The malady had declared itself, and public prayers were ordered. The Prince of Wales sent for Mr. Pitt—still minister, in fact. "I will not hesitate," said Mr. Pitt, "to give to your Highness the best counsel that I am able; but with all the respect that I owe you, there is one thing that I demand of you permission to establish. It is this condition: that your Highness will interdict yourself from deliberating with those who have agitated so long in direct opposition to the government of his Majesty." The prince consented; not, however, without some show of temper.
Fox had quitted his pleasant retreat at St. Ann's Hill. He counselled the prince to accept the limited regency, that Mr. Pitt intended to propose. Already steps had been taken to form a Whig cabinet, when the rapid improvement of the king's health gave the hope of avoiding yet, for a time, that dreaded regency. On Friday, the 6th of March, George III. passed the day in the apartments of the Queen. He charged his physician to inform Mr. Pitt of it. "Tell him that I am now quite well, quite recovered from my illness; but what has he not to answer for, who is the cause of my having been ill at all."
The sentiments of loyalty and personal attachment for the old king were profound in the reserved and proud soul of Mr. Pitt. The reproach of the sovereign deeply affected him. "Say to his Majesty," replied he to Dr. Willis, "that I have authorized you to assure him, that during his reign, whether in or out of office, I will never again agitate the question of Catholic Emancipation." The king drew a deep sigh. "Now my mind will be at ease," he exclaimed; and upon the queen's coming in, he repeated the message, and made the same observation upon it.
A moment after the question of conscience was decided, Mr. Pitt had some desire of yielding to the wishes of the king, and returning to power. Mr. Addington turned a deaf ear to the insinuations which were made to him upon the subject. Mr. Pitt did not insist; he had seen the king and reconciled him to his resignation. The Catholics, fully informed regarding all affairs, rendered their homage to Mr. Pitt for his fidelity to his engagements with them; they awaited their day. Pitt had just established himself in a small furnished house in Park Place. Poor, and without leisure to look after household matters, he was overwhelmed with debts. He had refused the patriotic gifts, as well as the liberalities of the king. He was now, however, compelled to accept, with great regret, the offers of his friends, and he borrowed from them the money necessary to pay his creditors. He sold his small estate at Holwood, and now lived very modestly. "Each day," writes Lord Stanhope, "when he came to the House of Commons, he took his place at the right of the speaker's chair, in the third row of benches, near one of the iron columns. Many years later I saw old members point out that place, in the old house, with a sentiment of veneration." His friends remained steadily faithful to him. They either followed him into retirement, as Dundas and the young Canning—perhaps his favorite disciple, assuredly the most celebrated; or they occupied, at his request, posts of confidence. "I have taken the great seal, only upon the advice and pressing solicitation of Mr. Pitt," said Lord Eldon, "and I will only keep it as long as I shall be able to live in perfect concord with him."
Wellington, at this time the Marquis of Wellesly and Governor-General of India, wrote to the fallen minister, that he counted sufficiently upon the testimony of his own heart, not to doubt that Mr. Pitt had full confidence in his fidelity to his cause, whatever the circumstances might be; when that cause should cease to prevail in the councils of the nation, he would hasten to free himself from the disgrace of office, in order to join Mr. Pitt in the fortress which it should please him to defend, wherever it might be. His political relations with Mr. Pitt, confirmed by so many ties of friendship, and by intimate testimonies of affection and private consideration, were not only the pride, but also the joy of his life; and that he could not support the idea of seeing Mr. Pitt other than the guide of his political conduct, the guardian of all that is dear and precious in the constitution and in the country; and the first object of his esteem, respect, and personal attachment.
That noble statesman, who had inspired such emotional and faithful respect in so many eminent men, was not insensible to the evidences of esteem and attachment lavished upon him; and, upon the other hand, the failure of many expectations, the forced abandonment of many cherished projects, caused him heartfelt regrets which he did not endeavor to conceal. The cabinet of Mr. Addington was being made up. Lord Grey attacked the conduct of the last government. Mr. Pitt arose, and avowed frankly the regret that he felt in quitting the power before concluding peace. He did not pretend, he said, to that indifference to the opinions of others, that certain persons affect; he was not indifferent to the situation of his country. He was not indifferent to the opinion that the public might have concerning the part, the too great part, that he had taken in it. He avowed, on the contrary, that those questions occupied him much. Events had happened which had deceived his most cherished desires, and baffled the favorite expectations of his heart. He would have desired to pursue, even to the end of the struggle, the object of these expectations and desires for the success of which he had labored with so much care and anxiety. He had not recoiled before obstacles. He had lived during the past seventeen years with very little effect, if it was necessary now to explain that he had not quitted his post because he feared the difficulties; he had always acted—good or evil; it did not pertain to him to decide which, but assuredly as a man who had not the air of fearing difficulties. He was able to say at least this: if he could efface from the record these seventeen years, and speak only of that which has taken place during the past two months, he would dare to affirm, that enough facts have been presented, in that interval, to efface the idea that he was disposed to recoil before any difficulty whatsoever, or that he desired to clear himself from any responsibility. That which had happened since that epoch, had given him the opportunity to prove, very positively, that he was ready to accept all the responsibility that the situation might be able to thrust upon him.
Even in his retirement, Pitt never avoided a responsibility, but was always ready to accept the weight of his past acts, and of his present counsels. An expedition, that he had planned, had just entered the Baltic. Sir Hyde Parker, who commanded it, had been appointed commander-in-chief. He was old and feeble; the dangers of the expedition affected his courage; the weather was bad. "We must brace up," said Nelson, second in command, to Parker; "these are no times for nervous systems."
On the 2nd of April, 1801, a decisive naval battle was fought. Nelson attacked the batteries and the enemy's squadron before Copenhagen. The old admiral, who had not taken an active part in the battle, seeing Nelson in danger, ordered signal No. 39—the signal for discontinuing the action, to be hoisted. The signal lieutenant asked if he should repeat it. "No," replied Nelson, "acknowledge it." He then continued walking about in great emotion, and meeting Captain Foley, said: "What think you, Foley, the admiral has hung out No. 39. You know I have only one eye; I have a right to be blind sometimes." And then putting the glass to his blind eye, he exclaimed, "I really don't see the signal. Keep mine for closer battle still flying. That's the way I answer such signals. Nail mine to the mast."