John Payne - "Tales from the Arabic Volume 1"

James Parton - "The Humourous Poetry of the English Language"

Horatio Alger - "The Young Musician "

Jane Andrews - "The Stories Mother Nature Told Her Children"

Critical and Historical Essays Volume 1

T >> Thomas Babington Macaulay >> Critical and Historical Essays Volume 1




Early in the year 1754 Henry Pelham died unexpectedly. "Now I
shall have no more peace," exclaimed the old King, when he heard
the news. He was in the right. Pelham had succeeded in bringing
together and keeping together all the talents of the kingdom. By
his death, the highest post to which an English subject can
aspire was left vacant; and at the same moment, the influence
which had yoked together and reined-in so many turbulent and
ambitious spirits was withdrawn.

Within a week after Pelham's death, it was determined that the
Duke of Newcastle should be placed at the head of the Treasury;
but the arrangement was still far from complete. Who was to be
the leading Minister of the Crown in the House of Commons? Was
the office to be intrusted to a man of eminent talents? And would
not such a man in such a place demand and obtain a larger share
of power and patronage than Newcastle would be disposed to
concede? Was a mere drudge to be employed? And what probability
was there that a mere drudge would be able to manage a large and
stormy assembly, abounding with able and experienced men?

Pope has said of that wretched miser Sir John Cutler,

"Cutler saw tenants break and houses fall
For very want: he could not build a wall."

Newcastle's love of power resembled Cutler's love of money. It
was an avarice which thwarted itself, a penny-wise and pound-
foolish cupidity. An immediate outlay was so painful to him that
he would not venture to make the most desirable improvement. If
he could have found it in his heart to cede at once a portion of
his authority, he might probably have ensured the continuance of
what remained. But he thought it better to construct a weak and
rotten government, which tottered at the smallest breath, and
fell in the first storm, than to pay the necessary price for
sound and durable materials. He wished to find some person who
would be willing to accept the lead of the House of Commons on
terms similar to those on which Secretary Craggs had acted under
Sunderland, five-and-thirty years before. Craggs could hardly be
called a minister. He was a mere agent for the Minister. He was
not trusted with the higher secrets of State, but obeyed
implicitly the directions of his superior, and was, to use
Doddington's expression, merely Lord Sunderland's man. But times
were changed. Since the days of Sunderland, the importance of the
House of Commons had been constantly on the increase. During many
years, the person who conducted the business of the Government in
that House had almost always been Prime Minister. In these
circumstances, it was not to be supposed that any that any person
who possessed the talents necessary for the situation would stoop
to accept it on such terms as Newcastle was disposed to offer.

Pitt was ill at Bath; and, had he been well and in London,
neither the King nor Newcastle would have been disposed to make
any overtures to him. The cool and wary Murray had set his heart
on professional objects. Negotiations were opened with Fox.
Newcastle behaved like himself, that is to say, childishly and
basely, The proposition which he made was that Fox should be
Secretary of State, with the lead of the House of Commons; that
the disposal of the secret-service money, or, in plain words, the
business of buying members of Parliament, should be left to the
First Lord of the Treasury; but that Fox should be exactly
informed of the way in which this fund was employed.

To these conditions Fox assented. But the next day everything was
in confusion. Newcastle had changed his mind. The conversation
which took place between Fox and the Duke is one of the most
curious in English history. "My brother," said Newcastle, "when
he was at the Treasury, never told anybody what he did with the
secret-service money. No more will I." The answer was obvious.
Pelham had been not only First Lord of the Treasury, but also
manager of the House of Commons; and it was therefore unnecessary
for him to confide to any other person his dealings with the
members of that House. "But how," said Fox, "can I lead in the
Commons without information on this head? How can I talk to
gentlemen when I do not know which of them have received
gratifications and which have not? And who," he continued, "is to
have the disposal of places?"--"I myself," said the Duke. "How
then am I to manage the House of Commons?"-- "Oh, let the members
of the House of Commons come to me." Fox then mentioned the
general election which was approaching, and asked how the
ministerial boroughs were to be filled up. "Do not trouble
yourself", said Newcastle; "that is all settled." This was too
much for human nature to bear. Fox refused to accept the
Secretaryship of State on such terms; and the Duke confided the
management of the House of Commons to a dull, harmless man, whose
name is almost forgotten in our time, Sir Thomas Robinson.

When Pitt returned from Bath, he affected great moderation,
though his haughty soul was boiling with resentment. He did not
complain of the manner in which he had been passed by, but said
openly that, in his opinion, Fox was the fittest man to lead the
House of Commons. The rivals, reconciled by their common interest
and their common enmities, concerted a plan of operations for the
next session. "Sir Thomas Robinson lead us!" said Pitt to Fox.
"The Duke might as well send his jack-boot to lead us."

The elections of 1754 were favourable to the administration. But
the aspect of foreign affairs was threatening. In India the
English and the French had been employed, ever since the peace of
Aix-la-Chapelle, in cutting each other's throats. They had lately
taken to the same practice in America. It might have been
foreseen that stirring times were at hand, times which would call
for abilities very different from those of Newcastle and
Robinson.

In November the Parliament met; and before the end of that month
the new Secretary of State had been so unmercifully baited by the
Paymaster of the Forces and the Secretary-at-War that he was
thoroughly sick of his situation. Fox attacked him with great
force and acrimony. Pitt affected a kind of contemptuous
tenderness for Sir Thomas, and directed his attacks principally
against Newcastle. On one occasion he asked in tones of thunder
whether Parliament sat only to register the edicts of one too
powerful subject? The Duke was scared out of his wits. He was
afraid to dismiss the mutineers, he was afraid to promote them;
but it was absolutely necessary to do something. Fox, as the less
proud and intractable of the refractory pair, was preferred. A
seat in the Cabinet was offered to him on condition that he would
give efficient support to the ministry in Parliament. In an evil
hour for his fame and his fortunes he accepted the offer, and
abandoned his connection with Pitt, who never forgave this
desertion.

Sir Thomas, assisted by Fox, contrived to get through the
business of the year without much trouble. Pitt was waiting his
time. The negotiations pending between France and England took
every day a more unfavourable aspect. Towards the close of the
session the King sent a message to inform the House of Commons
that he had found it necessary to make preparations for war. The
House returned an address of thanks, and passed a vote of credit.
During the recess, the old animosity of both nations was inflamed
by a series of disastrous events. An English force was cut off in
America and several French merchantmen were taken in the West
Indian seas. It was plain that an appeal to arms was at hand.

The first object of the King was to secure Hanover; and Newcastle
was disposed to gratify his master. Treaties were concluded,
after the fashion of those times, with several petty German
princes, who bound themselves to find soldiers if England would
find money; and, as it was suspected that Frederic the Second had
set his heart on the electoral dominions of his uncle, Russia was
hired to keep Prussia in awe.

When the stipulations of these treaties were made known, there
arose throughout the kingdom a murmur from which a judicious
observer might easily prognosticate the approach of a tempest.
Newcastle encountered strong opposition, even from those whom he
had always considered as his tools. Legge, the Chancellor of the
Exchequer, refused to sign the Treasury warrants, which were
necessary to give effect to the treaties. Those persons who were
supposed to possess the confidence of the young Prince of Wales
and of his mother held very menacing language. In this perplexity
Newcastle sent for Pitt, hugged him, patted him, smirked at him,
wept over him, and lisped out the highest compliments and the
most splendid promises. The King, who had hitherto been as sulky
as possible, would be civil to him at the levee; he should be
brought into the Cabinet; he should be consulted about
everything; if he would only be so good as to support the Hessian
subsidy in the House of Commons. Pitt coldly declined the
proffered scat in the Cabinet, expressed the highest love and
reverence for the King, and said that, if his Majesty felt a
strong personal interest in the Hessian treaty he would so far
deviate from the line which he had traced out for himself as to
give that treaty his support. "Well, and the Russian subsidy,"
said Newcastle. "No," said Pitt, "not a system of subsidies."
The Duke summoned Lord Hardwicke to his aid; but Pitt was
inflexible. Murray would do nothing. Robinson could do nothing.
It was necessary to have recourse to Fox. He became Secretary of
State, with the full authority of a leader in the House of
Commons; and Sir Thomas was pensioned off on the Irish
establishment.

In November 1755, the Houses met. Public expectation was wound up
to the height. After ten quiet years there was to be an
Opposition, countenanced by the heir-apparent of the throne, and
headed by the most brilliant orator of the age. The debate on the
address was long remembered as one of the parliamentary conflicts
of that generation. It began at three in the afternoon, and
lasted till five the next morning. It was on this night that
Gerard Hamilton delivered that single speech from which his
nickname was derived. His eloquence threw into the shade every
orator, except Pitt, who declaimed against the subsidies for an
hour and a half with extraordinary energy and effect. Those
powers which had formerly spread terror through the majorities of
Walpole and Carteret were now displayed in their highest
perfection before an audience long unaccustomed to such
exhibitions. One fragment of this celebrated oration remains in a
state of tolerable preservation. It is the comparison between the
coalition of Fox and Newcastle, and the junction of the Rhone and
the Saone. "At Lyons," said Pitt, "I was taken to see the place
where the two rivers meet, the one gentle, feeble, languid, and
though languid, yet of no depth, the other a boisterous and
impetuous torrent: but different as they are, they meet at last."
The amendment moved by the Opposition was rejected by a great
majority; and Pitt and Legge were immediately dismissed from
their offices.

During several months the contest in the House of Commons was
extremely sharp. Warm debates took place in the estimates,
debates still warmer on the subsidiary treaties. The Government
succeeded in every division; but the fame of Pitt's eloquence,
and the influence of his lofty and determined character,
continued to increase through the Session; and the events which
followed the prorogation made it utterly impossible for any other
person to manage the Parliament or the country.

The war began in every part of the world with events disastrous
to England, and even more shameful than disastrous. But the most
humiliating of these events was the loss of Minorca. The Duke of
Richelieu, an old fop who had passed his life from sixteen to
sixty in seducing women for whom he cared not one straw,
landed on that island, and succeeded in reducing it. Admiral Byng
was sent from Gibraltar to throw succours into Port-Mahon; but
he did not think fit to engage the French squadron, and sailed
back without having effected his purpose. The people were inflamed
to madness. A storm broke forth, which appalled even those who
remembered the days of Excise and of South-Sea. The shops were
filled with libels and caricatures. The walls were covered with
placards. The city of London called for vengeance, and the cry
was echoed from every corner of the kingdom. Dorsetshire,
Huntingdonshire, Bedfordshire, Buckinghamshire, Somersetshire,
Lancashire, Suffolk, Shropshire, Surrey, sent up strong addresses
to the throne, and instructed their representatives to vote for a
strict inquiry into the causes of the late disasters. In the great
towns the feeling was as strong as in the counties. In some of the
instructions it was even recommended that the supplies should be
stopped.

The nation was in a state of angry and sullen despondency, almost
unparalleled in history. People have, in all ages, been in the
habit of talking about the good old times of their ancestors, and
the degeneracy of their contemporaries. This is in general merely
a cant. But in 1756 it was something more. At this time appeared
Brown's Estimate, a book now remembered only by the allusions in
Cowper's Table Talk and in Burke's Letters on a Regicide Peace.
It was universally read, admired, and believed. The author fully
convinced his readers that they were a race of cowards and
scoundrels; that nothing could save them; that they were on the
point of being enslaved by their enemies, and that they richly
deserved their fate. Such were the speculations to which ready
credence was given at the outset of the most glorious war in
which England had ever been engaged.

Newcastle now began to tremble for his place, and for the only
thing which was dearer to him than his place, his neck. The
people were not in a mood to be trifled with. Their cry was for
blood. For this once they might be contented with the sacrifice
of Byng. But what if fresh disasters should take place? What if
an unfriendly sovereign should ascend the throne? What if a
hostile House of Commons should be chosen?

At length, in October, the decisive crisis came. The new
Secretary of State had been long sick of the perfidy and levity
of the First Lord of the Treasury, and began to fear that he
might be made a scapegoat to save the old intriguer who, imbecile
as he seemed never wanted dexterity where danger was to be
avoided. Fox threw up his office, Newcastle had recourse to
Murray; but Murray had now within his reach the favourite object
of his ambition. The situation of Chief-Justice of the King's
Bench was vacant; and the Attorney-General was fully resolved to
obtain it, or to go into Opposition. Newcastle offered him any
terms, the Duchy of Lancaster for life, a teller-ship of the
Exchequer, any amount of pension, two thousand a year, six
thousand a year. When the Ministers found that Murrays mind was
made up, they pressed for delay, the delay of a session, a month,
a week, a day. Would he only make his appearance once more in the
House of Commons? Would he only speak in favour of the address?
He was inexorable, and peremptorily said that they might give or
withhold the Chief-Justiceship, but that he would be Attorney-
General no longer

Newcastle now contrived to overcome the prejudices of the King,
and overtures were made to Pitt, through Lord Hardwicke. Pitt
knew his power, and showed that he knew it. He demanded as an
indispensable condition that Newcastle should be altogether
excluded from the new arrangement.

The Duke was in a state of ludicrous distress. He ran about
chattering and crying, asking advice and listening to none. In
the meantime, the Session drew near. The public excitement was
unabated. Nobody could be found to face Pitt and Fox in the
House of Commons. Newcastle's heart failed him, and he tendered
his resignation.

The King sent for Fox, and directed him to form the plan of an
administration in concert with Pitt. But Pitt had not forgotten
old injuries, and positively refused to act with Fox.

The King now applied to the Duke of Devonshire, and this mediator
succeeded in making an arrangement. He consented to take the
Treasury. Pitt became Secretary of State, with the lead of the
House of Commons. The Great Seal was put into commission. Legge
returned to the Exchequer; and Lord Temple, whose sister Pitt had
lately married, was placed at the head of the Admiralty.

It was clear from the first that this administration would last
but a very short time. It lasted not quite five months; and,
during those five months, Pitt and Lord Temple were treated with
rudeness by the King, and found but feeble support in the House
of Commons. It is a remarkable fact, that the Opposition
prevented the re-election of some of the new Ministers. Pitt, who
sat for one of the boroughs which were in the Pelham interest,
found some difficulty in obtaining a seat after his acceptance of
the seals. So destitute was the new Government of that sort of
influence without which no Government could then be durable. One
of the arguments most frequently urged against the Reform Bill
was that, under a system of popular representation, men whose
presence in the House of Commons was necessary to the conducting
of public business might often find it impossible to find seats.
Should this inconvenience ever be felt, there cannot be the
slightest difficulty in devising and applying a remedy. But those
who threatened us with this evil ought to have remembered that,
under the old system, a great man called to power at a great
crisis by the voice of the whole nation was in danger of being
excluded, by an aristocratical cabal from that House of which he
was the most distinguished ornament.

The most important event of this short administration was the
trial of Byng. On that subject public opinion is still divided.
We think the punishment of the Admiral altogether unjust and
absurd. Treachery, cowardice, ignorance amounting to what lawyers
have called crassa ignorantia, are fit objects of severe penal
inflictions. But Byng was not found guilty of treachery, of
cowardice, or of gross ignorance of his profession. He died for
doing what the most loyal subject, the most intrepid warrior, the
most experienced seaman, might have done. He died for an error in
judgment, an error such as the greatest commanders, Frederick,
Napoleon, Wellington, have often committed, and have often
acknowledged. Such errors are not proper objects of punishment,
for this reason, that the punishing of such errors tends not to
prevent them, but to produce them. The dread of an ignominious
death may stimulate sluggishness to exertion, may keep a traitor
to his standard, may prevent a coward from running away, but it
has no tendency to bring out those qualities which enable men to
form prompt and judicious decisions in great emergencies. The
best marksman may be expected to fail when the apple which is to
be his mark is set on his child's head. We cannot conceive
anything more likely to deprive an officer of his self-possession
at the time when he most needs it than the knowledge that, if,
the judgment of his superiors should not agree with his, he will
he executed with every circumstance of shame. Queens, it has
often been said, run far greater risk in childbed than private
women, merely because their medical attendants are more anxious.
The surgeon who attended Marie Louise was altogether unnerved by
his emotions. "Compose yourself," said Bonaparte; "imagine that
you are assisting a poor girl in the Faubourg Saint Antoine."
This was surely a far wiser course than that of the Eastern king
in the Arabian Nights' Entertainments, who proclaimed that the
physicians who failed to cure his daughter should have their
heads chopped off. Bonaparte knew mankind well; and, as he acted
towards this surgeon, he acted towards his officers. No sovereign
was ever so indulgent to mere errors of judgment; and it is
certain that no sovereign ever had in his service so many
military men fit for the highest commands.

Pitt acted a brave and honest part on this occasion. He ventured
to put both his power and his popularity to hazard, and spoke
manfully for Byng, both in Parliament and in the royal presence.
But the King was inexorable. "The House of Commons, Sir," said
Pitt, "seems inclined to mercy." "Sir," answered the King, "you
have taught me to look for the sense of my people in other places
than the House of Commons." The saying has more point than most
of those which are recorded of George the Second, and, though
sarcastically meant, contains a high and just compliment to Pitt.

The King disliked Pitt, but absolutely hated Temple. The new
Secretary of State, his Majesty said, had never read Vattel, and
was tedious and pompous, but respectful. The first Lord of the
Admiralty was grossly impertinent. Walpole tells one story,
which, we fear, is much too good to be true, He assures us that
Temple entertained his royal master with an elaborate parallel
between Byng's behaviour at Minorca, and his Majesty's behaviour
at Oudenarde, in which the advantage was all on the side of the
Admiral.

This state of things could not last. Early in April, Pitt and all
his friends were turned out, and Newcastle was summoned to St.
James's. But the public discontent was not extinguished. It had
subsided when Pitt was called to power. But it still glowed under
the embers; and it now burst at once into a flame. The stocks
fell. The Common Council met. The freedom of the city was voted
to Pitt. All the greatest corporate towns followed the example.
"For some weeks," says Walpole, "it rained gold boxes."

This was the turning point of Pitt's life. It might have been
expected that a man of so haughty and vehement a nature, treated
so ungraciously by the Court, and supported so enthusiastically
by the people, would have eagerly taken the first opportunity of
showing his power and gratifying his resentment; and an
opportunity was not wanting. The members for many counties and
large towns had been instructed to vote for an inquiry into the
circumstances which had produced the miscarriage of the preceding
year. A motion for inquiry had been carried in the House of
Commons, without opposition; and, a few days after Pitt's
dismissal, the investigation commenced. Newcastle and his
colleagues obtained a vote of acquittal; but the minority were so
strong that they could not venture to ask for a vote of
approbation, as they had at first intended; and it was thought
by some shrewd observers that, if, Pitt had exerted himself to
the utmost of his power, the inquiry might have ended in a
censure, if not in an impeachment.

Pitt showed on this occasion a moderation and self-government
which was not habitual to him. He had found by experience, that
he could not stand alone. His eloquence and his popularity had
done much, very much for him. Without rank, without fortune,
without borough interest, hated by the King, hated by the
aristocracy, he was a person of the first importance in the
State. He had been suffered to form a ministry, and to pronounce
sentence of exclusion on all his rivals, on the most powerful
nobleman of the Whig party, on the ablest debater in the House
of Commons. And he now found that he had gone too far. The
English Constitution was not, indeed, without a popular element.
But other elements generally predominated. The confidence and
admiration of the nation might make a statesman formidable at the
head of an Opposition, might load him with framed and glazed
parchments and gold boxes, might possibly, under very peculiar
circumstances, such as those of the preceding year, raise him for
a time to power. But, constituted as Parliament then was, the
favourite of the people could not depend on a majority in the
people's own House. The Duke of Newcastle, however contemptible
in morals, manners, and understanding, was a dangerous enemy. His
rank, his wealth, his unrivalled parliamentary interest, would
alone have made him important. But this was not all. The Whig
aristocracy regarded him as their leader. His long possession of
power had given him a kind of prescriptive right to possess it
still. The House of Commons had been elected when he was at the
head of affairs, The members for the ministerial boroughs had all
been nominated by him. The public offices swarmed with his
creatures.

Pitt desired power; and he desired it, we really believe, from
high and generous motives. He was, in the strict sense of the
word, a patriot. He had none of that philanthropy which the great
French writers of his time preached to all the nations of Europe.
He loved England as an Athenian loved the City of the Violet
Crown, as a Roman loved the City of the Seven Hills. He saw his
country insulted and defeated. He saw the national spirit
sinking. Yet he knew what the resources of the empire, vigorously
employed, could effect, and he felt that he was the man to employ
them vigorously. "My Lord," he said to the Duke of Devonshire, "I
am sure that I can save this country, and that nobody else can."

Copyright (c) 2007. topbookz.net. All rights reserved.