The success had been complete, a
devoted and passive majority had been returned, and this was the result.
It was a strange and instructive spectacle. This docile flock was
shepherdless, it was not thought to need any superintendence, it had
only to receive its instructions from Newcastle through the channel of
some such agent as Robinson. What Newcastle thought well to give, it was
prepared gladly to take. Could Minister want more? Yet, before the
session was a fortnight old, Newcastle was to learn, but not completely,
the futility of such a scheme of government. He had promised the King
that the new House of Commons would need no leader, that indeed the
position of leader of the House of Commons was both dangerous in power
and superfluous in practice. He was yet to learn that there was
something more formidable; a ship without captain or helmsman, and two
loose cannon banging about at large.
For, two days after the annihilation of Robinson, Pitt again took the
field, this time against Murray, the most formidable antagonist that he
ever had to face after the resignation of Walpole. It was on the vote
for the army. Barrington and Nugent had made fulsome speeches, dwelling
on the popularity of the King and the Ministry, declaring, indeed, that
there were no Jacobites in England. People, said Nugent, sometimes
reared those whom they thought would be Jacobites, but who turned out
very differently. So had he seen in his rural retirement a hen, which
had hatched duck's eggs, watch with apprehension her nurslings betake
themselves to the water. Pitt rose and declared with solemn pleasantry
that this image had greatly struck him, 'for, sir, I know of such a
hen.' The hen, it appeared, was the University of Oxford. This, we
think, in its demure unexpectedness, is the best stroke of humour in all
his speeches. But he begged the House not to be sure that all she
hatched would ever entirely forget what she had taught them. Then
followed an innuendo at old Horace Walpole which is immaterial and
obscure. Sir Roger Newdigate, whose name is still cherished by budding
poets, rose, as member for the University, to make a meek defence. Pitt
rose again, and told 'inimitably' the story of a recent adventure at
Oxford. He was with a party at the Angel Inn, one of whom was asked to
sing 'God save Great George our King' (one can hardly imagine that it
was Pitt who called for this). The chorus was re-echoed by
undergraduates outside who had been attracted by the song, 'but with
additions of the rankest treason.' Then walking down the High Street he
examined a print in a shop window of a young Highlander in a blue
ribbon, and was shocked to read the motto _Hunc saltem everso Juvenem_.
This Latin prayer was a flagrant proof of the disloyalty of that learned
body. 'In both speeches every word was _Murray_; yet so managed that
neither he nor anybody else could or did take public notice of it, or in
any degree reprehend him. I,' it is Henry Fox who speaks, 'sate next
Murray, _who suffered for an hour_.'[272] Two episodes seem to attach
themselves to this terrible onslaught. One is the famous and dramatic
menace. Fixing his eyes on Murray the orator paused and proceeded: 'I
must now address a few words to Mr. Solicitor.--They shall be few, but
they shall be daggers.' Murray's agitation was now visible. 'Judge
Festus trembles,' thundered Pitt; 'well, he shall hear me some other
day,' and sat down.[273] Murray could not muster a reply. We may be sure
that he then mentally resolved that, whether Festus or not, he would be
a Judge as soon as possible. Yet Granville had embraced him that very
day and bid him pluck up resolution. The other episode is this. Foote
went with Murphy (afterwards Editor of the 'Test') to hear Pitt, who
happened to be putting forth his full powers in an attack on Murray.
'Shall we go home now?' asked Murphy at last. 'No,' replied Foote, 'let
us wait till he has made the little man vanish entirely.'[274]
[Sidenote: Nov. 27, 1754.]
The plan of ignoring the House of Commons and keeping all power in a
junto of two or three, or even one, was already breaking down. 'It is
the universal opinion,' writes Fox, in the same letter as that in which
he describes Pitt's onslaught on Murray, 'that business cannot go on as
things are now, and that offers will be made to Pitt or me. On this
subject Pitt was with me two hours yesterday morning. A difficult
conversation.' Difficult indeed, for both parties fenced with each
other, and neither was sincere. Pitt had long distrusted Fox and his
connection with Cumberland. We have seen that in March he was writing
confidentially that he wished 'to see as little power in Fox's hand as
possible,' and again in the same letter, 'Fox is too odious to last for
ever.' On the other hand, Fox, who was genial but ignoble, was
determined to take the best place that offered, with a secret leaning to
the lucrative possibilities of Pitt's office. Fox was not in error as to
the offers. He wrote on November 28, and on November 29 Newcastle was
beginning to seek assistance. On that morning the King sent for Fox and
treated him with friendly confidence. It then appeared that the royal
leaning towards Fox was caused by the King's having found out that
Frederick Prince of Wales had made overtures to Fox, who had rejected
them, but had not divulged them for the purpose of paying court to the
King.[275]
The object of the Court was to separate Fox and Pitt. This last,
doubtful and suspicious, had at first assured the Chancellor and
Newcastle that he would not league with Fox. This was probably the
secret of the Minister's confidence. But when Pitt realised that the
Duke was trading on the division between his two formidable auxiliaries
he sought, or appeared to seek, an honest and hearty co-operation with
his rival.[276]
'Could you bear to act under Fox?' Hardwicke had asked him, and 'Leave
out _under_; it will never be a word between us: Mr. Fox and I shall
never quarrel,' had been the reply.
Alas! for the loves of statesmen, often ardent and always precarious.
The vague bait was no sooner dangled before Fox than he began to eye it
with avidity and to contemplate the abandonment of Pitt. He sought the
advice of two friends, Cumberland and Marlborough. The last advised him
to ask for admission to the Cabinet and to be satisfied with that
advantage. Cumberland dissuaded him, as it would seem, from parting
company with Pitt, and used these remarkable words: 'I don't know him,
but by what you tell me, Pitt is what is scarce--he is a man.' But at
last both dukes concurred in Marlborough's advice, with the proviso that
Fox should make it a condition that he was not to oppose Pitt; a
singular reservation when it is remembered that his help was only sought
against Pitt, as he was soon made distinctly to understand. Fox
apparently took Pitt into his confidence, and they exchanged cordial
notes. He submitted to Pitt his letter to the King, and Pitt approved it
with some omissions. Nothing must be said, he declared, which remotely
implied that he would do the least thing to keep his place.[277] So Fox
wrote to say that, understanding the King was determined to have no
leader in the House of Commons, but wished to have him take a forward
and spirited part on behalf of the Ministry, he desired some mark of his
Majesty's favour to show that he enjoyed his Majesty's confidence.
Waldegrave, who conducted the negotiation, was given to understand that
the distinction aimed at was a seat in the Cabinet. He was further told
that Fox would never accept Pitt's rich place, which the King had said
was destined for him in the event of Pitt's dismissal, lest it be said
that he was answering Pitt for money. So the stipulation about not
opposing Pitt was already out of his contemplation. The negotiations
extended over months. The King had first seen Fox on November 29, 1754,
but did not signify to Fox his admission to the Cabinet till April 26,
1755, two days before his Majesty left for Hanover. Fox was also
admitted to the Council of Regency during the King's absence.
During these months of negotiation his opposition to the Ministry
ceased, and Pitt was left alone. But he communicated constantly and
secretly with Pitt as to the offers made. When he had closed with them,
without waiting for the cock to crow, he forswore Pitt.[278] He was no
doubt made to understand distinctly, as he must always have known, that
it was the condition of his elevation. This treachery cost him dear; for
Pitt, who seems to have been at once apprised of the desertion, probably
by a Minister whose interest it was to keep the two apart, never forgave
it. Nor could a man much less irritably and jealously proud have done
otherwise. So much for the question of honour. As to the question of
policy it is clear that a real union between Pitt and himself would have
been irresistible. But Fox at the first temptation forsook this
honourable alliance, and forsook it for a feather, as the lure was
justly described.
It should be mentioned that this account of Fox's behaviour is founded
on the narrative of Horace Walpole, and that Waldegrave, who is far
more trustworthy, says that 'Fox during the whole negotiation behaved
like a man of sense and a man of honour.' But this only regards his
negotiation with Newcastle, in which Waldegrave acted as the channel.
Walpole, on the other hand, was notoriously partial to Fox, and in his
confidence, so that his statement may be taken as accurate. In no other
way, indeed, can the breach between the two statesmen be adequately
explained. On April 26 they are on the most confidential footing. On May
9 there is a public rupture. Fox, indeed, attributes this sudden breach
to Pitt's wish to be well at Leicester House; but then Fox had to find
an ostensible reason, as he did not know that Pitt was aware of his
desertion.
[Sidenote: Apr. 27, 1755.]
The day after the admission of Fox to the Cabinet, Newcastle despatched
old Horace Walpole to Pitt to see if they could not come to terms. Old
Horace, who has suffered from the constant malignity of his nephew, but
who appears to have been a laborious and public-spirited man, with a not
uncommon itch for a coronet, undertook the commission with alacrity; but
found, as all did who attempted to negotiate for Newcastle, that his
powers were far from ample, and shrunk from the moment that they were
given. It is probable that these overtures were only made in consequence
of some secret agreement between Fox and Pitt that Pitt's claims should
be pushed; for it is otherwise inexplicable that they should have been
made simultaneously with the capture of Fox, and that Newcastle on the
slenderest grounds should at once have withdrawn the commission. The
hypothesis of a sham negotiation, entered upon to keep to the letter of
some understanding arrived at through Fox, is highly congenial to the
character of Newcastle; nor is it likely that Fox can have joined the
Government, when in the closest communication with Pitt, without some
such stipulation.
Whatever the nature of the overture may have been, Pitt received
Walpole, with whom he was on cordial terms, not unfavourably. He
stipulated that he should be admitted to the Cabinet, but not, it would
appear, immediately (for the King was going abroad next day); and that
in case of a vacancy he should be promised the seals of Secretary of
State. No one could deem these conditions excessive, and Walpole
approved them. But Newcastle would have none of them, and soundly rated
his emissary. It is clear that the negotiation was illusory and unreal;
for what less terms could Newcastle have expected Pitt to demand?[279]
[Sidenote: May 9, 1755.]
A fortnight afterwards Pitt went to Lord Hillsborough's, where he met
Fox. When Fox had gone he declared that all was at an end between Fox
and himself; that the ground was altered; Fox was a Regent and a Cabinet
Minister, and he was left isolated. Fox returned, and Pitt, in great
heat, repeated what he had said with even more violence. He would not
accept the seals from Fox (this seems to confirm our hypothesis as to
the sham negotiation through Walpole), for that would be to acknowledge
a superiority and an obligation. 'What, then,' said Fox, 'would put us
on an equality?' 'A winter in the Cabinet and a summer's Regency,'
replied Pitt, in allusion to what Fox had accepted.
Next day Hillsborough expostulated with Pitt, who, however, remained
unmoved, and begged him to convey as a message to Fox that all
connection between them was at an end. Pitt added that though he
esteemed Fox he wished to have no further conversation on this subject.
In spite of this, during the next few days they had a further conference
at Holland House, but with no better result.[280]
On this second occasion (May 12, 1755) Pitt formally declared their
connection at an end. Fox asked if Pitt suspected him of ill faith in
the recent negotiations. Pitt, on his honour, held him blameless.
'Then,' asked Fox, 'are our lines incompatible?' 'Not incompatible, but
convergent,' a word that Fox professed not to understand. In the future
it was possible they might act together, not now. On this or some
proximate occasion, Pitt blurted out what was at least one cause of
offence. 'Here is the Duke of Cumberland King and you his minister.' The
Duke, like Fox himself, was only an ordinary member of the Council of
Regency, so that Pitt's taunt was absurd. But Pitt was looking to the
young court of Leicester House which detested and distrusted Cumberland;
hence this outburst of jealousy and wrath. Pitt indeed, the day before,
had seen the Princess of Wales; who, it was presumed, had insisted on an
open and immediate rupture with Fox as the price of her support. But
beneath all there was we think, in spite of all professions, undying
suspicion of Fox's rectitude in the recent negotiation with
Newcastle.[281]