iption restored to the
Whig party not a little of the idealism it had lost; and Burke came to
supply them with a philosophy. Chatham remained the idol of the people
despite his hatred. He raised Wilkes to be the champion of
representative government and of personal liberty. He lost America and
it was not his fault that Ireland was retained. The early popularity he
received he never recovered until increasing years and madness had made
him too pathetic for dislike. The real result of his attempt was to
compel attention once again to the foundations of politics; and George's
effort, in the light of his immense failures, could not, in the nature
of things, survive that analysis.

Not, of course, that George ever lacked defenders. As early as 1761, the
old rival of Walpole, Pulteney, whom a peerage had condemned to
obsolescence, published his _Seasonable Hints from an Honest Man on the
new Reign_. Pulteney urged the sovereign no longer to be content with
the "shadow of royalty." He should use his "legal prerogatives" to check
"the illegal claims of factious oligarchy." Government had become the
private possession of a few powerful men. The king was but a puppet in
leading strings. The basis of government should be widened, for every
honest man was aware that distinctions of party were now merely nominal.
The Tories should be admitted to place. They were now friendly to the
accession and they no longer boasted their hostility to dissent. They
knew that Toleration and the Establishment were of the essence of the
Constitution. Were once the Whig oligarchy overthrown, corruption would
cease and Parliament could no longer hope to dominate the kingdom. "The
ministers," he said, "will depend on the Crown not the Crown on
ministers" if George but showed "his resolution to break all factitious
connections and confederacies." The tone is Bolingbroke's, and it was
the lesson George had insistently heard from early youth. How sinister
was the advice, men did not see until the elder Pitt was in political
exile, with Wilkes an outlaw, and general warrants threatening the whole
basis of past liberties.

The first writer who pointed out in unmistakable terms the meaning of
the new synthesis was Junius. That his anonymity concealed the malignant
talent of Sir Philip Francis seems now beyond denial. Junius, indeed,
can hardly claim a place in the history of political ideas. His genius
lay not in the discussion of principle but the dissectio