George III.
Addington And Pitt.
(1801-1806).
Mr. Pitt, on retiring, urged Mr. Addington to accept the control
of the government. "Addington," said he, "I see nothing but ruin,
if you hesitate." He at the same time urged his friends to retain
their places; he even consented to present the Budget which had
been prepared, and which was unanimously passed. His support of
the new cabinet was assured; nevertheless, Dundas, who had
followed his friend into retirement, wrote to him from Wimbledon,
on the 7th of February, at the time when Mr. Addington was still
endeavoring to form his ministry, that he did not know what the
speaker would attempt, but he was convinced that any
administration of which Addington was chief, could not fail to
break, up almost as soon as formed. The devoted friends of Mr.
Pitt, who had remained in office at his solicitation, saw this
with regret and chagrin; and among their mortifications was the
feeling that they had joined a ministry under a chief absolutely
incapable of directing them. This was the general sentiment.
Discouraged and sad, even before the cabinet was formed, the king
remained pre-occupied and deeply agitated. He read over his
coronation oath, and exclaimed: "Where is that power on earth to
absolve me from the due observance of every sentence of that
oath, particularly the one requiring me to maintain the
Protestant reformed religion? Was not my family seated on the
throne for that express purpose, and shall I be the first to
suffer it to be undermined, perhaps overturned? No! I had rather
beg my bread from door to door throughout Europe, than consent to
any such measure. If I violate it, I am no longer legal sovereign
of this country, but it falls to the House of Savoy."
{389}
So much emotion and foreboding anxiety, shattered the tottering
reason of the monarch; he had lost that faithful support, that
sure guide on whom he had relied for more than seventeen years
past. The conscience of the king was agitated and troubled. Upon
recovering from a swoon, the old king repeated this verse from
the Psalms: "Forty years long was I grieved with this generation,
and said, it is a people that do err in their hearts, for they
have not known my ways." He murmured afterwards, "I am better, I
am better now, but I will remain true to the Church."
The malady had declared itself, and public prayers were ordered.
The Prince of Wales sent for Mr. Pitt--still minister, in fact.
"I will not hesitate," said Mr. Pitt, "to give to your Highness
the best counsel that I am able; but with all the respect that I
owe you, there is one thing that I demand of you permission to
establish. It is this condition: that your Highness will
interdict yourself from deliberating with those who have agitated
so long in direct opposition to the government of his Majesty."
The prince consented; not, however, without some show of temper.
Fox had quitted his pleasant retreat at St. Ann's Hill. He
counselled the prince to accept the limited regency, that Mr.
Pitt intended to propose. Already steps had been taken to form a
Whig cabinet, when the rapid improvement of the king's health
gave the hope of avoiding yet, for a time, that dreaded regency.
On Friday, the 6th of March, George III. passed the day in the
apartments of the Queen. He charged his physician to inform Mr.
Pitt of it. "Tell him that I am now quite well, quite recovered
from my illness; but what has he not to answer for, who is the
cause of my having been ill at all."
{390}
The sentiments of loyalty and personal attachment for the old
king were profound in the reserved and proud soul of Mr. Pitt.
The reproach of the sovereign deeply affected him. "Say to his
Majesty," replied he to Dr. Willis, "that I have authorized you
to assure him, that during his reign, whether _in_ or
_out_ of office, I will never again agitate the question of
Catholic Emancipation." The king drew a deep sigh. "Now my mind
will be at ease," he exclaimed; and upon the queen's coming in,
he repeated the message, and made the same observation upon it.
A moment after the question of conscience was decided, Mr. Pitt
had some desire of yielding to the wishes of the king, and
returning to power. Mr. Addington turned a deaf ear to the
insinuations which were made to him upon the subject. Mr. Pitt
did not insist; he had seen the king and reconciled him to his
resignation. The Catholics, fully informed regarding all affairs,
rendered their homage to Mr. Pitt for his fidelity to his
engagements with them; they awaited their day. Pitt had just
established himself in a small furnished house in Park Place.
Poor, and without leisure to look after household matters, he was
overwhelmed with debts. He had refused the patriotic gifts, as
well as the liberalities of the king. He was now, however,
compelled to accept, with great regret, the offers of his
friends, and he borrowed from them the money necessary to pay his
creditors. He sold his small estate at Holwood, and now lived
very modestly. "Each day," writes Lord Stanhope, "when he came to
the House of Commons, he took his place at the right of the
speaker's chair, in the third row of benches, near one of the
iron columns.
{391}
Many years later I saw old members point out that place, in the
old house, with a sentiment of veneration." His friends remained
steadily faithful to him. They either followed him into
retirement, as Dundas and the young Canning--perhaps his favorite
disciple, assuredly the most celebrated; or they occupied, at his
request, posts of confidence. "I have taken the great seal, only
upon the advice and pressing solicitation of Mr. Pitt," said Lord
Eldon, "and I will only keep it as long as I shall be able to
live in perfect concord with him."
Wellington, at this time the Marquis of Wellesly and
Governor-General of India, wrote to the fallen minister, that he
counted sufficiently upon the testimony of his own heart, not to
doubt that Mr. Pitt had full confidence in his fidelity to his
cause, whatever the circumstances might be; when that cause
should cease to prevail in the councils of the nation, he would
hasten to free himself from the disgrace of office, in order to
join Mr. Pitt in the fortress which it should please him to
defend, wherever it might be. His political relations with Mr.
Pitt, confirmed by so many ties of friendship, and by intimate
testimonies of affection and private consideration, were not only
the pride, but also the joy of his life; and that he could not
support the idea of seeing Mr. Pitt other than the guide of his
political conduct, the guardian of all that is dear and precious
in the constitution and in the country; and the first object of
his esteem, respect, and personal attachment.
That noble statesman, who had inspired such emotional and
faithful respect in so many eminent men, was not insensible to
the evidences of esteem and attachment lavished upon him; and,
upon the other hand, the failure of many expectations, the forced
abandonment of many cherished projects, caused him heartfelt
regrets which he did not endeavor to conceal.
{392}
The cabinet of Mr. Addington was being made up. Lord Grey
attacked the conduct of the last government. Mr. Pitt arose, and
avowed frankly the regret that he felt in quitting the power
before concluding peace. He did not pretend, he said, to that
indifference to the opinions of others, that certain persons
affect; he was not indifferent to the situation of his country.
He was not indifferent to the opinion that the public might have
concerning the part, the too great part, that he had taken in it.
He avowed, on the contrary, that those questions occupied him
much. Events had happened which had deceived his most cherished
desires, and baffled the favorite expectations of his heart. He
would have desired to pursue, even to the end of the struggle,
the object of these expectations and desires for the success of
which he had labored with so much care and anxiety. He had not
recoiled before obstacles. He had lived during the past seventeen
years with very little effect, if it was necessary now to explain
that he had not quitted his post because he feared the
difficulties; he had always acted--good or evil; it did not
pertain to him to decide which, but assuredly as a man who had
not the air of fearing difficulties. He was able to say at least
this: if he could efface from the record these seventeen years,
and speak only of that which has taken place during the past two
months, he would dare to affirm, that enough facts have been
presented, in that interval, to efface the idea that he was
disposed to recoil before any difficulty whatsoever, or that he
desired to clear himself from any responsibility. That which had
happened since that epoch, had given him the opportunity to
prove, very positively, that he was ready to accept all the
responsibility that the situation might be able to thrust upon
him.
{393}
Even in his retirement, Pitt never avoided a responsibility, but
was always ready to accept the weight of his past acts, and of
his present counsels. An expedition, that he had planned, had
just entered the Baltic. Sir Hyde Parker, who commanded it, had
been appointed commander-in-chief. He was old and feeble; the
dangers of the expedition affected his courage; the weather was
bad. "We must brace up," said Nelson, second in command, to
Parker; "these are no times for nervous systems."
On the 2nd of April, 1801, a decisive naval battle was fought.
Nelson attacked the batteries and the enemy's squadron before
Copenhagen. The old admiral, who had not taken an active part in
the battle, seeing Nelson in danger, ordered signal No. 39--the
signal for discontinuing the action, to be hoisted. The signal
lieutenant asked if he should repeat it. "No," replied Nelson,
"acknowledge it." He then continued walking about in great
emotion, and meeting Captain Foley, said: "What think you, Foley,
the admiral has hung out No. 39. You know I have only one eye; I
have a right to be blind sometimes." And then putting the glass
to his blind eye, he exclaimed, "I really don't see the signal.
Keep mine for closer battle still flying. That's the way I answer
such signals. _Nail mine to the mast._"
The victory was glorious. On landing, three days later, Nelson
concluded an armistice with the crown Prince, by which Denmark
abandoned the alliance of armed neutrality and the confederation
against Great Britain. Some weeks later the Emperor Paul was
assassinated, and the coalition of the powers of the north
vanished. The first care of the new Russian Emperor was to
restore liberty to English sailors.
{394}
To the joy which the success before Copenhagen aroused, was added
the satisfaction inspired by the news from Egypt. Kleber was
assassinated, by a fanatic; on the 14th of June, 1800, General
Menou, who succeeded him, preserved the positions gained by the
victory of Heliopolis. At the beginning of the year 1801, and
during the ministerial crisis, a body of English troops landed in
Egypt; a desperate engagement took place near Aboukir. Sir Ralph
Abercromby was seriously wounded, and died some days later. The
French were hemmed in near Alexandria: Cairo was invested, and
General Belliard, who defended it, was obliged to surrender
before the end of June. The English received reinforcements from
India, and General Menou was obliged to capitulate on the 27th of
August. The French obtained all the honors of war, and were
permitted to withdraw, with their arms and baggage,
unconditionally, and were to be transported free, to their own
coasts.
At London, negotiations were in progress. Mr. Pitt took an active
part in them. Lord Hawksbury, who had charge of them, was one of
his most intimate friends. On the 1st of October, 1801, Mr. Pitt
personally announced the signature of preliminaries to Mr. Long,
but recently a member of his cabinet: "I have only a moment to
say to you, that the die is cast, and that the preliminaries have
been signed. The conditions, without being precisely and in all
respects, as one might desire, are certainly very honorable; and
taken all in all, very advantageous. I do not expect that our
friends will be entirely satisfied, but the great mass of the
public will be, I believe, extremely satisfied, and I regard the
event as very fortunate for the government and the country."
{395}
On the 25th of March, 1802, peace was signed at Amiens, between
France, England and Spain. All the colonial conquests were
restored to France and Holland, with the exception of the Island
of Trinidad and the Dutch possessions in Ceylon. Malta was given
back to its Knight Templars, and Egypt to the Sublime Porte. The
French evacuated the kingdom of Naples and the States of the
Church. "It is a peace," said Sir Philip Francis, "which
everybody is glad of, though nobody is proud of." The outbursts
of popular enthusiasm forced the opposition to accept the peace
without a contest. Fox alone was partisan enough to boldly
rejoice over the brilliant successes of France. "Some persons
complain that we have not attained the end of the war," said he;
"assuredly we have not attained it, but this fact only pleases me
better than the peace itself." In a letter to Lord Grey, who had
reproached him for his imprudence, he wrote: "For the truth is, I
am gone something further in hate to the English government than
perhaps you and the rest of my friends are, and certainly further
than can with prudence be avowed. For the triumph of the French
government over the English, does, in fact, afford me a degree of
pleasure which it is very difficult to disguise."
The peace which had but just been concluded was already
tottering. Bonaparte's ambition for conquest, encouraged by the
weariness of Europe, increased each day the pretensions of the
French government. English travellers crowded to the continent,
curious to visit that new France, so long closed to them. Fox was
in Paris, and often saw the First Consul, for whom he had
conceived the liveliest admiration. Bonaparte one day conducted
his illustrious visitor to the Louvre; both stopped in front of a
large globe. The General, putting his finger upon the spot
occupied by England, sneeringly remarked: "See what a little
place you occupy in the world."--Fox's English pride was
awakened: "Yes," said he, approaching the globe and attempting to
encircle it in his extended arms: "England is a small island, but
with her power she girdles the world." The First Consul did not
continue the conversation.
{396}
Some dissatisfaction had arisen between Pitt and Addington: the
protégé had many times failed to defend his protector when
violently attacked in the Houses; the counsels asked and given,
were not always followed. Efforts had been made, more than once,
to restore Pitt to power, but he felt that he could neither
direct nor overthrow the cabinet that he had so long sustained,
and for some time past he had absented himself from the House of
Commons. "I am more and more persuaded," wrote he to his friend
Mr. Rose, "after all that I see of affairs and of parties, that
the role that I would play at present, if I were in town, would
do more harm than good; it is therefore better, upon all
accounts, that I remain, for the present, in the country." Pitt
prolonged his stay at Walmer Castle some three months
(February-May, 1803).
The general state of affairs was in fact disquieting and serious,
and the execution of the treaty of Amiens seemed doubtful. New
revolutionary movements agitated Holland; the Cis-alpine republic
was recognized, under French influence. The mediation of
Bonaparte in the affairs of Switzerland, assured to him a weighty
and firm ascendancy. Piedmont was annexed to the French republic.
An expedition of Col. Sebastiani into Egypt disturbed the
English. The cabinets in London and in Paris exchanged complaints
and recriminations regarding the delays in consummating the
treaty. "We claim the treaty of Amiens, all of the treaty of
Amiens, and nothing but the treaty of Amiens," said the French.
England still retained Malta, under the pretext that the Knights
had not yet re-established themselves there, and that Malta was
for them the only guarantee of good faith on the part of the
French.
{397}
General Bonaparte made complaints regarding this subject, to Lord
Whitworth, the English Ambassador at Paris. "I would rather see
you in possession of the Heights of Montmartre, than of Malta,"
said the First Consul. He subsequently complained of the libels
which were circulated against him in England, and of the delays
in the trial of Peltin, the French pamphleteer and refugee. At
the same time the consul himself wounded the legitimate pride of
England by the arrogant language of his message to the Corps
Legislatif. "The government declares with just pride that Great
Britain cannot contend alone against France."
Considerable armaments were in progress at various points on the
French coast, provoking similar measures on the part of the
British government. A message from the king to Parliament
announced the same.
The anger of the First Consul regarding these events was natural
and insolent, as well as premeditated. Lord Whitworth assisted at
a court reception at the Tuilleries. Bonaparte advanced quickly
towards him. "So you are determined to go to war," said he,
roughly. "No," calmly replied the noble ambassador, "we are too
sensible of the advantages of peace--we have already fought for
fifteen years." After waiting a moment for a reply he continued,
"And that is quite enough."--"But you will have to fight for
fifteen years longer," replied Bonaparte; "you force me to it."
He insisted upon the infractions of the treaty of which he had
accused England. Turning abruptly, and intimidating, by his angry
frown, the members of the diplomatic corps, already disquieted
and troubled, he exclaimed: "Woe to those who do not respect
treaties."
{398}
In the presence of this menacing attitude of France, and the
alarmed state of Europe, England regarded with regret the loss of
Pitt, and felt an ardent desire for his return to power. "It is a
strange and sad fact," said Sir Philip Francis, in Parliament,
"that at such a moment as this, all the eminent men of England
are excluded from the councils and from the government of the
country. When the sky is clear, an ordinary amount of ability is
sufficient; but for the storm which is arising we need other
pilots. If the vessel founders we shall all perish with her."
Addington felt this as well as the public. He made propositions
to Pitt, through Mr. Dundas, recently become Lord Melville. This
gentleman at first believed that he could induce Mr. Pitt to
consent to a division of the power, but he was soon convinced of
his mistake. "Really," said Pitt, with ironical disdain, "I had
not the curiosity to ask what I was to be." Addington was both
sincere and disquieted. He went further, and proposed to renounce
his functions as Prime Minister. Some of the friends of Pitt
urged him to accept, but the haughtiness of Lord Grenville, which
had more than once badly served the minister when in power, now
interfered with the negotiations.
Pitt refused the concessions that Addington demanded, and on the
other hand, Addington would not consent to the admission of Lord
Grenville and Mr. Wyndham to the new cabinet. The negotiations
were broken off, to the grave displeasure of the king, who had
been but imperfectly and tardily informed of the situation. "It
is a foolish business, from one end to the other," said George
III. to Lord Pelham; "it was begun ill, conducted ill, and
terminated ill."--"Both parties were in the wrong," said the Duke
of York to Lord Malmesbury; "so ill managed has been the recent
negotiation, as to put Mr. Pitt's return to office, though more
necessary than ever, at a greater distance than ever."
[Image]
"See What A Little Place You Occupy In The World."
{399}
The renewal of hostilities became imminent. The First Consul
rejected the ultimatum of England; the declaration of war could
not be deferred. The English ministers had committed some faults
of detail in the negotiations, but already the dangers of a proud
and insatiable ambition began to dawn. The repose and
independence of Europe would be compromised if Bonaparte became,
without resistance, master of the military and political
situation. On the 18th of May, 1803, war was officially declared.
Some days later, all English subjects travelling in France were
violently seized and thrown into prisons, and were retained there
until peace was declared.
Mr. Pitt left Walmer Castle, and re-appeared in the House of
Commons. Although sad and melancholy at the recent loss of his
mother, who died on the 3rd of April, 1803, he was, nevertheless,
animated by an ardent patriotism, and decided to defend the
declaration of war. When he arose to speak, the whole House
cried--"Mr. Pitt! Mr. Pitt!" and the applause drowned the first
accents of his voice. Fox himself was loud in praise of the
brilliant success of his great rival, who had just re-appeared
upon the scene. "It was a speech," he told the House, "which, if
Demosthenes had been present, he must have admired, and might
have envied."
Pitt ardently approved of the war measures. He sustained,
nevertheless, against the advice of the government, a proposition
from Fox, tending to accept the mediation of Russia. "Whether we
are in peace or in war," said he, "whether we desire to give
force to our arms or security to our repose, whether we wish to
prevent war by negotiations, or to re-establish peace after the
war shall have broken out, it is the duty of the ministers of
this country to profit by the good offices of the powers with
whom it is to our interest to become allied."
{400}
War became inevitable. The mediation of Russia was useless and
ineffectual; no one abroad realized the energy or sagacity of the
English cabinet. "If that ministry lasts, Great Britain will not
last," said Count Woronzow, the Russian Ambassador in England.
Parliament rejected the resolutions of censure, indirectly
sustained by Mr. Pitt; nevertheless the support of the great
orator was necessary to the cabinet in order to carry its
financial measures, and Mr. Addington accepted without resistance
the modifications demanded by Mr. Pitt.
The First Consul had eagerly renewed his former project of a
descent upon England. He established at Boulogne a camp and
workshops for naval service; he personally superintended the
same, inspecting the works and animating the men by his
inexhaustible ardor. Thousands of flat-bottomed boats were to
transport to England a hundred thousand soldiers, veterans of the
great revolutionary struggles.
Bonaparte exacted from Spain a monthly tribute; he disposed of
the resources of the Cisalpine Republic as well as those of
Holland and Belgium. "By the end of autumn," he said, "I will
march upon London."
Patriotic enthusiasm in England responded to the gravity of the
peril. Thiers writes that "a shudder of terror ran through all
classes of English society." The alarm, however, did not arrest
the zeal. Three hundred thousand volunteers enrolled themselves
at once. As lord warden of the Cinque Ports, Mr. Pitt powerfully
contributed to the activity of preparation. He personally took
command of a brigade, which occupied the most exposed position
upon the coast. His health, always tottering, was at this time
seriously influenced by so much fatigue. His niece, Lady Hester
Stanhope, had charge of his house; she was young and beautiful,
but capricious; without family or fortune. She was received by
her uncle, towards whom she always manifested a sincere devotion.
After his death, she was unable to content herself in England.
She established herself in the East, where she long led the life
of a queen of the desert. Strange destiny, and very contrary to
the regular habits of the mind and life of Mr. Pitt. With the
exception of a single journey to France, he had never quitted
England.
{401}
At the opening of Parliament, on the 22nd of November, Pitt
censured some of the measures adopted by the government for the
national defence, but he refused to join in the systematic attack
that Lord Grenville had prepared, and for which he had allied
himself with Mr. Fox. "In all simple and clear questions," said
he, "I have decided to sustain the government; if it should omit
anything that I believed the state of the country required, or
when it shall show feebleness or want of efficiency, I will
boldly announce my views; but even then not in a spirit of
opposition, for I will only speak after being assured that the
government persists in what I disapprove, and does not consent to
what I believe necessary."
The king at this time passed through another crisis of his
malady. Successive checks had disturbed the ministry decidedly,
by the consent of all, unequal to the task before it. Mr.
Addington resolved to send in his resignation. The king accepted
it with regret; he felt himself, to a certain point, master of
the situation, while the power was in the hands of Mr. Addington,
and he often spoke of him as: "My Chancellor of the Exchequer."
He was nevertheless compelled to consult Mr. Pitt immediately,
concerning the formation of a cabinet. The sovereign was
convalescent. Mr. Pitt, who had for some time been in
correspondence with the Chancellor, Lord Eldon, proposed at once
an alliance with Fox. "My opinion is founded," wrote he, "upon
the profound conviction that the critical state of our country,
at this moment, joined to that of Europe in general, and of
political parties abroad, render it more essential, than at any
other epoch, to give to the government of his Majesty the
greatest possible energy and force, by seeking to unite in his
service the talents and influences accounted eminent, without
exception, from parties of all names, without care for divisions
or past differences."
{402}
The refusal of the king was peremptory. He sent for Mr. Pitt.
"Your Majesty is looking much better than after your former
illness," said he, upon entering.--"It is not to be wondered at,"
cordially replied George III. "I was then on the point of
_parting_ with an old friend, and I am now about to
_regain_ one."
Fox manifested neither astonishment nor anger upon learning of
his exclusion by the king. "I am too old to care for office,"
said he to Lord Grenville Leveson; "but I have many friends who
have been my followers for years. I shall counsel them to unite
themselves to the government, and I hope that Mr. Pitt will be
able to find places for them." Obstinately faithful to their
chief, the friends of Fox refused all proposals of the minister.
Lord Grenville, piqued at not having succeeded in his efforts at
coalition, declared that he would take no part in the cabinet.
The long friendship which had united him to Mr. Pitt, and their
family ties, rendered this refusal doubly painful, and deeply
wounded the minister. "I will teach that proud man," said Pitt,
"that in the service of, and with the confidence of the
sovereign, I can do without him;" but he added, with a sad
presentiment, "even though the effort may cost me my life."
Lord Harrowby replaced Lord Grenville as Minister of Foreign
Affairs. The new cabinet was strengthened by the admission of Mr.
Canning and Lord Castlereagh. The opposition was stronger than
ever, but the state of affairs on the continent had changed. The
execution of the Duke d'Enghien had irritated and exasperated the
most decided partisans of the First Consul. He had also taken
from his admirers all right of regarding him as the protector of
liberty in Europe. On the 16th of May, 1804, General Bonaparte
was proclaimed Emperor of the French, under the title of Napoleon
I.
{403}
The secret discontent of the sovereigns of Europe lent some moral
support to the resistance of England. Mr. Pitt did not, however,
trust himself to this movement of public opinion. Notwithstanding
the opposition of his adversaries, among whom Mr. Addington had
ranged himself, he demanded an increase of the regular forces.
The Emperor Napoleon was now ready to consummate his great
project of landing in England. He had confided its direction to
Admiral La Touche-Treville. "If we are masters of the Channel for
six hours," said he, in a secret letter, "we will be masters of
the world." Some days later. La Touche-Treville died, and the
great plan of Napoleon, thus baffled by a hand more powerful than
his own, terminated in a few insignificant combats between
English and French sailors. The Emperor had departed for Paris,
where he was crowned on the 2nd of December, 1804. Pope Pius VII.
had come from Rome for the purpose of crowning the new
Charlemagne. In the notes of Mr. Pitt, upon the means of defence
and attack that England then had at her disposal, we find this
passage regarding the Emperor Napoleon, inspired by patriotic
bitterness, natural and pardonable, but which alters, in some
measure, that equity of judgment which the great minister always
preserved at home, even regarding his most violent adversaries:
{404}
"Napoleon.--I see various and contrary qualities, all the great
and little passions fatal to public tranquillity, united in the
bosom of a single man, and unfortunately of a man whose
personal caprice is unable to change for a single hour without
influencing the destinies of Europe. I see internal indications
of fear struggling against pride in a mind, ardent, bold, and
tumultuous. I see all the gloomy mistrust of a consecrated
usurpation which is feared, detested and obeyed; the madness
and intoxication of a marvellous but unmerited success;
arrogance, presumption, the obstinacy of an unlimited and
idolatrous power; and that which is more to be feared in the
plenitude of authority, the incessant and indefatigable
activity of a culpable but unsatiated ambition."
The Emperor Napoleon judged more liberally of his implacable
adversary. When, during the Hundred Days, he accorded to France a
parliamentary constitution, he said to his ministers: "We do not
know how Parliaments are conducted. M. Fouché believes that by
bribing some old corrupt members, and by flattering a few young
enthusiasts, assemblies are ruled. He is mistaken; that is
intrigue, and intrigue does not lead far. In England, without
absolutely neglecting these means, they have others greater and
more serious. Recall Mr. Pitt, and behold to-day Lord
Castlereagh! By the same means Pitt directed the House of
Commons, and Lord Castlereagh controls it still to-day. Ah! if I
had such instruments, I would not fear; but have I anything like
it?"
The ministry lost the support of Lord Harrowby, who was ill from
a fall, and obliged to resign; but a reconciliation between Pitt
and Addington was brought about. The anger of certain of Pitt's
friends was very great. Canning spoke of quitting his office: "It
is a little hard upon us in finding fault with our making it up
again," said Mr. Pitt, "when we have been friends from our
childhood, and our fathers were so before us; while they say
nothing to Grenville for uniting with Fox, though they have been
fighting all their lives."
{405}
Addington passed into the House of Lords with the title of Lord
Sidmouth, and was sworn in as President of the Council. The Duke
of Portland, who exercised that function, remained in the cabinet
as minister, but without the portfolio. The new alliance, as well
as the growing sentiment of public confidence, had increased the
majority for the ministry. After a most animated debate between
Pitt, Fox and Sheridan, upon the subject of the war recently
declared by Spain, the conduct of the government was approved by
a majority of one hundred and forty. Mr. Pitt, however, did not
think it prudent to risk at the same time the question of the
abolition of the slave trade, to which he had constantly remained
faithful. Wilberforce persisted in presenting his motion. Pitt
and Fox gave him their support, but a majority of their adherents
abstained from voting. "I have never attempted anything during my
whole parliamentary career which has cost me so much trouble,"
wrote Wilberforce, in his journal.
A bitter mortification awaited Mr. Pitt. As faithful in his
friendships as in his political engagements, he had remained
sincerely attached to Lord Melville, notwithstanding the coldness
which had arisen between them during the Addington ministry. Upon
returning to power, he had called his friend to the Ministry of
the Marine, of which he had recently been treasurer. Naval
construction had been much neglected by Lord St. Vincent.
Melville pushed it forward with much zeal. The order and
superintendence, however, were not equal to the activity. A
paymaster appointed by Lord Melville was convicted of having
appropriated public funds. Soon after his patron was accused of
being implicated in these malversations. It was impossible, he
said, to render an account of the sums which had passed through
his hands, and of which a part had been used for secret service.
{406}
Justly convinced of the honesty of Lord Melville, but equally
disturbed by his mismanagement and the bad intentions of the
opposition towards him, Pitt resolved to defend his colleague at
all hazards. Among his partisans, and even in the cabinet, the
dissatisfaction was profound, and opinions were much divided.
When it came to a vote, the independent members awaited the
decision of Mr. Wilberforce; he rose slowly, avoiding the glance
of Mr. Pitt, which still entreated him. "I am forced," said he,
"to vote for Mr. Whitbread's resolution of censure. I am
profoundly shocked at the guilty conduct of Lord Melville, and I
am unable to refuse to satisfy the moral sense of England." The
house was equally divided, and the speaker cast the deciding
vote.
Abbott, the speaker, much troubled, voted for the resolution. "I
sat wedged close to Pitt himself, the night we were left 216 to
216," writes Lord Fitzharris, son of Lord Malmesbury, "and the
speaker, Abbot, after looking as white as a sheet, and pausing
for ten minutes, gave the casting vote _against_ us. Pitt
immediately put on the little cocked hat that he was in the habit
of wearing when dressed for the evening, and jammed it deeply
over his forehead; and _I distinctly saw the tears trickling
down his cheeks_. We had overheard one or two, such as Colonel
Wardle (of notorious memory), say, they would see how Billy
looked after it. A few young ardent followers of Pitt, with
myself, locked their arms together, and formed a circle, in which
he moved, I believe, unconsciously, out of the House; and neither
the Colonel nor his friends could approach him."
{407}
Lord Melville had tendered his resignation as First Lord of the
Admiralty. His enemies, however, were not satisfied, but demanded
the erasure of his name from the list of privy councillors. The
first impulse of Pitt was to haughtily refuse. Melville, as
generous and disinterested toward others as he was imprudent and
negligent in the administration of public affairs, as well as
with his personal fortune, interposed. The majority was
threatening. Melville prayed Pitt to yield to the storm. A sad
allusion to the grief of his family alone betrayed the bitterness
of his soul. "I will not conceal from you," wrote he, "that my
opinion in this matter is not entirely free from all personal
consideration. I hope that I have firmness enough to support all
the trouble that they may cause me; but you know me well enough
to comprehend how my domestic affections suffer from the grief
and constant agitation that these debates, mingled with so much
personal bitterness, naturally cause to those who are nearest to
me."
When Pitt announced to the House that he had already requested
the king to erase the name of Lord Melville from the list of
privy councillors; he added, with great emotion, "I confess, and
I am not ashamed to confess it, that whatever may be my deference
to the House of Commons, and however anxious I may be to accede
to their wishes, I certainly felt a deep and bitter _pang_
in being compelled to be the instrument of rendering still more
severe the punishment of the noble lord."--"As he uttered the
word _pang,_" says Lord Macaulay, "his lip quivered, his
voice shook, he paused, and his hearers thought that he was about
to burst into tears. He suppressed his emotion, however, and
proceeded with his usual majestic self-possession."
{408}
When Lord Melville appeared before the House of Lords, at that
bar of the illustrious accused, that the friendship of Pitt had
provided--in place of a criminal prosecution demanded by the
opposition--the great minister was no longer there to sustain him
by his faithful attachment and generous confidence. At the time
of the acquittal of Lord Melville, Mr. Pitt was dead (1806).
In the cabinet Lord Sidmouth showed much animosity towards
Melville. His enmity was increased by the nomination of his
successor, Sir Charles Middleton. For a moment the
dissatisfaction was calmed by the intervention of some mutual
friends; but finally terminated in the withdrawal of Lord
Sidmouth, and his faithful partisan Lord Buckinghamshire, from
the cabinet. The king had frankly declared to Mr. Pitt that "he
was much hurt by the virulence against Lord Melville, which is
unbecoming the character of Englishmen, who naturally, when a man
is fallen, are too noble to pursue their blows; besides," he
added, "if any disunion should manifest itself, he would
decidedly take the part of Mr. Pitt, having every reason to be
satisfied with his conduct since the first hour of his entrance
into his service."
When the old king, but lately insane, wrote these lines, he was
on the point of becoming blind. At the end of the session of
Parliament, July 12th, 1805, one of his eyes was already entirely
useless, and the other was growing weaker and weaker. At the same
time, to the profound grief of his friends and family, the health
of Mr. Pitt was visibly declining; and notwithstanding the
wonderful energy of his mind, it was no longer possible--
according to the striking expression of Lord Harrowby--to appear
before his adversaries "as a giant in repose."
{409}
The giant who governed France, and terrified Europe, however,
seemed to have no need of repose. Crowned at Milan on the 26th of
May, 1805, he had assumed there the title of King of Italy. This
name grated harshly on Austrian ears. The new sovereign had
annexed to France the republic of Genoa, and now began that
system of aggrandizement of his own family by ceding the
territory of Eliza Lucca, as an independent principality, to his
eldest sister. These acts of insolent domination served the
designs of Mr. Pitt, then ardently occupied in forming a new
coalition against absolute and revolutionary France. Russia,
Austria and Sweden, acceded to his propositions. Scarcely was the
European alliance concluded against him, when Napoleon arrived at
Boulogne, resolved to strike the coalition to the heart, by
attacking England. He was confident of the success of his
expedition. "The English do not know what is impending. Let
France be mistress of the passage for twelve hours, and England
has lived," said he. The plan of the emperor was to distract the
attention of the British government and scatter its fleets by
dispatching his own squadrons, some to the West Indies and others
to Spanish ports, then suddenly to return, and with all his
forces occupy the channel. Admiral Villeneuve, charged with the
supreme command, was sagacious and brave; nevertheless, sad and
discouraged in advance, by the weight of the responsibility. He
had cleared the Straits of Gibraltar when Nelson followed him.
From Spain to the Antilles, and from the Antilles to the Channel,
the two squadrons followed.
Villeneuve was ordered to break the blockade at Brest, to rally
the fleet of Admiral Gantheaume, and to open a passage towards
England. He hesitated, doubted, and disobeyed; and returned
towards Cadiz, where he expected to find the allies. Nelson,
apprised of this plan, started in pursuit. When Napoleon heard of
the disobedience of Villeneuve, he flew into a terrible passion.
He was at Boulogne, watching the horizon at all hours, for a
glimpse of the sails of his coming fleet.
{410}
Daru entered his cabinet one morning, and found Napoleon
intensely agitated, talking to himself, and unconscious of his
approach. Daru stood before him, silently awaiting orders. The
emperor, on recognizing him, addressed him as if he knew all. "Do
you know where Villeneuve is now?" cried he, vehemently. "He is
at Cadiz,--at Cadiz!" His fury burst forth, and he declared
himself betrayed. Some hours later, he conceived the plan of his
German campaign. At the end of September, he was upon the Rhine,
at the head of his troops, repulsing and driving back General
Mack and the Austrian army at Ulm. That place was strongly
fortified, and commanded the Danube; but the approaches were cut
off. Communication was impossible, and Mack, abandoned by certain
divisions of his army, was compelled to surrender
unconditionally. On the 20th of October, 1805, he evacuated the
city, and 30,000 men laid down their arms.
When this news reached London, carried by one of those vague
rumors which precede all couriers, Pitt refused to believe it. He
was ill and suffering, and the weight of public perils
overwhelmed, for the first time, that gigantic brain. He had made
new attempts to enlarge the basis of his ministry. The king was
at Weymouth; his minister went there to see him, and urge him to
consent to the admission of Mr. Fox into the cabinet. George III.
remained inflexible. The depression, which had seized Mr. Pitt,
insensibly communicated itself to his friends. "He came to me,
begging me to translate a Dutch newspaper which contained in
full, the capitulation of Ulm," writes Lord Malmesbury in his
Diaries. "I observed, but too clearly, the effect it had on him,
though he did his utmost to conceal it. This was the last time I
saw him. This visit left an indelible impression on my mind, as
his manner and look were not his own, and gave me, in spite of
myself, a foreboding of the loss with which we were threatened."
[Image]
Death of Nelson.
{411}
The light of a great joy was once more to cross the obscure
heaven of the last days of Mr. Pitt. The day following the
surrender at Ulm, the 21st of October, 1805, the English and
French fleets encountered each other before Trafalgar. Nelson and
Collingwood commanded the two lines of English vessels.
Villeneuve and Admiral Gravine had reunited thirty-three ships of
the line and seven frigates. After prodigies of valor on the part
of the French, the victory remained with the English. Standing
upon the deck of the Victory,--his flagship, Nelson signalled to
the entire fleet, those noble words, emblematic of austere
Brittanic virtue:
"England Expects Every Man To Do His Duty."
Nelson wore all his decorations. "In honor I gained them, and in
honor I will die with them," said he. He was shot and fatally
wounded. He was carried below, where he died some three hours
later. A moment before breathing his last, he murmured: "Thank
God, I have done my duty."
The sublimest eulogy for such heroes is the public consternation
caused by their death. The victory of Trafalgar was hailed in
England with cries of joy and with tears. "Mr. Pitt observed to
me," writes Lord Fitzharris, "that he had been called up at
various hours in his eventful life by the arrival of news of
various hues; but that, whether good or bad, he could always lay
his head on his pillow, and sink into sound sleep. On this
occasion, however, the great event announced, brought with it so
much to weep over, as well as to rejoice at, that he could not
calm his thoughts, but at length got up, though it was three
o'clock in the morning."
{412}
England overwhelmed with honors and gifts the family of her hero.
She gave him the most magnificent obsequies, and placed in one of
the halls of the palace at Windsor, the mast against which he had
leaned and the ball which had struck him. National gratitude did
not stop at the illustrious hero fallen in the very summit of his
glory; it extended with the same generous ardor to the great
minister who alone opposed the irresistible invader of empires
and destroyer of European rights.
At the annual banquet of the city of London, on the 9th of March,
1805, after the crowd had detached the horses, in order to draw
his carriage, the Lord Mayor proposed the health of Mr. Pitt, as
already the savior of England, and soon to be the savior of
Europe. Sir Arthur Wellesley, already celebrated by his victories
in India, was present. Subsequently, under the title of the Duke
of Wellington, he was placed at the head of the armed European
coalition, and carried on the interrupted but henceforth
victorious work of Mr. Pitt. "The minister arose," related the
Duke in his old age, and waived the compliment, remarking:
"England is saved by her own efforts, and the rest of Europe will
be saved by her example."
The safety of Europe seemed more than ever distant and doubtful.
On the 2nd of December, 1805, the battle of Austerlitz struck the
last blow to the hopes of the allies in Germany. The peace of
Presburg, signed by Austria, on the 26th of December, abandoned
the Tyrol to the Elector of Bavaria, and Venice to the kingdom of
Italy. Russia soon gave up the struggle. The third European
coalition was destroyed.
{413}
Mr. Pitt was at Bath, seriously ill with an attack of gout, but
full of hope, in consequence of false news of a victory in
Moravia. When he learned of the battle at Austerlitz, the
bitterness of the contrast surpassed the measure of his physical
strength. He called for a map, and desired to be left alone. He
weighed sadly the future chances of his country. The malady
slowly exhausted his enfeebled body. He was taken back to his
country house at Putney, emaciated and exhausted; grown old in a
few days. A map of Europe hung upon the wall: pointing his finger
towards it, he said to his niece, Lady Hester Stanhope: "Roll up
that map--it will not be wanted these ten years."
For some time past, the native vigor of his mind had struggled
against feeble bodily health, as well as excessive fatigues; and
finally patriotic grief broke down the last rampart of his
declining strength. Each day he became feebler. His countenance
betrayed the intensity of his mental sufferings. "He has his
Austerlitz look," said Wilberforce.
In defeating the Austrians on the 2nd of December, Napoleon had
conquered a more formidable enemy than the Empire. Mr. Pitt had
only a few days to live. He preserved to the last moment, his
affectionate interest for his friends, and a serene pleasure in
their society. The Marquis of Wellesley had just returned from
India; he hastened to Putney. "I found him in his usual good
spirits," writes he, "and his understanding appeared to be as
vigorous and clear as ever. Amongst other topics, he told me,
with great kindness and feeling, that since he had seen me he had
been happy to become acquainted with my brother Arthur, of whom
he spoke in the warmest terms of commendation. He said,--'I never
met any military officer with whom it was so satisfactory to
converse. He states every difficulty before he undertakes any
service; but none after he has undertaken it.' Notwithstanding
Mr. Pitt's kindness and cheerfulness, I saw that the hand of
death was fixed upon him. This melancholy truth was not known nor
believed by either his friends or opponents. I informed Lord
Grenville that the death of Mr. Pitt was near, and he received
this sad intelligence with the greatest emotion and an agony of
tears; and he resolved immediately to suspend all hostilities in
Parliament."
{414}
Mr. Pitt fainted away before Lord Wellesley left the room. After
this he saw his friends only at rare intervals, and contrary to
the advice of his physicians. The Bishop of Lincoln, his former
preceptor, apprised him of his danger. "How long do you think I
have to live?" asked Pitt, turning toward his friend and
physician, Sir Walter Farquhar. Sir Walter answered that he was
unable to say; that possibly he might yet recover. An incredulous
smile passed over the face of the dying man. Then turning to the
Bishop, he said, "I fear, I have, like too many other men,
neglected prayer too much to allow me to hope that it can be very
efficacious now; but," rising in his bed as he spoke, and
clasping his hands with the utmost fervor and devotion, he added,
emphatically: "I throw myself _entirely_ upon the mercy of
God, through the merits of Christ!" Some hours later he breathed
his last.
Pitt lived and died poor. Parliament paid his debts, which
amounted to £40,000; it provided for the support of his three
nieces and defrayed the expenses of his funeral. Great
consternation seized the entire nation upon hearing of his death.
Within three months England had lost both Nelson and Pitt, the
hero of heroes, and the great pilot of her political government.
In the presence of a growing peril and of an implacable enemy, by
the premature death of two men, England found herself weakened
and disarmed: she was not, however, to abandon all hope. Mr. Pitt
had said, with great modesty, that it did not appertain to any
single man to save Europe. Between the day of the death of the
great minister and the definitive conclusion of peace, there were
yet to be long years of resistance, as persevering and as
desperate as the aggression.
{415}