The duke of Newcastle and Mr. Pitt, jog on like man and wife, that is, seldom agreeing, often quarreling, but by mutual interest…not parting.

From The French and Indian War: Deciding the Fate of North America by Walter Borneman.  Page 72.

But Pitt was not in for an easy ride. Disdaining the treasury, Pitt chose the duke of Devonshire as first lord of the treasury and the nominal head of his government and himself took the position of secretary of state for the Southern Department. The middle class loved him, but their champion had not exactly endeared himself to the House of Commons at large. Many in Parliament opposed him. The duke of Cumberland did not support him. The king, it was said, loathed him. These were not relationships that would inspire Pitt’s confidence or help him to govern decisively. Then, of course, there was still Newcastle. The duke might no longer be the head of the government, but after his nearly four decades in one office or another, the government bureaucracy was filled with his appointees.

Within a month, however, Pitt had boldly written a three-point agenda for George II to deliver to Parliament. First, it recognized the essential importance of the North American colonies to the greater empire. By land and by sea, America must be defended. Second, it created a national militia designed to alleviate fears of a cross-channel invasion, while freeing up regulars for “service abroad. Third and last, it called for some measure of relief from the high price of corn and other commodities for the lower class. As with a presidential state of the union address, however, the executive may propose, but how the legislature deposes is an entirely different matter.

It was now up to Pitt to persuade Parliament to craft his ideas into law. He urged that an “expedition of weight” of not less than 8,000 men and a fleet be sent to North America and demanded that the Admiralty provide a list of ships “requisite “for the total stagnation and extirpation of the French trade upon the seas.” When he found that 62 of Great Britain’s 200 warships were out of commission, he began a four-year construction program to bring the Royal Navy up to 400 ships of all classes. But he also crossed both king and citizenry over the execution of Admiral Byng. To his credit, Pitt spoke his mind and his conscience. Whatever the circumstances of that day off Minorca, Pitt thought that Byng’s execution was not part and parcel of rectifying them. Against both the crown and popular opinion, Pitt favored clemency.

That was enough for George II. On April 6, 1757, he demanded Pitt’s resignation and ordered Newcastle to form an interim government. Almost three months of incessant political bickering and intrigue followed. England drifted without a rudder. The disputes were less about policy—all sides agreed that North America must be saved, and even Pitt now saw that subsidies to Hanover and Prussia were central to keeping France busy on the continent—than about personalities. Who was going to stand at the helm? Finally, it became clear that if neither Newcastle nor Pitt could govern England alone, it could not be governed without both of them.

In June 1757, Lord Chesterfield was instrumental in negotiating a coalition government into which Pitt brought the “confidence and support of the people” and Newcastle brought his far better relations with the king, Parliament, and the bureaucracy. Pitt resumed his office of secretary of state. Newcastle assumed his old post as first lord of the Treasury. In effect, Pitt would be prime minister, left to “appoint generals, admirals, and ambassadors” and to carry on the conduct of the war. Newcastle would be what he was best at being—the wizard behind the curtain working the wheels of patronage, currying favor with “the House of Lords, and reassuring the king. “I will borrow the duke’s [Newcastle’s] majorities to carry on the government,” the resurrected Pitt told the duke of Devonshire.

And so a most unusual partnership was born. “The duke of Newcastle and Mr. Pitt,” wrote Lord Chesterfield, “jog on like man and wife, that is, seldom agreeing, often quarreling, but by mutual interest…not parting.” Indeed, their relationship might well be considered the essence of the definition of partnership. Each party needed the other; each brought strengths the other lacked, and each was content—or at least resigned—to let the other do what he did best. “No amount of pressure could create the political machine that was prerequisite for conducting the business of government; the only man with such a machine was Newcastle.” And the only man bold enough to use it was William Pitt.

“Britain has long been in labor,” Frederick the Great observed later, “and at last she has brought forth a man.” It remained to be seen what that man could accomplish. Nevertheless, one fact was now crystal clear. Newcastle had fiddled with it and initially sought to limit its scope, but from now on, there was no doubt but that the conflict in which Great Britain found itself embroiled was Mr. Pitt’s global war.