On November 14, the very day of the opening of1754. 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]

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 difficultNov. 27, 1754. 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.

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]

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]