It is impossible to know what mixture of remorse and relief filled Pitt’s mind as he handed over the seals of office to George III on the afternoon of Saturday, 14 March 1801. He had been First Lord of the Treasury for seventeen years and eighty-five days. He must have known as much as ever that he loved being in power. It seems he was as certain as he always had been that he was not prepared to beg for it.
* * *
*Those who recall Margaret Thatcher’s resignation in 1990, followed by a commanding Commons performance and supporters in tears, will readily imagine the atmosphere.
PART FOUR
24
The Limits of Magnanimity
‘One of the noblest instances of true magnanimity that was ever exhibited to the admiration and imitation of mankind.’
WILLIAM WILBERFORCE ON PITT, 18011
‘Pitt is to Addington as London is to Paddington.’
GEORGE CANNING, 1801
PITT HAD BEEN ENGAGED in full-time politics from within a few months of his twenty-first birthday, and probably had little memory of what life was like before he became Prime Minister. When he left office in March 1801, at the age of forty-one, he had been First Lord of the Treasury and Chancellor of the Exchequer for almost the whole of his adult life. He had lived in 10 Downing Street for a longer continuous period than any politician before or since, and for almost half his entire existence. To be suddenly bereft of the endless flow of despatches, correspondence, messengers and official business which had given shape to his days for as long as he could remember must have been a mental shock, however welcome a respite it might provide from the mounting strain.
The psychological impact of surrendering office after a long period at the top is heightened in the case of a politician who retires when relatively advanced in years, because it is so obviously a conclusion to his or her life in government. Pitt, by contrast, was still younger at this time, after having completed the second-longest continuous term as First Lord of the Treasury in the whole of British history, than any subsequent holder of that office even at the time they entered it. It was entirely possible that decades of active political life still stretched before him. Whatever his distress over resigning in the course of February and March 1801, any depression was no doubt mitigated by the absence of any sense of having retired. Only George III appeared to think that Pitt’s political career was over, but even he was attentive in courting his support for the Addington ministry: ‘If we three do but keep together, all will go well,’ he told Pitt and Addington in the course of a levée.2
In the opening stages of the Addington government, Pitt was closely consulted by his successor, and was intimately involved in advising on and then supporting the proposed terms of peace with France. He therefore remained privy to the most important of all government business. That he would not simply disappear was evidenced by his rising to speak in the House of Commons within ten days of his resignation to defend the conduct of the war and to respond to opposition charges that he had abandoned his responsibilities, explaining that ‘He had lived to very little purpose for the last seventeen years of his life, if it was necessary for him to say that he had not quitted his situation in order to shrink from its difficulties.’3
Pitt would not in any case have allowed private unhappiness to break the surface of his public character. While he may have permitted himself to speak to Rose or Pretyman with tears in his eyes, he could never betray such weakness to a wider circle, or even to his mother. Whatever he felt inside, he gave no appearance of regrets or bitterness, insisting that he had no complaints about the conduct of Addington or George III, and appearing, according to Canning, ‘really as full of spirits in his new idleness as a boy just come home for the holidays’.4 Wilberforce thought his behaviour towards Addington set a new standard in magnanimity. Pitt had assured Addington of his support, indeed persuaded him to take office on that basis, and this pledge he regarded as ‘solemnly binding, not redeemable by any lapse of time, nor ever to be cancelled without the express consent of Mr. Addington’.5
Pitt maintained this outward contentment in spite of the fact that, for a man with no capital or private income, loss of office necessitated a dramatic and adverse change in his domestic circumstances. Moving out of Downing Street was one thing – he managed to secure for a year and a half or so the remainder of a short lease on an apartment in Park Place off St James’s Street. Far more serious was the loss of his income as First Lord and Chancellor (which represented around £7,000 of his £10,000 annual income), and that the end of his status as Prime Minister punctured the ever-inflating balloon of credit which his personal finances now constituted. Investigations by George Rose the previous year had revealed ‘a History of Debts and Distresses as actually sickened me’.6 It is possible that concern about debts contributed to Pitt’s distraction and illness in 1800, but it would also be entirely consistent with his normal practice if he were not concerned about such matters at all. Even now, as creditors became ‘extremely importunate’7 and a comprehensive survey revealed debts totalling £46,000 (the equivalent of around £2.75 million today), Pitt was reluctant to accept help. He was aware, however, that with his income now down to £3,000 a year as Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, remedial action was urgent and necessary. In particular, his beloved Holwood would have to be sold, but since it was heavily mortgaged the money raised would be unlikely to cover more than a very small part of his total debts. Rose, Pretyman and other close friends realised that somehow other sources of income would have to be found, a course made much more difficult by Pitt’s unyielding rejection of almost all possible sources of help.
Indifference to personal finances is not uncommon among people who consider their whole life to be devoted to public purposes. Mental denial of the extent of the problem is also commonplace among people who become heavily indebted. Added to these possible tendencies was Pitt’s generosity of spirit, which led him to give money to his mother and to lend it to his brother when he was already running a large overdraft. On top of that was his unfading optimism, which even now led him to make more optimistic assumptions about his debts than those made by Rose. In Pitt’s case these psychological traits were reinforced by an overriding determination never to place himself under an obligation to anyone who could make use of it – although he presumably did not think of his creditors in that light. Faced with the prospect of the loss of office in 1789 in the Regency crisis, he had turned down a mooted gift of £100,000 from his backers in the City without a moment’s hesitation. His friends now raised the prospect of a vote of public money from Parliament, a means used to clear Pitt’s father’s debts after his death, but Pitt told Rose of ‘his fixed resolve on no consideration whatever to accept anything from the public … Rather than do which he would struggle with any difficulties; that if he had had the good fortune to carry the country safe through all its dangers, and to have seen it in a state of prosperity, he should have had a pride in accepting such a grant; but under all the present circumstances of the situation of the country, and of himself, it was utterly inconsistent with his feelings to receive anything.’8
Fresh offers from the City were similarly turned down. George III himself, who had paid off the debts of Lord North in the 1770s, offered £30,000 and was happy for Rose to arrange matters so that the source of the money would not be known to Pitt. As Rose later recounted: ‘The scheme was found to be impracticable without a communication with Mr. Pitt. On the mention of it to him he was actually more affected than I recollect to have seen him on any occasion; but he declined it, though with the deepest sense of gratitude possible.’9 At a later stage he would also turn down Addington’s offer of the Clerkship of the Pells, the very sinecure he was praised for refusing in his opening days as Prime Minister, but one that would have given him another £3,000 a year. Rose canvassed the idea of Pitt’s friends buying Holwood at auction at a greatly inflated price, but concluded that this ‘would immediately excite suspicion in Mr. Pitt’s mind, and wholly de
feat the scheme’.10
Eventually, Pitt was prevailed upon to accept assistance from his closest friends: people to whom he was already obliged by years of friendship. Those who subscribed £1,000 each included Pretyman, Rose, Dundas and Lords Camden, Bathurst and Carrington. Wilberforce, Long and a private secretary, Joseph Smith, contributed £500 each. This exercise raised £11,700. Combined with the sale of Holwood for £15,000 and a drastic reduction in Pitt’s household, horses and carriages – he now had to travel in ‘a common chaise’ – this was sufficient to rescue the immediate situation. When the lease on the desirable Park Place expired, Pitt had to move to more distant York Place, now part of Baker Street.*
There can be little doubt that if Pitt had been married, or had intended to leave politics, his attitude to money at this stage of his life would have been different He could have accepted one of the large sums on offer and have earned a generous income in the Law Courts if he had chosen to step back from politics and live comfortably. In February 1801, his long-suffering banker Thomas Coutts wrote to him with a reminder that he had not ‘paid a due attention to your Private affairs’, and advocating a new career in the law which would bring ‘both Fame & Fortune’. As he put it: ‘Who is there with a Brief that would not fly to put it into such Hands?’ It would ‘elevate your character beyond every point you have yet attained’ and also bring in ‘at least £3,000 a year’.11
While Pitt did speak to Rose of returning to the Bar rather than be dependent on others, there is no sign that he ever really envisaged developing a life away from public affairs. His pastimes remained limited to reading and admiring classical texts, and the purchase of books was the only item among his vast expenses which constituted the acquisition of material possessions. Pitt had dedicated his life to politics from infancy. Relatively young as he still was, he was not going to change. His attitude to money reveals that he intended his life to remain as it was: single, devoted to public affairs, and free from any questionable obligation. As a result he would tolerate his new circumstances without any trace of complaint.
Deprived as he was of executive power and supporting staff, Pitt would nevertheless have had no reason to feel lonely. Those who had worked closely with him in office revered his abilities; coupled with his charm and companionship in private, this made his loyal friends very loyal indeed. Despite Pretyman’s responsibilities as Bishop of Lincoln, he spent a good deal of time in 1801 working with George Rose to attend to Pitt’s needs. Long and Canning remained ardent friends, while senior political allies such as Dundas and Camden would take no line in public which contradicted any statement by Pitt. Pitt’s company was widely sought – ‘when he was in town he was engaged every day to dinner’.12 In December he attended ‘a great feast in Trinity College Hall’ in Cambridge and then stayed with Pretyman, whose wife found his mastery of classics still so strong that it was ‘as if he had been doing nothing at all in his life but studying Greek and Latin’.13
Although Holwood was sold in 1802, Pitt still had Walmer Castle to fall back on: before long he had rented an adjoining forty acres which allowed him to indulge his love of planting trees and creating walks, in this case to the sea. As at Holwood, he set out to change the property to suit his needs, ordering the construction of a bridging section between the central section of the castle and the ‘Gunners’ Lodgings’ in one of the turrets, thus creating additional bedrooms. Possessing small but attractive dining and reception rooms alongside a terrace, Walmer was soon host to an ever-growing procession of guests, including, in the course of 1802, Canning with his family and Pitt’s niece, Lady Hester Stanhope, who would return on a more permanent basis the following year.
Taken together, Pitt’s loyal friends, good nature, lack of materialism and confidence about his future prospects meant that he slid more easily into his new circumstances than many might have expected. His optimism about the possibility of returning to office is understandable, since his successor had essentially been nominated by him, installed in accordance with his wishes, and would have great difficulty surviving without his support. He did not consider Addington to be remotely his equal, but was furious with Canning for pointing out Addington’s inferiority in a series of abusive and widely circulated rhymes, including the well known ‘Pitt is to Addington as London is to Paddington’. He even forced Canning to send an apology to Addington – ‘fulsome in expression, but manifestly written under constraint’14 – and tried to persuade him to accept office in Addington’s government. Canning was too devoted to Pitt to accept, ending his letter of explanation to him: ‘I shall be always in whatever situation, however separated, or however brought together, unalterably and most affectionately, Yours, G.C.’15 Other key allies of Pitt shared Canning’s dismissive view of the new Prime Minister but, in the manner of more experienced politicians, waited to see how he would perform. Grenville kept a surly and sceptical eye on the peace negotiations, while Dundas, although also sceptical, lent Addington his villa at Wimbledon and kept in touch with the new administration.
Few outside the Whig opposition made open attacks on Pitt; one exception was Auckland, who had never got over Pitt’s refusal to marry his daughter and subsequent refusal to promote him to the Cabinet. He was suspected of playing a role in stirring the King’s passion on the Catholic question, and in a Lords debate after the change of government alleged that ‘there is in this business a mystery’,16 and that Pitt must have had hidden motives for resigning. Pitt did not trouble himself to become embroiled with those he considered small fry: he simply froze Auckland out of his life from that moment on.
Addington was nicknamed ‘the Doctor’ by his detractors, but within a few months his unassuming style and apparent competence were winning supporters. MPs who had not liked Pitt’s haughty manner found Addington ‘easy, frank, jovial’,17 and some observers enjoyed the ‘plain story’ instead of ‘fine speeches’.18 As Sydney Smith had once said of Pitt: ‘At the close of every brilliant display an expedition failed or a kingdom fell. God send us a stammerer!’19 George III was certainly delighted with the new Prime Minister, bestowing on him the splendid White Lodge in Richmond Park and referring with pride to ‘His own Chancellor of the Exchequer’ as if he were a newborn baby.20
Luck played its part in giving the new government a political honeymoon. There was a good corn harvest for the first time in some years, and, above all, British forces won two spectacular military successes. The most spectacular of these was at Copenhagen on 2 April 1801, where it was the turn of the Danish fleet to be at the wrong end of Nelson’s devastating mixture of audacity and disobedience. Having commenced a violent exchange with the entire Danish navy and its shore batteries, Nelson was ordered to withdraw by Admiral Sir Hyde Parker. This was the famous occasion on which he paced the deck furiously before announcing to his captain: ‘You know, Foley, I have only one eye – I have a right to be blind sometimes … I really do not see the signal.’21 Instead he ordered his own signal to keep fighting to be nailed to the mast, and by the next day he was on shore accepting the capitulation of what little remained of the Danish fleet. With this, and the coincident assassination of Tsar Paul on 23 March, the League of Armed Neutrality was destroyed and the British right to search neutral shipping boldly reasserted.
It was not long before news arrived that the expedition to Egypt had also triumphed. Although Sir Ralph Abercromby had been killed, the French army left behind by Napoleon had been decisively defeated, and the surrender of its remnants was only a matter of time. Both of these victories were the product of decisions taken during Pitt’s administration, but they came as a tremendous bonus to his successor, and were seen as strengthening the hand of the government in peace negotiations.
With the Austrians having concluded a new peace treaty with the French at Lunéville in January, and Britain facing unrest and exhaustion after more than eight years of war, Addington and his colleagues were clear that peace must be concluded. The war had been fought to an impasse, with the Frenc
h more dominant on the Continent but Britain emphatically the mistress of the seas. Rather than continuing with the war in such circumstances, Addington was prepared to give up a good deal of Britain’s overseas conquests. As Hawkesbury, the new Foreign Secretary, talked to the French negotiator Monsieur Otto throughout the summer, Pitt was closely consulted on all the principal points. His approach, which closely guided and influenced that of Addington, was consistent with his attempts to negotiate peace in 1796 and 1797. Free of the ideological fervour of Windham or the diplomatic stubbornness of Grenville, and believing that economic expansion was preferable to colonial acquisition, Pitt was always prepared to support major sacrifices of territory in return for the chance of a stable peace.
The preliminary articles of peace were signed on 1 October 1801, and later embodied in the Treaty of Amiens in March 1802. The French were to withdraw from Naples, the Roman states and Egypt, already a fait accompli. Taken together, however, the Treaties of Amiens and Lunéville left them with the greater part of what they had fought for: domination of the Netherlands and northern Italy, and a major extension of French territory on the left bank of the Rhine. Britain, by contrast, was to restore to France, Spain and Holland all of the colonies and islands conquered during the war, with the exception of Trinidad and Ceylon. Highly controversially, British forces were to withdraw from the Cape of Good Hope and to return Malta to the Order of St John.
William Pitt the Younger: A Biography Page 57
