late First Lord of the Treasury.  This was done.  The great majority of the inquisitors were notoriously hostile to the accused statesman.  Yet they were compelled to own that they could find no fault in him.  They therefore called for new powers, for a bill of indemnity to witnesses, or, in plain words, for a bill to reward all who might give evidence, true or false, against the Earl of Orford.  This bill Pitt supported, Pitt, who had himself offered to be a screen between Lord Orford and public justice.  These are melancholy facts.  Mr. Thackeray omits them, or hurries over them as fast as he can; and, as eulogy is his business, he is in the right to do so.  But, though there are many parts of the life of Pitt which it is more agreeable to contemplate, we know none more instructive.  What must have been the general state of political morality, when a young man, considered, and justly considered, as the most public-spirited and spotless statesman of his time, could attempt to force his way into office by means so disgraceful!

The Bill of Indemnity was rejected by the Lords.  Walpole withdrew himself quietly from the public eye; and the ample space which he had left vacant was soon occupied by Carteret.  Against Carteret Pitt began to thunder with as much zeal as he had ever manifested against Sir Robert.  To Carteret he transferred most of the hard names which were familiar to his eloquence, sole minister, wicked minister, odious minister, execrable minister.  The chief topic of Pitt’s invective was the favour shown to the German dominions of the House of Brunswick.  He attacked with great violence, and with an ability which raised him to the very first rank among the parliamentary speakers, the practice of paying Hanoverian troops with English money.  The House of Commons had lately lost some of its most distinguished ornaments.  Walpole and Pulteney had accepted peerages; Sir William Wyndham was dead; and among the rising men none could be considered as, on the whole, a match for Pitt.

During the recess of 1744, the old Duchess of Marlborough died.  She carried to her grave the reputation of being decidedly the best hater of her time.  Yet her love had been infinitely more destructive than her hatred.  More than thirty years before, her temper had ruined the party to which she belonged and the husband whom she adored.  Time had made her neither wiser nor kinder.  Whoever was at any moment great and prosperous was the object of her fiercest detestation.  She had hated Walpole; she now hated Carteret.  Pope, long before her death, predicted the fate of her vast property.

“To heirs unknown descends the unguarded store, Or wanders, heaven-directed, to the poor.”

Pitt was then one of the poor; and to him Heaven directed a portion of the wealth of the haughty Dowager.  She left him a legacy of ten thousand pounds, in consideration of “the noble defence he had made for the support of the laws of England, and to prevent the ruin of his country.”