Pitt’s concept for European peace was thus both brilliant and ambitious. His purpose, as he once wrote in his notes, was ‘to prevent (if it can be done without too great effort or risk) any material Change in the relative situation of other Powers – particularly Naval Powers – and to diminish the temptation to wars of ambition’.12 It was a noble purpose and manifestly in the interests of his country. In pursuing it he had the good fortune to be supported by outstanding diplomatic brains, such as Joseph Ewart, the British envoy in Berlin, and Auckland, now heading for The Hague. In their turn, they respected Pitt and knew that it was now he who pulled their strings. As Ewart wrote to Auckland in November 1790: ‘I trust Mr. Pitt will write to your Lordship himself in a satisfactory manner; and you know better than I do of what consequence the opinions of others are.’13 In other words, the Duke of Leeds, the Foreign Secretary, did not call the shots.* Yet Pitt’s all-embracing jigsaw still lacked one very big piece: the cooperation of Russia. Tens of thousands of Russian soldiers had died to gain territory in the Crimea and wider access to the Black Sea, as Prince Potemkin flung them against the walls of Turkish forts. The Empress Catherine II had no intention whatever of returning to her pre-war frontiers.
The overconfidence which would lead Pitt into confrontation with the mighty Catherine the Great was fed by the outcome of yet another international crisis in the course of 1790. Ostensibly, it was about the right to trade and settle on an island off the north-west coast of America. In reality, it determined whether it would be Britain or Spain who held the upper hand in the future development of North America and the Pacific.
The western coastline of the Americas had been colonised by the Spanish at various points in South America and all the way up to their settlement of San Francisco. In the early 1780s, however, Captain James Cook had explored the north-west coast on the same voyage which led to his eventual death in Hawaii. Small British expeditions returned there later in the decade, creating a trading depot at Nootka Sound, on Vancouver Island in present-day Canada. At the same time, the Russians had established themselves on Kodiak Island to the south of Alaska, and were mounting expeditions further south. The Spanish sent a warship to the north, which anchored at Nootka Sound in May 1789. In July they arrested the British sailors there, impounded several British ships, pulled down the British flag and proclaimed their rights to the whole west coast of the Americas up to the Gulf of Alaska, beyond which was to be left to the Russians.
In the twenty-first century, an equivalent event would cause a diplomatic crisis within minutes. It is perhaps the ultimate illustration of the slowness of communication in the pre-telegraph age that news of this incident did not reach London until the following year. The first confused report of it in January 1790 was followed by a note from Madrid insisting that Britain punish any further trespassers and complaining of the infringement of Spanish territorial rights. The Spanish claim rested on a Papal Bull of 1493 which had granted to Spain all overseas territories not yet occupied, but it was a claim Britain had never accepted. Leeds sent an equally peremptory note to the Spanish, insisting on the British right to trade or settle in the area, a right which would be ‘asserted and maintained with a proper degree of vigour’.14 He demanded the return of the ships allegedly seized, the payment of compensation, and refused to discuss any other questions until these points had been satisfied.
Not for the first time, Pitt was not happy with the actions of his Foreign Secretary, who he felt was taking too hard a line without knowing all the facts, and inflaming the situation unnecessarily. Once again he decided to take the matter in hand himself, sending a more conciliatory note at the end of February whilst still demanding compensation and the return of seized property. For some weeks the issues simply lay on the diplomatic table, as both governments waited for more definite news of what had actually happened on the other side of the world. The British prepared a small naval expedition to be sent to the disputed area (knowing it would take a year to get there), while the Spanish explained the situation to the French in case they needed an active ally, and began small-scale military preparation.
It was in April 1790 that matters escalated rapidly. A retired British naval Lieutenant, John Meares, returned from Nootka with an account of several British ships being seized there and British prisoners being ill-treated in Spanish prisons in Mexico. He also confirmed that the Spanish were now claiming as their own some territories which he, Meares, had already claimed for Britain in the name of George III. Shortly afterwards, news arrived from Anthony Merry, the British envoy at Madrid, that Spanish naval preparations now included the fitting out of fourteen ships of the line. Pitt and the Cabinet acted swiftly, demanding immediate satisfaction ‘for the outrages committed’ while authorising the navy to fit out forty ships of the line and to recruit the necessary sailors by press gang if necessary. The news took the country by surprise, with government stock falling on the markets. Pitt told the Commons that the Spanish claim was ‘the most absurd and exorbitant which could well be imagined; a claim which they had never heard of before, which was indefinite in its extent, and which originated in no treaty … If that claim were given way to, it must deprive this country of the means of extending its navigation and fishery in the Southern Ocean, and would go towards excluding His Majesty’s subjects from an infant trade, the future extension of which could not but prove essentially beneficial to the commercial interests of Great Britain.’15
Both countries now considered a great deal to be at stake. For Britain, a whaling industry in the Pacific could prove hugely lucrative, British exploration and settlement in the Pacific had only just begun (the first British penal colony in Australia had been founded two years before, by ships which sailed into Botany Bay only six days ahead of the French), and the right to trade in furs and other products from the American mainland was of obvious importance. In any case, a claim to a huge extension of territory from a country Britain had fought three times in wars in the previous fifty years could not be accepted. For Spain, an increase in British activity in the Pacific would threaten her own trade and whaling industry in South and Central America, and ultimately her control of the Philippines. The dispute would decide which country would have the advantage in the settlement and development of the principal remaining inhabitable and uncolonised region of the globe.
Pitt’s approach to the continuing negotiations with Spain was firm but imaginative: he wanted compensation and the withdrawal of the Spanish claim, but he also sought a comprehensive agreement to allow free settlement by Europeans along the north-west coast of America and the freedom for settlements to trade with each other in a new and more positive relationship. This was typical of Pitt – seeking a permanent and beneficial long-term solution out of today’s short-term crisis. That approach did not suit Leeds, who seemed to think the only choice was between war and ‘disgrace’. For the second time in three years the belligerence of the Foreign Secretary had to be restrained. Nevertheless, Pitt was clear about preparing for war. He himself had a meeting with a Spanish American leader passing through London who sought support for independence from Spain for parts of South America. Plans were made to attack Spanish colonies in the Caribbean and to defend British outposts against attack by Americans. The rapid naval mobilisation benefited from the unstinting support Pitt had given for many years to the Royal Navy. If fully mobilised, the battle fleet would now consist of almost a hundred ships of the line. Even aside from this crisis, ‘It was no uncommon thing’, wrote the son of the Comptroller of the Navy, ‘for Mr. Pitt to visit the Navy Office to discuss naval matters with the Comptroller, and to see the returns made from the yards of the progress in building and repairing the ships of the line; he also desired to have a periodical statement from the Comptroller of the state of the fleet, wisely holding that officer responsible, personally to him, without any regard to the Board.’16 In the meantime, the Spanish continued their own preparations, but suffered the disappointment that the partial French naval mobilisat
ion ordered by Louis XVI in order to give them support precipitated a debate in the National Assembly, the result of which was a decree that the King no longer had the power to make war without its permission.
This was how matters stood in June 1790 when Pitt asked George III to dissolve Parliament and declare a general election. The Parliament elected in 1784 had now run for more than six years of its seven-year limit. Pitt had probably hoped to call an election in 1789, but after the Regency crisis time was needed for those whom Grenville termed ‘Messieurs les Rats’ to return to the government’s side. As described in Chapter Nine, the 1784 election had taken on something of the character of a national contest; in contrast the 1790 election reverted to the eighteenth-century type, with local and personal factors blurring any national trend. The opposition found it worthwhile to contest more seats than before, and the Treasury spent more money, but there was no expectation of any significant change. Both sides decided not to repeat the expensive experience of pitched battle for the two seats of the City of Westminster, and they were divided between them by agreement. On 24 June Pitt wrote to his mother from Downing Street: ‘I cannot yet say that I am arrived at a Period of much leisure, tho it is comparatively something like it, and the occupation arising from the Elections is diminishing fast every day … upon the whole I have no doubt of our being considerably stronger than in the last Parliament … Our foreign business remains still in suspense, and I hardly know what to conjecture of the probability of Peace or War.’17 To the extent that national factors played a role in the election, the general prosperity of the country, the personal popularity of Pitt, and a natural rallying to the government at the thought of war probably all helped a little. Opposition attempts to revive debates on parliamentary reform and the Test Acts in the run-up to the elections were dismissed by Pitt. The overall result gave him a small but definite increase in his Commons majority, estimated by historians at twenty-five net gains.18
In July Pitt sent a fresh demand to Madrid demanding ‘an Admission, that the Court of Spain was not in Possession’ of Nootka Sound but making clear that ‘any other Grounds of Claim … will still be open to Discussion’. The Spanish Minister, Count Floridablanca, was now on the ropes. He had no definite commitment of support from France, while Britain was mobilising a formidable naval force, the addition of ten Dutch warships showing that her allies were behind her. On 24 July he caved in to Pitt’s immediate demand, although this left the larger issues unsettled and his call for mutual naval disarmament was rejected in London. Negotiations about the wider rights of Britain and Spain in the Pacific continued, but the threat of war remained, the Spanish being emboldened by a belated decision by the French National Assembly to fit out forty-five ships of the line to help them. Tension rose between London and Paris, the French being warned on no account to move their navy into conjunction with that of Spain. Thirty-seven British warships were now at sea.
The detailed British proposals being considered in Madrid involved regulated British trade and fishing rights in the Pacific, the restoration of the Nootka settlement, and the dropping of all Spanish claims over the North American coast north of 31° North, in other words anywhere north of the southern reaches of California. In return, British ships would keep out of Spanish territory and settlements. To the horror of Floridablanca, these terms were categorically rejected in late October by the Spanish Cabinet, who declared for war. At the very last minute, once again abandoned by France and facing an ultimatum from Britain, he managed to devise a new draft agreement with the British envoy in Madrid, abandoning the strict latitude in limits but permitting free settlement to the north of the ‘coast already occupied by Spain’. When the Spanish King Charles IV gave his hasty approval, his Cabinet was outmanoeuvred and the agreement made. Spain had saved a minimum of face, but the substance of all the main British points had been conceded. The warships returned to port as Pitt savoured another international victory.
Once again Pitt had steered a judicious course to an unqualified success. He had held back from presenting the final ultimatum until British military preparations were complete and the Spanish were not sure of their allies. When that moment had arisen he had seized his chance, and the result was victory without war. Auckland wrote to him: ‘I am convinced that if less firmness, energy, and activity had been shown on our part, or even that if our fleet had not been found in the readiest and most perfect state that has been known in the annals of Great Britain, the reparation made to us would have been incomplete … In short, there never was a business better conducted or better concluded, and there never was a moment in which our country held such pre-eminency among nations.’19
From being a novice in foreign affairs three years before, Pitt was now a confident statesman on the international stage. He had bent Spain, France and Denmark to his will and secured alliance or friendship with Holland, Prussia, Sweden, Poland and Austria. Now he would turn his attention to Russia.
During the crises over Holland in 1787 and Nootka Sound in 1790, Pitt had been fortunate in that Parliament was not in session at the climactic moments. It had therefore not been necessary for each manoeuvre or development to be explained or questioned. It was in the rather different circumstances of the first session of the new Parliament in November 1790 that he prepared the series of diplomatic moves intended to force Russia to relinquish her recent conquests and to make the peace in Europe universal. The impact of international events on domestic politics was immediately felt. The convention with Spain was approved by a large majority, but Pitt needed to present a supplementary budget in December 1790, only eight months after his previous one. The naval mobilisation and the stand-off with Spain had cost no less than £3,133,000 – a sum he proposed to pay off within four years through additional and temporary taxes.
There were also lengthy debates on whether the trial of Warren Hastings could be carried over into the new Parliament or had expired with the last one. Pitt came down decisively in favour of continuation, delivering a speech which showed such complete mastery of all precedents and arguments that Wilberforce wrote that it was one Pitt ‘never could have made if he had not been a mathematician. He put things by as he proceeded, and then returned to the very point from which he had started, with the most astonishing clearness.’20
Most important of all for his future direction of the government, he asked the King to give Grenville a peerage and thereby transferred him to the House of Lords. For nearly seven years Pitt had had to cope with Thurlow as the senior representative of the Cabinet in the Lords; Grenville’s arrival there as a Secretary of State made him a clear rival and the principal government spokesman there in place of Leeds. The King’s acceptance of the idea in the hope that it would smooth relations between Pitt and Thurlow suggests a political innocence he had not exhibited before his bout of madness. The move meant that Pitt would all the more have to shoulder the burden of debates in the Commons, with only Dundas at his side as a capable speaker, but he had never minded that. It certainly did not please Thurlow, or indeed other members of the Cabinet who, as usual, were not informed by Pitt in advance. Richmond, a wise but sometimes ineffective operator who had been loyal to Pitt through seven difficult years, wrote a pained letter of complaint. He protested that he had not been consulted, that Grenville would not now be easily available to lead a government (a point which Pitt had presumably already quietly noted), and that ‘of all things this is a measure the least calculated to conciliate the Chancellor … But perhaps Mr. Grenville and Mr. Dundas, who know that the Chancellor does not like either of them, may not be sorry to force him out. I wish this may not end in breaking up that administration on which they both depend.’21 Pitt knew what he was doing. Having patiently built up his naval forces in readiness for a conflict with Spain, he was even more patiently building up his Cabinet forces ready for a final showdown with Thurlow. Now he would wait for the opportunity to strike.
It was thus amidst Cabinet rivalry, the presentation of a fresh budget and
arcane debates on the Hastings trial that Pitt oversaw his next major foreign initiative. The Russians had made peace with the Swedes, but were still at war with Turkey, from whom they had made substantial territorial gains on the Black Sea coast. Unless they could be persuaded to give back a large proportion of this territory much of the earlier British diplomatic success could unravel: Austria would be unwilling to implement the Reichenbach agreement giving up its own conquests, the Prussians would be unhappy with that, and Poland gravely concerned about the expansion of Russian territory. Ewart urged Pitt to recognise that Russia’s gains would destabilise the balance of power in Europe: ‘Should Russia be extricated from her present difficulties … without restoring everything to the Porte, she would probably very soon recover her influence at Warsaw, at Copenhagen, at Stockholm, & even at Constantinople … while the influence of the Allies would sink at all those places, in the same proportion; and that unbounded confidence in the naval power of Great Britain, by which Prussia has been & may continue to be directed, would be destroyed.’22
William Pitt the Younger: A Biography Page 33
