Reading the Original: WALTER BAGEHOT's 'Biographical Studies' — WILLIAM PITT
WILLIAM PITT (1861)
William Pitt (1861)
(The subheadings in the table of contents, the introduction, and the commentary were created and inserted by the translator.)
I. Translator's Introduction
This 'WILLIAM PITT' by Walter Bagehot is not merely a biographical study; it presents a wide range of themes, including the nature of historical narrative, the public's perception of politicians, and the qualities of leadership demanded by the times.
Taking Sir Stanhope's 'Life of the Younger Pitt' as a starting point, Bagehot points out the modern trend where historical research, once a 'sombre and respectable calling,' has transformed into an 'audacious intellectual performance.' Amidst a climate where many historical 'good people' are spoken of harshly and 'bad people' are being re-evaluated, he assesses Sir Stanhope as a historian lacking originality who follows a 'worn track,' yet he appreciates his 'plain tale.'
The core of this essay lies in correcting the deep-seated public misunderstanding of the rare politician that was William Pitt.
Pitt is often remembered only for his resistance to the French Revolution, but Bagehot analyzes in detail the consistent liberal tendencies of his policies, his unique qualities, his education, and how political opportunities propelled him to greatness.
He describes Pitt as 'perfectly equipped with the qualities of a great administrator, while also possessing the commanding temperament of a dictator,' shedding light on his complex character.
II. Parallel Translation
1. Introduction to Sir Stanhope's 'Life of the Younger Pitt' and the Changes in Historical Narrative
Lord Stanhope's Life of Mr. Pitt has both the excellences and the defects which we should expect from him, and neither of them are what we expect in a great historical writer of the present age. Even simple readers are becoming aware that historical investigation, which used to be a sombre and respectable calling, is now an audacious pursuit. Paradoxes are very bold and very numerous. Many of the recognised 'good people' in history have become bad, and all the very bad people have become rather good. We have palliations of Tiberius, eulogies on Henry VIII, devotional exercises to Cromwell, and fulsome adulation of Julius Caesar and of the first Napoleon. The philosophy of history is more alarming still. One school sees in it but a gradual development of atheistic belief, another threatens to resolve it all into 'the three simple agencies, starch, fibrin, and albumen.' But in these exploits of audacious ingenuity and specious learning Lord Stanhope has taken no part. He is not anxious to be original. He travels, if possible, in the worn track of previous historians; he tells a plain tale in an easy plain way; he shrinks from wonderful novelties; with the cautious scepticism of true common sense, he is always glad to find that the conclusions at which he arrives coincide with those of former inquirers. His style is characteristic of his matter. He narrates with a gentle sense and languid accuracy, very different from the stimulating rhetoric and exciting brilliancy of his more renowned contemporaries.
* Life of the Right Honourable William Pitt. By Earl Stanhope, author of the History of England from the Peace of Utrecht.
Sir Stanhope's 'Life of [the Younger] Pitt' possesses both the merits and demerits typical of him, but neither of these are what we expect from a great historian of the present age. [This is because] even simple readers are beginning to realize that historical research, once considered a sombre and respectable profession, has now transformed into an audacious intellectual performance. What are being presented one after another are bold and eccentric paradoxes. People who were considered 'good' in history are being spoken of harshly, while those who were previously considered villains are being re-evaluated as rather good. We are defending Tiberius, praising Henry VIII, offering devotional prayers to Cromwell, and bestowing what can only be called ridiculous adulation upon Julius Caesar and the first Napoleon. The philosophy of history is even more astonishing. One school sees in history nothing more than the gradual development of atheistic belief, while another school attempts to reduce everything to 'the three simple agencies: starch, fibrin, and albumen.'
However, Sir Stanhope has no part in these great feats of audacious ingenuity and specious learning. He does not seek to be original. If possible, he follows the worn track of previous historians, telling a plain story in a gentle and easy-to-understand manner. He dislikes wonderful novelties, and with the cautious skepticism characteristic of a truly sensible person, he is always pleased to find that the conclusions he reaches coincide with those of previous researchers. His style characterizes his content. He narrates with a gentle sense and a somewhat lethargic but careful accuracy, which is completely different from the stimulating rhetoric and exciting brilliance of his more famous contemporary historians.
'Life of the Right Honourable William Pitt', by Earl Stanhope, author of the History of England from the Peace of Utrecht.
2. Public Misunderstanding of Mr. Pitt and Its Correction
Mr. Pitt is an example of one of the modes in which the popular imagination is, even in historical times, frequently and easily misled. Mankind judge of a great statesman principally by the most marked and memorable passage in his career. By chance we lately had the honour to travel with a gentleman who said, that Sir Robert Peel was the 'leader of the Whigs'; and though historical evidence will always prevent common opinion from becoming so absurd as this, it is undeniable that, in the popular fancy of younger men, Sir Robert Peel is the Liberal minister who repealed the Corn-laws and carried Catholic Emancipation. The world is forgetting that he was once the favourite leader of the old Tory party — the steady opponent of Mr. Canning, and the steady adherent of Lord Sidmouth and Lord Eldon. We remember his great reforms, of which we daily feel the benefit; we forget that, during a complete political generation, he was the most plausible supporter of ancient prejudices, and the most decent advocate of inveterate abuses. Mr. Pitt's fate has been very similar, but far less fortunate. The event in his life most deeply implanted in the popular memory is his resistance to the French Revolution; it is this which has made him the object of affection to extreme Tories, and of suspicion and distrust to reasonable Liberals. Yet no rash inference was ever more unfounded and more false. It can be proved that, in all the other parts of Mr. Pitt's life, the natural tendency of his favourite plan was uniformly Liberal; that, at the time of the French Revolution itself, he only did what the immense majority of the English people, even of the cultivated English people, deliberately desired; that he did it anxiously, with many misgivings, and in opposition to his natural inclinations; that it is very dubious whether, in the temper of the French nation and the temper of the English nation, a war between them could by possibility have been avoided at that juncture; that, in his administration and under his auspices, the spirit of legislative improvement which characterises modern times may almost be said to begin; that he was the first English minister who discussed political questions with the cultivated thoughtfulness and considerate discretion which seem to characterise us now; that, in political instruction, he was immeasurably superior to Fox, and that, in the practical application of just principles to ordinary events, he was equally superior to Burke. There are two kinds of statesmen to whom, at different times, representative government gives an opportunity and a career — dictators and administrators. There are certain men who are called in conjunctures of great danger to save the State. When national peril was imminent, all nations have felt it needful to select the best man who could be found — for better, for worse; to put unlimited trust in him; to allow him to do whatever he wished, and to leave undone whatever he did not approve of. The qualities which are necessary for a dictator are two — a commanding character and an original intellect. All other qualities are secondary. Regular industry, a conciliatory disposition, a power of logical exposition, and argumentative discussion, which are necessary to a parliamentary statesman in ordinary times, are not essential to the selected dictator of a particular juncture. If he have force of character to overawe men into trusting him, and originality of intellect sufficient to enable him to cope with the pressing, terrible, and critical events with which he is selected to cope, it is enough. Every subordinate shortcoming, every incidental defect, will be pardoned. 'Save us!' is the cry of the moment; and, in the confident hope of safety, any deficiency will be overlooked, and any frailty pardoned.
Mr. Pitt is a typical example of how often and how easily the public imagination is misled, even in historical times. People tend to judge a great statesman primarily by the most prominent and memorable scenes in his career.
By chance, we recently traveled with a gentleman who said, 'Sir Robert Peel was the leader of the Whigs.' Of course, historical facts prevent public opinion from becoming this absurd, but it is undeniable that in the general imagination of the younger generation, it is accepted that Sir Robert Peel was the liberal minister who repealed the Corn Laws and achieved Catholic Emancipation.
However, the world is beginning to forget that he was once the favorite of the old Tory party, a steady opponent of Canning, and a steady supporter of Lord Sidmouth and Lord Eldon. We remember well the great reforms he achieved and still enjoy their benefits, but on the other hand, it is almost forgotten that for a complete political generation, he was the most plausible defender of old prejudices and the most decent advocate of deep-rooted abuses.
Mr. Pitt's fate is similar to this, but far more unfortunate. The event in his life most deeply etched in people's memories is his resistance to the French Revolution. Because of this, he has come to be worshipped by extreme Tories and viewed with suspicion and distrust by reasonable Liberals.
However, there is no conclusion more baseless, rash, and false than this. If one looks at Mr. Pitt's other political activities, it is clear that the natural tendency of his preferred policies was consistently liberal. Even during the French Revolution, the actions he took were what the vast majority of the educated English public deliberately and strongly desired, and he himself carried them out while harboring many anxieties and conflicts, and contrary to his own natural inclinations.
Given the temperaments of the French and English nations at the time, it must be said that the possibility of avoiding war between the two countries at that juncture was very low. It is no exaggeration to say that the spirit of legislative improvement that characterizes modern times effectively began under his administration and his leadership. Mr. Pitt was the first British Prime Minister to approach political issues with the educated thoughtfulness and cautious judgment that we now consider ideal. In terms of political education, he far surpassed Fox, and in terms of practically applying just principles to everyday events, he was as excellent as Burke. Representative government provides opportunities and roles for two types of statesmen at different times: 'dictators' and 'administrators'.
When a nation is in the midst of a grave crisis, people seek a figure to save it, placing unconditional trust in the person they deem best, regardless of their flaws, entrusting everything to them, and adopting an attitude of doing nothing that they do not approve of.
Two qualities are required of such a 'dictator.' These are a dignified personality and an original intellect. Other qualities—such as ordinary diligence, a conciliatory temperament, logical explanatory power, or skill in debate, which are necessary for a typical parliamentary politician—are not essential for a dictator chosen for a specific situation.
If that person possesses the strength of character to lead people to trust, and the original intellect to confront the immediate, formidable situation, that is enough. Every minor flaw, every accidental defect will be forgiven. The moment the urgent cry of 'Save us!' goes up, as long as there is hope for safety, any deficiency will be overlooked, and every weakness will be excused.
3. Two Types of Politicians: Dictators and Administrators
The genius requisite for a great administrator is not so imposing, but it is, perhaps, equally rare, and needs a more peculiar combination of qualities. Ordinary administrators are very common: every-day life requires and produces every-day persons. But a really great administrator thinks not only of the day but of the morrow; does not only what he must but what he wants; is eager to extirpate every abuse, and on the watch for every improvement; is on a level with the highest political thought of his time, and persuades his age to be ruled according to it — to permit him to embody it in policy and in laws. Administration in this large sense includes legislation, for it is concerned with the far-seeing regulation of future conduct, as well as with the limited management of the present. Great dictators are doubtless rare in political history; but they are not more so than great administrators, such as we have just defined them. It is not easy to manage any age; it is not easy to be on a level with the highest thought of any age; but to manage that age according to that highest thought is among the most arduous tasks of the world. The intellectual character of a dictator is noble but simple; that of a great administrator and legislator is also complex.
The talent required for a great administrator may not be so eye-catching from the outside. However, it is perhaps as rare as the talent of a dictator, and it requires a more peculiar combination of qualities. Ordinary administrators are abundant in the world. Daily life requires people to handle the day-to-day, and such people are naturally produced.
However, a truly great administrator acts with an eye not only on today but on tomorrow. They do not merely perform their assigned tasks, but boldly execute what they desire. They are eager to eradicate every abuse and keep a sharp eye out for every sign of improvement. They possess insight on par with the most advanced political thought of their time, persuading people to accept governance based on that thought, and embodying it in policy and law.
In this broad sense, 'administration' includes legislation. This is because it is concerned not only with managing the present but with foreseeing and directing future conduct.
While it is certain that great dictators are rare in political history, great administrators as defined here are no less rare. It is not easy to lead any age, and it is also difficult to stand on par with the highest thought of that age. However, leading an age based on that thought is one of the most difficult tasks in this world.
The intellectual character of a dictator, while noble, is simple. In contrast, the intellectual character of a great administrator and legislator is more complex.
The exact description of Mr. Pitt is, that he had in the most complete perfection the faculties of a great administrator, and that he added to it the commanding temperament, though not the creative intellect, of a great dictator. He was tried by long and prosperous years, which exercised to the utmost his peculiar faculties, which enabled him to effect brilliant triumphs of policy and of legislation: he was tried likewise by a terrible crisis, with which he had not the originality entirely to cope, which he did not understand as we understand it now, but in which he showed a hardihood of resolution and a consistency of action which captivated the English people, and which impressed the whole world.
To accurately assess Mr. Pitt, one could say that he possessed the faculties required of a great administrator to the most complete perfection, and added to that the commanding temperament—though not the creative intellect—required of a great dictator.
He was tested during a long period of prosperity, where he exercised his peculiar abilities to the fullest and achieved brilliant successes in policy and legislation. He also faced a terrible crisis. He did not have the originality to cope with that crisis entirely, nor did he understand its essence as we do today. However, within it, he showed a hardihood of resolution and a consistency of action that captivated the English people and left a strong impression on the whole world.
4. Upbringing and Early Education
A very slight survey of Mr. Pitt's career is all we have room for here; indeed, it is not easy within the compass of an article to make any survey, however slight; but we hope at least to show that peculiar training, peculiar opportunity, and peculiar ability, combined to make him what he was.
We can only touch very briefly on Mr. Pitt's career here. In truth, given the length of this article, it is not easy to provide an overview of his career, however brief. But we hope at least to show that he became who he was as a result of the combination of peculiar training, peculiar opportunity, and peculiar ability.
It may seem silly to observe that Mr. Pitt was the son of his father, and yet there is no doubt that it was a critical circumstance in the formation of his character. When he was born, as Lord Macaulay has described, his father's name was the most celebrated in the whole civilised world; every post brought the news of some victory or some great stroke of policy, and his imagination dwelt upon the realities before him. 'I am glad I am not the eldest son,' he said. 'I should like to speak in the House of Commons, like papa.' And there are other sayings indicating an early ambition and an early consciousness of power. There is nothing extraordinary in this. Most boys are conceited; most boys have a wonderful belief in their own power. 'At sixteen,' says Mr. Disraeli, 'everyone believes he is the most peculiar man who ever lived.' And there is certainly no difficulty in imagining Mr. Disraeli thinking so. The difficulty is, not to entertain this proud belief, but to keep it; not to have these lofty visions, but to hold them. Manhood comes, and with it come the plain facts of the world. There is no illusion in them; they have a distinct teaching. 'The world,' they say definitely, 'does not believe in you. You fancy you have a call to a great career, but no one else even imagines that you fancy it. You do not dare to say it out loud.' Before the fear of ridicule and the touch of reality, the illusions of youth pass away, and with them goes all intellectual courage. We have no longer the hardihood, we have scarcely the wish to form our own creed, to think our own thoughts, to act upon our own belief; we try to be sensible, and we end in being ordinary; we fear to be eccentric, and we end in being commonplace. It is from this fate that the son of a commanding prime minister is at any rate preserved; the world thinks about him; the world alludes to him. He can speak 'in the grand style,' and he will not be laughed at, or not much. When we wonder at the indomitable resolution and the inflexible self-reliance which Mr. Pitt through life displayed, we may lessen our wonder by remembering that he never endured the bitter ignominy of youth; that his self-confidence was never disheartened by being 'an unknown man;' that he early received from fortune the inestimable permission to be himself.
It might seem like a silly observation to say that Mr. Pitt was 'the son of his father [the elder Pitt],' yet there is no doubt that it was a critical factor in the formation of his character. As Lord Macaulay described, at the time of Pitt's birth, his father's fame resonated throughout the civilized world; with every letter that arrived, news of victories or brilliant policies was brought, and his imagination grew rooted in reality. He said, 'I am glad I am not the eldest son. I should like to speak in the House of Commons, like papa.' There are several other remarks indicating that he was conscious of his own power and had ambitions from an early age.
However, this in itself is not particularly unusual. Many boys are conceited and believe in their own power. 'At sixteen, everyone believes he is the most peculiar man who ever lived,' said Disraeli. And it is not difficult to imagine that he himself thought so. The difficulty is not in holding such proud beliefs, but in keeping them. It is not in having lofty ideals, but in holding fast to them.
Eventually, one becomes an adult and faces the stern facts of reality. There are no illusions or deceptions there. It presents a clear lesson: 'The world does not believe in you. You may dream that you have a great mission, but no one else even imagines that you think so. You do not even have the courage to say it out loud.' Before the fear of ridicule and the touch of reality, the illusions of youth fade away, and intellectual courage is lost along with them. We no longer have the spirit to build our own creeds, to follow our own thoughts, or to act on our own beliefs—we end up settling for mediocrity in our efforts to be sensible, and we end up becoming commonplace for fear of being thought eccentric.
However, the son of a powerful Prime Minister is at least spared from such a fate. The world pays attention to his existence and mentions his name. Even if he speaks with a "commanding tone," he is not laughed at—or if he is, it is only slightly. When we are amazed by the indomitable resolve and unwavering confidence that Mr. Pitt displayed throughout his life, we should remember that he was spared the bitter humiliation that a "nobody" experiences in their youth. His self-confidence was never crushed, and fate granted him the invaluable permission to "be himself" from an early age.
The education of Mr. Pitt was as favourable to the develop-ment of his peculiar powers as his position. The public educa-tion of England has very great merits, and is well fitted for thecultivation of the average Englishman ; but one at least of thequalities which fit it for training ordinary men unfit it fortraining an extraordinary man. Its greatest value to the massof those who are brought up in it, is its influence in diminishingtheir self-confidence. They are early brought into a little butrough world, which effects on a small scale what the real world will afterwards effect still more thoroughly on a large one. Itteaches boys, who are no better than other boys, that they areno better than other boys ; that the advantages of one arecompensated by the advantages of others ; that the world is amiscellaneous and motley medley, in which it is not easy toconquer, and over which it is impossible to rule. But it isnot desirable that a young man in Pitt's position should learnthis lesson. If you are to train a man to be prime minister atfive and twenty, you must not dishearten his self-confidence,though it be overweening ; you must not tame his energy,though it seem presumptuous. Ordinary men should and mustbe taught to fear the face of the world ; they are to be guidedby its laws and regulated by its manners ; the one exceptionalman, who is in his first youth to rule the world, must be trainednot to fear it, but to despise it.
Mr. Pitt's education, much like his position, was extremely fortunate for the blossoming of his unique talents. Public education in England has great merits and is well-suited for cultivating the average Englishman. However, one of the qualities that makes it suitable for raising ordinary people is not necessarily suitable for raising an extraordinary person.
The greatest value that public education provides to the many who grow up in it lies in its influence in curbing their overconfidence. From a young age, they are placed in a small but harsh world, where they experience the reality that the real world will later impose on a large and thorough scale. It teaches boys, who are no different from other boys, that they are not special, that the advantages of one person are offset by the advantages of others, and that this world is a miscellaneous and motley medley where it is not easy to conquer and impossible to rule.
However, it is not desirable for a young man in Pitt's position to learn this lesson. If one intends to raise a person to become Prime Minister at twenty-five, one must not crush his self-confidence, even if it appears excessive, nor should one suppress his energy, even if it seems presumptuous. While ordinary people should fear the world, follow its laws, and be bound by its customs, the one exceptional person who is to rule the world from a young age must be trained to despise the world rather than fear it.
The legitimate food of a self-relying nature is early solitude,and the most stimulating soHtude is solitude in the midst ofsociety. Mr. Pitt's education was of this kind entirely. Hewas educated at home during his whole boyhood. He was sentto Cambridge at a most unusually early age. He lived therealmost wholly with Mr. Pretyman, his tutor. ' While Mr. Pittwas undergraduate,' writes that gentleman, ' he never omittedattending chapel morning a,nd evening in the public hall,except when prevented by indisposition. Nor did he pass asingle evening out of the college walls ; indeed, most of histime was spent with me. During his whole residence at theUniversity,' Mr. Pretyman continues, ' I never knew him spendan idle day, nor did he ever fail to attend me at the appointedhour.' He did not make any friends, scarcely any socialacquaintances till he had taken his degree. He passed verymuch of his time, his tutor tells us, in very severe study, andvery much of it, as we may easily believe, in the most absorbingof early pleasures — the monotonous excitement of ambitiousanticipation. On an inferior man, this sort of youth could havehad but one effect — it must have made him a prig. But it had not that effect on Pitt. It contributed to make him a shy,haughty, and inaccessible man. Such he emerged from Cam-bridge, and such he continued through life to be ; but he waspreserved from the characteristic degradation of well-inten-tioned and erudite youth by two great counteracting influences,— a strong sense of humour and a genuine interest in greatsubjects. His sense of fun was, indeed, disguised from thevulgar by a rigid mask of grave dignity ; but in private it washis strongest characteristic. ' Don't tell me,' he js said to haveremarked, ' of a man's being able to talk sense ; everyone cantalk sense : can he talk nonsense ? ' And Mr. Wilberforce, themost cheerful of human beings, who had seen the most amusingsociety of his generation, always declared that Pitt's wit wasthe best which he had ever known. And it was likely to be ;humour gains much by constant suppression, and at no time oflife was Pitt ever wanting in dexterous words. No man whoreally cares for great things, and who sees the laughable sideof little things, ever becomes a ' prig.'
The legitimate food for a self-reliant nature is solitude in early childhood, and the most stimulating solitude is that which is felt while in the midst of society. Mr. Pitt's education was exactly of this type.
He received his education at home throughout his boyhood and entered Cambridge University at an extremely young age. There, he spent almost his entire time with his tutor, Mr. Pretyman. Mr. Pretyman writes: "While Mr. Pitt was an undergraduate, he never once missed attending chapel in the morning and evening, except when prevented by illness. Furthermore, he never spent a single evening outside the college walls; in fact, he spent most of his time with me. During his entire residence at the university, I never knew him to spend an idle day, and he always came to me at the appointed hour."
He did not make any friends or social acquaintances until he graduated. According to Mr. Pretyman, he spent a great deal of time in very rigorous study, and, as one can easily imagine, he also spent much of his time in the most absorbing pleasure of his early years: the monotonous excitement of ambitious anticipation.
For an inferior person, this kind of youth would have only one result: becoming a prig. But Pitt did not become one. Instead, he became a shy, haughty, and inaccessible man. He emerged from Cambridge that way, and he remained that way throughout his life. However, he was protected from the degradation typical of well-intentioned and erudite youth by two major factors: a strong sense of humor and a genuine interest in great subjects.
His sense of humor was hidden from the public by a rigid mask of grave dignity, but in private, it was his most prominent characteristic. He is said to have remarked, "Don't tell me about a man being able to talk sense; anyone can talk sense. The important thing is, can he talk nonsense?" And Mr. Wilberforce, the most cheerful human being of his generation, who had seen the most amusing society, always declared that Pitt's wit was the best he had ever known. This is only natural; humor is polished by suppression, and Pitt never lacked dexterous words throughout his life. Anyone who truly values great things and can see the laughable side of little things will never become a prig.
While at Cambridge likewise Pitt paid, as his tutor tellsus, great attention to what are now, in popular estimation, thecharacteristic studies of the place. His attainments in mathe-matics were probably not much like the elaborate and exactknowledge which the higher wranglers now yearly carry awayfrom the University, but they were considerable for his time,and they comprehended the most instructive part of the subject,the first principles ; a vague hope, too, is expressed that hemay read Newton's ' Prineipia ' ' after some summer circuit,'which, as we may easily suppose, was not realised.
While at Cambridge, Pitt also devoted himself, according to his tutor, to what are now generally considered the characteristic fields of study at that university. His mathematical proficiency might not have reached the level of the elaborate and precise knowledge that top graduates obtain from the university today, but it was considerable for his time, and he understood the first principles, which are the most instructive part of the subject. There was also a vague hope expressed that he might read Newton's 'Principia' 'after some summer circuit,' which, as we can easily imagine, was never realized.
Though the tutor's information is not very exact, we mayaccept his general testimony that Pitt was a good mathemati-cian, according to the academic standing of that day. There is,indeed, strong corroborative evidence of the fact in Mr. Pitt'sfinancial speeches. It is not easy to draw out the evidencein writing, and it would be very tiresome to read the evidenceif it were drawn out : but a skilful observer of the contrast between educated and uneducated language will find in Pittmany traces of mathematical studies. Kaw argument andcommon-sense correctness come by natvire, but only a prelimi-nary education can give the final edge to accuracy in statement,and the last nicety to polished and penetrating discussion. Inlater life, the facile use of financial rhetoric was as familiar toMr. Pitt as to Mr. Gladstone.
Although the tutor's information may not be entirely accurate, his general testimony that Pitt was a good mathematician by the academic standards of that day is acceptable. In fact, there is strong corroborative evidence for this in Mr. Pitt's speeches on financial policy.
It is not easy to detail this evidence in writing, and it would be quite tedious to read if it were written out in detail. However, a skilled observer who can distinguish between educated and uneducated language will find many traces of mathematical study in Pitt's words. Raw logic and common-sense correctness come naturally, but it is only through preliminary education that one can give the final edge to the accuracy of a statement and add the final touch of refinement to a polished and penetrating discussion.
In his later life, Pitt was as adept at using financial rhetoric as Mr. Gladstone.
His classical studies were pursued upon a plan suggestedby his father, which was certainly well adapted for the par-ticular case, though it would not be good for mankind in gene-ral. A sufficient experience proves that no one can be taughtany language thoroughly and accurately except by compositionin it ; and Mr. Pitt had apparently never practised any sortof composition in Greek or Latin, whether verse or prose. But,for the purpose of disciplining a student in his own language,the reverse practice of translating from the classical languagesis the best single expedient which has ever been made use of.And to this Mr. Pitt was trained by his father from early boy-hood. He was taught to read off" the classics into the bestEnglish he could find, never inserting a word with which hewas not satisfied, but waiting till he found one with which hewas satisfied. By constant practice he became so ready thathe never stopped at all ; the right word always presented itselfimmediately. When he was asked in later life, how he hadacquired the mellifluous abundance of appropriate languagewith which he amazed and charmed the House of Commons, itwas to this suggestion of his father that he at once imputed it.
Pitt's classical studies were conducted based on a plan suggested by his father. This plan was certainly very well-suited for his particular case, though it would not be generally appropriate for others.
As sufficient experience proves, no one can thoroughly and accurately learn any language except through composition in that language; however, it seems that Mr. Pitt had never practiced any kind of composition in Greek or Latin, whether in verse or prose.
Still, for training a student's native language, the reverse practice of translating from a classical language is the best method ever employed. And Pitt received this training from his father from early childhood. He was taught to 'read down' classical works into the best English he could find, never inserting a word he was not satisfied with, and waiting until he found a word that satisfied him.
Through constant practice, words came to him instantly, and he never hesitated at all. The right word always came to mind immediately. In his later years, when asked how he acquired that rich and beautiful power of expression that surprised and captivated his audience in the House of Commons, he immediately replied that it was thanks to this teaching from his father.
To the probably unconscious influence of the same instructor we may ascribe his early interest in parliamentary conflict. We have before quoted the naive expression of his boyish desire to be in the House of Commons. There is a still more curious story of him in very early youth. It is said, 'He was introduced, on the steps of the throne in the House of Lords, to Mr. Fox, who was his senior by ten years, and already in the fulness of his fame. Fox used afterwards to relate that, as the discussion proceeded, Pitt repeatedly turned to him and said, "But surely, Mr. Fox, that might be met thus;" or, "Yes, but he lays himself open to retort." What the particular criticisms were, Fox had forgotten; but he said that he was much struck at the time by the precocity of a lad who through the whole sitting was thinking only how all the speeches on both sides could be answered.'
Perhaps as an unconscious influence from the same instructor, we can cite Pitt's early interest in parliamentary conflict. I have previously quoted his naive expression of his boyish desire to enter the House of Commons.
Even more interesting is the story from his very early youth. It is said that 'he was introduced on the steps of the throne in the House of Lords to Mr. Fox, who was ten years his senior and already at the height of his fame.' Fox later recounted that as the discussion progressed, Pitt repeatedly turned to him and said, 'But surely, Mr. Fox, that might be met thus?' or 'Yes, but he lays himself open to retort.' Although he had forgotten the specific criticisms, Fox said he was greatly impressed at the time by the precocity of a boy who 'was thinking only how all the speeches on both sides could be answered' throughout the entire session.
5. Political Opportunity (The Reign of George III and the Chaos of the Old System)
Nor were his political studies confined to the studious cultivation of oratorical language, or to a thorough acquisition of the art of argumentative fence: he attended also to the substance of political science. He was the first great English statesman who read, understood, and valued the 'Wealth of Nations.' Fox had 'no great opinion of those reasonings;' and the doctrines of free trade, though present, like all great political ideas, to the overflowing mind of Burke, were, like all his ideas, at the daily mercy of his eager passions and his intense and vivid imagination. Mr. Pitt, as it would seem, while still at college, acquired and arranged them with the collected consistency which was the characteristic of his mind. So thorough a training, in the superficial accomplishments, the peculiar associations, and the abstract studies of political life, has not perhaps fallen to the lot of any other English statesman.
Pitt not only diligently polished his oratorical language and thoroughly mastered the art of argumentation, but also deeply engaged with the essence of political science. He was the first great English statesman to read, understand, and value 'The Wealth of Nations.' It is said that Fox 'did not have a high opinion of those reasonings.' Furthermore, while the principles of free trade existed within Burke's rich intellect, they were, like many of his other ideas, at the mercy of his fervent passions and intense, vivid imagination. It seems that while still a college student, Pitt acquired and organized these ideas with the systematic consistency that was characteristic of his mind.
Thus, there is perhaps no other English statesman who has received such thorough training in the external arts, peculiar social connections, and abstract studies of political life.
Nor was the political opportunity of Mr. Pitt at all inferior to his political training. The history of the first twenty years of the reign of George III is a history of his struggles with the aristocratic proprietors of parliamentary boroughs. Neither the extension of the power of the Crown, nor the maintenance of the political ascendency of the Whig families, was very popular with the nation at large; the popular element in the constitution was for the most part neutral in the conflict; it reserved the greater part of its influence for objects more interesting to itself; but between the two parties, between the Crown and the great borough proprietors, the strife was eager, intense, and unremitting.
The political opportunity that came to Mr. Pitt was by no means inferior to his [excellent] political training. The first twenty years of the reign of George III can be called a history of the struggle he waged against the aristocrats who owned the corrupt parliamentary boroughs.
The expansion of royal power and the maintenance of political dominance by the powerful Whig families were not very popular with the nation as a whole. The position of the people in national politics was generally neutral in this conflict, reserving the majority of their influence for purposes more interesting to themselves. However, between the Crown and the owners of the large corrupt boroughs, a fierce, intense, and unremitting struggle continued.
As the present writer (translator's note: Bagehot) has explained elsewhere, the situation in which a constitutional monarch was placed under the old system of an unreformed Parliament was more than an energetic person could endure. This is because the reality of the politics of that time was to use royal patronage to buy votes in Parliament and to constantly repeat bargains with the owners of corrupt boroughs in order to maintain the influence of the Crown.
As I (translator's note: Bagehot) have explained elsewhere, the situation in which a constitutional monarch was placed under the old system of an unreformed Parliament was more than an energetic man could endure. For the reality of the politics of that time was that royal patronage was used to buy votes in Parliament and to constantly repeat bargains with the owners of corrupt boroughs in order to maintain the influence of the Crown.
"But who is to use the patronage? The theory assumes that it is to be used by the minister of the day. According to it, the head of the party which is predominant in Parliament is to employ the patronage of the Crown for the purpose of confirming that predominance. But suppose that the Crown chooses to object to this; suppose that the King for the time being should say, 'This patronage is mine; the places in question are places in my service; the pensions in question are pensions from me. I will myself have at least some share in the influence that is acquired by the conferring of those pensions and the distribution of those places.' George III actually did say this. He was a king in one respect among a thousand; he was willing to do the work of a Secretary of the Treasury; his letters for very many years are filled with the petty details of patronage; he directed who should have what, and stipulated who should not have anything. This interference of the King must evidently in theory, and did certainly in fact, destroy the efficiency of the alleged expedient. Very much of the patronage of the Crown went, not to the adherents of the prime minister, because they were his adherents, but to the King's friends, because they were his friends. Many writers have been very severe on George III. for taking the course which he did take, and have frequently repeated the well-known maxims, which show that what he did was a deviation from the constitution. Very likely it was; but what is the use of a constitution which takes no account of the ordinary motives of human nature? It was inevitable that an ambitious king, who had industry enough to act as he did, would so act. Let us consider his position. He was invested with authority which was apparently great. He was surrounded by noblemen and gentlemen who passed their life in paying him homage, and in professing perhaps excessive doctrines of loyal obedience to him. When the Duke of Devonshire, or the Duke of Bedford, or the Duke of Newcastle, approached the royal closet, they implied by words and manner that he had immeasurably more power than they had. In fact, it was expected that he should have immeasurably less. It was expected that, though these noblemen daily acknowledged that he was their superior, he should constantly act as if he were their inferior. The prime minister was in reality appointed by them, and it was expected that the King should do what the prime minister told him; that he should assent to measures on which he was not consulted; that he should make peace when Mr. Grenville said peace was right; that he should make war whenever Mr. Grenville said war was right; that he should allow the offices of his household and the dignities of his court to be used as a means for the support of cabinets whose members he disliked, and whose policy he disapproved of. It is evident that no man who was not imbecile would be content with such a position. It is not difficult to bear to be without power, it is not very difficult to bear to have only the mockery of power; but it is unbearable to have real power, and to be told that you must content yourself with the mockery of it; it is unendurable to have in your hands an effectual instrument of substantial influence, and also to act day by day as a pageant, without any influence whatever. Human nature has never endured this, and we may be quite sure that it never will endure it. It is a fundamental error in the 'esoteric theory' of the Tory party, that it assumed the King and the prime minister to be always of the same mind, while they often were of different minds. ※1"
※1 History of the Unreformed Parliament, and it's lessons. An essay, published in 1868, p28
Then, who uses that 'patronage'? According to the theory of the time, it was supposed to be used by the 'minister of the day.' That is the idea that the leader of the party predominant in Parliament uses royal patronage to solidify his own dominance.
But what happens if the King objects to this? What if the King of the time said, 'This patronage is mine. Both the official positions and the pensions are things given by me. I want to be involved at least to some extent in the influence gained by granting these.'
George III said exactly this. In a sense, he was one king in a thousand. He did not mind taking on the work of a Treasury official (Assistant Secretary of the Treasury), and his letters over many years are filled with petty instructions regarding patronage. He himself gave instructions on who should receive what and who should receive nothing at all.
Such interference by the King, while evident in theory, certainly in fact undermined the effectiveness of the 'expedient' by which the Prime Minister maintained a parliamentary majority through royal patronage. Much of the royal patronage was given not to the Prime Minister's supporters because they were his supporters, but to the King's friends because they were his friends.
Many writers have severely criticized this action of George III, repeatedly citing maxims that demonstrate his conduct was a departure from the Constitution. It may indeed have been unconstitutional. However, what meaning can a constitution have if it ignores the most natural human motives? It was, in a sense, inevitable that a diligent and ambitious king like George III would act in such a way. Consider the position he was placed in. He was ostensibly granted great authority. Around him gathered nobles and gentlemen who paid him respect and sometimes pledged excessive loyalty. When peers like the Duke of Devonshire, the Duke of Bedford, or the Duke of Newcastle visited the King's private chambers, they implied through their words and demeanor that the King possessed power far greater than their own.
Yet, in reality, the King was expected to possess far less power than they did. These nobles, while acknowledging the King as their 'superior' every day, required him to always behave as their 'inferior'.
In fact, the Prime Minister was appointed by these nobles, and it was taken for granted that the King should follow the Prime Minister's lead. That is, the King had to agree to policies he had not even been consulted on; if Mr. Grenville said, 'We must have peace now,' he had to make peace, and if he said, 'We must go to war now,' he had to start a war. Furthermore, it was considered natural that he should even offer up his own court positions and honors to support ministers he disliked or cabinets that championed policies he opposed.
Hardly anyone but a fool would be satisfied in such a position. Having no power at all, or only the appearance of power, might be bearable. But to hold the means to exercise real influence while being forbidden to use them, and to be forced to behave like a mere ornament day after day—nothing could be more unbearable.
Human nature has never endured such a state, and it never will. The fundamental error in the 'esoteric theory' of the Tory party lies in the assumption that the King and the Prime Minister always share the same thoughts. In reality, however, their views often diverged. *1
*1 'The History of the Unreformed Parliament and its Lessons' (an essay published in 1868), page 28
By a series of stratagems George III. at last obtained, in the person of Lord North, a minister who combined a sufficient amount of parliamentary support with an unlimited devotion to the royal pleasure. He was a minister of great ability, great parliamentary tact, unbounded good humour, and no firmness. He yielded everything to the intense, eager, petty incisiveness of his sovereign. The King was the true minister for all purposes of policy and business. Lord North was only the talking minister of the present French Assemblies, who is bound to explain and to defend measures which he did not suggest, and about which he was not consulted.
Through a series of stratagems, George III finally obtained an ideal minister in Lord North. Lord North secured sufficient support within Parliament while pledging unlimited loyalty to the King's intentions.
Lord North possessed great ability, excellent parliamentary tact, and boundless good humor, but he lacked the essential 'decisiveness.' He yielded to every intense, eager, and sometimes petty, sharp intervention of the King.
As a result, the King himself held the real decision-making power for all policies and government affairs. Lord North was merely like a 'talking minister' of the modern French Assemblies, tasked only with explaining and defending policies he had neither proposed nor been consulted on.
It is difficult to say how long Lord North's government might not have continued, if it had not been for the military calamities of the American war. That war had been very popular at its commencement, and continued popular as long as it was likely to be successful : it became unpopular as soon as it was likely to fail. The merchants began to murmur at the stoppage of trade. The country gentlemen began to murmur at the oppressive burden of war-taxes. The nation began to reconsider its opinion as to the justice of the quarrel, as soon as it appeared that our military efforts would probably be disastrous. Lord North shared in these feelings ; he did not believe the war would succeed ; no longer hoped it would succeed ; no longer thought that there was any motive for continuing to carry it on, but for several years he did continue to carry it on. The will of George III. was a very efficient force on everyone just about him, and his personal ascendency over many men intellectually far his superiors is a curious example of the immense influence of a distinct judgment and inflexible decision, with fair abilities and indefatigable industry, and placed in a close contact with great men and great affairs.
It is uncertain how long Lord North's administration might have lasted had it not been for the military disasters of the American War. This war was very popular at its inception and maintained support as long as success seemed likely. However, as soon as signs of failure appeared, it quickly became unpopular.
Merchants began to murmur about the stagnation of trade, and country gentlemen began to complain about the oppressive burden of war taxes. As it became apparent that our military efforts would likely end in disaster, the nation began to reconsider its opinion regarding the justice of the conflict.
Lord North himself shared these sentiments; he did not believe the war would succeed, no longer hoped for success, and could no longer find any motive to continue it. Yet, he continued to carry on the war for several more years.
The will of George III was a very powerful force on everyone around him. His personal dominance was remarkable, even over many men who were intellectually far superior to him. This is an interesting example of how someone with clear judgment and inflexible decision-making, combined with fair abilities and indefatigable industry, and placed in a position of close contact with great men and major political affairs, can exert immense influence.
At length, in March, 1782, the calamitous issue of the American war became too evident, and Lord North resigned. Lord Holland gives us a curious history of the mode in which he announced to the House that he was no longer prime minister.
Finally, in March 1782, the disastrous conclusion of the American War became evident to all, and Lord North resigned. Lord Holland provides an interesting account of the circumstances under which Lord North announced to Parliament that he was no longer Prime Minister.
I have heard my uncle Fitzpatrick give a very diverting account of the scene that passed in the House of Commons on the day of Lord North's resignation, which happened to be a remarkably cold day with a fall of snow. A motion of Lord Surrey's, for the dismissal of ministers, stood for that day, and the Whigs were anxious that it should come on before the resignation of Lord North was officially announced, that his removal from office might be more manifestly and formally the act of the House of Commons. He and Lord Surrey rose at the same instant. After much clamour, disorder, and some insignificant speeches on order, Mr. Fox, with great quickness and address, moved, as the most regular method of extricating the House from its embarrassment, 'That Lord Surrey be now heard.' But Lord North, with yet more admirable presence of mind, mixed with pleasantry, rose immediately and said, 'I rise to speak to that motion;' and, as his reason for opposing it, stated his resignation and the dissolution of the Ministry. The House, satisfied, became impatient, and after some ineffectual efforts of speakers on both sides to procure a hearing, an adjournment took place. Snow was falling, and the night tremendous. All the members' carriages were dismissed, and Mrs. Bennet's room at the door was crowded. But Lord North's carriage was waiting. He put into it one or two of his friends, whom he had invited to go home with him, and turning to the crowd, chiefly composed of his bitter enemies, in the midst of their triumph, exclaimed, in this hour of defeat and supposed mortification, with admirable good humour and pleasantry, 'I have my carriage. You see, gentlemen, the advantage of being in the secret. Good-night.'
I once heard my uncle Fitzpatrick give a very amusing account of the scene that took place in the House of Commons on the day of Lord North's resignation, which happened to be a remarkably cold day with snowfall.
A motion for the dismissal of ministers by Lord Surrey was scheduled for that day, and the Whigs were eager to have it debated before Lord North's resignation was officially announced. This was to ensure that Lord North's removal from office would be seen as a clear and formal act of the House of Commons.
Lord North and Lord Surrey rose at the same time. After much noise and confusion, and some trivial remarks on order, Mr. Fox, with agility and skill, moved that 'Lord Surrey be heard,' as the most legitimate way to settle the parliamentary disorder.
However, Lord North showed even greater presence of mind; he immediately rose and declared, 'I am speaking to that motion,' and stated as his reason his own resignation and the dissolution of the cabinet. The House was satisfied with this, and soon began to show impatience; despite attempts by members on both sides to speak, it was to no avail, and the session was finally adjourned.
The snow continued to fall, and the night was bitterly cold. The members' carriages had all been sent away, and Mrs. Bennett's room by the door was crowded with people. Yet, Lord North's carriage alone was waiting. He took one or two friends into it to bring them home, and as he drove through the crowd—mostly people who were his fierce enemies and were now celebrating their victory—at this moment of supposed defeat and humiliation, he shouted with remarkable humor and cheerfulness:
'My carriage is waiting. You see, gentlemen, the advantage of being in the secret. Good night!'
Such acquiescent hommie is admirable, no doubt; but easy good-nature is no virtue for a man of action, least of all for a practical politician in critical times. It was Lord North's 'happy temper' which first made him the mean slave of George III., which afterwards induced him to ally himself with the most virulent assailants of that monarch, and, at a preceding period, of himself.
Such acquiescent hommie is admirable, no doubt; but easy good-nature is no virtue for a man of action, least of all for a practical politician in critical times. It was Lord North's 'happy temper' which first made him the mean slave of George III., which afterwards induced him to ally himself with the most virulent assailants of that monarch, and, at a preceding period, of himself.
It was Lord North's 'happy temper' that first made him the base slave of George III. And ironically, that same temperament later caused him to join forces with the King's most vehement critics, and even to align himself with those who had previously attacked him so fiercely.
When Lord North resigned, it was natural that the leaders of the Opposition should come at once into predominant power; but a ministerial crisis in the early part of George III.'s reign was never permitted to proceed in what is now fixed as the constitutional etiquette. The King always interfered with it. On this occasion, the only political party who could take office was that which, under the judicious guidance of Lord Rockingham, and supported by the unequalled oratory of Fox and Burke, had consistently opposed the American War. But the leaders of this party were personally disliked by George III. Lord Rockingham he had once before called 'one of the most insignificant noblemen in my service.' Mr. Fox, from a curious combination of causes, he hated. Accordingly, though it was necessary for him to treat with Lord Rockingham and his friends, he did not treat with them directly. He employed as an intermediate agent Lord Shelburne, the father of the present Marquis of Lansdowne, a politician whom it is not difficult to describe, but whom it is difficult really to understand. Policemen tell us that there is such a character as a 'reputed thief,' who has never been convicted of any particular act of thievery.
When Lord North resigned, it was natural that the leaders of the Opposition should come at once into predominant power; but a ministerial crisis in the early part of George III.'s reign was never permitted to proceed in what is now fixed as the constitutional etiquette. The King always interfered with it.
At that time, the only political party capable of taking office was the one that, under the judicious guidance of Lord Rockingham and supported by the unequalled oratory of Fox and Burke, had consistently opposed the American War. However, the leaders of this party were personally disliked by George III. The King had once described Lord Rockingham as 'one of the most insignificant noblemen in my service,' and he hated Mr. Fox for a curious combination of reasons.
Therefore, although the King needed to negotiate with Lord Rockingham and his friends, he avoided direct communication. He employed Lord Shelburne, the father of the current Marquis of Lansdowne, as an intermediary. Lord Shelburne was a politician who was easy to describe but difficult to truly understand. Much like how police officers speak of a 'reputed thief'—someone who has never been convicted of any specific act of theft—his true nature was elusive.
Lord Shelburne was precisely that character in political life; everyone always said he was dishonest, but no particular act of dishonesty has ever been brought home to him. It is not for us now to discuss the dubious peculiarities of so singular a character. But it will be admitted, that it was a most unfortunate one for conducting the delicate personal negotiations inevitable on the formation of a cabinet, and that it specially unfitted the person believed to possess it to be a good go-between between a King who hated the Opposition and an Opposition who distrusted the King. The inevitable result followed: every member of the incoming party was displeased with the King; everyone disbelieved the assertions of Lord Shelburne; everyone distrusted the solidity of a ministry constructed in a manner so anomalous. A ministry, however, was constructed, of which Lord Shelburne and Lord Rockingham were both members; and both, Mr. Fox said, intended to be prime ministers.
Lord Shelburne was precisely that character in political life; everyone always said he was dishonest, but no particular act of dishonesty has ever been brought home to him. It is not for us now to discuss the dubious peculiarities of so singular a character.
However, it must be admitted that he was an extremely inappropriate person to entrust with the delicate personal negotiations inevitable in forming a cabinet. Especially in a situation where the King hated the Opposition and the Opposition distrusted the King, he could hardly have functioned well as an intermediary.
The result was inevitable: every member of the incoming party was displeased with the King, everyone disbelieved Lord Shelburne's assertions, and everyone doubted the stability of a ministry formed in such an anomalous manner. Nevertheless, a ministry was organized, with both Lord Shelburne and Lord Rockingham as cabinet members. According to Mr. Fox, both intended to be Prime Minister.
Lord Rockingham must evidently have been a man of very fine and delicate judgment. He could not speak in the House of Lords, and his letters are rather awkwardly expressed; but those who compare the history of the Whig party for some years before his death with the history of that party for some years after it, and those who compare the career of Burke for the same two periods, will perceive that both over the turbulence of the great party and the turbulence of the great orator the same almost invisible discretion exercised a guiding and restraining control. After Lord Rockingham's death, both the Whig party and Mr. Burke committed great errors and fell into lamentable excesses, which were entirely unlike anything which happened while he was yet alive. If he had been permitted to exercise a composing influence, it is possible that the ministry we have described might have lasted; but, unfortunately, within three months after its formation he fell ill and died. Mr. Fox, who had just been quarrelling with Lord Shelburne, refused to serve under him and sent in his resignation; and his example was followed by Burke, and by most of the followers of Lord Rockingham.
Lord Rockingham must evidently have been a man of very fine and delicate judgment. He could not speak in the House of Lords, and his letters are rather awkwardly expressed; but those who compare the history of the Whig party for some years before his death with the history of that party for some years after it, and those who compare the career of Burke for the same two periods, will perceive that both over the turbulence of the great party and the turbulence of the great orator the same almost invisible discretion exercised a guiding and restraining control.
After Lord Rockingham's death, both the Whig party and Mr. Burke committed great errors and fell into lamentable excesses. Such things never happened while he was still alive. If he had been able to exercise his calming influence, the ministry we described might have lasted. But unfortunately, he fell ill and died within three months of its formation.
Mr. Fox, who had been quarrelling with Lord Shelburne, refused to serve under him and submitted his resignation; Burke and most of Lord Rockingham's followers followed Mr. Fox's example.
Lord Shelburne, however, still intended to be prime minister. The King was in his favour. The Whigs had no great aristocratic leader. The Duke of Portland, who was put forward as such, had no powers of speech and but feeble powers of thought. There was no difference of political opinion which need have separated any Whig from Shelburne. He was therefore justified in hoping that if he persevered, he might rally round him in no long time the greater portion of the Whig party, notwithstanding the secession of its present leaders. He doubtless hoped also, by taking advantage of the various influences of the Crown, to attach to himself very many of the followers of Lord North, who were the old adherents of the Crown. But these were anticipations only. For the moment he was more completely separated from the parliamentary ability of his age than any minister has since been. He came into office in opposition to Lord North and one great party; he remained in office in opposition to Fox and Burke, the leaders of the other great party. The trained leaders of the old Ministry and the trained leaders of the old Opposition were both opposed to him. If he decided to remain prime minister, it was necessary for him to take some bold step. He did so. He made Mr. Pitt Chancellor of the Exchequer and the leader of the House of Commons, though he was but twenty-three.
However, Lord Shelburne was still aiming for the premiership. Although the King was favorable toward him, the Whig party lacked a powerful aristocratic leader. The Duke of Portland, who was put forward as a candidate, was poor in eloquence and weak in his capacity for thought. In terms of political views, there was no particular reason for the Whigs to part ways with Lord Shelburne. Therefore, it was natural to expect that if he acted persistently, he could soon rally the majority of the party despite the departure of the current leaders.
He likely also thought that by utilizing the various influences of the royal household, he could win over many followers of Lord North, the traditional royalist. However, these were merely wishful thoughts. At that time, he was more completely isolated from the capable talent in Parliament than any prime minister had ever been. He had taken office in opposition to the large party led by Lord North, and he continued to maintain his administration while also being opposed by another large party led by Fox and Burke. Both the skilled leaders of the old cabinet and the skilled leaders of the old opposition were against him.
If he was determined to remain in the prime minister's seat, he had to make a bold move. And indeed, he did just that, appointing Mr. Pitt, at the young age of only 23, as Chancellor of the Exchequer and leader of the House of Commons.
6. Taking Office as Prime Minister and the Overthrow of the Coalition Government
Such singular good fortune has never happened to any English statesman since parliamentary government in this country has been consolidated into its present form, and it is very unlikely that anything like it can ever happen again. Perhaps no man of twenty-three could get through the quantity of work that is now required to fill the two offices of Finance Minister and leader of the House of Commons. In Pitt's time the Chancellor of the Exchequer (he himself tells us) needed no private secretary; he had no business requiring any. The leader of the House of Commons did not even require one-tenth part of the ready available miscellaneous information which he must now have at his command, and most of which cannot be learned from any books. To fill the offices which Mr. Pitt filled at twenty-three, it would in this age be necessary that a man should have a trained faculty of transacting business rapidly, which no man of twenty-three can have; and that he should have also a varied knowledge of half a hundred subjects, which no college can teach, and which no book of reference will ever contain. Mr. Pitt, however, met with no difficulty. Though the finances of the country had been disordered by the American War, and though the ministry was daily assailed by the dexterous good-humour of Lord North and the vehement invectives of Fox and Burke, 'the boy,' as they called him, was successful in his Budget, and successful in his management of the House of Commons. It soon, however, became evident that Lord Shelburne's ministry could not stand long. There were three parties in the House, and a coalition of any two was sufficient to outnumber any one. According to a calculation preserved in a letter from Gibbon, everything depended on the decision of Mr. Fox. If he returned to the Government, it would be strong; if he allied himself with Lord North, it must fail. He did ally himself with Lord North, and Lord Shelburne resigned.
Since parliamentary government in England took its current form, no statesman has been blessed with such singular good fortune as to hold the dual roles of Chancellor of the Exchequer and leader of the House of Commons at the age of 23. And it is highly unlikely that anything similar will ever happen again. In the modern age, fulfilling these two roles involves a workload unimaginable to Mr. Pitt at the time.
In Pitt's time, the Chancellor of the Exchequer (by his own account) needed no private secretary, and there was almost no special business to attend to. The leader of the House of Commons did not need to have even one-tenth of the vast, miscellaneous information readily available that is required today, most of which cannot be learned from books. For a 23-year-old today to handle the positions Pitt held at that time, a highly trained ability to process business rapidly is essential, which is not something a 23-year-old possesses. Furthermore, it requires a diverse knowledge of fifty different subjects that cannot be taught in college and are not contained in any reference book.
However, Pitt handled these duties without any difficulty. The country's finances had been disordered by the American Revolutionary War, and the cabinet was exposed daily to the dexterous humor of Lord North and the vehement criticism of Fox and Burke. Even so, Pitt, whom they called 'the boy,' successfully passed his budget and managed the House of Commons brilliantly.
However, it soon became clear that Lord Shelburne's cabinet would not last long. There were three parties in Parliament, and any two parties combined would outnumber a single party. According to a calculation remaining in a letter from Gibbon, everything depended on Mr. Fox's decision. If he returned to the government, the cabinet would be strong, but if he allied with Lord North, failure would be unavoidable—.
In the end, Fox allied with Lord North, and Lord Shelburne resigned.
The coalition between Fox and Lord North is not defended even by Lord John Russell, who defends almost every act in the political life of his great hero. Indeed, it was not likely that he would defend it; for to it we owe the almost unbroken subjection of the Whigs, and the almost unbroken reign of the Tories, for five and twenty years.
The coalition between Fox and Lord North is not defended even by Lord John Russell, who defended almost every action in the political life of his great hero. Indeed, it is unlikely he would have defended it. This is because this very coalition invited the almost complete subjugation of the Whig party and the almost uninterrupted reign of the Tory party for the next 25 years.
No political alliance in English history has been more unpopular than this coalition. For once the King and the people were on the same side, and that side the right side. During by far the greater part of his reign the wishes of George III were either opposed to the wishes of his people, or the wishes of the two, though identical, were pernicious.
In English history, there has never been a more unpopular political alliance than this one. For once, the King and the people stood on the same side, and that side was the right one. During the vast majority of George III's reign, his wishes were either opposed to the wishes of the people, or even when their wishes were identical, they were harmful.
During the first part of his reign his attempts to increase the royal influence were generally unpopular; during the latter part, he and his people were both favourable to the American War and to the French War, with what result history shows. But at the period of which we are speaking, both the prominent prejudices of the King and the deepest feelings of the people were offended by the same event. The Coalition deeply annoyed the King. It was hateful to him that his favourite, Lord North, who had been his confidential minister for years, who was enriched with the marks of his bounty and good-will, who was the leader of many politicians, always biassed in favour of the Crown, and always anxious to support its influence, if they could, should after all ally himself with Mr. Fox, who had opposed the Crown for years; who had called its latent influence 'an infernal spirit;' who was the leader of the party opposed to the American War, and therefore, in the King's view, of the party which had advocated treason and abetted the disruption of the empire; who, worse than all, was the companion and encourager of the Prince of Wales in every species of dissipation; who introduced him to haunts and countenanced him in habits which made the very heart of an economical and decorous monarch horrified and angry; who at that very moment was endeavouring to make 'capital,' as we should now say, out of the political prospects and present influence of his profligate associate. George III used to call the 'coalition ministry' his 'son's ministry;' and he could not embody his detestation of it in terms more expressive, to those who knew their meaning. On the other hand, the people were not unnaturally offended also. The Coalition brought into very clear prominence the most characteristic weakness of our unreformed constitution. Though it professed to be, and really was, a popular constitution, the people could not be induced to believe that they had much concern in it. The members chosen by popular election were a minority; those nominated by aristocratic and indirect influence were a majority.
During the first part of George III's reign, his attempts to strengthen royal influence were generally unpopular; however, in the latter part, both the King and the people came to support the American Revolutionary War and the French Revolutionary Wars. History shows what the result of that was.
However, during the period we are focusing on, both the King's strong prejudices and the people's deepest feelings were wounded by the same event: the Fox-North coalition.
This coalition government deeply irritated the King. Lord North, who had been his trusted minister for years, had been enriched with the marks of his generosity and goodwill, and had always taken a position favorable to the Crown and tried to support its influence, had joined hands with Fox, who had opposed the Crown for years. For the King, this was completely unacceptable. Fox was the leader of the party that opposed the American Revolutionary War, and therefore, in the King's view, the leader of the party that had encouraged treason and the disruption of the empire.
Worse still, Fox was a companion who shared and encouraged the dissipation of the Prince of Wales (the future George IV). He tolerated habits that horrified and enraged the King, who valued frugality and decorum, and at that very moment, he was trying to make 'capital' out of the political prospects and influence of this profligate prince. George III called this 'coalition ministry' his 'son's ministry,' and for those who knew its meaning, there could be no more accurate expression of his hatred.
On the other hand, it was natural for the people to feel offended by this coalition as well. This coalition clearly highlighted the most characteristic weakness of the unreformed constitution of the time. Although the constitution was claimed to be popular both in name and in reality, the people could not believe that they were actually deeply involved in its operation. This was because the members chosen by popular election were in the minority, while those nominated by aristocratic and indirect influence held the majority.
Accordingly most men believed, or were prone to believe, that the struggles in Parliament were faction-fights for place and power; that the interest of the nation had little to do with them, or nothing; that they were contests for political power, and for the rich pecuniary rewards which influential office then conferred. The Coalition seemed to prove that this was so even to demonstration. If there ever had been a bona fide, and not a simulated, struggle in Parliament, it was the struggle between Fox and Lord North. They had opposed one another for years; Fox had heaped on Lord North every term of invective, opprobrium, and contempt; Lord North had said everything which a good-natured and passive man could say in reply. They had taken different sides both on the obvious question which had been the dividing and critical one of the last few years, and on the latent question which was the real one underlying the greater part of the controversies of the age and giving to them most of their importance. Lord North was the great parliamentary advocate of the American War; Fox was its most celebrated and effective opponent. Lord North was the most decent agent, and the most successful co-operator, whom George III. had yet found in his incessant policy of maintaining and augmenting the power of the Crown. Fox was known to be opposed to that policy with all his mind, soul, and strength; he was known to have heaped upon that policy every bitter term of contempt, opprobrium, and execration which the English language contains; he was known to have incurred the bitter hatred of George III. by so doing. With these facts before them, what could the nation infer when they saw these two statesmen combine for the evident purpose of obtaining immediate office? They could only say what they did. They said at once that the Coalition must be dishonest if the previous opposition had been real, and that the coalescing statesmen were utterly untrustworthy if that opposition had been simulated.
Accordingly, most of the public believed, or were prone to believe, that the struggles in Parliament were merely factional fights for position and power, and that they had little or nothing to do with the interests of the nation. They believed, or were inclined to believe, that these were 'contests for political power' aimed at the rich pecuniary rewards that influential positions at the time provided.
And the coalition between Fox and Lord North seemed to prove this view perfectly. If there had ever been a sincere and genuine struggle in Parliament, it was the long-standing opposition between Fox and Lord North. Fox had heaped every term of abuse, condemnation, and contempt upon Lord North, and Lord North, despite his good-natured and passive personality, had done his best to refute him.
They had taken different sides not only on the obvious issue that had divided politics and become the critical focus of the last few years, but also on the true underlying issue that lurked in many of the controversies of the time and determined their importance. Lord North was the greatest parliamentary advocate of the American Revolutionary War and the most sincere and successful collaborator George III had found in his incessant policy of maintaining and expanding royal power. On the other hand, Fox was known to have opposed that policy with all his heart and soul, heaping upon it every bitter term of contempt, condemnation, and curse that the English language could express, and for that, he was known to have incurred the intense hatred of George III.
Faced with these facts, what could the public infer when they saw these two statesmen join forces for the obvious purpose of immediately obtaining office? They could only say one thing. They immediately concluded that if their previous opposition had been real, this coalition must be dishonest, and if that opposition had been a pretense, the coalescing statesmen were completely untrustworthy.
The government of the Coalition was not, however, destined to be durable. George III. was a dangerous man to drive to extremity. Though without great creative ability, he had dexterous powers of political management, cultivated by long habit and experience; he had an eager obstinacy allied to the obstinacy of insanity; it was not safe to try him too far. The Coalition Government, however, tried him as far as it was possible. They framed an India Bill, giving the patronage of India to commissioners, to be from time to time nominated by Parliament, to be irremovable by the Crown, the first of whom were to be nominated by themselves. The King was enraged at a scheme so injurious to his secret influence. He considered that it was a scheme for enabling Mr. Fox to buy votes in Parliament. Lord Fitzwilliam, his intimate political friend, was to be at the head of the new Board; and it was expected, perhaps, intended, that the Board should be an independent instrument of parliamentary power at the service of the aristocratic Whigs, and in daily opposition to the influence of the Crown — to that personal influence which George III. had all his life been hoarding and acquiring. The people were almost as much enraged at the scheme as the King himself. They thought that the politicians who had just formed a corrupt coalition to obtain office were now providing a corrupt expedient for retaining that office. 'Being dishonest themselves,' it was said, 'they are providing themselves with the means of purchasing the votes of others who are dishonest likewise.' The exact value of these accusations we have not space to estimate now; something might certainly be said in extenuation, if it were needful, but at the time the popular feeling was powerfully excited by them; they were expressed by Pitt with marvellous force and marvellous variety, and re-echoed through the nation.
However, the coalition government of Fox and Lord North did not last long. George III was a very dangerous person when driven into a corner. Although he lacked exceptional creativity, he possessed skillful political maneuvering abilities cultivated through long habit and experience. His stubbornness was close to insanity. It was dangerous to push him too far.
Nevertheless, the coalition government pushed him as far as possible. They introduced the so-called 'India Bill.' This bill was designed to entrust the patronage of India to commissioners who would be appointed from time to time by Parliament and could not be dismissed by the King, with the first commissioners to be nominated by the coalition government itself.
The King was enraged by a plan that would so damage his secret influence. He viewed this as a strategy for Mr. Fox to buy votes within Parliament. Lord Fitzwilliam, the King's close political ally, was scheduled to head the new board, and it was expected—and perhaps intended—that this board would function as an independent instrument of parliamentary power for the aristocratic Whigs, opposing the personal influence of the Crown that George III had spent his life building, on a daily basis.
The public was also as enraged by this plan as the King himself. People thought that the politicians who had just obtained power through a corrupt coalition were now preparing a corrupt loophole to maintain that power. 'Because they are dishonest themselves, they are preparing a means to buy the votes of others who are also dishonest,' people said in unison. We will refrain from a true evaluation of these accusations here, though some extenuation might be possible if necessary. However, at the time, these criticisms strongly stirred public sentiment, and because Pitt appealed to them with marvelous force and varied expressions, they echoed throughout the nation.
The parliamentary influence of the Coalition Government, which was supported by the greater part of the borough proprietors, both Whig and Tory, was, however, sufficient to carry their India Bill through the House of Commons by majorities which would now be considered very large. It reached the House of Lords, and would have passed that House too, if George III. had not taken one of the most curious steps in our constitutional history. He wrote on a card: 'His Majesty allowed Earl Temple to say that whoever voted for the India Bill was not only not his friend, but would be considered by him as an enemy; and if these words were not strong enough, Earl Temple might use whatever words he might deem stronger and more to the purpose.'
However, the influence within Parliament of the coalition government, which was supported by the majority of the landowners of the 'rotten boroughs' of both the Whig and Tory parties, was sufficient to pass the 'India Bill' in the House of Commons. The size of the majority at that time would be considered very large by modern standards.
The bill was then sent to the House of Lords, and it would have been passed there as well if George III had not taken one of the most curious measures in the history of the British Constitution.
George III wrote the following on a card:
'His Majesty has permitted Earl Temple to say that whoever votes for the India Bill is not only not a friend of the King, but will be considered an enemy. If these words are not strong enough, Earl Temple may use any expression he deems stronger and more suitable to the purpose.'
Such was the influence of the Crown, such was especially the personal influence which George III. had acquired by steady industry and incessant attention to the personalities of politics, that the fate of the India Bill in the Lords very soon became dubious. 'The bishops wavered;' the staunchest followers of Lord North especially, being high Tories, became uncertain; and in the end the Bill was rejected by a majority of ninety-five over seventy-six.
The King's influence, and especially the personal influence that George III had built up through steady effort and constant attention to political connections, was extremely great. Therefore, the fate of the India Bill in the House of Lords quickly became uncertain.
'The bishops wavered,' and even the most staunch followers of Lord North, especially the high-ranking Tories, began to hesitate and waver in their stance. And in the end, the bill was rejected by a vote of 95 to 76.
Nor did the King's active influence stop here. The Coalition Ministry did not resign; although their principal measure had been rejected in the Lords, they kept their places; they induced the House of Commons to resolve that it was a breach of the privilege of Parliament to attempt to influence votes in either House by announcing 'any opinion or pretended opinion of his Majesty.' The ministry was passive in its place; but George III. was never deterred by minor difficulties. He sent his commands at midnight to Mr. Fox and Lord North to deliver up the seals of office, and to send them by their under-secretaries, as he must decline to see them in person. By this parliamentary coup d'etat he broke up an administration which, though unpopular in the country, was supported by the 'great owners' of parliamentary influence and an overwhelming majority in the House of Commons.
George III's active influence did not end with the rejection of the India Bill in the House of Lords. The coalition cabinet did not resign, despite their main bill being rejected, and continued to remain in power. They had the House of Commons pass a resolution stating that 'attempting to influence votes in either house by using the opinion, or what is claimed to be the opinion, of His Majesty, is an act that infringes upon the privileges of Parliament.'
While the Cabinet clung to power, George III never yielded to minor difficulties. In the middle of the night, he ordered Mr. Fox and Lord North to return the Great Seal (the seal used for authenticating official documents, etc.) and to deliver it through an under-secretary. The King himself flatly refused to meet with them in person.
Through this 'parliamentary coup,' the King finally overthrew the coalition government, which, despite being unpopular among the public, was supported by the parliamentary control of the 'great landowners' and an overwhelming majority in the House of Commons.
But who was to come in ? That the King could turn out the old ministry was very clear, for he had done so ; but that he could form a ministry that could last in such circumstances seemed unlikely ; that he could form any ministry at all was not evident. Political expectation was very eager. As soon as the House met on the day after the midnight dismissal, a new writ was moved for the borough of Appleby, ' in the room of the Right Honourable William Pitt, who, since his election, has accepted the office of First Lord of the Treasury and Chancellor of the Exchequer.' The announcement was received with laughter, for it seemed unlikely that an ambitious boy (such was the speech of the time) should be able to carry on the government, and to lead the House of Commons in the face of an adverse majority, in direct opposition to the most experienced statesmen, the most practised debaters, and the most skilful manoeuvrers of his age.
But who, then, would take on the government?
It was clear that the King could remove the old cabinet. He had, in fact, done so. However, it seemed unlikely that he could form a government capable of surviving in such circumstances, and it was even questionable whether forming a government at all was possible. The political world at the time was filled with great anticipation and tension.
Immediately after the House met the day following the midnight dismissal, a motion was made for the issuance of a writ for a by-election in the Appleby constituency. The reason given was that 'the Right Honourable William Pitt, since his election, has accepted the office of First Lord of the Treasury and Chancellor of the Exchequer.'
This announcement sparked laughter in the chamber. This was because everyone believed that an ambitious boy (as he was called at the time) could not possibly lead the government and guide the House of Commons in the face of an adverse majority, while standing in direct opposition to the most experienced statesmen, the most skilled debaters, and the most adept political maneuverers of his age.
Mr. Pitt was only twenty-five, and he had no one to rely on. Mr. Dundas was a useful subordinate and an efficient man of business, but he was not a great statesman or a great orator, and he was a Scotch adventurer. In the Lords, Mr. Pitt was confident of the support of Lord Temple, who had effected the defeat of the India Bill by the use of the King's name ; but Lord Temple wanted to be paid. He had great borough connections, which gave him permanent claims on every government ; he had just turned out the old government, which gave him a peculiar claim upon the favour of the new. He asked for a dukedom, and was refused. The King thought he had asked too much, and perhaps believed that it would be most dangerous at that critical moment to give the highest of honorary rewards to the principal agent in an alarming act of royal influence. At any rate, the application was declined, and Lord Temple resigned. Mr. Pitt was thus left almost alone. His cabinet consisted but of seven persons, and he himself was the only member of the House of Commons among those seven.
Mr. Pitt was only twenty-five, and he had almost no one to rely on. Mr. Dundas was a capable subordinate and skilled in practical affairs, but he was neither a great statesman nor a great orator, and was merely an adventurer from Scotland.
In the House of Lords, Mr. Pitt was confident of the support of Lord Temple. Lord Temple was the very person who had used the King's name to lead the India Bill to defeat. However, he was seeking a reward. Lord Temple had connections with many 'rotten boroughs,' which gave him a permanent claim (or 'vested interest') on every government. Moreover, as the key figure who had just ousted the old government, he believed he had a certain qualification to expect special favor from the new administration.
He demanded a dukedom, but it was refused. The King thought the demand was excessive, and perhaps judged that it would be extremely dangerous to bestow the highest honor upon the leader of a forced change of government by royal authority during such a critical moment. In any case, the request was rejected, and Lord Temple resigned.
Thus, Mr. Pitt was left almost isolated. His cabinet consisted of only seven people, and among those seven, Pitt was the only member of the House of Commons.
Everybody expected that Parliament would be immediately dissolved. As Mr. Pitt was evidently in a minority in the House of Commons which then existed, it was confidently believed that he would at once see whether he would not have a majority in a new House of Commons. He was too wary, however, to do so. In that age, public opinion formed itself slowly and declared itself slowly. The nation, as far as it had an opinion, was in favour of the new administration ; but in many parts of the country there was no opinion. Delay was in favour of the side which had the advantage in telling argument ; and so strong were the objections of reasonable and moderate men to the coalition between Fox and Lord North — so entirely was their India Bill interpreted by the help of that connection, and regarded in its relation to it — that every day's discussion made converts. The members for close boroughs, and for counties in which individual interest predominated, were, it is true, a majority in the House of Commons, and they adhered for the most part to the Coalition. But the strength so obtained was always weak at a trying crisis. The same influences acted on the borough proprietors which acted upon others, and they never liked to be opposed to the national will when it was distinctly declared. Nor had the extreme partisans of either party ever liked the coalition of the two parties. The warmest Whigs were alienated from Fox, and the strongest Tories were alienated from Lord North. The majority of Fox began to waver, and the minority of Pitt began to augment. Every division showed a tendency in the same direction. Pitt maintained the struggle with dauntless courage, and unbounded dialectical dexterity, against all the orators in the House of Commons. The event began to be doubtful. In the unreformed Parliament no more was necessary. A large section of every party was attached to it by the hope of patronage ; it had been bought by promises of that patronage. As the present writer has elsewhere explained, the strength so obtained was unstable.
Everyone expected that Parliament would be dissolved immediately. Because Mr. Pitt was clearly in the minority in the House of Commons at the time, it was widely believed that he would immediately check whether he could obtain a majority in a new House of Commons. However, he was extremely cautious and did not do so.
At that time, public opinion was formed slowly and expressed slowly. The nation, as far as it held an opinion, supported the new administration, but in many parts of the country, public opinion did not exist at all. The longer the debate dragged on, the more it favored the side that could present a persuasive argument. Furthermore, the antipathy that reasonable and moderate people felt toward the coalition of Fox and Lord North was very strong, and the India Bill could not be discussed apart from that coalition; it was interpreted in the context of that relationship. Therefore, every day of discussion gained more supporters.
It is true that members for rotten boroughs and members for counties where individual interests predominated held a majority in the House of Commons, and for the most part, they supported the coalition. However, the strength of the majority obtained in this way was fragile in times of crisis. Like others, those who owned the boroughs were influenced by the trends of public opinion, and when the will of the nation was clearly expressed, they did not like to oppose it.
Also, the extreme partisans of both parties did not like the coalition of the two parties. The ardent Whigs became disillusioned with Fox, and the die-hard Tories became fed up with Lord North. Fox's majority began to waver, and Pitt's minority began to grow. Every vote showed this trend.
Mr. Pitt continued to fight against all the orators in the House of Commons with dauntless courage and boundless dialectical dexterity. The situation gradually became fluid, and its outcome became unpredictable.
In an unreformed Parliament, that was sufficient. A large section of every party was loyal to that Parliament in the hope of patronage, and that loyalty had been bought by promises of patronage. As the author has explained elsewhere, the support of Parliament obtained in that way was unstable.
It especially failed at the moment at which it was especially wanted. A majority in Parliament which is united by a sincere opinion, and is combined to carry out that opinion, is in some sense secure. As long as that opinion is unchanged, it will remain ; it can only be destroyed by weakening the conviction which binds it together. A majority which is obtained by the employment of patronage is very different ; it is combined mainly by an expectation. Sir Robert Walpole, the great master in the art of dispensing patronage, defined gratitude as an anticipation of future favours ; he meant that the majority which maintained his administration was collected, not by recollection, but by hope ; they thought not so much of favours which were past as of favours which were to come. At a critical moment this bond of union was ordinarily weak.
It became most helpless at the very moment it was most needed.
A parliamentary majority bound by sincere conviction and united for the purpose of realizing it possesses a certain stability. As long as that conviction remains unshaken, the unity is preserved, and it only crumbles when that conviction itself weakens.
However, a majority formed by patronage is of an entirely different nature. It is bound together not by loyalty to the past, but by expectations for the future.
Sir Robert Walpole, known as a master of patronage politics, once stated, 'Gratitude is a lively expectation of future favors.' In other words, the majority that supported his administration did not gather to repay past debts, but were united in anticipation of the rewards they would receive. What they had in their sights was not the benefits already received, but the benefits yet to be bestowed.
Such ties were often fragile in times of crisis.
As soon as it seemed likely that Mr. Pitt would be victorious, the selfish part of the followers of the Coalition — a very large part — began to go over to Mr. Pitt. The last motion of Mr. Fox was carried by a majority of one.
As soon as it seemed likely that Mr. Pitt would be victorious, the selfish part of the followers of the Coalition — a very large part — began to go over to Mr. Pitt. The last motion of Mr. Fox was carried by a majority of one.
Mr. Pitt then saw that his time had come ; he dissolved Parliament, and his triumph was complete. The popular feeling was overwhelming. It prevailed even in the strongholds of the Whig aristocracy. ' Thus in Norfolk,' says Lord Stanhope, ' the late member had been Mr. Coke, lord of the vast domains of Holkham, a gentleman who, according to his own opinion, as stated in his address to the county, had played " a distinguished part " in opposing the American war. But notwithstanding his alleged claims of distinction, and his much more certain claims of property, Mr. Coke found it necessary to decline the contest.' But of all the contests of this period, the most important in that point of view was for the county of York. That great county, not yet at election times severed into Ridings, had been under the sway of the Whig houses. Bolton Abbey, Castle Howard, and Wentworth Park had claimed the right to dictate at the hustings. It was not till 1780 that the spirit of the county rose. ' Hitherto ' — so in that year spoke Sir George Savile — ' I have been elected in Lord Rockingham's dining-room. Now I am returned by my constituents.' And in 1784 the spirit of the county rose higher still. In 1784 the independent freeholders of Yorkshire boldly confronted the great houses, and insisted on returning, in conjunction with the heir of Duncombe Park, a banker's son, of few years and of scarcely tried abilities, though destined to a high place in his country's annals — Mr. Wilberforce. With the help of the country gentlemen, they raised the vast sum of 18,662L for the expense of the election ; and so great was their show of numbers and of resolution, that the candidates upon the other side did not venture to stand a contest. Wilberforce was also returned at the head of the poll by his former constituents at Hull. ' I can never congratulate you enough on such glorious success,' wrote the Prime Minister to his young friend. One hundred and sixty followers of Mr. Fox lost their seats, and were called ' Fox's martyrs.' The majority for Pitt in the new Parliament was complete, overwhelming, and enthusiastic.
Mr. Pitt realized that his time had come and dissolved Parliament. With this, his victory became unshakeable. The popular sentiment was overwhelming, and its momentum reached even the strongholds of the Whig aristocracy.
Lord Stanhope states: 'In Norfolk, the late member had been Mr. Coke, lord of the vast domains of Holkham. In his address to the county, he claimed to have played a "distinguished part" in opposing the American war. However, despite his alleged claims of distinction and his much more certain claims of property, Mr. Coke found it necessary to decline the contest.'
However, among the contests of this period, the most important from that perspective was in the county of York. That great county, not yet divided into Ridings at election time, had been under the sway of the Whig houses. Bolton Abbey, Castle Howard, and Wentworth Park had claimed the right to dictate at the hustings.
The spirit of this county rose in 1780. 'Hitherto' — so in that year spoke Sir George Savile — 'I have been elected in Lord Rockingham's dining-room. Now I am returned by my constituents.' And in 1784, the spirit of the county rose even higher. In 1784, the independent freeholders of Yorkshire boldly confronted the great houses and, in conjunction with the heir of Duncombe Park, insisted on returning Mr. Wilberforce, a banker's son who was young and whose abilities had scarcely been tested, though he was destined to leave his name in the country's history.
With the help of the country gentlemen, they raised the vast sum of 18,662 pounds for the election expenses. Their show of numbers and resolution was so powerful that the opposing candidates did not even dare to stand for election. Wilberforce was also returned at the head of the poll by his former constituents at Hull. 'I can never congratulate you enough on such glorious success,' the Prime Minister wrote to his young friend.
One hundred and sixty of Mr. Fox's followers lost their seats and were called 'Fox's martyrs.' The majority for Pitt in the new Parliament was complete, overwhelming, and enthusiastic.
The constitutional aspect of the events of 1784 has been much discussed, and well merits discussion. It is certain that George III. did much that was, according to the good notions now fixedly established, thoroughly unconstitutional ; it is certain that scarcely anyone will, upon any constitutional doctrines, new or old, defend the ' card ' displayed by Lord Temple. But, if we had room to argue the subject, we think it might be shown that it would have been inexpedient to apply, in the year 1784, the strict constitutional maxims on which we should act in the year 1861 ; that the beneficial relations, and that the inevitable relations of the Parliament and the Crown, were different then from what they are now ; that, under such an aristocratic legislature as the unreformed Parliament principally was, it was needful that the Crown should sometimes intervene, when the opinion of Parliament was opposed to the opinion of the people ; that, in times when public opinion was formed but slowly, it was advisable that the Crown should do so, not by an instant dissolution of the House of Commons, as we should now exact, but by a deferred dissolution, which would enable the thinking part of the community to reflect, and give the whole country, far and near, time to form a real judgment.
The constitutional aspect of the events of 1784 has been widely discussed and is certainly worth examining. It is undeniable that George III committed many acts that, by the sound constitutional concepts established today, were thoroughly unconstitutional. Furthermore, hardly anyone would defend the 'card' (the hardline measure) brought out by Lord Temple, using any constitutional doctrine, whether new or old.
However, if there were an opportunity to delve deeply into this subject, it could be shown that it would have been inappropriate to apply in 1784 the strict constitutional principles we would act upon in 1861. The relationship between Parliament and the Crown at that time, in both its beneficial and inevitable aspects, was different from what it is today. Under an aristocratic legislature, as the unreformed Parliament primarily was, it was necessary for the Crown to intervene when the opinion of Parliament was opposed to the opinion of the people.
And in an era when public opinion was formed slowly, it was wise for the Crown to intervene not through an immediate dissolution of the House of Commons as we would demand today, but through a delayed dissolution that would give the thoughtful segment of society time to reflect and allow the entire country to form a true judgment.
But, at present, we have to deal with the events of 1784, not in their relation to the constitution of England, but in their relation to the life of Mr. Pitt. They were the completion of his opportunity. But a short time previously the political isolation of Lord Shelburne had made him Chancellor of the Exchequer at a boyish age ; the isolation of George III. now made him prime minister while still very young. The first good fortune would have been a marvel in the life of any other man, but was nothing to the marvel of the second. By a strange course of great incidents, he was in the most commanding position which an English subject has ever occupied since parliamentary government was thoroughly established in the country. The victory was so complete, that the mercenaries of the enemy had deserted to his standard. The Crown was necessarily on his side, for he alone stood between George III. and the hated Coalition, which he had discarded and insulted ; the people were on his side, from a hatred of the official corruption of which they considered his opponents to be the representatives and the embodiments, from a firm belief in his true integrity, from a proud admiration of his single-handed courage and audacious self-reliance. He had the power to do what he would.
However, what we must deal with here is not the events of 1784 from the perspective of the English constitution, but as a phase in the life of Mr. Pitt. These events were the culmination of the great opportunity that came his way.
Previously, Lord Shelburne's political isolation had propelled young Pitt to the position of Chancellor of the Exchequer at an unusually young age. And now, the isolation of George III led him to the premiership at an even younger age. The first stroke of luck alone would have been sufficiently astonishing in anyone else's life, but the second was an unparalleled marvel.
Through a series of strange events, Pitt came to hold a more overwhelming leadership position than any subject since the establishment of parliamentary politics in this country.
His victory was complete. Even the 'mercenaries' of his enemies defected to his banner. The royal family was naturally on his side, for Pitt was the only shield standing between George III and the detestable coalition government that the King had dismissed with contempt.
The public, too, stood by his side. Hatred for the opposition, whom they viewed as symbols of official corruption; conviction in Pitt's unwavering integrity; and a proud respect for his solitary struggle and bold independence—all these drew the people to him.
He had the power to achieve whatever he desired.
Nor was this all. The opportunity was not only a great opportunity, but was an opportunity in the hands of a young man. Half of our greatest statesmen would have been wholly unprepared for it. When Lord Palmerston was in office in the spring of 1857 with a large majority, a shrewd observer, now no longer among us, said, 'Well, it is a large majority; but what is he to do with it?' He did not know himself; by paltry errors and frivolous haughtiness he frittered it away immediately. An old man of the world has no great objects, no telling enthusiasm, no large proposals, no noble reforms; his advice is that of the old banker, 'Live, sir, from day to day, and don't trouble yourself!' Years of acquiescing in proposals as to which he has not been consulted, of voting for measures which he did not frame, and in the wisdom of which he often did not believe, of arguing for proposals from half of which he dissents—usually de-intellectualise a parliamentary statesman before he comes to half his power. From all this Pitt was exempt. He came to great power with a fresh mind. And not only so; he came into power with the cultivated thought of a new generation. Too many of us scarcely remember how young a man he was. He was born in 1759, and might have well been in the vigour of life in 1830. Lord Sidmouth, his contemporary, did not die till after 1840; he was younger than his cousin, Mr. Thomas Grenville, who long represented in London society the traditions of the past, and who died in 1846. He governed men of the generation before him. Alone among English statesmen, while yet a youth he was governing middle-aged men. He had the power of applying the eager thought of five and twenty, of making it rule over the petty knowledge and trained acquiescence of five and fifty. Alone as yet, and alone perhaps for ever in our parliamentary history, while his own mind was still original, while his own spirit was still unbroken, he was able to impose an absolute yoke on acquiescent spirits whom the world had broken for him.
This was not all. The opportunity was not only a great opportunity, but it was an opportunity in the hands of a young man. Half of our greatest statesmen would have been completely unprepared for it. When Lord Palmerston was in office in the spring of 1857 with a large majority, a shrewd observer, now no longer among us, said, 'Well, it is a large majority; but what is he to do with it?' He did not know himself; by paltry errors and frivolous haughtiness, he frittered it away in an instant.
A worldly, experienced man has no great ambitions, no intense enthusiasm, no grand proposals, no noble reforms. Their advice is like that of an old banker: 'Sir, live day by day and do not worry too much.' For years, agreeing to proposals without being consulted, voting for bills he did not create and whose legitimacy he did not believe in, and arguing for proposals while dissenting from half of them—such experiences strip many parliamentary statesmen of their ability to think and dull their spirits before they can even exercise half their power.
However, Pitt was exempt from all of this. He seized great power with a youthful spirit. Furthermore, he took office armed with the cultivated thinking of a new generation. Most of us hardly remember how young he was. Born in 1759, he would have been in the prime of his life in 1830. His contemporary, Lord Sidmouth, lived well past the 1840s, and he was younger than his cousin, Thomas Grenville, who long represented the traditions of the past in London society and died in 1846.
Pitt governed people of the generation before him. Among English statesmen, he was the only one who, due to his youth, led people with a wealth of life experience. He wielded the eager thoughts of a twenty-five-year-old, making them reign over the narrow knowledge and conventional compliance of the fifty-five-year-olds. While his own spirit remained original and unbroken, he was able to impose an absolute rule over the compliant spirits whom the world had broken in his stead.
7. Attempts at Great Reform and Characteristics as an Administrator
We have expended so much space on a delineation of the peculiar opportunities which Mr. Pitt enjoyed, that we must be very concise in showing how he used them. Three subjects then needed the attention of a great statesman, though none of them were so pressing as to force themselves on the attention of a little statesman. These were, our economical and financial legislation, the imperfection of our parliamentary representation, and the unhappy condition of Ireland. Pitt dealt with all three.
Because I have spent so much space on the rare opportunities Mr. Pitt enjoyed, I must be very concise in describing how he utilized them. At the time, there were three issues that a great statesman should have focused on, though none were so pressing that a lesser statesman would have been forced to address them. These were our economic and financial legislation, the imperfection of our parliamentary representation, and the miserable situation in Ireland. Pitt addressed all three of these issues.
Our economical legislation was partly in an uncared-for state, and partly in an ill-cared-for state. Our customs laws were a chaos of confusion. Innumerable Acts of Parliament had been passed on temporary occasions and for temporary purposes; blunders had been discovered in them; other Acts were passed to amend those blunders; those other Acts contained other blunders; new corrective legislation was required, and here too there were errors, omissions, and imperfections. And in so far as our economical legislation was based upon a theory, that theory was a very mistaken one; it was the theory of Protection. The first duty of the English Legislature, it was believed, was to develop English industry and to injure foreign industry. Our manufactures, it was thought, could be made better by Acts of Parliament; the manufactures of our rivals, it was believed, could be made worse. The industry of the nation worked in a complicated network of fetters and bonds.
Our economic legislation was partly left untouched and partly inadequately maintained. Customs laws were in a state of utter confusion. Countless parliamentary acts were passed for temporary circumstances or purposes, and when errors were found within them, other laws were created to amend them. However, those amendments also contained errors, requiring new corrective legislation, which in turn contained its own errors, omissions, and flaws.
Furthermore, if our economic legislation was based on any theory, it was a very misguided one: the theory of protectionism. It was believed that the primary duty of the English Parliament was to develop English industry and inflict damage upon foreign industry. It was thought that our manufacturing could be improved through parliamentary acts, while the manufacturing of our rivals could be made to decline. The nation's industry functioned within a complex web of fetters and constraints.
Mr. Pitt applied himself vigorously to this chaos. He brought in a series of resolutions consolidating our customs laws, of which the inevitable complexity may be estimated by their number. They amounted to 133, and the number of Acts of Parliament which they restrained or completed was much greater. He attempted, and successfully, to apply the principles of Free Trade, the principles which he was the first of English statesmen to learn from Adam Smith, to the actual commerce of the country, and to the part of our commerce which afforded the greatest temptations to a philosophic statesman, and presented the greatest accumulation of irritable and stupid prejudice. France and England were near one another, but had no trade with one another; no such trade at least as two countries so different in soil, in climate, and in natural aptitude, ought to have. So far from either nation much wishing to trade with the other, neither wished to depend on the other for anything. The national dignity was supposed to be compromised by buying from an ancient rival. Mr. Pitt, however, framed a treaty which, if its consequences had not been swept away with so much else, both good and evil, in the European storm of the French Revolution, would have been quoted as the true commencement of free-trade legislation; would have been referred to as we now refer to the tentative reforms of Huskisson, and to the earlier budgets of Sir Robert Peel. So little was the subject then understood, even by those most likely to understand it, that both Fox and Burke opposed the treaty with virulence and vehemence; declaring that France was our natural enemy, and that it was unworthy of anyone who pretended to be a statesman to create a 'peddling traffic,' and maintain 'huckstering' relations with her.
Mr. Pitt tackled this chaotic state energetically. He introduced a series of resolutions to consolidate customs laws, and the sheer complexity of this can be imagined from the number of resolutions alone. They totaled 133, and the number of parliamentary acts they restricted or supplemented was even greater.
He attempted to apply the principles of free trade, which he had learned from Adam Smith—the first English statesman to do so—to the country's actual commerce, and he succeeded. This was particularly notable in the areas of commerce that offered the greatest temptation to a philosophical statesman and where the most irritating and foolish prejudices had accumulated. Although France and England were geographically close, there was almost no trade between them. At the very least, there should have been more trade between two countries with such different soil, climate, and natural aptitudes. Neither nation wished to trade actively with the other, nor did they want to depend on the other for anything. Buying from a long-standing rival was considered a compromise of national dignity.
However, Mr. Pitt concluded a commercial treaty. Had its results not been swept away along with so much else, both good and bad, in the great storm of the French Revolution, this treaty would have been passed down as the true beginning of free-trade legislation, and would have been evaluated in the same way we refer to Huskisson's tentative reforms or Sir Robert Peel's early budgets today.
At the time, this issue was barely understood even by the most perceptive individuals. Fox and Burke vehemently opposed the treaty, viewing France as our 'natural enemy' and declaring it disgraceful for anyone calling themselves a statesman to engage in 'petty trade' or maintain 'peddler-like' commercial relations with France.
The financial reputation of Pitt has greatly suffered from the absurd praise which was once lavished on the worst part of it. The dread of national ruin from the augmentation of the national debt was a sort of nightmare in that age; the evil was apparent, and the counteracting force was not seen. No one perceived that English industry was yearly growing with an accelerating rapidity; no one foresaw that in a few years it would be aided by a hundred wonderful inventions — by the innumerable results of applied science; no one comprehended that the national estate was augmenting far faster than the national burden. The popular mind was apprehensive, and wished to see some remedy applied to what seemed to be an evident and dangerous evil. Mr. Pitt sympathised with the general apprehension and created the well-known 'Sinking Fund.' He proposed to apply annually a certain fixed sum to the payment of the debt, which was in itself excellent, but he omitted to provide real money to be so paid. The only source out of which debt can be defrayed, as everyone now understands, is a surplus revenue; out of an empty exchequer no claims can ever be liquidated by possibility: an excess of income over outlay is a prerequisite of a true repayment. Mr. Pitt, however, not only did not see this, but persuaded a whole generation that it was not so. He proposed to borrow the money to pay off the debt, and fancied that he thus diminished it. He had framed a puzzle in compound interest, which deceived himself, and everyone who was entrusted with the national finances, for very many years.
Pitt's financial reputation has been greatly damaged because excessive praise was once lavished on its most problematic aspects. At the time, the fear of national bankruptcy due to the increase in national debt tormented people like a nightmare. The harm was obvious, but the counteracting force was not visible.
No one realized that English industry was growing at an accelerating rate year by year, nor did they foresee that in a few years it would be aided by numerous wonderful inventions—that is, the countless results of applied science. Furthermore, no one understood that the national wealth was increasing at a much faster pace than the national burden.
The public was anxious and hoped for some remedy to be applied to what seemed to be an evident and dangerous evil. Mr. Pitt sympathized with this general concern and created the famous 'Sinking Fund.' He proposed to allocate a fixed amount annually to debt repayment, which was an excellent idea in itself, but he neglected to prepare the actual funds for it.
As everyone now understands, the only source from which debt can be repaid is a surplus in revenue. No claims can ever be liquidated from an empty treasury. An excess of income over expenditure is essential for true repayment.
However, Mr. Pitt not only failed to see this, but he convinced an entire generation that it was not so. He proposed borrowing money to pay off the debt, laboring under the illusion that this reduced the debt. He created a clever puzzle of compound interest, by which he deceived himself and everyone who was in charge of the nation's finances for many years.
The exposure of this financial juggle, for though not intended to be so, such in fact it was, has reacted very unfavourably upon Mr Pitt's deserved fame. It was so long said 'that he was a great financier because he invented the Sinking Fund,' that it came at last to be believed that he could not be a great financier inasmuch as he had invented it. So much merit had been claimed for something bad, that no search was made for anything good. But an accurate study of these times will prove that Pitt was really one of the greatest financiers in our history, that he repaired the great disorders of the American war, that he restored a surplus revenue, that he understood the true principles of taxation, that he even knew that the best way to increase a revenue from the consumption of the masses is to lower the rate of duty and develop their consuming power.
The exposure of this financial 'trick' (even if it was not intended as such, it was so in reality) had a very negative impact on the reputation Mr. Pitt truly deserved. Because it was said for so long that 'he was a great financier because he invented the Sinking Fund,' it eventually came to be believed that he could not be a great financier precisely because he had invented it. Because so much credit was given to something inferior, his good points were completely overlooked.
However, an accurate study of this era reveals that Pitt was truly one of the greatest financiers in our nation's history. He repaired the serious disorder caused by the American War, restored a surplus in revenue, and understood the true principles of taxation. Furthermore, he even knew that the best way to increase revenue based on mass consumption was to lower tax rates and boost purchasing power.
The subject of parliamentary reform is the one with which, in Mr. Pitt's early days, the public most connected his name, and is also that with which we are now least apt to connect it. We have so long and so often heard him treated as the great Conservative minister, that we can hardly realise to ourselves that he was an unsparing and ardent reformer. Yet such is the indisputable fact. He proposed the abolition of the worst of the rotten boroughs fifty years before Lord Grey accomplished it. The period was a favourable one for reform. The failure of the American War had left behind it a bitter irritation and an anxious self-reproach. Why had we, with our great wealth, our great valour, our long experience, failed in what seemed a trivial enterprise? Why had we been put to shame in the face of Europe? Why had we been forced to humble ourselves in the face of Europe? Why had we been compelled to make an ignominious peace? Why had we, as one of the greatest of civilised states, failed to conquer a raw and unknown colony? The popular answer was, that our arms had been unsuccessful because our Government was corrupt. The practical working of our unreformed constitution has been tersely described as the barter of patronage for power; the parliamentary majorities of that age were kept by an incessant commerce between the proprietors of seats who sold and the Secretary of the Treasury who bought. In the present day refined arguments are often brought forward to justify or to palliate the system of government. But whatever may be the abstract worth of those arguments, their practical worth is not great. They will never convince the mass of men; they will never satisfy the unsophisticated instinct of ordinary men; they will not remove their natural distrust of what they believe to be unpatriotic selfishness; they will not lessen their conscientious repugnance to that which they call corruption. After the disasters of the American War, this feeling was very strong and very diffused. An unpopular tree was judged of by unpopular fruits; our calamities were evident, and our corruption was conspicuous. A most distinct association of the two was formed in the popular mind. Of this Mr. Pitt took advantage. If the strong counteracting influence of the French Revolution had not changed the national opinion, he would unquestionably have amended our parliamentary representation. Even after the French Revolution he never changed his own opinion; he considered that the time was not favourable for what we now call organic changes; and he judged wisely, for the mass of the nation was wildly and frantically Conservative; but he did not abandon his early principles: he never became a 'Pittite.'
The issue of parliamentary reform is one that was most closely associated with Mr. Pitt's name in his early days, whereas today it is less frequently linked to him. Because he is often spoken of as a great Conservative Prime Minister, it is difficult to realize the fact that he was an unsparing and ardent reformer. Yet, that is an indisputable fact. He proposed the abolition of the most notorious rotten boroughs fifty years before Lord Grey accomplished that reform.
At the time, it was a favorable era for reform. The failure of the American War left the nation with deep irritation and self-reflection. Why did we, with our great wealth, brave spirit, and long experience, fail in what seemed to be a trivial battle? Why were we put to shame before Europe and forced to conclude a humiliating peace? Why, as one of the civilized nations, could we not conquer a raw colony?
The answer for many people lay in the corruption of the government. The reality of the unreformed constitution was a 'barter of patronage for power,' and parliamentary majorities were maintained through constant transactions between seat owners who sold them and the Treasury Secretary who bought them.
Today, there are many arguments to justify or defend the government system, but they cannot convince the general public. They do not satisfy the simple instincts of ordinary people, nor could they dispel the distrust of unpatriotic selfishness or the conscientious repugnance toward corruption.
After the disasters of the American War, this national sentiment spread widely and strongly. Mr. Pitt skillfully took advantage of this momentum. If the powerful external factor of the French Revolution had not changed the national consciousness, he would undoubtedly have carried out parliamentary representation reform. Even after the revolution, he did not change his opinion, judging that it was too early for organic changes, as the majority of the nation was fiercely conservative. Nevertheless, he did not abandon his initial principles and never became a 'Pittite' dyed in the wool of conservatism.
The state of Ireland was a more pressing difficulty than our financial confusion, our economical errors, or our parliamentary corruption. It had an independent legislature, which might at any time take a dangerously different view of national interests, of the expediency of a peace, or the expediency of a war, from the English Parliament. That legislature was a Protestant legislature in the midst of a Catholic people; it was the legislature of a small and hated minority in the midst of an excitable, tumultuous, oppressed people. The mass of the Irish Catholics believed that the mass of the property, which belonged in fact to the Protestants, was in strict right theirs; they believed that they were the true owners of the soil, and that the Protestants were intruders; they believed that they had a right to govern the country, and that the Protestants were usurpers; they believed that the Church which the State supported was a heretic Church; that the Church which the State did not support was the true Church — the only true Church in Christendom. In every parish the distinction between Protestant and Catholic was periodically ruled by the most critical of tests — the pecuniary test. The collection of the tithe in detail over the country, from the Catholic population for the Protestant Church, was the source of chronic confusion and incessant bloodshed. Mr. Pitt proposed to remedy all these evils in turn, and effectually. He proposed to remedy the most immediate and pressing cause of trouble throughout the country by changing — as has since been done — the periodical extortion of the Irish tithe from the hostile farmer into an equivalent payment by a rent-charge, which could be easily collected, and could give rise to no disgraceful scenes. He proposed to put the Catholic majority and the Protestant minority upon a perfect equality so far as civil rights were concerned. He was desirous that Catholics should be eligible to all offices, and be electors for all offices. He was ready likewise to destroy the prevalent religious agitation at its very root, by paying the ministers of the Church of the poor as well as the ministers of the Church of the rich. He proposed at once to remedy the national danger of having two Parliaments, and to remove the incredible corruption of the old Irish Parliament, by uniting the three kingdoms in a single representative system, of which the Parliament should sit in England. He framed, in a word, a scheme which would have cured the internal divisions of Ireland, which would have united her effectually to the empire without impairing her real liberty.
The issue of Ireland was a more urgent task than financial confusion, economic errors, or parliamentary corruption. Ireland had an independent legislature that could at any time present dangerously different views from the English Parliament regarding national interests, the expediency of peace, or the expediency of war.
That legislature was for the Protestants, a hated minority, in the midst of a Catholic people. It was a legislature of a small, hated minority in the midst of an excitable, noisy, and oppressed people. The majority of Catholics believed that most of the property, which in fact belonged to the Protestants, was strictly theirs by right, and they viewed the Protestants as intruders. They believed they were the true owners who should govern the country, and that the Protestants were usurpers. They also believed that the church supported by the state was heretical, and that the church not supported by the state was the only true church in Christendom.
In every parish, the distinction between Protestant and Catholic was periodically clarified through the most rigorous test—the financial burden, namely the collection of tithes. The collection of tithes from the Catholic population for the Protestant Church was the cause of chronic confusion and incessant bloodshed throughout the country.
Mr. Pitt sought to correct these abuses in a sequential and effective manner. He proposed changing the periodic forced collection of tithes from hostile farmers—the most pressing issue in the country—into payments via land rent, which would be easily collectible and avoid scandal (a proposal that was later realized). Furthermore, he aimed to achieve complete equality between the Catholic majority and the Protestant minority in terms of civil rights, desiring that Catholics hold all public offices and possess full voting rights.
He also sought to fundamentally resolve deeply rooted religious conflicts by paying the clergy of the poor church the same salaries as those of the wealthy church. Additionally, he proposed establishing a single representative system for the three countries in England to eliminate the national dangers of having two parliaments and to remove the incredible corruption of the old Irish Parliament. In short, he planned to overcome Ireland's internal conflicts and effectively bind it to the Empire without compromising its true freedom.
Of these great reforms he was only permitted to carry a few into execution. His power, as we have described it, was great when his reign commenced, and very great it continued to be for very many years; but the time became unfavourable for all forward-looking statesmanship — for everything which could be called innovation. The French Revolution and the French War destroyed for many years our national taste for political improvement. But, notwithstanding these calamities, Pitt achieved some part of all his cherished schemes save one.
Of these great reforms, he was only permitted to carry a few into execution. As already mentioned, his power was very great from the moment he appeared, and he continued to exert significant influence for many years. However, the times became unfavorable for all forward-looking statesmanship—for everything that could be called 'reform'.
The French Revolution and the French War crushed the national interest and enthusiasm for political reform for many years.
Nevertheless, despite these calamities, Pitt achieved some measure of success in all but one of the great schemes he had cherished.
No opportunity would have enabled Pitt to effect these great reforms, no peculiar situation would have suggested them to him, if he had not had certain more than ordinary tendencies and abilities — the tendencies and abilities of a great administrator. Contrary to what might at first sight be supposed, using the word 'administrator' in its most enlarged sense — in the sense in which we used it at the commencement of this article — the first qualification of the highest administrator is, that he should think of something which he need not think of — of something which is not the pressing difficulty of the hour. For inferior men no rule could be so dangerous. Ambitious mediocrity is dangerous mediocrity: ordinary men find what they must do amply enough for them to do; the exacting difficulty of the hour, which will not be stayed, which must be met, absorbs their whole time and all their energies. But the ideal administrator has time, has mind — for that is the difficulty — for something more: he can do what he must, and he will do what he wishes. This is Mr. Pitt's peculiarity among the great English statesmen of the eighteenth century. As a rule, the spirit of Sir Robert Walpole ruled over all these statesmen. They respected his favourite maxim, quieta non movere; to deal shrewdly and adroitly with what must be dealt with; to leave alone whatever might be left alone; to accumulate every possible resource against the inevitable difficulties of the present moment, and never to think or dream or treat of what was not inevitable; — these were then, as always, the justifiable aims of commonplace men. They did all they could; they did all that they could with their strength and their faculties in their day and generation. The philosophy of the time, with its definite problems and its un-aspiring tendencies, encouraged them; it made them unalive to the higher possibilities they were forgetting, to the higher duties they were half-consciously, half-unconsciously passing over. It was with reference to this oblivious neglect of the future, this short-sighted absorption in the present, that Dr. Arnold called this century the 'misused trial-time of modern Europe.' It is the distinctive characteristic of Pitt that, having a great opportunity, having power such as no parliamentary statesman has ever had, having in his mind a fresh stock of youthful thought such as no similar statesman has ever possessed — he applied that power steadily and perseveringly to embody that thought. To persons who think but slightly, this may seem only a very slight merit. The first remark of many a commonplace man would be, 'If I had great power, I would carry out my own ideas.' A modern Socrates, if there were such a person, would answer, 'But, my good friend, what are your ideas?' When explained to an exact and scrutinising questioner, still more when confronted with the awful facts — the inevitable necessities of the real world — these 'ideas' would melt away; after a little while the commonplace person, who was at first so proud of them, would cease to believe that he ever entertained them; he would say, 'Men of business do not indulge in those speculations.' The characteristic merit of Pitt is, that in the midst of harassing details, in the midst of obvious cares, in the face of most keen, most able, and most stimulated opposition, he applied his whole power to the accomplishment of great but practicable schemes.
That Pitt was able to accomplish such great reforms is due to nothing other than the fact that he possessed certain extraordinary qualities and abilities—the tendencies and talents of a great administrator. Without these, no opportunity or peculiar situation could have inspired him to conceive them.
It may seem surprising at first glance, but if we take the word 'administrator' in its broadest sense—the sense used at the beginning of this article—the first qualification required of the highest administrator is the ability to turn one's thoughts to 'things one does not need to think about right now'—that is, things that are not pressing crises. For mediocre people, this is an extremely dangerous guideline. This is because there is nothing more dangerous than mediocre ambition. For ordinary people, they are already full with just what they must address at the moment. The immediate difficulties that cannot be escaped and must be dealt with consume all their time and energy.
However, the ideal administrator has both time and mental capacity—which is actually the most difficult point—to think about 'what lies beyond.' He handles 'what must be done' and also carries out 'what he wishes to do.' This is the unique point of Pitt among the great English statesmen of the 18th century.
Generally, the statesmen of that time followed the spirit of Sir Robert Walpole. They respected his favorite maxim, 'Quieta non movere' (do not disturb what is calm). That is, deal skillfully with what must be dealt with, and leave alone what can be left alone. Accumulate all possible resources against the unavoidable difficulties before one's eyes. And, unless it is unavoidable, do not think about, dream of, or discuss it—these were always, and were then, justifiable goals for mediocre politicians. They did as much as they could within their era and their abilities. The philosophical climate of the time—with its clear but unaspiring problem-consciousness—made them lack sensitivity to higher possibilities and to duties they were half-consciously, half-unconsciously overlooking.
This oblivious neglect of the future and short-sighted immersion in the present is the reason Dr. Arnold called this the 'misused trial-time of modern Europe.'
Pitt's distinctive characteristic is that, in such an era, he possessed both unprecedented power and fresh, youthful ideas, and he did not let them end as mere daydreams, but pushed forward steadily and persistently to realize them.
This might seem like a minor merit at first glance. The first thing many mediocre people would say is, 'If I had great power, I would carry out my own ideas.' If there were a modern Socrates, he might ask in return, 'Then, what are your ideas?'
Those 'ideas' would likely vanish in an instant when questioned by an exact and rigorous interrogator, or when faced with the relentless necessities of the real world. After a while, the person who was initially so proud would stop believing they ever held such ideas. And they would say, 'Businessmen don't indulge in such fantasies.'
Pitt's true achievement lies in the fact that, in the midst of such complicated details, obvious immediate difficulties, and the sharpest, most capable, and most stimulated opposition, he applied his full power to the realization of great yet practicable schemes.
The marvel, or at any rate the merit, is greater. Pitt was by no means an excited visionary. He had by no means one of those minds upon which great ideas fasten as a fanaticism. There was among his contemporaries a great man, who was in the highest gifts of abstract genius, in the best acquisitions of political culture, far superior to him. But in the mind of Burke great ideas were a supernatural burden, a superincumbent inspiration. He saw a great truth, and he saw nothing else. At all times, with the intense irritability of genius, in later years with the extreme one-sidedness of insanity, he was content, in season and out of season, with the great visions which had been revealed to him, with the great lessons which he had to teach, and which he could but very rarely induce anyone to hear. But Pitt's mind was an absolute contrast to this. He had an extreme discretion, tested at the most trying conjunctures. In 1784, when he had no power, when there was a hostile majority in the House of Commons, when he had no sure majority in the House of Lords, when the support of the King, which he undeniably had, was an undeniable difficulty; — for he did not intend to be a second Lord North; he did not intend to be a servitor of the Palace; he would not have stooped to carry out measures which he disapproved of; he would not have been willing to enunciate measures as to which he had not been consulted; — at this very moment with most of the constitutional powers against him, with the very greatest greatly against him, with no useful part of it truly for him — he never made a false step; he guided the most feeble administration of modern times so ably and so dexterously that in a few months it became the strongest. A mind with so delicate a tact as this is entitled to some merit for adhering to distant principles. It is those who understand the present that feel the temptation of the present; it is those who comprehend the hour that feel the truly arduous, though upon paper it may seem the petty, difficulty of thinking beyond the hour. It is no merit in those who cannot have the present to attempt to act for posterity. There is nothing else left to them; they have no other occupation open to them. But it is a great merit in those who can have what is plain, apparent, and immediate, to think of the unseen, unasking, impalpable future.
That great achievement, or at least that merit, shines even brighter. Pitt was by no means an excitable visionary. He did not have the kind of mind that becomes fanatically obsessed with great ideas.
Among his contemporaries, there was a man who was far superior to Pitt in the highest gifts of abstract genius and in the best attainments of political culture. However, in Burke's mind, great ideas were a burden of revelation, like an inspiration descending from above. Once he found a great truth, he saw nothing else. He was always—and in his later years, almost to the point of obsession—possessed by the great visions revealed to him and satisfied with the mission to convey them. But there were few who would lend an ear to his voice.
In contrast, Pitt's mind was completely different. He was extremely cautious, and that caution was tested and proven in the most difficult political situations. For example, in 1784, he had almost no power, was surrounded by a hostile majority in the House of Commons, had no stable support in the House of Lords, and even the support of the King, which was his only ally, was in a sense a great burden. This is because he had no intention of becoming a servant of the palace like Lord North. He did not wish to push through measures he did not approve of, nor would he agree to advocate policies he had not been consulted on.
Thus, even at that time, when almost every constitutional power was arrayed against him, when many of the most influential men were opposed to him, and when he had almost no force that truly supported him—he never once took a wrong step. He guided what was the most fragile administration in modern history so skillfully and brilliantly that, in just a few months, he transformed it into the strongest.
It is certainly worthy of special note that a mind with such a delicate sense of balance and perception of reality could remain faithful to distant ideals. For those who can accurately understand the 'present' are the ones most drawn to the 'temptations of the present.' Those who can grasp the flow of the 'now' are the ones who keenly feel the difficulty of 'thinking beyond the now.' While it may seem trivial on paper, it is, in reality, an extremely troublesome undertaking.
Conversely, it is not to be praised when people who have no influence on the reality before them attempt to act for the future. This is because they have no other choice. For them, there is no 'present' to engage with in the first place. However, if there were someone who, despite having something certain, visible, and immediately attainable before them, still envisioned a future that is invisible, silent, and intangible, and acted toward it—that would be a true achievement.
It is this singular discretion which is Mr. Pitt's peculiar merit, because he belongs to the class of statesmen who are most apt to be defective in that discretion. He was an oratorical statesman; and an oratorical statesman means, ex vi termini, an excitable statesman. His art consists in the power of giving successfully in a more than ordinary manner the true feelings and sentiments of ordinary men; not their superficial notions, nor their coarser sentiments, for with these any inferior man may deal, but their most intimate nature, that which in their highest moments is most truly themselves. How is the exercise of this art to be reconciled with terrestrial discretion? Is the preacher to come down from his pedestal? is he who can deal worthily with great thoughts to be asked also to deal fittingly with small details? is it possible that the same mind which can touch the hearts of all men can also be alive to the petty interests of itself? is the microscopic power to be added to the telescopic power? is the capacity for careful management to be added to the power of creating unbounded enthusiasm? Yet this is the perpetual difficulty of parliamentary statesmen. A dry man can do the necessary business; an excitable man can give to the popular House of Parliament the necessary excitement. Mr. Pitt was able, with surpassing ability and surpassing ease, to do both; scarcely anyone else has been so.
Mr. Pitt's peculiar virtue lies in his extraordinary discretion. This is because he belonged to a class of statesmen in whom that discretion is most likely to be lacking. He was an oratorical statesman. And an 'oratorical statesman' means, literally, an excitable statesman.
The skill of this type of statesman is the power to not only skillfully convey, but to vividly represent in an extraordinary way, the true feelings of ordinary people—not their superficial notions or coarse sentiments, but their most essential selves, which they glimpse in their most noble moments.
How, then, can such artistic ability be reconciled with practical discretion? Should a preacher descend from the pulpit to deal with daily affairs? Should one who speaks of sublime thoughts also deal equally with trivial practical matters? Can a soul that moves the hearts of all be equally sensitive to its own personal interests? Can an eye that looks far with a telescope also possess the precision of a microscope? Can the power to stir up boundless enthusiasm be combined with the ability for meticulous management?
This is the dilemma that parliamentary statesmen always face. A cool-headed person can handle the necessary practical work. A passionate person can inject the necessary excitement into Parliament. But it is rare for one person to be able to do both simultaneously.
Mr. Pitt did so with surprising skill and lightness, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. There are almost no other examples of someone who could balance both to such a degree.
8. Outstanding Ability in Parliament and Response to the French Revolution
This great parliamentary position he owed to a combination of parliamentary abilities, of which only one or two can be, within our necessary limits, distinctly specified, but one or two of which are very prominent.
He attained this great position in Parliament because of a combination of parliamentary qualities, not all of which can be detailed here, but one or two of which are particularly prominent and can be clearly pointed out.
First, his singular oratorical power. He was, Lord Macaulay tells us, 'at once the one man who could explain a budget without notes, and who could speak that most unmeaningly evasive of human compositions, a Queen's speech, offhand.' He had the eloquence of business both in its expressive and its inexpressive forms, and he had likewise the eloquence of character; that is, he had the singular power, which not half a dozen men in a generation possess, of imparting to a large audience the exact copy of the feelings, the exact impress of the determination, with which they are themselves possessed. On a matter of figures, 'Pitt said so,' was enough; on a question of legislative improvement, an apathetic Parliament caught some interest from his example; in the deepest moments of national despair, an anxious nation could show some remains of their characteristic courage, from his bold audacity, and unwearied, inflexible, and augmenting determination.
The first thing to mention is his extraordinary power of eloquence. According to Lord Macaulay, he was 'the only man who could explain a budget without notes, and who could speak offhand that most meaningless and evasive of human compositions—the Queen's speech.'
He could skillfully manipulate practical eloquence, whether in expressive or formal and empty forms. Furthermore, he possessed the 'eloquence of character.' That is, he had the extremely rare ability—a power possessed by perhaps five or six men in a generation—to convey his own feelings and determination exactly as they were to a large audience.
On matters of figures, 'Pitt said so' was enough to carry persuasive weight. Regarding legislative reform, a Parliament that was usually indifferent was inspired by his initiative to show a certain level of interest. Even when the nation was plunged into deep despair, an anxious public could recall their own inherent courage by witnessing his bold audacity and his unwearied, unwavering, and ever-increasing determination.
No man could have achieved this without a sanguine temperament, and accordingly good observers pronounced Mr. Pitt the most sanguine man they had ever known. In no stage of national despondency, in no epoch of national despair, was his capacity of hope, one of the important capacities for great men in anxious affairs, ever shaken. At the crisis of his early life, Lord Temple's resignation, which seemed the last possible addition to the coalition of difficulties under which he was labouring, is said to have deprived him of sleep; but nothing else ever did so after his power attained its maturity, and while his body retained its strength.
This great achievement could not have been accomplished by any person without an optimistic temperament. Therefore, excellent observers described Mr. Pitt as the most optimistic person they had ever known. In no period of national despondency, and in no era of national despair, did his 'capacity to keep hoping'—one of the essential qualities for a great man in anxious times—ever waver within him.
It is said that Lord Temple's resignation, which occurred at a critical juncture in his early life and seemed like the final blow added to the many difficulties he was laboring under, deprived him of sleep. However, after his power reached maturity and while his body retained its strength, nothing else ever caused him to lose sleep again.
Over the House of Commons, too, his anxious love of detail had an influence which will not surprise those who know how sensitive that critical assembly is to every sort of genuineness, and how keenly watchful it is for every kind of falsity. The labour bestowed on his reform of the Customs Acts, on his Indian measures, on his financial proposals from year to year, is matter of history; no one can look with an instructed eye at these measures without instantly being conscious of it. In addition to his other great powers, Mr. Pitt added the rare one of an intense capacity for work, in an age when that capacity was rarer than it is now, and in a Parliament where the element of dandies and idlers was far more dominant than it has since become.
Even in the House of Commons, his meticulous attention to detail carried great influence. This should come as no surprise to those who know how sensitive this critical assembly is to sincerity, and how sharply it keeps an eye out for any deception.
History tells of his efforts poured into the reform of tariff laws, Indian policy, and the annual budget proposals. Anyone who looks at these bills with an informed eye would immediately sense the traces of his hard work.
In addition to his other excellent qualities, Mr. Pitt demonstrated the rare ability of extraordinary diligence in an era when hard work was even scarcer than it is today, and in a parliament where dandies and idlers held far more sway than they do now.
Nor would this enumeration of Pitt's great parliamentary qualities be complete ; it would want, perhaps, the most striking and obvious characteristic, if we omitted to mention Pitt's well-managed shyness and his surpassing pride.
In enumerating Pitt's great qualities as a parliamentarian, if we were to fail to mention his skillfully controlled shyness and his surpassing pride, this description would not be complete, and would perhaps lack its most striking and obvious characteristic.
In all descriptions of Pitt's appearance in the House of Commons, a certain aloofness fills an odd space. He is a ' thing apart,' different somehow from other members. Fox was the exact opposite. He was a good fellow ; he rolled into the House, fat, good-humoured, and popular. Pitt was spare, dignified, and reserved. When he entered the House, he walked to the place of the Premier, without looking to the right or to the left, and he sat at the same place. He was ready to discuss important business with all proper persons, upon all necessary occasions ; but he was not ready to discuss business unnecessarily with anyone, nor did he discuss anything but business with any save a very few intimate friends, with whom his reserve at once vanished, and his wit and humour at once expanded, and his genuine interest in all really great subjects was at once displayed. In a popular assembly this sort of reserve rightly manipulated is a power. It is analogous to the manner which the accomplished author of ' Eothen ' recommends in dealing with Orientals : ' it excites terror and inspires respect.' A recent book of memoirs illustrates it. During Addington's administration, a certain rather obscure ' Mr. Gr.' was made a privy-councillor, and the question was raised in Pitt's presence as to the mode in which he could have obtained that honour. Some one said, ' I suppose he was always talking to the Premier, and bothering him.' Mr. Pitt quietly observed, ' In my time I would much rather have made him a privy-councillor than have spoken to him.' It is easy to conceive the mental exhaustion which this well-managed reserve spared him, the number of trivial conversations which it economised, the number of imperfect ambitions which it quelled before they were uttered. An ordinary man could not of course make use of it. But Pitt at the earliest period imparted to the House of Commons the two most important convictions for a member in his position : he convinced them that he would not be the King's creature, and that he desired no pecuniary profit for himself. As he despised royal favour and despised real money, the House of Commons thought he might well despise them.
Even in the House of Commons, his meticulous attention to detail carried great influence. This should come as no surprise to those who know how sensitive this critical assembly is to sincerity, and how sharply it keeps an eye out for any deception.
History tells of his efforts poured into the reform of tariff laws, Indian policy, and the annual budget proposals. Anyone who looks at these bills with an informed eye would immediately sense the traces of his hard work.
In every record describing Pitt's appearance in the House of Commons, a certain aloofness set him apart from the rest. He was a 'special existence,' somehow different from the other members. Fox was the exact opposite. He was a good-natured man, fat, cheerful, and popular, who would enter the chamber with a relaxed air.
Pitt was lean, dignified, and reserved. When he entered the chamber, he would walk straight to the Prime Minister's seat without looking to the right or left, and would always sit in the same place. He was always prepared to discuss important matters with the appropriate people when necessary. However, he never discussed things with anyone unnecessarily, and other than with a very few intimate friends, he never engaged in non-business conversation. In front of those few close friends, his reserved manner would immediately vanish, his wit and humor would overflow, and his genuine interest in truly great subjects would be displayed without reservation.
In a place like a national assembly, this kind of reserved attitude can be a great power if handled well. It is similar to the attitude recommended by the author of 'Eothen' for dealing with Orientals—it 'excites terror and inspires respect.'
A recent memoir contains a scene that symbolizes this. During the Addington administration, a somewhat obscure 'Mr. Gr.' was appointed to the Privy Council, and the topic of how he obtained that position was raised in Pitt's presence. When someone said, 'Perhaps he was always talking to the Prime Minister and bothering him,' Pitt quietly remarked, 'In my time, I would have much rather made him a Privy Councilor than have spoken to him.'
It is not hard to imagine how much mental fatigue this skillfully maintained reserve spared him, how many useless chats it saved him from, and how many trivial ambitions it quelled before they could even be voiced.
Of course, an ordinary person could not adopt such an attitude. But Pitt, at a very early stage, instilled two convictions in the House of Commons that were most important for a member in his position: namely, that he was not the King's puppet, and that he sought no pecuniary gain for himself. Because he despised royal favor and money, the members of the House of Commons thought he might even despise them, yet they still trusted him.
We have left ourselves no room to speak of Mr. Pitt's policy at the time of the French Revolution. It would require an essay of considerable length to do it substantial justice. But we may observe, that the crisis which that revolution presented to an English statesman was one rather for a great dictator than for a great administrator. The English people were at first in general pleased with the commencement of the French Revolution. ' Anglo-manie,' it seemed, had been prevalent on the Continent ; the English constitution it was hoped would be transplanted ; the fundamental principles of the English Revolution it was, at any rate, hoped, would be imitated. The essay of Burke by its arguments, the progress of events by an evident experience, proved that such would not be the history. What was to come was uncertain. There was no precedent on the English file ; the English people did not know what they ought to think ; they were ready to submit to anyone who would think for them. The only point upon which their opinion was decided was, that the French Revolution was very dangerous ; that it had produced awful results in France ; that it was no model for imitation for sober men in a sober country. They were ready to concede anything to a statesman who allowed this, who acted on this, who embodied this in appropriate action.
We have left no room to discuss Mr. Pitt's policy during the French Revolution. It would require an essay of considerable length to do it justice. However, one thing can be said: the crisis that the revolution presented to an English statesman was of a nature that required a great dictator rather than a great administrator.
The British public initially received the beginning of the French Revolution quite favorably. 'Anglomania' seemed to be spreading on the Continent, and there was hope that the British Constitution would be transplanted. At the very least, it was hoped that the fundamental principles of the British Revolution would be imitated.
However, Burke's essay, through its arguments, and the progress of events, through the experience of witnessing them, proved that such expectations were nothing more than a fantasy. No one knew what would happen. England had no precedent to deal with it, the public could not judge what they should think, and they were prepared to follow anyone who would think on their behalf.
The only point on which public opinion was clearly settled was this: the French Revolution was extremely dangerous, it had brought about terrible results within France, and it was not a model to be imitated by sober people living in a sober country. And the public was prepared to spare no concessions for a statesman who acknowledged this view, acted upon it, and embodied it in appropriate political action.
Mr. Pitt saw little further than the rest of the nation ; what the French Revolution was he did not understand ; what forces it would develop he did not foresee ; what sort of opposition it would require he did not apprehend. He was, indeed, on one point much in advance of his contemporaries. The instinct of uncultivated persons is always towards an intemperate interference with anything of which they do not approve. A most worthy police-magistrate in our own time said, that 'he intended to put down suicide.' The English people, in the very same spirit of uncultured benevolence, wished to ' put down the French Revolution.' They were irritated at its excesses ; they were alarmed at its example ; they conceived that such impiety should be punished for the past and prohibited for the future. Mr. Pitt's natural instinct, however, was certainly in an entirely opposite direction. He was by inclination and by temperament opposed to all war ; he was very humane, and all war is inhuman ; he was a great financier, and all war is opposed to well-regulated finance. He postponed a French war as long as he could ; he consented to it with reluctance, and continued it from necessity.
Mr. Pitt did not understand what the French Revolution was, did not foresee the power it would generate, and did not recognize what countermeasures were required. In this respect, it could be said that he was on the same level as the majority of the public. In only one point was he far ahead of his contemporaries.
The instincts of uneducated people often tend toward making reckless interference with things they do not like. Just as a certain respectable police magistrate of the modern day stated that he 'intended to eradicate suicide,' the British public also wished to 'suppress the French Revolution' out of that very same immature spirit of good intentions. They were irritated by its radicalism, frightened by its influence, and believed that for such irreverence, they should hold the past accountable and resolutely forbid the future.
However, Mr. Pitt's instincts were pointed in the exact opposite direction. By his natural inclination and temperament, he was opposed to all wars. Given that he was a very humane person and that war is always inhumane, and also that he was a great financier and war is incompatible with sound fiscal management, his position is clear. Pitt delayed the war with France as long as possible. He agreed to it only reluctantly, and his subsequent continuation of the war was strictly out of necessity.
Of the great powers which the sudden excitement of demo-cratic revolution would stimulate in a nation seemingly ex-hausted, Mr. Pitt knew no more than those who were aroundhim. Burke said that, as a military power, France was "blotted from the map of Europe "; and though Pitt, with characteristic discretion, did not advance any sentiment whichwould be so extreme, or any phrase which would adhere sofixedly to everyone's memory, it is undeniable that he didnot anticipate the martial power which the new France, as bymagic, displayed ; that he fancied she would be an efietecountry ; that he fancied he was making war with certainscanty vestiges of the ancien regime, instead of contendingagainst the renewed, excited, and intensified energies of aunited people. He did not know that, for temporary purposes,a revolutionary government was the most powerful of all go-vernments ; for it does not care for the future, and has theentire legacy of the past. He forgot that it was possible, thatfrom a brief period of tumultuous disorder, there might issuea military despotism more compact, more disciplined, and moreoverpowering than any which had preceded it, or any whichhas followed it.
Regarding the immense power that the sudden excitement of a democratic revolution would draw from a seemingly exhausted nation, Mr. Pitt knew no more than those around him. Burke described France as a military power that had been 'blotted from the map of Europe,' but Pitt, due to his characteristic discretion, never uttered such extreme expressions or phrases that would stick firmly in people's memories. However, it is undeniable that he did not anticipate the military power that the new France displayed as if by magic. He mistook France for a country that had already completely declined, and believed he was fighting against the meager remnants of the Ancien Régime, rather than contending against the renewed, excited, and intensified energy of a united people.
He did not know that, for temporary purposes, a revolutionary government is more powerful than any other government. This is because a revolutionary government does not care about the future and can freely utilize the entire legacy of the past. He overlooked the possibility that from a brief period of turmoil and disorder, a military dictatorship could emerge that would be more compact, more disciplined, and more overwhelming than any military dictatorship that had preceded it or any that would follow it.
But, as we have said, the conclusion of a prolonged articleis no place for discussing the precise nature of Mr. Pitt's anti-revolutionary policy. Undoubtedly, he did not comprehend the Eevolution in France ; as Lord Macaiilay has explained,with his habitual power, he over-rated the danger of a revo-lution in this country ; he entirely over-estimated the powerof the democratic assailants, and he entirely under-estimatedthe force of the conservative, maintaining, restraining, and,if need were, reactionary, influence. He saw his enemy ; —he did not see his allies. But it is not given to manymen to conquer such difficulties ; it is not given to thegreatest of administrators to apprehend entirely new pheno-mena. A highly imaginative statesman, a man of great mo-ments and great visions, a greater Lord Chatham, might havedone so, but the educated sense and equable dexterity ofMr. Pitt failed. All that he could do he did. He burnt thememory of his own name into the Continental mind. Aftersixty years, the French people still half believe that it was thegold of Pitt which caused many of their misfortunes ; after halfa century it is still certain that it was Pitt's indomitable spiritand Pitt's hopeful temper which was the soul of every conti-nental coalition, and the animating life of every anti-revolu-tionary movement. He showed most distinctly how potent isthe influence of a commanding character just when he mostexhibited the characteristic limitation of even the best ad-ministrative intellect.
However, as already mentioned, it is not appropriate to discuss the precise nature of Mr. Pitt's anti-revolutionary policy in the conclusion of a long article. Undoubtedly, he did not understand the French Revolution; as Lord Macaulay explained with his habitual power, he overestimated the danger of revolution in this country, and while he overestimated the power of the democratic assailants, he underestimated the power of the conservative forces—their ability to maintain, restrain, and, if necessary, act with reactionary influence. In short, he saw his enemies, but he did not see his allies.
However, there are not many people who can overcome such difficulties. Even a great administrator is not permitted to fully understand entirely new phenomena. If there had been a highly imaginative statesman, a man of great moments and grand visions—perhaps a greater Lord Chatham—it might have been possible, but Pitt's educated sense and calm dexterity did not reach that far.
He did everything he could. He burned the memory of his name into the hearts of the people on the Continent. Even sixty years later, the French people still half-believe that many of their misfortunes were caused by Pitt's gold. And even after half a century, it is certain that it was Pitt's indomitable spirit and hopeful temperament that were the soul of every continental coalition and the lifeblood of every anti-revolutionary movement. While demonstrating the typical limitations that even the best administrative intellect possesses, he vividly proved just how powerful the influence of a commanding character can be.
III Translator's Understanding
Walter Bagehot's 'William Pitt' analyzes from multiple perspectives the trends of historical narrative at the time, the complex personality of the younger Pitt, the factors behind his success, and his response to the difficulties he faced.
First, Bagehot critiques Lord Stanhope's 'Life of William Pitt,' pointing out that while contemporary historical research was transforming into 'eccentric intellectual performance,' Stanhope was a traditional historian who 'followed the well-worn path.' However, he suggests that his 'simple narrative' and 'calm and easy method' are worthy of praise.
Next, he focuses on the public's misunderstanding of Mr. Pitt. He states that Pitt is often remembered for his resistance to the French Revolution, worshipped by extreme Tories, and distrusted by rational Liberals, but Bagehot emphasizes that the fundamental tendency of his policies was consistently liberal, and that his actions during the French Revolution reflected the will of the majority of the nation.
Bagehot divides politicians into two types: 'dictators' and 'administrators,' and evaluates Pitt as possessing 'the qualities of a great administrator to the highest degree, while also possessing the commanding temperament required of a great dictator.'
In particular, he defines a great administrator as one who has the talent to 'act with an eye to tomorrow,' not just the immediate task at hand, and identifies Pitt as the archetype of this.
Pitt's rare qualities were nurtured by his unique upbringing and early education. As the son of the elder Pitt, he had a self-awareness as the child of a powerful man from an early age, and without having his self-confidence crushed by public ridicule or the harshness of reality, he enjoyed the freedom of 'being himself.'
His rigorous studies in the solitary environment of Cambridge University, and his training in translating from the classics under his father's guidance, cultivated his outstanding oratorical power. He was also the first great politician to understand Adam Smith's 'The Wealth of Nations,' laying the foundation for his exceptional financial knowledge. A strong sense of humor and a sincere interest in great matters prevented him from becoming a 'pretender.'
His political opportunity arose from the chaos under the reign of George III. George III clashed with the aristocrats in Parliament, forcing Prime Minister Lord North to follow his wishes while privately utilizing royal patronage. When the North administration fell due to the failure of the American Revolutionary War, the King, who loathed the opposition, used Lord Shelburne as an intermediary. Under these circumstances, Lord Shelburne took the bold action of appointing the 23-year-old Pitt as Chancellor of the Exchequer and Leader of the House of Commons.
Subsequently, the unpopular coalition government of Fox and Lord North was formed, which was hated by both the King and the public. When the coalition government introduced the 'India Bill,' which would have significantly restricted the King's power, George III used his 'cards' to orchestrate its defeat in the House of Lords, and succeeded.
The King dismissed Fox and Lord North in the middle of the night, overthrowing the coalition government through a 'parliamentary coup.' Thus, the 25-year-old Pitt became Prime Minister, gained overwhelming public support, and won a great victory in the general election ('Fox's Martyrs'). This victory provided a rare opportunity for the young Pitt to govern the politicians of the previous generation.
Once he became Prime Minister, Pitt tackled three major issues: economic and fiscal legislation, parliamentary representation reform, and the Irish question. He attempted to consolidate tariff laws and apply the principles of free trade he had learned from Adam Smith. His Sinking Fund caused misunderstandings, but he was actually a great financier who restored revenue surpluses and understood the true principles of taxation. He was also an enthusiastic parliamentary reformer, proposing the abolition of rotten boroughs, and he drew up comprehensive plans for Ireland, including civil equality, tithe reform, and the establishment of a unified parliament.
Many of these reforms were hindered by the French Revolution and the wars against France, but Pitt devoted his full efforts to 'achieving great yet feasible plans.' Although he was an orator, he possessed realistic caution and had the rare ability to handle both 'necessary practical work' and 'necessary excitement' with surprising ease. His extraordinary oratorical power, his 'eloquence of character,' and his unwavering hope and diligence inspired the nation during times of despair.
In his response to the French Revolution, Pitt did not initially fully understand its essence or power, but he tried to delay the war as much as possible, opposing it from the perspectives of humanitarianism and sound finance.
Ultimately, he agreed to the war out of necessity, but his indomitable spirit and hopeful temperament became the soul of the anti-revolutionary movement and the force that supported the continental coalitions.
Bagehot concludes that while Pitt demonstrated the limitations that even the best administrative intellect possesses, he proved just how powerful the influence of a commanding character can be.