"W. Pitt."
"1784.
"My dear Wilberforce—I am sorry to find from your letter from Nottingham that the Knight of Yorkshire is in so much dudgeon. Tho', to say the truth the instances of neglect you mention are enough to provoke common patience. What is worse, I know no remedy for it. My letter, which missed you, contained no other information than that the place of Marshall of the Admiralty had been long since filled up. Some of the world is here at present, and will be multiplying every day till the meeting of Parliament. I expect Eliot in a very few days. I know nothing of Bankes very lately. Pray come to Wimbledon as soon as possible; I want to talk with you about your navy bills, which, tho' all your ideas now must go to landed property, you should not entirely forget, and about ten thousand other things. By the by, Lord Scarborough is risen from the dead, as you probably know. I have just received an account from Whitbread that St. Andrew loses his election by three; and would probably lose by more if he chooses a scrutiny or a petition. Adieu.
"Ever yrs.,
"W. Pitt.
"For the sake of this letter I am leaving a thousand others unanswered, and a thousand projects unread. You will probably think it was hardly worth while."
The brotherly intimacy between Pitt and Wilberforce is clearly shown in the next letter. Wilberforce had written to Pitt to tell him of the change in his religious opinions, and, in consequence, of his probable retirement from political life. He no doubt thought that Pitt would fail to sympathise with his altered views, but the man who was "so absorbed in politics that he had never given himself time for due reflection on religion"[5] wished to understand the religious difficulties of his friend, and with the greatest tenderness begs him to open his mind to "one who does not know how to separate your happiness from his own."
"Downing Street,
"December 2, 1785.
"My dear Wilberforce—Bob Smith[6] mentioned to me on Wednesday the letters he had received from you, which prepared me for that I received from you yesterday. I am indeed too deeply interested in whatever concerns you not to be very sensibly affected by what has the appearance of a new æra in your life, and so important in its consequences for yourself and your friends. As to any public conduct which your opinions may ever lead you to, I will not disguise to you that few things could go nearer my heart than to find myself differing from you essentially on any great principle.
"I trust and believe that it is a circumstance which can hardly occur. But if it ever should, and even if I should experience as much pain in such an event, as I have found hitherto encouragement and pleasure in the reverse, believe me it is impossible that it should shake the sentiments of affection and friendship which I bear towards you, and which I must be forgetful and insensible indeed if I ever could part with. They are sentiments engraved in my heart, and will never be effaced or weakened. If I knew how to state all I feel, and could hope that you are open to consider it, I should say a great deal more on the subject of the resolution you seem to have formed. You will not suspect me of thinking lightly of any moral or religious motives which guide you. As little will you believe that I think your understanding or judgment easily misled. But forgive me if I cannot help expressing my fear that you are nevertheless deluding yourself into principles which have but too much tendency to counteract your own object, and to render your virtues and your talents useless both to yourself and mankind. I am not, however, without hopes that my anxiety paints this too strongly. For you confess that the character of religion is not a gloomy one, and that it is not that of an enthusiast. But why then this preparation of solitude, which can hardly avoid tincturing the mind either with melancholy or superstition? If a Christian may act in the several relations of life, must he seclude himself from them all to become so? Surely the principles as well as the practice of Christianity are simple, and lead not to meditation only but to action. I will not, however, enlarge upon these subjects now. What I would ask of you, as a mark both of your friendship and of the candour which belongs to your mind, is to open yourself fully and without reserve to one, who, believe me, does not know how to separate your happiness from his own. You do not explain either the degree or the duration of the retirement which you have prescribed to yourself; you do not tell me how the future course of your life is to be directed, when you think the same privacy no longer necessary; nor, in short, what idea you have formed of the duties which you are from this time to practise. I am sure you will not wonder if I am inquisitive on such a subject. The only way in which you can satisfy me is by conversation. There ought to be no awkwardness or embarrassment to either of us, tho' there may be some anxiety; and if you will open to me fairly the whole state of your mind on these subjects, tho' I shall venture to state to you fairly the points where I fear we may differ, and to desire you to re-examine your own ideas where I think you are mistaken, I will not importune you with fruitless discussion on any opinion which you have deliberately formed. You will, I am sure, do justice to the motives and feelings which induce me to urge this so strongly to you. I think you will not refuse it; if you do not, name any hour at which I can call upon you to-morrow. I am going into Kent, and can take Wimbledon in my way. Reflect, I beg of you, that no principles are the worse for being discussed, and believe me that at all events the full knowledge of the nature and extent of your opinions and intentions will be to me a lasting satisfaction.
"Believe me, affectionately and unalterably yours,
"W. Pitt."
Pitt came the next morning according to his proposal in this remarkable letter: when Wilberforce[7] "conversed with Pitt near two hours, and opened myself completely to him. … He tried to reason me out of my convictions, but soon found himself unable to combat their correctness if Christianity were true." To quote Lord Rosebery's Preface[8] to these letters: "Surely a memorable episode, this heart-searching of the young saint and the young minister. They went their different ways, each following their high ideal in the way that seemed best to him. And so it went on to the end, Wilberforce ever hoping to renew the sacred conversation."
"Downing Street,
"September, 23, 1786.
"My dear Wilberforce—At length all the obstacles of business, of idleness, and of procrastination are so far overcome that I find myself with my pen in my hand to answer your three letters. I have seriously had it upon my conscience for some time; but yet I believe it is another influence to which this present writing is to be immediately ascribed. Having yesterday parted with the ornament on my cheek, and two or three handkerchiefs for the present occupying the place of it, my appearance is better suited to correspondence than conversation; and in addition to this I happen to have an interval freer from business than at any time since Parliament rose. Our French Treaty is probably by this time actually signed, or will at most not require more than one more messenger to settle everything; but the winds have been so unfavourable that I have been, for some days longer than I expected, in suspense as to the issue of it. Two or three more treaties are on the anvil, and I think we shall meet with the appearance of not having spent an idle or (as I flatter myself) a fruitless summer. The multitude of things depending has made the Penitentiary House long in deciding upon. But I still think a beginning will be made in it before the season for building is over; and if its progress is as quick as that of my room at Hollwood, bolts and bars will be useless before another season. I am very glad you like our new Board of Trade, which I have long felt to be one of the most necessary, and will be now one of the most efficient departments of Government. The colony for Botany Bay will be much indebted to you for your assistance in providing a chaplain. The enclosed will, however, show you that its interests have not been neglected, as well as that you have a nearer connection with them than perhaps you were yourself aware of. Seriously speaking, if you can find such a clergyman as you mention we shall be very glad of it; but it must be soon. My sister was brought to bed of a daughter on Wednesday, and was at first surprising well; but she has since had some fever, which was to such a degree yesterday as to make us very uneasy. She is now, however, almost entirely free from it, and going on as well as possible. I am
