ed
from his old ally Legge, the Chancellor of the Exchequer. Some of the
ministers were envious of Pitt's popularity. Others were, not altogether
without cause, disgusted by his imperious and haughty demeanor. Others,
again, were honestly opposed to some parts of his policy. They admitted
that he had found the country in the depths of humiliation, and had
raised it to the height of glory; they admitted that he had conducted
the war with energy, ability, and splendid success; but they began to
hint that the drain on the resources of the state was unexampled, and
that the public debt was increasing with a speed at which Montague or
Godolphin would have stood aghast. Some of the acquisitions made by our
fleets and armies were, it was acknowledged, profitable as well as
honorable; but, now that George the Second was dead, a courtier might
venture to ask why England was to become a party in a dispute between
two German powers. What was it to her whether the House of Hapsburg or
the House of Brandenburg ruled in Silesia? Why were the best English
regiments fighting on the Main? Why were the Prussian battalions paid
with English gold? The great minister seemed to think it beneath him to
calculate the price of victory. As long as the Tower guns were fired, as
the streets were illuminated, as French banners were carried in triumph
through London, it was to him matter of indifference to what extent the
public burdens were augmented. Nay he seemed to glory in the magnitude
of those sacrifices which the people, fascinated by his eloquence and
success, had too readily made, and would long and bitterly regret. There
was no check on waste or embezzlement. Our commissaries returned from
the camp of Prince Ferdinand to buy boroughs, to rear palaces, to rival
the magnificence of the old aristocracy of the realm. Already had we
borrowed, in four years of war, more than the most skilful and
economical government would pay in forty years of peace. But the
prospect of peace was as remote as ever. It could not be doubted that
France, smarting and prostrate, would consent to fair terms of
accommodation; but this was not what Pitt wanted. War had made him
powerful and popular; with war, all that was brightest in his life was
associated; for war, his talents were peculiarly fitted. He had at
length begun to love war for its own sake, and was more disposed to
quarrel with neutrals than to make peace with enemies.

Such were the views of the Duke