arded him with favour. A new
opposition had indeed been formed by some of the late ministers, and was
led by Grenville in the House of Lords, and by Windham in the House of
Commons. But the new opposition could scarcely muster ten votes, and was
regarded with no favour by the country. On Pitt the ministers relied
as on their firmest support. He had not, like some of his colleagues,
retired in anger. He had expressed the greatest respect for the
conscientious scruple which had taken possession of the royal mind; and
he had promised his successors all the help in his power. In private his
advice was at their service. In Parliament he took his seat on the bench
behind them; and, in more than one debate, defended them with powers far
superior to their own. The King perfectly understood the value of such
assistance. On one occasion, at the palace, he took the old minister and
the new minister aside. "If we three," he said, "keep together, all will
go well."

But it was hardly possible, human nature being what it is, and, more
especially, Pitt and Addington being what they were, that this union
should be durable. Pitt, conscious of superior powers, imagined that the
place which he had quitted was now occupied by a mere puppet which he
had set up, which he was to govern while he suffered it to remain,
and which he was to fling aside as soon as he wished to resume his old
position. Nor was it long before he began to pine for the power which
he had relinquished. He had been so early raised to supreme authority
in the state, and had enjoyed that authority so long, that it had become
necessary to him. In retirement his days passed heavily. He could not,
like Fox, forget the pleasures and cares of ambition in the company of
Euripides or Herodotus. Pride restrained him from intimating, even to
his dearest friends, that he wished to be again minister. But he thought
it strange, almost ungrateful, that his wish had not been divined, that
it had not been anticipated, by one whom he regarded as his deputy.

Addington, on the other hand, was by no means inclined to descend from
his high position. He was, indeed, under a delusion much resembling that
of Abon Hassan in the Arabian tale. His brain was turned by his short
and unreal Caliphate. He took his elevation quite seriously, attributed
it to his own merit, and considered himself as one of the great
triumvirate of English statesmen, as worthy to make a third with Pitt
and Fox.

Such