ter, for in feeling he was not one of them.
As heartily as George himself he hated government by connexion, and like
him desired to break up all parties. He despised the corrupt practices
by which the whigs strengthened themselves, and he had a deep reverence
for the crown. Yet his aims were totally different from those of the
king. He would have broken party ties in order to form a strong
administration; he would have destroyed corruption and looked to the
king and nation for the support of government, and relying on their
support would have crushed the enemies of England. George, on the other
hand, wanted ministers who would carry out his will; he was led to
imitate and, indeed, to surpass the whigs in corrupt practices; he
desired that England should be at peace, and should take no part in
continental politics. Pitt at last stood alone and unconnected. Which
would gain his support, the king or the whigs? The question runs through
the history of the party politics of England during the next eight
years.

When Pitt went to the king to give up the seals of his office, George
spoke graciously to him. Always intoxicated by a peep into the royal
closet, Pitt burst into tears and replied in words of absurd
self-abasement. The tidings of his resignation were received with
general indignation. For a moment his popularity was overclouded. He
accepted a pension of L3,000 a year for three lives, and the dignity of
Baroness of Chatham for his wife. With mean and studied[52] adroitness
it was contrived that the _Gazette_ announcing his resignation should
publish with it a notification of these grants, and a letter from
Stanley again holding out hope of a peace with France. For the grants it
is, as Burke wrote, "a shame that any defence should be necessary".[53]
Pitt addressed a dignified letter to alderman Beckford, his chief
follower in the city, on the cause of his resignation and the
"unsolicited" marks of royal favour which he had received. His
popularity rose as high as ever. The city was specially strong for him,
for its merchants and traders owed him a deep debt of gratitude. At the
lord mayor's feast on November 9, which was attended by the king, he had
the bad taste to draw off the cheers in the street to himself; he was
loudly applauded, and the king coldly received. Bute's coach was
escorted by hired bruisers; it was attacked amid cries of "Damn all
Scotch rogues!" "No Bute!" "No Newcastle salmon!" and Bute was rescued