the lead of the House of Commons on terms similar to those on which Secretary Craggs had acted under Sunderland, five-and-thirty years before.  Craggs could hardly be called a minister.  He was a mere agent for the Minister.  He was not trusted with the higher secrets of State, but obeyed implicitly the directions of his superior, and was, to use Doddington’s expression, merely Lord Sunderland’s man.  But times were changed.  Since the days of Sunderland, the importance of the House of Commons had been constantly on the increase.  During many years, the person who conducted the business of the Government in that House had almost always been Prime Minister.  In these circumstances, it was not to be supposed that any that any person who possessed the talents necessary for the situation would stoop to accept it on such terms as Newcastle was disposed to offer.

Pitt was ill at Bath; and, had he been well and in London, neither the King nor Newcastle would have been disposed to make any overtures to him.  The cool and wary Murray had set his heart on professional objects.  Negotiations were opened with Fox.  Newcastle behaved like himself, that is to say, childishly and basely, The proposition which he made was that Fox should be Secretary of State, with the lead of the House of Commons; that the disposal of the secret-service money, or, in plain words, the business of buying members of Parliament, should be left to the First Lord of the Treasury; but that Fox should be exactly informed of the way in which this fund was employed.

To these conditions Fox assented.  But the next day everything was in confusion.  Newcastle had changed his mind.  The conversation which took place between Fox and the Duke is one of the most curious in English history.  “My brother,” said Newcastle, “when he was at the Treasury, never told anybody what he did with the secret-service money.  No more will I.”  The answer was obvious.  Pelham had been not only First Lord of the Treasury, but also manager of the House of Commons; and it was therefore unnecessary for him to confide to any other person his dealings with the members of that House.  “But how,” said Fox, “can I lead in the Commons without information on this head?  How can I talk to gentlemen when I do not know which of them have received gratifications and which have not?  And who,” he continued, “is to have the disposal of places?”—­“I myself,” said the Duke.  “How then am I to manage the House of Commons?”—­ “Oh, let the members of the House of Commons come to me.”  Fox then mentioned the general election which was approaching, and asked how the ministerial boroughs were to be filled up.  “Do not trouble yourself”, said Newcastle; “that is all settled.”  This was too much for human nature to bear.  Fox refused to accept the Secretaryship of State on such terms; and the Duke confided the management of the House of Commons to a dull, harmless man, whose name is almost forgotten in our time, Sir Thomas Robinson.