Sir Robert Walpole raised himself to the head of the Administration, without interest, without fortune, without alliances, and in defiance of the chiefs of his own party:[201] he rose by the House of Commons--he fell by it. Mr. Pelham found himself next upon the list, and was recommended to a strong party by their leader. He would never have risen, had he had no other foundation than the House of Commons, and would fall to-morrow if he had no other support; for he must be undone whenever his safety depends upon himself. Sir Robert Walpole’s eloquence was made for use, and he never could shine but when it was necessary[202] he should. He wanted art when he had no occasion for it; and never pleased, but when he did more than please. I am not going to contrast this part of their characters, nor to say that Mr. Pelham only shone upon trifling and unnecessary occasions, for he did not do even that; he was obscure upon the most trivial occurrences, perplexed even when he had but one idea, and whenever he spoke well, it was owing to his being heated; he must lose his temper before he could exert his reason. Sir Robert Walpole palliated too little, Mr. Pelham too much. The one would defend his errors by a majority; the other with a greater majority would excuse his merit, and would sooner obscure and depreciate his meaning when right and clear of itself, than not apologize for it. Sir Robert Walpole could not deviate but with openness and sincerity; the other degraded truth by timidity, sense by mystery, and right by asking pardon for it.

The one was honoured by his enemies, the other at best pitied by his friends. His most prejudiced opponents[203] often grew convinced that the former was in the right: the heartiest friends of the latter knew he meant to be so, but never found stronger reasons to confirm them in their opinion. The one durst do right and durst do wrong too; the other dared either so little, that it generally ended in his doing the latter. Sir Robert Walpole never professed honesty, but followed it; Mr. Pelham always professed it, and kept his word, when nothing happened to make him break it; and then he broke it for some other honest end, though perhaps far from being equally cogent.

Memoirs of the Reign of King George the Second, Volume 1 (of 3) — Part 138