Soon after this memorable debate France formally declared war againstMarch 1744. 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 20,000l.; the other was Pitt, to whom she left 10,000l., '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 £1000 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]

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 GrÈve 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.