probable. But what? had the City instructed its representatives to demand a First Minister? He had heard the Excise adopted by a sort of First Minister. He would tell the House who were the Administration; the two Secretaries of State, the Chancellor, the President, &c., and in their deliberations there had been twelve against two; proof enough of union. The other House had a right to judge as well as the Commons; and was the natural barrier between the Crown and people. Whoever sought the Administration, might find them in the Duke of Cumberland’s late lodgings at St. James’s (where the councils were held). At a time when not a man whispered to his friend, but in commendation of the King, would the House wish to set a First Minister over him?
Mr. Pitt expressed much concern at the flame that had arisen, and that the House, by losing its temper, had lost its reason, and degenerated into barbarism. His friend Beckford, he feared had thought more of him than he had done of himself; but the word guide, commented as it had been, had misled him. If the present question tended to make one individual minister, he should be against it; but when he looked at the complexion of the House, he had no such apprehension. Censured as he had been for using an expression so much condemned, he could not find reason to retract it. Lord Egremont, he believed, would not hold the Seals an hour, if not permitted to guide his own correspondence. Thus, he himself, who he hoped had not lessened his country, had insisted on the same right. In the Treasury, in the Military, in the Navy, he had never assumed or claimed any direction: had never spoken to the King on those heads, but had always applied to the ministers of those several departments; had transmitted everything through the channels of each office. He hoped, he said, to have these egotisms pardoned; he would now come to the question in agitation with a temper that nothing could ruffle. Even the virtues of the King, on which the House had been so much advised to rely, must be a little the fruit of time; hoped his Majesty would be aided by wholesome and deep-sighted advice. From the present motion what mischief could arise? he wished some necessity had made him absent—but would it be decorous in him to be shy? in a House where, he believed, he did not stand too well? He believed the bottom of the bottom of this affair would be dangerous; not so, while confined to memorials. Spain had made three demands in a most extensive manner; the right of fishery, which he had said he would as soon give up the Tower of London, as grant; nor would the King, he was sure, accord it; himself had never been ordered to hold any other language. But why, might it be said, call for these papers? because, if you temporized, or let Spain think you temporized, she would more assuredly push her claims. Suspense might be wholesome, if they were prepared, and you were not. The contrary being true, contrary measures should be pursued. Himself would not press the motion, if told by authority that it was premature; but then let the ministers say so, and mark the era, without moulting a feather of England’s crest. The note in the memorial, said to be delivered, was no departure from their demands. Did they even say they would not impede the peace on the consideration of these demands? Let ministers declare this, and he would second to withdraw the motion—but he saw, he said, he should not be told so. Or had France given up her insulting menace, that she would stand by the demands of Spain? This was the Gordian knot, that he himself had not been able to cut; had feared it would rise in judgment against him; hoped it would not against any other man. Divisions had always existed; when were twelve men cast in the same mould? Divisions were sometimes salutary. Queen Elizabeth had promoted them in her Councils. When he left administration, had never seen such unanimity; he had said in high place, that his consolation was, to leave such men in power; and had declared that he would only oppose what he would have opposed with the Seals in his hand—but to have stayed and have done that, would only have been prejudicial. It was the extent of Spain’s claims that had shocked him, not her lofty idioms, the most insignificant of all things. Whoever should cede to them but a cockboat, ceded all. But the very present debate would strengthen the King’s hands. He then made an encomium on the diligence, activity, and punctuality of the Earl of Bristol. Should the fisheries not be settled, the man who should give them up would one day or other be impeached. For himself he wished he had not been so much in the right; wished he had not known so much as he did. What he did know was buried in the centre of the earth. France had told us with good faith, that if we did not make up with Spain, they would break off the Treaty with us. If Spain declared war, he should think her felo de se. It would not be equal imprudence in her to abet France. Could the House proportion its supplies without knowing in what predicament Spain stood with France? Should the former declare war, she could lend money to the latter. The revenues of Spain were under five millions, and she employed seventy thousand men to collect them, besides twenty thousand that were engaged in the affair of tobacco. Was this a formidable enemy? To him it was indifferent to derive justification from this situation of things; should he prove to have been in the wrong, he should comfort himself with having thought he was right. All foreign Courts, especially Spain, would think the present motion wise. Were he not limited, or self-limited, he could enforce his arguments with more strength. The Gazette had been printed to persuade eight millions of people that Spain was amicable; but if there were indisputable proofs to the contrary, it was deceiving all the world. It was of no consequence to establish on which side lay truth; Bussy’s memorial had proved the connection between the two houses of Bourbon. Should the event end in a rupture, we had lost our opportunity—if affairs were in accommodation, would the honour of England be preserved? Would Spain be obliged to England who bowed, or to France, who should extort from us, in the height of our conquests, advantages for Spain?
Colonel Barré, whether (as he gave out afterwards) to show that he had not taken advantage of Mr. Pitt’s absence to abuse him the day before, or whether (as is more probable) to pursue the point to which he had been instigated, rose, and renewed the attack with redoubled acrimony. Insult of language, terms, manner, were addressed, and personally addressed, to Mr. Pitt, by that bravo. His variations, inconsistencies, arts, popularity, ambition, were all pressed upon Pitt with energy and bitterness, and the whole apostrophe wore the air of an affront more than of a philippic. He told the House he could not amuse, but he would not deceive them. That the disagreeable posture of our affairs with Spain was solely owing to the late resignation, which had thrown our councils and the nation itself into distraction. That Mr. Pitt, though professing it, had no confidence in the King himself. Here Pitt, who had remained in astonishment at so bold and novel an attack from a new speaker, called him to order, declaring that no word guilty of so foul a crime as want of confidence in the King had fallen from him, and sat down, leaving Barré to proceed in his invective; but the latter was interrupted by Fox, who said the King’s name was never to be mentioned in a debate; that the House had listened with pleasure while justice was done to his Majesty’s virtues; that Colonel Barré had a right to show to what he thought Mr. Pitt’s arguments had tended; and that he chose to give the former this hint, because he seemed so able and willing to make use of his right. Charles Yorke said the King’s name could not be used to influence debate. Pitt said he had referred to the King’s speech, because it asked advice of the House. Fox, still fearing lest the interruption and ignorance of the forms of the House should disconcert Barré, replied, that the speech might be quoted, because it is always understood as the speech of the minister. Barré went on, saying, that if any man opposed, and not from the truest reasons, he would wish him to be silent. Should there be a man whose whole life had been a contradiction and a series of popular arts, he would judge him from his actions, not from his words. Beckford called to have the question read, to prevent such deviation into personality. Rigby insisted that Beckford always deviated more than Barré had done. Barré added, that he had less reason to deviate than Beckford, not allowing himself to be so distracted; and that his front was not broad enough to write contradiction on; nor would he desert the King’s service when most wanted.
Pitt made no manner of reply; only turning to Beckford, and asking pretty loud, “how far the scalping Indians cast their tomahawks?” It seemed to some a want of spirit, but it was evident by the indignation of the House, that such savage war was detested: and Pitt perhaps did not care to put them in mind how far himself had often pushed invective; nor chose to risk their preferring the new master of abuse to the old. It had not been unwise, it should seem, to have uttered a few words, stating to Barré the indecence of treating an infirm and much older man with such licence, showing him that insult could not be resented when offered in a public assembly, who always interpose, and putting both him and the audience in mind, that a man, who had gained the hearts of his countrymen by his services, could