on only by means of corruption, and that the State is given as a prey to statesmen.  These maxims were too much in vogue throughout the lower ranks of Walpole’s party, and were too much encouraged by Walpole himself, who, from contempt of what, is in our day vulgarly called humbug; often ran extravagantly and offensively into the opposite extreme.  The loose political morality of Fox presented a remarkable contrast to the ostentatious purity of Pitt.  The nation distrusted the former, and placed implicit confidence in the latter.  But almost all the statesmen of the age had still to learn that the confidence of the nation was worth having.  While things went on quietly, while there was no opposition, while everything was given by the favour of a small ruling junto, Fox had a decided advantage over Pitt; but when dangerous times came, when Europe was convulsed with war, when Parliament was broken up into factions, when the public mind was violently excited, the favourite of the people rose to supreme power, while his rival sank into insignificance.

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at the same moment, the influence which had yoked together and reined-in so many turbulent and ambitious spirits was withdrawn.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