Though most of the official men, and all the members of the Cabinet, were reputed Whigs, the Tories were by no means excluded from employment.  Pitt had gratified many of them with commands in the militia, which increased both their income and their importance in their own counties; and they were therefore in better humour than at any time since the death of Anne.  Some of the party still continued to grumble over their punch at the Cocoa Tree; but in the House of Commons not a single one of the malcontents durst lift his eyes above the buckle of Pitt’s shoe.

Thus there was absolutely no opposition.  Nay, there was no sign from which it could be guessed in what quarter opposition was likely to arise.  Several years passed during which Parliament seemed to have abdicated its chief functions.  The journals of the House of Commons, during four sessions, contain no trace of a division on a party question.  The supplies, though beyond precedent great, were voted without discussion.  The most animated debates of that period were on road bills and enclosure bills.

The old King was content; and it mattered little whether he were content or not.  It would have been impossible for him to emancipate himself from a ministry so powerful, even if he had been inclined to do so.  But he had no such inclination.  He had once, indeed, been strongly prejudiced against Pitt, and had repeatedly been ill used by Newcastle; but the vigour and success with which the war had been waged in Germany, and the smoothness with which all public business was carried on, had produced a favourable change in the royal mind.

Such was the posture of affairs when, on the twenty-fifth of October, 1760, George the Second suddenly died, and George the Third, then twenty-two years old, became King.  The situation of George the Third differed widely from that of his grandfather and that of his great grandfather.  Many years had elapsed since a sovereign of England had been an object of affection to any part of his people.  The first two Kings of the House of Hanover had neither those hereditary rights which have often supplied the defect of merit, nor those personal qualities which have often supplied the defect of title.  A prince may be popular with little virtue or capacity, if he reigns by birthright derived from a long line of illustrious predecessors.  An usurper may be popular, if his genius has saved or aggrandised the nation which he governs.  Perhaps no rulers have in our time had a stronger hold on the affection of subjects than the Emperor Francis, and his son-in-law the Emperor Napoleon.  But imagine a ruler with no better title than Napoleon, and no better understanding than Francis.  Richard Cromwell was such a ruler; and, as soon as an arm was lifted up against him, he fell without a struggle, amidst universal derision.  George the First and George the Second were in a situation which bore some resemblance to that of Richard Cromwell.  They