Transcriber’s Note: Cover created by Transcriber and placed in the Public Domain.

MEMOIRS
OF THE REIGN OF
KING GEORGE THE THIRD.

VOL. II.

Benj. West. pinx.^t

J. Cook, Sc.

QUEEN CHARLOTTE.

London, Published by Richard Bentley, 1844.

MEMOIRS
OF THE REIGN OF
KING GEORGE THE THIRD.

By HORACE WALPOLE,
YOUNGEST SON OF SIR ROBERT WALPOLE, EARL OF ORFORD.

NOW FIRST PUBLISHED FROM THE ORIGINAL MSS.
EDITED, WITH NOTES,
By Sir DENIS LE MARCHANT, Bart.

VOL. II.

LONDON:
RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET,
Publisher in Ordinary to Her Majesty.
1845.

LONDON:
Printed by S. & J. Bentley, Wilson, and Fley,
Bangor House, Shoe Lane.

CONTENTS
OF
THE SECOND VOLUME.

MEMOIRS
OF THE REIGN OF
KING GEORGE THE THIRD.

CHAPTER I.

Appearance of “An Address to the Public on a late Dismission.”—Walpole’s Answer to that Pamphlet.—Dr. Lloyd, Dean of Norwich.—Charles Townshend’s “Defence of the Minority in the House of Commons on the Question relative to General Warrants.”—Death of the Earl of Bath.—The Chevalier d’Eon.—The Count d’Estaign.—Death of Mr. Legge.—Of the Duke of Devonshire.—Outlawry of Wilkes and Death of Churchill.

While the factions at Court thus held one another at bay, Lord Holland was endeavouring to persuade Lord Bute to take again an office of business. But the rash fit, like the small-pox, never seized him but once. He chose to insinuate opinion of his power, rather than to display it. Nor, though the Favourite professed that Lord Holland was the only man who never deceived him, could I on the nicest inspection ever discover that Lord Holland had any real weight with him; whether it was owing to Lord Bute’s want of courage, or want of confidence in the adviser.

Though I saw clouds enough to comfort me with the prospect of a storm, yet, there being no open hostilities commenced, it was difficult for me to unravel the windings and turnings of so many minds, who were all my enemies. Though I was disposed to widen any breach that might happen, by inclining our force to one side or the other, yet it was not prudent to slacken our measures against the united body. Temporizing too far might cool the zeal of our friends; and the distance of six or seven months to the meeting of Parliament might wear out the memory of Mr. Conway’s wrongs, as the Ministry had intended it should, they having forborne to dismiss him till the session was over. The public cause, as well as private injury, called for spirit. The higher we could raise the flame of Opposition, the sounder benefit we conferred on our country. Prerogative was the object of the Court; and corruption so flagrant in both Houses of Parliament, that, if the people were not animated enough to hold both in check, no resource would be left but a civil war. Early opposition was the only preservative against the latter. My nature shuddered at the thoughts of blood, and I felt what every good man will feel in civil commotions, that there is nothing so difficult as to make the people go far enough, and prevent their going too far. An opportunity presented itself that shewed me what I could have done, but, thank God! I was not so culpable as to embrace it. As one of my objects was to raise the characters and popularity of our party, I had inserted a paragraph in the newspapers observing that the abolition of vails to servants had been set on foot by the Duke of Bedford, and had been opposed and not complied with by the Duke of Devonshire and family of Cavendish. Soon after, a riot happened at Ranelagh, in which the footmen mobbed and ill-treated some gentlemen who had been active in that reformation. I was apprehensive lest any personal mischief should happen to the Duke of Bedford, and forbore to spirit up that contest, though I desired so much to make the Ministers both odious and ridiculous. To the first, indeed, their characters were open: but the worse they were, the more difficult it was to make them ridiculous. They were so profligate, that they were the first to laugh and the last to feel. It was more my business, too, to incense the people than to divert them. Our party was more popular than fashionable; and in a very corrupt age fashion is very formidable. Nor was this all the difficulty: I wished to secure liberty, and to revenge my friend without passing the bounds allowed against public enemies. My friends were timid, or cautious, or over-candid; and I experienced what I have said before, that a country will never be saved by the best men in it. Ours had been rescued by two of the worst—Lord Temple and Wilkes. I had little but my pen to carry on the cause with; and I knew any violence would not be more disrelished by my enemies than by friends. Half our party was likely to desert us; and the other half not likely to support me. When a man is borne up by party, abuse little affects him; but I did not choose to encounter it when I might be left to stand the fire alone. I had seen the fate of Wilkes, abandoned by all he had served; and had no mind to accompany him in his exile. Still, my honour and my pride would not suffer me to sit patient under the insults offered both to Mr. Conway and myself. I determined to vindicate his character and assert my own independence in a manner that should do credit to both; and I succeeded, happily, by observing at once so much firmness and decency, that while I held him up as a perfect character, I secured my own as a faithful and undaunted friend. The opportunity was offered to me by a most shameless and illiberal attack made on him officiously by the agents of the Ministry in a thing called “An Address to the Public on a late Dismission.” This I answered in a Counter-Address.[1] It was replied to by the first author, one Guthrie, in a style at once so gross and tedious, that if any man could have patience to read it, I should desire he would form his idea of that Ministry from that production. The only sentence worth refuting was my being charged with having flattered and been obliged to George Grenville. I, who had never stooped to comply with Lord Holland while connected with him; who had set at defiance the power of the Pelhams; had not bowed to the plenitude of Lord Bute’s power, nor courted even Mr. Pitt when I admired him most in the zenith of credit and victory; was not likely to have bent the knee to the prater Grenville, with whom I had broken almost as soon as he had any power at all. Let that imputation answer itself!—But I was obliged to him, said the pamphlet—hear in what manner. Almost every friend or dependent I ever had could witness my refusals of soliciting Ministers for them or for myself. But when Grenville was Treasurer of the Navy, I had, at the desire of one of my voters at Lynn, desired him to get a child into the academy at Greenwich, which he granted. Another time, for I will be rigorously sincere in stating my obligations to him, I had heard that American officers were to repair thither, or forfeit their places. My deputy, who enjoyed a sinecure in Philadelphia (I think it was), came to me in a fright, and begged I would intercede for his being excused, as he was in a deplorable state of health, which terminated in less than two years in his being bed-ridden, or seldom able to stir out of bed. Still, I would not ask his being excused, but wrote to Mr. Grenville to beg that if no fault was alleged against my deputy, and the order was not general, he might not be laid under the cruel necessity of throwing up his employment. Mr. Grenville civilly answered, that he knew of no such order or intention; that he would inquire into it, and no particular hardship should be laid on the person I interceded for. I have preserved his letter; and have thus stated my obligations. Whether they were so mighty that they ought to have balanced in my mind Mr. Conway’s ruin, the world will judge; or, if I forgot them, I must own I had not so accurate a memory as that minute Minister. The pamphlet, however, being enriched with this anecdote of my obligations, must have been directed by Grenville himself—and it was tedious enough to have been written by him too.

This was not the only instance of Grenville’s borrowing scraps of reputation by the hands of his dependents. I have some tracts corrected by himself. The writers, as they were communicated to me in confidence by the authors, I will not name. There was another scribe who laboured hard in extolling his patron. This was Dr. Lloyd, tutor to Mr. Grenville’s sons, and promoted by him to the Deanery of Norwich.[2] This Zany published a most fulsome panegyric on him, addressed to himself, crying him up as the first financier in Europe, and obliquely insinuating his enmity to Lord Bute. When Grenville was attacked in the preceding winter in a celebrated tract called the Budget,[3] written by Mr. Hartley,[4] and exposing the blunders, and fallacies, and triflingness of his system, Grenville inveighed bitterly in the House of Commons against such liberties, and protested he had never been concerned in any libels. I sat and heard these solemn falsehoods; having, I protest, seen Mrs. Grenville take out of her bureau and deliver to the author in my presence a rancorous pamphlet, written against Lord Temple and Mr. Pitt, corrected by Mr. Grenville’s own hand,[5] and published immediately afterwards. This confidence I would not abuse.

There came out, not long after my pamphlet, another piece that was to have made much noise. It was called “A Defence of the Minority in the House of Commons on the Question relating to General Warrants;” and had no meaner an author than Charles Townshend. His prodigious parts must not be judged of by this, or indeed by any of his few writings. He never was an author in proportion to his abilities. His thoughts flowed in too rapidly to give him time to digest them; nor was he ever enough in earnest about anything to consider it deliberately. This piece had poor success; and was confuted by some able retainer, if not by some able member of the Administration. Townshend was hurt by this miscarriage; and as he was, though so superior to rivals, infinitely jealous, he could not avoid conceiving a little spleen against me, though posterity may take my word, ay, and my vanity’s word, that I never felt myself so little as the moment he opened his mouth. I do not know whether they would own it with equal frankness, but many men greatly excelling me in talents, ought to have shrunk, too, into themselves, and felt their own futility when Charles Townshend was present. Yet such alloy did he bear about him to those marvellous parts, that children and women had more discretion and fewer weaknesses. Being hurt at the success of my Counter-Address, he wrote these very words to Mr. Conway: “The touches and re-touches on your character are fine; some strokes nobly free; but in general not what I expected. So Charles Yorke and others of our friends think.” Then, speaking of his own pamphlet, he added, “Mr. Pitt says it has had prodigious effect, and turned many. Grenville says it is serious, of great weight, and very hostile.” At that very instant Mr. Conway and I happened to know that Mr. Pitt declared he would not read it; and having afterwards read it, said he found it very inaccurate. There was the same want of truth in affirming that Grenville called it very hostile. Townshend was afraid his friends should perceive how far it was from being offensive.[6]

It must not be supposed that I would pass off these trifling anecdotes of myself and others for a history of England. But they contain that most useful part of all history, a picture of human minds. They shew how little men are, though riding at what is called the Top of the World. These and the following scenes were what filled me with disgust, and made me quit that splendid theatre of pitiful passions; not from having been too good for my company, but ashamed of being one of such Dramatis Personæ: and so far more inexcusable than the rest, that neither ambition nor interest had led me behind the curtain—perhaps if they had, I should have remained there still.

I have mentioned my surprise at the coldness of Lord Temple. What was become of that unwearied alacrity with which he used to unbosom all his factious soul on every man that was ill-used or discontented? Whatever his views were, they were not ripe: and therefore, to retain a party, or the appearance of it, he gave a great dinner to the Opposition. I was of it; and after dinner took occasion to explain the threats and arbitrary language tried upon Mr. Conway, and scorned by him. I forbore to name Grenville, but painted him plainly enough to fill the company with surprise and indignation. As the company was promiscuous, the discourse was circulated about the town, and reached Mr. Grenville’s ears. On the 1st of June I received a letter from Mr. Thomas Pitt, desiring me to contradict a report said to come from me, charging Mr. Grenville with having said that if Mr. Conway voted according to his conscience he must be turned out. Thus had they dressed up the real report and substance in absurd terms that nobody might believe it. I immediately comprehended that this was a mandate issued to me as an inferior officer of the Exchequer, to justify Grenville and sacrifice my friend. I perceived, too, the advantage they had put into my hands, and determined to make the most of it. Pitt’s letter was so incredibly weak, and owned so much, that nothing was easier than to confute it. To add to their confusion, I had preserved exact minutes of the two conversations with Pitt and Grenville, of which they had had no suspicion. I felt the opportunity of doing justice both to Mr. Conway and to myself; and of making Mr. Grenville understand, that if he did not do me justice in the regularity of my payments, he was at my mercy, and must expect those letters would be laid before the public, if not before the House of Commons. This I hinted obscurely, being determined that nothing but persecution should drive me to that step. Knowing, however, the narrowness of Grenville’s mind, it was useful to curb him by this menace, as I did too in the Counter-Address, and very successfully. I wrote a long, firm, and unpleasant letter in answer to Pitt’s, and received another from him before there could be time for it (as he was in Cornwall), but by Grenville’s opening mine at the post: for with him was it concerted; and yet so flimsy, so fallen from the arrogance of the former was their reply, that I enjoyed not only triumph, but, I own, the teazing amusement of keeping them in hot water many months—the only use I allowed myself to make of those letters in punishing their culpable behaviour—moderate revenge enough after such insolence! and in which, when I had suffered the period to elapse, Grenville was far from having the generosity to imitate me. My payments were carefully made before the Parliament opened. When I had let the Session pass over without making use of the materials in my hands, an embargo was laid on the income of my employment. Have I been unjust in saying that almost any steps that are lawfully taken against banditti, were justifiable against such men? But I found means to retaliate, without violating the strictest laws of honour: nor have they been able to reproach me, though I had such opportunities of resembling them. Happily, I shall not have occasion to say more of myself for many pages, for though I slept not, the Opposition did.

Mechell, the King of Prussia’s minister, was recalled. That Prince had formerly desired Sir Charles Hanbury Williams might be recalled by us, without assigning reasons for that request. He was now reminded of that transaction, and called upon to satisfy us in the same manner. An epigram in politics very consonant to the genius of Sandwich, who loved to strike a stroke, and never allowed for the bad consequences it might have.

About the same time our merchants printed a memorial in the newspapers, complaining of their not being permitted to cut logwood; an ill appearance after a peace so favourable to them, and so recent. The Ministers published in the Gazette the King of Spain’s denial of knowing anything of that refusal, yet was not the Spanish Governor punished or recalled: and ere this matter was cold, Monsieur de Guerchy presented a memorial, demanding restitution of effects appertaining to the Duchy of Bretagne, that had been plundered from Belleisle. The Ministers referred the matter to General Hodgson,[7] who replied, “he had been ordered to take Belleisle, and had taken it: he knew nothing farther.”

On July 8th died William Pulteney, Earl of Bath,[8] little considered, though immensely rich; for it was known that he would neither part with his money to do good or harm. He left his vast wealth to an old brother whom he despised, and a few legacies to ancient domestics; but so sparingly, that it was plain he thought the smallest sum a valuable present.

On the 10th came on the trial of the Chevalier d’Eon. He had asked for farther time to assemble witnesses, but being refused, made no defence; and absconding, was found guilty. He remained in England, and often in London, undisturbed and unnoticed.[9] The printers of the “North Briton” were likewise found guilty. Lord Mansfield reprimanded Sergeant Glynn, counsel for the prisoners, for telling the jury that they were judges both of law and fact; the former of which, the Chief Justice denied, and said, if it was controverted he would take the opinion of the Judges thereon—a resource he was fond of applying to, when he could not alone support his own arbitrary assertions. He and the Ministers now finding themselves almost irresistible, pursued their blow. Two hundred informations were filed against printers: a larger number than had been prosecuted in the whole thirty-three years of the last reign!

On the 15th of the following month, came advice of Tortuga, or Turks’ Island, being seized by Count d’Estain. This man had been twice taken prisoner by us in the last war, and both times had forfeited his parole of honour; yet with a laudable clemency had been spared.[10] France had rewarded him with the Order of the Holy Ghost; and he now commanded a squadron in the West Indies, with which he committed this new hostility and infraction of the peace. I saw the importance of the moment, and endeavoured to spirit up addresses against the peace-makers; but languor prevailed, and none of our great Lords could be brought to send directions to their agents for transfusing indignation through their counties. In the meantime the Ministers made representations at Versailles, which, however, despairing of redress, they did not dare to announce in the Gazette till an answer came disavowing D’Estain, and promising to restore the island and pay damages; yet with no mark of displeasure towards their own commander, who, it was not doubted, had acted by direction, both to keep down our stocks, and in revenge for some vessels, which one of our captains had burned at Newfoundland, where they had encroached. The man justified himself by his general orders; nor did the Ministers, though they privately reprimanded him for his zeal, dare to break him; but fearing farther hostilities, four men-of-war were ordered to Newfoundland.

Mr. Legge, after languishing some months, died August 23rd. A blow considerable to our party, as he was the only man in it proper, on a change, to have been placed at the head of the House of Commons. His abilities were known and respected; his timidity and time-serving had not been much remarked, but by the few he had been most conversant with; for, being supple and cheerful and never offensive, he had always seemed to loiter behind his party, rather than to desert it. He met death with more manliness and unconcern than could have been expected, as he was not old, was happy, rich, and above the affectation of heroism or philosophy. An old friend visiting him the day before he died, Legge said to him, “Brother sportsman, I used to laugh at your being too heavy for a chase, but now you are come in at the death.” It was not equally sensible and unaffected, that he sent to Mr. Pitt, to acquaint him with his own approaching dissolution, and to exhort him to do his utmost to remove the present Ministers. Legge ought to have known how little Pitt would regard the death-bed admonition of a man for whom living he had little veneration. Legge left behind him, with orders for publication, a relation of his quarrel with Lord Bute, relating to an election for Hampshire. This piece neither hurt the Favourite, nor reflected honour on the deceased. That the former should have meddled in an election, even before his master’s accession to the Crown, could not surprise nor seriously shock any man: nor, though the narrative was not to appear till after his death, had Legge worked it up with a spirit to do himself honour. His obsequiousness pierced through the veil of hostility, and everybody saw that, without other views, he would not have encountered a rising Minister; nor by Legge’s own account, had the Favourite mitigated the scorn with which he treated him. I have said that Lord Bath loved money so much, that he thought a paltry sum, though given after his death, considerable bounty: it was much the same with Legge, he was so naturally compliant and inoffensive, that his daring to order the publication of a tame and posthumous satire seemed to him an effort of prodigious vengeance.[11]

If the Ministers exerted little spirit against our neighbours, it was feared, on the other hand, that there were hostile views in the disposal of military commands at home. In fact, the Scotch obtained commissions every day: if by Lord Bute’s influence, I rather think it was meant for a defensive guard for himself and the Court, than with views offensive to the Constitution. Depending on favour and promotion, the Scotch themselves might have crowded into the army. Still it spread jealousy and alarm; and Mr. Pitt himself expressed dissatisfaction. These murmurs were largely increased by the elevation of one Colonel Fletcher to an old regiment over thirty-seven officers his seniors, among whom was Colonel Howe,[12] brother of the Lord of that name, and himself lately returned with glory from the Havannah. As Fletcher was devoted to the Favourite, and known to owe this promotion to him, the partiality was the more grievously resented. To compensate for this step, the next regiment that fell was bestowed on Sir William Boothby,[13] but not without the secondary view of gaining this officer, who was a servant of the Duke of York.[14] That Prince returning from Italy passed to Paris; on which the King stopped his remittances, and obliged him to come home without delay. Grenville, who had taken umbrage at Lord Bute’s interfering in the disposal of military preferments, procured Sir William Boothby’s former regiment for Colonel Pearson.

To give the finishing blow to the hopes and credit of the Opposition, the Duke of Devonshire,[15] who had gone to Spa at the end of August for a paralytic disorder, died there in the vigour of his age. He was by no means an able or enterprising man, but enjoyed a character uncommonly respected; and was universally regretted by all the Whigs as head of their party. No man would have disputed that pre-eminence with him; and we wanted even a nominal head. We had in the space of a few months lost three material men,—Lord Hardwicke, Mr. Legge and the Duke of Devonshire. It was almost as unfortunate that we had kept Charles Yorke, Charles Townshend, and the Duke of Newcastle. The health of the Duke of Cumberland made his life as little to be depended on. At this very time he had two slight fits at Newmarket, and was reported dead; but was saved by the breaking out of St. Antony’s fire. The Duke of Devonshire bequeathed 5000l. to Mr. Conway; a legacy honourable to him, and conducive to his popularity. The nominal post of High Treasurer of Ireland being vacated by the death of that Duke, Lord Sandwich begged it for Lord Corke,[16] (who had married his niece, and from whose family it had passed to the Cavendishes by the marriage of the late Duke with the heiress of Boyle,[17]) but on supposition only that the new Duke would not ask it. “How shall we know,” said the King, “if his uncles will ask it for him?” Lord Sandwich said he could find out by his old fellow-traveller Lord Besborough,[18] who had married the late Duke’s sister. Lord Besborough, on the question being put to him by Sandwich as from himself, said laughing, “My Lord, is this to be a retainer?” “Why, to be sure,” replied Sandwich; “it will be expected that the family should not act as they have done.” The young Duke was but sixteen, was awkward, and full of the bashfulness of his race. He was entirely in the hands of his three uncles, the Lords George, Frederick, and John, all warm Whigs, enthusiasts to the memory of their father and brother, of characters eminently unstained, and not a little persuaded that their family was, and ought to be, the most distinguished in the kingdom. Their property was enormous, their credit great, and reputation truly honourable: but the talents of the race had never borne any proportion to their other advantages. The first Duke, besides being the finest gentleman of the age, had succeeded to the merits of his friend Lord Russel’s martyrdom. Since that period the family had affected to drop all polish, and to wear the manners of plain English gentlemen, under an outside that covered considerable pride. Sir Robert Walpole had made advantage of their popularity, and having strongly attached the second and third Dukes to himself, he had placed them before himself as the leaders of the Whig party, and cried up their unembellished good sense, though the second Duke had no sense at all,[19] and the third a very dubious portion.[20] William, the fourth and late Duke, with something more of the manners of a Court, had less abilities than his father. His brother Lord George[21] had none at all. Lord Frederick was lively, and having lived in Courts and Camps, a favourite of the Duke of Cumberland, was by far the most agreeable, and possessed the most useful sense of the whole family.[22] Lord John, the youngest, was hitherto little known. I shall have occasion to mention him frequently hereafter. He had read a good deal, and his eyes saw not faster than his memory retained. He was accurate in repeating words, sentences, nay volumes, if he pleased; nor was he defective in quickness or reasoning. Under the appearance of virgin modesty, he had a confidence in himself that nothing could equal, and a thirst of dominion that was still more extraordinary. It consisted solely in governing those with whom he was connected, without views either of interest or power. To be first, in however small a circle, was his wish; but in that circle he must be absolute: and he was as ready to sacrifice the interests and fortunes of those his friends and slaves, as he was his own. His plan seemed to be the tyranny of a moral philosopher. He was a kind of Heresiarch, that sought to be adored by his enthusiastic disciples, without a view of extending his sect beyond that circle.[23] His fair little person, and the quaintness with which he untreasured, as by rote, the stores of his memory, occasioned George Selwyn to call him the learned Canary-bird.[24]

These three Lords determined their nephew should ask no favour of the Court; nor would they suffer him to carry their late brother’s riband to the King, lest his Majesty should draw any promise or professions from so raw a lad; or lest the boy himself should be wanting in proper respect, or be too blunt, if the King should mention his father. Lord Frederick, as of the Bedchamber to the Duke of Cumberland, was the only one of the family that since their brother’s disgrace had gone to Court: he therefore was thought most proper to restore the badge of the Order. At the same time, lest they should be taxed with rudeness, they desired Lord Besborough to thank Sandwich, but beg he would not neglect the interests of his friend. On this Sandwich ordered the patent to be drawn for Lord Corke; but Lord Mansfield, fearing the loss of that feather might root the Cavendishes in Opposition, prevailed to have it retarded. When Lord Frederick carried the Garter, the King used many expressions of concern for the death of the late Duke. Lord Frederick replied, his Majesty had not had a better subject, and that the family had never imputed their brother’s disgrace to his Majesty’s own movements.

Having foreseen the death of the Duke of Devonshire, and apprehending that it would break up and dissolve our party, I determined to know if we had anything farther to trust to. During the summer I had had frequent conversations with Lord Lyttelton, who was on good terms again with Mr. Pitt and Lord Temple, and who really admired Conway. Lord Lyttelton’s object was to reconcile George Grenville and his brothers, and to make a coalition between that whole family and the Opposition, with or without the Bedfords, but totally to the exclusion of Lord Bute. No man so addicted to wisdom was less wise than Lord Lyttelton; no man so propense to art was less artful; no man staked his honesty to less purpose, for he was so awkward that honesty was the only quality that seemed natural to him. His cunning was so often in default, that he was a kind of beacon that warned men not to approach the shallows on which he founded his attachments, always at a wrong season.[25] Mr. Pitt had neither tasted his views nor reasons; and Lord Temple, who was growing less disinclined to his brother George, neither trusted Lord Lyttelton with that secret, nor with the growing coolness between him and Mr. Pitt. On this miscarriage I resolved to feel my way myself, and went to Stowe. My doubts, if any remained, were there fully cleared away. I discovered that Lord Temple had no influence, scarce any intercourse with Mr. Pitt; and, though he endeavoured to slide over that coolness, I was determined to fathom it; and did. I said I had prayed Lord Lyttelton to bring about an interview between Mr. Conway and Mr. Pitt; that the latter wanted a second in the House of Commons, and could have no man so confidential, trusty, or creditable, as the former; that I was sorry to find no disposition to union in his Lordship’s friends; and that though I would try my utmost till Christmas to cement our party, I should give over a foolish and hopeless opposition, if I met encouragement nowhere.

Lord Temple endeavoured to explain away this coolness, and said Lord Lyttelton was so newly reconciled to them that Mr. Pitt had not talked openly to him; but, continued he, if Conway had not been turned out, we should now have no Opposition—intimating, that my zeal was founded on resentment, not on any attachment to him and Mr. Pitt; and though with regard to himself this was most true, it was most unadvised arrogance in him to drop these words to me (as he did),—“Conway did not resign for us.” At the same time he was profuse of incendiary volubility, and of compliments to myself, particularly on my not only having overlooked Wilkes’s attacks,[26] but in voting for him. We agreed in our sentiments, that there should be a select junto of the ablest men in the House of Commons to conduct the party. “Still, my Lord,” said I, “we should have difficulties even there: the Duke of Cumberland would object to the admission of Lord George Sackville to our councils.” Lord Temple answered abruptly, “We must not have a Prince of the blood for first Minister; that would entirely alienate the King.” This sentence explained the Duke of Cumberland’s complaints of Mr. Pitt’s coldness to all his overtures. I replied, I wished no more than his Lordship to see the Duke Minister; but he was of great credit to our party, and his life too precarious to make him formidable: “but,” said I, “I was speaking of Lord George”—“Oh!” interrupted he, “there are very, very great difficulties about Lord George: he must make his own way before we can do anything for him.”

I was so offended at this royal style of we and us, and saw so plainly that Lord Temple, though he would be glad of our bearing him on our shoulders to St. James’s, could not even disguise his little inclination to us, that I determined to disappoint him, and forbear all connexion both with Mr. Pitt and him. I acquainted Mr. Conway with the ill-success of this visit; and here too, as usual, had a pill of mortification to swallow. Provoked at Lord Temple’s discourse, he wished, he said, I had not gone so far: Mr. Pitt should come to him; he would not go to Mr. Pitt; nor liked to be thought to court anybody. I replied that it was with his consent I had proposed that interview to Lord Lyttelton; that I should never wish my friend to court men in power: overtures of union to men out of power were different; nor was there any sense in opposing without union. I told him we must either form as strong a party as we could, or give up the game. We could do better without Pitt than he without us; for he would never dare alone and unfollowed to trust himself with Lord Bute. Our business was to serve our country and preserve our characters. I had staked everything, and valued not my fortune; but I did value my character, my understanding, and my ease; nor would expose my sense by a tame, middling, now-and-then opposition. That I would make no peace with the Ministers, but would go abroad, if I could not find more activity and more sense, than I had met with hitherto. Conway replied (unfeelingly enough as to me), that for himself he was independent: he could wait; and supposed, if not soon, something would turn up at last. That he would oppose occasionally, but did not think it reasonable to say, It shall do now, or I will not try. This was a true picture of us both. I had embarked him and myself on principle, and without consideration; had gone on with redoubled zeal when I saw him injured; and now was impatient to repair the effects of my own rashness. He had been drawn in without knowing it, and had continued to act by system; could not bear to own, even to me, how deeply he felt the wound he had received; but was as much too much undisguised, on the other hand, in letting me perceive how little he felt the force of the sacrifice I had made to him. In this, and all his conversations, he dwelt on his obligations to the Dukes of Devonshire and Grafton. I said I respected their characters, but could not content myself with so narrow a bottom. He said, he thought himself bound in honour to acquaint Charles Townshend with what had passed. I said, it would immediately make him leave us; but I should not object to it, if he thought this strange delicacy honourable or necessary. He said he should not talk farther of it, nor appear cool to Mr. Pitt, lest it should be said that he had paid court to him, and was angry at the disappointment. He would have no opportunity, I told him, of showing either anger or civility to Mr. Pitt; but if he acquainted Townshend, all the world would know what had passed. He did write to Townshend the whole account.

I was now reduced to as disagreeable a situation as can well be conceived. I had, from a point of honour, and from ancient friendship, gone all lengths for a man who I perceived had much more system than warmth of affection. My secrets were communicated to a babbler; and it would be known that I had tried every quiver to wound the Ministers, without finding a single arrow to my purpose. The only thing that remained to do, I did—I kept my temper; and neither let Conway nor any man else suspect the mortifications I underwent. It had been double pleasure to my enemies to know I was not content with him; and to have let him know it, had disappointed the purposes to which I might still apply him both for his sake and my own. I wished to repair the hurt I had done him; nor till that was effected, could I accomplish my own object of withdrawing myself entirely from politics. The only notice I therefore took of what had passed, was at times to declare to Conway and others of the party, that I was so little satisfied with the conduct of the Opposition, that though I would never desert them while they remained oppressed, yet was I determined to take my leave of them as a party the moment, if ever that moment should arrive, in which they should be successful. This declaration I afterwards found as satisfactory to myself as it had been honest to those with whom I acted; and how much I was in earnest in making this resolution, my adherence to it will demonstrate.

There was perhaps a greater difficulty attending us than all I have mentioned, though not very likely to befall us. It was, what answer we should make to a question Lord John Cavendish very sensibly put to me in one of our conversations. “If we do get the better,” said he, “whom can we make Ministers?” It had been to no purpose to answer, “I do not care whom.” Unless we could form an Administration, we must remain in Opposition. The event did happen; we were offered, and could not furnish out a Ministry; and yet it once more fell into our hands by a concourse of ridiculous circumstances, that if they do not ennoble History, yet render it perhaps more entertaining than revolutions of more serious complexion.

There happened at this time, in another country, an event of which I shall take some notice, though it had no relation to our affairs. The deposed Czar, John of Muscovy, had been confined from his youth, and, as it was said, had had drugs administered to him destructive of his intellects. He had been spared, however, during the long reign of his rival Elizabeth; and had even been visited by her short-lived successor, Peter the Third. This visit might perhaps have awakened some sentiments in favour of Ivan in Russian breasts; at least jealousy in that of the foreign murderess, who now reigned in the room of both.[27] On a sudden it was given out, that one Mirowitz had forced himself into the castle where Ivan was imprisoned, intending to deliver and proclaim him Emperor, but that so great was the fidelity and circumspection of the governor, that he had instantly cut the poor young Prince to pieces. This tale, almost as improbable as horrid, was believed by the greater number, and supported by a parade of forms and manifestos. Mirowitz was tried by the senate, and beheaded, after reading a confession consonant to the story divulged. His accomplice, for one they did allow him to have had, was said to have made his escape, and to have been drowned in his flight crossing a river. As Mirowitz suffered death unaccompanied with the torments used in that country, it is no forced construction to suppose he was threatened with torture if he did not authenticate what was required of him; or deceived with hopes of pardon, and prevented by sudden execution before he could recal a false confession.[28] Whatever was the truth, the Empress had given such earnest of her bold and remorseless nature in the assassination of her husband, that no wonder she was suspected of being as deeply concerned in the death of Ivan. I was assured by the Duchess of Choiseul, wife of the first Minister of France, that a French physician who had been at Petersburg at the time, and employed at that Court, had told her that they who knew most believed that the death of the Empress Elizabeth had been hastened too by the arts of Catherine: yet this fell character did Voltaire and the Literati of France select as the patroness of philosophy and toleration! She had artfully been generous to a few of them; and a poet and an author will go as far in whitewashing a munificent tyrant, as a Cossack or Calmuck in fighting for those who pay him. From Augustus to Catherine the Second, no liberal usurper has ever wanted an ode or a panegyrist. The Duchess of Choiseul, who had an excellent heart and solid understanding, being provoked at the scandalous encomiums poured forth by Voltaire on so black a character, wrote an answer to him with equal sense, spirit, and reason; a work, in her situation, improper to be seen: I was one of a very few that had the satisfaction of reading it.

On the 1st of November the sentence of outlawry was pronounced against Wilkes; and on the 4th died that bacchanalian bard, his friend Churchill. He was on a visit to his friend Wilkes at Boulogne, where his excesses threw him into a fever, and where he died in a few days with epicurean indifference—a meteor that had shone but four years, and never so brightly as he might have done. He had wished, he said, for an opportunity of satirizing Mr. Pitt and Charles Townshend, who had not yet entirely listed themselves with the Court, the moment for which Churchill waited impatiently; yet, writing as he did at random, it was a chance whether he would have touched or not the true blemishes and characteristic marks of men so compounded of defects and exquisite ingredients. Churchill could hew out a block that would brave time, and last to posterity, but stood not near enough to seize the lineaments and shades that distinguish a portrait, and exhibit a resemblance to the eyes of cotemporaries.

Among Churchill’s papers was found a collection of letters from Lord Holland to Francis,[29] who had furnished them to the Satirist against his late patron. In one of those epistles Francis complained of Lord Holland for not making him an Irish Bishop, and threatened to publish something that would prove Lord Holland a still greater villain than the world believed him. To silence that wretch, Lord Holland sent him 500l., and gave him a place in Chelsea College.

The death of the Master of the Rolls happening at this time, Norton was appointed to succeed him, with an additional pension of 1200l. a year; and Mr. Charles Yorke again consented to accept his former post of Attorney-General: on which the Duke of Cumberland said shrewdly, “We have lost a man of character, but they have not gained one.” This arrangement, however, did not take place. The Chancellor[30] objected to Norton for Master of the Rolls; and Charles Yorke was frightened[31] with the offence taken at his deserting the Duke of Newcastle and his friends. Norton remained Attorney; Sewell was appointed Master of the Rolls; and Yorke accepted a patent of precedence over the Solicitor-General;[32] which only showed that he had made his peace without mending his fortune.

About the same time was published a pamphlet, perhaps the ablest ever written, called an “Inquiry into the Doctrine concerning Libels.” It severely took to pieces the arbitrary maxims of Lord Mansfield and Norton, who were roughly handled, as well as the late Lord Hardwicke. Dunning, a rising lawyer, was supposed the principal author, assisted by the Lord Chief Justice Pratt, and one or two others.

On the 19th died Stone, the famous Primate of Ireland, aged 57, having ruined his constitution by indulgence to the style of luxury and drinking established in Ireland, and by conforming to which he had found the means of surmounting the most grievous prejudices and of gaining popularity, ascendant, power: an instance of abilities seldom to be matched. He was aided, too, by several virtues: he was generous and charitable, and of a soul above revenge. When Lord Chesterfield[33] held the government of Ireland, he told the Primate, “My Lord, you must govern this kingdom, for you have the best parts in it; but you want one thing, you must take orders:” alluding to the irregularity of his life. But Stone had greater parts than Lord Chesterfield imagined, for he did govern that kingdom without conforming to the decencies of his profession.[34]

Stone was survived but a few days by his ancient competitor the Earl of Shannon[35]—a more common character, he having sold his patriotism for a peerage; and maintaining by hypocrisy an influence that Stone had supported with the boldness of a statesman, and with scorn of the little knavery that he might have borrowed from his rank of Archbishop.

The noise which our succession of Patriots had made in Europe, and the disgrace their prostitution had brought on the character, gave occasion to the following anecdote. Monsieur Elie de Beaumont, renowned for his defence of the family of Calas, was in England, and went to Bath. Conversing there with Lord Chief Justice Pratt and Lord Strange, Monsieur de Beaumont said he wanted to see a Patriot. Lord Strange replied, there was no such thing. “You surprise me, my Lord, said the Chief Justice; till now I thought your Lordship one!”

At the conclusion of the year the Cider counties instructed their members to join the Minority; and Sir George Yonge[36] carried a letter from some of the chiefs to the Duke of Newcastle, proposing union. The Duke sent the letter to Mr. Pitt, as an inducement to him to declare himself. Pitt thanked the Duke for the communication, but observed, the letter had not been intended for him (Pitt). He desired to be consulted no more, for he was, and would be, a single man. The Minority, he said, had heard the late glorious war abused the last session, and had sat silent. Therefore would he join nobody, but would act on every single occasion as he should think right.[37] Thus, without chiefs, numbers, or union, were we left to meet the opening of Parliament in the ensuing year!

CHAPTER II.

Church Preferments.—Meeting of Parliament.—Conway’s Speech.—Lord Chatham’s Legacy from Sir William Pynsent.—Speeches on Dismissal of Officers.—Duel between Mr. Chaworth and Lord Byron.—Renewal of the Question of General Warrants.

The primacy of Ireland being vacant, Mr. Grenville was desirous of procuring that dignity for Dr. Newton, Bishop of Bristol; but he declining it, Lord Granby solicited Grenville’s interest for Dr. Ewer,[38] who had been his tutor, and Grenville intended to bestow that mitre on him. In the meantime it was known that Lord Northumberland espoused Robinson, Bishop of Kildare, and sought to make him Archbishop. This was immediately considered as a contest for power between the Favourite and the nominal Minister,—for that Grenville was only nominal Minister, appeared by Robinson’s obtaining the Archbishoprick; though when Grenville found he could not obtain it for Ewer, he had maliciously and artfully instigated the Duke of Bedford to solicit for Bishop Carmichael,[39] who being a Scot, his promotion would have struck mankind as the act of Lord Bute, more than the appointment of Robinson, whom he really supported. The intrigues of the late Primate had been so noxious and troublesome to the English Government, that it was determined no future Archbishops of Armagh should be Lords Justices, or have any power in the Administration. The new Primate, a proud but superficial man, had not talents to recover the credit enjoyed by his predecessors.[40]

January 10th,—the Parliament met. The King notified to the two Houses the intended marriage of his youngest sister, the Princess Caroline Matilda, with the Prince Royal of Denmark, her first cousin. Princess Louisa, her eldest sister, was so remarkably small of her age, that, though she lived three years after this, she never appeared but as an unhealthy child of thirteen or fourteen years of age. Lord Townshend and Lord Bottetort moved the address of the Lords; Lord Warkworth and T. Pitt, of the Commons. An accidental debate happening in the latter House, General Conway, to the surprise of everybody, and particularly of me, who had with astonishment beheld his tranquillity, broke out on his own dismission, and attacked George Grenville with a fire, eloquence, and rapidity of passion and bitterness, that showed both how much he had resented and how much he had concealed. Very warm words passed between them; great applause was given to Conway by the Opposition; and the Ministers felt that the vengeance they had exerted began to lose something of its sweetness. They had infused a spirit into Conway with which all his friends would in vain have endeavoured to inspire him.

On the 15th, the King sent another message to both Houses, referring to their consideration an offer made by France to pay 670,000l., in three years, for our maintenance of their prisoners, instead of 1,100,000l., which had been settled, but with no specification of time, by the late peace. This offer was accepted on a subsequent day.

About the same time happened the following extraordinary event. Sir William Pynsent, a baronet of Somersetshire, died and left his whole fortune to Mr. Pitt, no ways related, nor personally known to him. Nor, as it appeared, was this great legacy so much the reward of his illustrious services as of his opposition to General Warrants. Sir William Pynsent, at his death, was aged 86, had formerly served in Parliament, and had voted against the Treaty of Utrecht; his principles being zealously and unalterably Whig. He was said to have had parts and humour.[41] * * * * * * Lord North had married his next relation[42]—had courted him, and stood fair to be his heir;[43] till, having voted for the tax on cyder, Sir William, who had long lived retired upon his estate, had not only quarrelled with his cousin North, but had encouraged the mob to burn him in effigy. He then became enamoured of Mr. Pitt; is said to have cast some inconstant glances towards Wilkes, and, immediately before his death, had indubitably given orders to his lawyer, to draw a new will entirely in favour of General Conway; but it was not prepared in time. Mr. Pitt, therefore, found himself in possession of real and personal estates worth above forty thousand pounds, without the regret of losing a friend; without the imputation of having flattered his benefactor, for he had never seen him; without injuring a family, for Sir William had no very near relation,[44] and not one that expected his fortune; and with the satisfaction of owing such a public mark of esteem to his own virtue or merits.

On the 18th a meeting of the Opposition was held at Sir George Saville’s, to consult whether they should bring on, or defer for some time longer, a renewal of the question on General Warrants. The doubt was raised by the ill health of Mr. Pitt. James Grenville and a nephew of Lord Chief Justice Pratt, who attended the meeting, would not say that Mr. Pitt desired the motion should be deferred. The company squabbled till two in the morning, and then agreed to adjourn the measure. Sir William Meredith wrote to acquaint George Grenville with this procrastination—a ridiculous piece of candour, and received properly by Grenville, who made no answer. These assemblies I seldom or never attended; they were childish imitations of Parliaments, rarely produced any good, and only taught a party to quarrel and split into less factions. Many who cannot utter in the House of Commons can prattle in a private room. Business can never be reduced to too few heads. There should, in party as well as in Government, be one man who should consult others separately, and act as he finds best from the result of that advice, and of his own judgment: but he should let the rest know as little as possible that they are almost all probably of different opinions.

On the 21st, Dowdeswell proposed to reduce the sixteen thousand seamen to eleven thousand, but without effect. On the contrary, Charles Townshend spoke for the larger number in warm terms, and declared he had always approved the peace. This desertion did not surprise me: nor was it owing solely to his fickleness. He was now influenced by Lord George Sackville, who, dissatisfied with Lord Bute for not supporting him, had joined the Opposition: Oppositions are always great whitewashers. But the declining state of the Opposition, by deaths and other causes which I have mentioned, had alarmed Lord George, and he began to look towards Grenville, who would want all manner of strength to support himself against the Favourite.

On Jan. 23rd, the day of voting the army for the year, there happened a very spirited debate.[45] Beckford began it, by declaring that if any man would second him, he would oppose so large a number as 16,000 men, because we were in no danger of being attacked by surprise; and because he apprehended there was an intention of modelling the army, which he concluded from the dismission of General Conway. He mentioned, too, an expression dropped by Charles Townshend, which he said had made his ears tingle; it was that the Colonies were not to be emancipated. The Colonies, said Beckford, are more free than Ireland, for America had not been conquered: on the contrary, it was inhabited by the conquerors. Townshend ridiculed Beckford’s alarm, affirming he had only meant that the Colonies were not to be emancipated from their dependence on the supremacy of this country. Beckford told him he had expressed a single idea by a multitude of circumlocutions, and was troubled with a diarrhœa of words—an expression with which Townshend was much hurt.

Nicholson Calvert and George Onslow opened on the dismission of Conway in very strong terms. The former said, Grenville[46] had avowed it was for parliamentary conduct when he owned he had thought himself turned out for a similar cause. Onslow called the Ministers profligate and abandoned; and Lord Strange attempting to defend them, was so roughly handled on his own tergiversations by Onslow, Sir George Saville, and Thomas Townshend, that he who was wont to be all spirit, quickness, and fire, was quite abashed, and showed at least the sensibility of virtue. Thomas Townshend went farther, mentioned a list of sixteen officers, carried into the closet for dismission by Lord Sandwich: and seeing the latter sitting under the gallery, he turned towards him, and said he would tell that Minister to his face in any private company, that he was a profligate Minister. Onslow added, that they had been so cowardly as to wait for the end of the session, and skulk behind the recess.

Rigby said the Opponents had quoted all the reigns to the last, but had stopped short there, and had not mentioned Sir Robert Walpole, who had said it must be a pitiful Minister that would not dare to turn out a man that voted against him. For himself, he said he did not believe the question of Mr. Conway’s dismission would be brought on; which Lord John Cavendish assured him it would be.

Lord Harry Poulet[47] told Grenville that he would be ashamed to show his face, if he could be ashamed of anything, if his uncle Lord Cobham[48] could rise from the dead—Grenville stopped him, and said if his Lordship had a mind to use such language, he knew where to find him.—Others interposing to reconcile them, Grenville acknowledged he had thrown out a challenge; but at last explained it away, and the matter ended. Ellis indiscreetly affirmed that the army was necessary to support the civil magistrate. Beckford replied, that at the late riot on burning the North Briton, the magistrates of the City had secured one of the rioters without military force.

Grenville entered into a long discussion of the Crown’s prerogative of dismission; and confounded civil and military officers, without making the necessary distinction, that the latter lose a profession. He himself, he said, had not inquired formerly why he was turned out. Should he be turned out to-morrow, he would not inquire, though if he did his duty and was approved by his country, he should think it extraordinary. This sentence, seemingly incoherent with, nay, contradictory to, the rest of his speech, was, no doubt, levelled at Lord Bute, and dictated by the uneasiness of Grenville’s situation, then not generally known. He proceeded to say on the dismissed officers that some might think one meritorious, some another; others might see cause of blame. This invidious hint called up General Conway, who with exceeding warmth and spirit made one of his most admired speeches. He had asked, he said, for a court-martial, that, if anything had been thought defective in his conduct, he might be questioned on it. The refusal had proved that his dismission had flowed from no military offence. Even in the days of Charles II. the Lords Clarendon and Southampton had, though requested by the King to forbear, spoken against his measures, and yet had not been dismissed.[49] The situation of officers was grievous; called on by conscience and by honour, they were chastised if not obedient. Another profession was more fortunate; Bishops were made for life; and, indeed, were piously obsequious; they might be preferred for their behaviour in Parliament, but could not be dismissed for it. He himself had received intimations to take care what he did—Grenville started!—yet he should not say from what quarter; he would not reveal what was not proper; but he had been bid to take care what he did. He had despised those menaces, had done his duty, and had been punished. He knew the threats had not come from the King, who had restored Sir Henry Erskine. He had made, he said, a declaration that he was attached to no party, yet that allegiance, it seemed, had not been thought sufficient. He concluded with strongly exhorting his brother officers not to be made slaves—he might as well have called on the Bishops.

This debate was doubly mortifying to the Ministers, who were at once so rudely tasked by the Opposition, and unsupported by every man of the Favourite’s faction—a tacit method of disavowing them; and an encouragement to those who might be tempted to oppose them.

On the 26th Mr. Chaworth, a private gentleman of fair character, was killed at a tavern by Lord Byron in a duel, to which the latter had been driven by the undisguised contempt with which the former had treated his want of honour and spirit at a club where they had just dined together. Lord Byron was formally tried by his Peers,[50] and escaped punishment, in consideration of the provocation he had received.

On the 29th the question of General Warrants was again renewed in the House of Commons by Sir William Meredith,[51] more agreeably, indeed, to principle than to prudence. I had endeavoured to divert the attempt and had the concurrence of the Lord Chief Justice Pratt’s opinion, we both apprehending, from the great diminution of our party since the preceding winter, that, as we should make a much more inconsiderable figure on a division in Parliament than we had done before on the same question, the merits of the cause would suffer more from that defeat than we should gain by reviving the memory of it. Though the event in the House proved what we had foreseen, we found, however, strength enough to support a battle till between four and five in the morning. Sir W. Meredith, with great force and severity, exposed the conduct of Lord Halifax, who shamefully to that hour (and indeed for some years afterwards) defeated all prosecutions against him at Wilkes’s suit, by standing on the privilege of his peerage. If they, said Sir William, who issued the warrants, had put themselves on the justice of their country, it would have alleviated their guilt; but while the privilege of the House of Commons was given up, the privilege of the other House had interfered to stop justice. He then moved that General Warrants were not consonant to law or to the liberty of the subject; and in a second question, if against a Member. Lord Strafford himself, he said, had issued but one, had pleaded that it was according to practice, and yet had recalled it. Charles II. had applied to Parliament for leave to do it by the Licensing Act. Application had been made in King William’s reign to renew that act, but it was refused. Some said the illegality was decided by the law; others that it was not. Some would say that the House of Commons was not to declare what was law. Who could bring it to an issue? Dryden Leach and other printers were ruined, and could not carry on the suit! Wilkes expelled, outlawed, banished, had no longer any interest in the question: the Secretaries of State did not desire to brine it to any issue; the House of Commons alone could do it. Sir Edward Coke declared, that, when courts of law would not decide on a clear question, the House of Commons ought. Sir Alexander Gilmour added, that not one lawyer, last year, had defended the legality of General Warrants, but had given assurances that they would be decided in the Courts below; and yet that decision had been postponed till Wilkes had been outlawed.

Dr. Hay replied with much and able subtlety; owned that when he was for putting off the question last year he had meant to reject it; his party had said that it was not proper for that House to declare on law; he himself had said those warrants were illegal, unless great urgency in their favour.[52] He agreed that, by the common law of the land, those warrants were illegal: nay, he thought the question ought to be settled by Parliament, not by a resolution of one House only. Sir William had omitted the words seditious and treasonable, though adopted last year. The House might do what it pleased, but ought it to do so? Why not make the case general to all cases? Then this resolution, he heard, was to be followed by another on breach of privilege; but was every injury to a member a breach of privilege? Was the House to be an universal judicatory for offences? But the House had already declared that it has no privilege in the case of seditious and treasonable libels—a question of law is safe in courts of law; but Houses of Commons, not being permanent, may vary their resolutions. One House—both Houses cannot declare laws, though they, with the King, may enact laws. The question had either been adjudged, or was pending: both were true. The Court of Common Pleas had decided and given damages; then he named the Chief Justice Pratt, taking notice of the strong expression of an iron rod, used by that magistrate on the occasion. All juries say General Warrants are illegal; but at present the question had been hung up by the bill of exceptions, which bills are in the nature of appeals—an argument why the House should not, at that time, make a declaration. If there had been delay, why was not the offender called on? He had heard that the delay arose from the prosecutors. If anything was done wrong in the Courts below, the House alone could redress it. He then, as a correction to the proposed question, moved the following strange and scarce intelligible sentence (to load the motion ridiculously, and with intention to reject afterwards the question so amended), “That in the particular case of libels, it is proper and necessary to fix, by a vote of this House only, what ought to be deemed the law in respect of General Warrants; and for that purpose, at the time when the determination of the legality of such warrants, in the instance of a most seditious and treasonable libel, is actually depending before the courts of law; for this House do declare that a General Warrant for apprehending the authors, printers, or publishers of a libel, together with their papers, is not warranted by law, and is a high violation of the liberty of the subject.”

It was requisite for me to state the words of this proposition and account for them; for standing as they do on the printed votes without a comment, what could posterity, or persons ignorant of parliamentary craft and proceedings, think of them? Would they believe such a proposition was seriously debated?—yet, as the votes never joke, could they avoid believing so? The fact, as I have said, was, that the Ministry, to load Sir William Meredith’s question with absurdity, made use of their power, as the majority, thus to amend the question, and forced the opponents to debate it thus hampered, or withdraw it; and even the latter could not be done without leave of the House, that is of the majority, who probably would not have granted that permission, that they might give a negative to the question thus loaded, instead of rejecting Sir W. Meredith’s plain question, which it would have been more unpopular to do. By the strict rules of the House they could even have obliged the debate to be pursued on the question only as amended; but, content with the certainty of rejecting it in their own way, they suffered the Opposition to argue on the simple state of the case, and the debate accordingly proceeded so. Lord Middleton asked if the Petition of Rights had not come in by declaration? and, with regard to the charge of delay, he said the plaintiffs could not afford to go on with the bill of exceptions, and then were accused of protracting; and, to justify the renewal of the question, he observed that Lord Coke says, “Many a good proposition had succeeded at last by being pursued year after year.” Sir W. Meredith said, he had omitted the word seditious, that the question might carry no reference to Wilkes, being calculated for the general and indefinite good of all. No epithets ought to be mixed with prosecutions, nor should a man be liable to be prosecuted as a traitor for having written a libel. No privilege held against treason; but the House ought not to be deprived of its members on a false charge of treason. Conway asked if Hay had been serious in his motion? did he mean his amendment should go out into the world on so important a question? It would be a mockery of Parliament. Grenville called him to order; but Conway persisted and said it would be a shameful proceeding. Wedderburn and the Solicitor-General again interrupted him; but he was supported by Sir George Saville and Onslow; and the Speaker declared there was nothing disorderly in Conway’s words. Dowdeswell said, Dr. Hay had argued on the whole question, therefore he would; but Lord Frederick Campbell endeavouring to fix the debate on the question as amended, Charles Townshend tried to compose the heat that had arisen by recurring to the subject, and said he hoped no lawyer would assert that juries were not judges of law as well as of fact. De Grey, Solicitor-General, said the juries had given the prosecutors exemplary and vindictive damages, and had been animated by faction. The defendants had pressed the prosecutors not to delay. Charles Yorke spoke for three-quarters of an hour on the side of the Opposition; said he would retract if he had altered his opinion; but found reasons against the warrants growing all over the kingdom. The warrant had been so emphatically illegal, that it never could be debated in a court of law. It was expedient for Parliament and for the honour of the Crown, that Parliament should take the lead in questions of law. The House of Commons had often carried up resolutions to the other House. This question was connected with the privileges of the House. Precedents made in good times were felt in bad. The words of the warrant had been copied from an old blundering warrant of office, and could never be taken up again. The Crown should extinguish any jealousy of such a proceeding in future, by not making difficulties on plain questions. Beckford said, this country was obliged to Wilkes for the stand he had made. It had been the more necessary when a Whig Ministry acted on Tory principles, and he quoted the instance of Minutius, who pleaded that he had written nothing against the Emperor and his mother.

Dyson said, if the House of Commons had a right of declaring law, it had no occasion to make laws: they might declare to be law whatever they wished should be so. Lord George Sackville asked if the seizure of papers would come in question in the Courts below? and said, that, had they had a mind to impeach the Secretaries of State, they must previously have come to this declaration.

Norton entered into the defence of Lord Halifax, whose delays, he said, had not impeded the decision of the great cause. Lord Halifax had been guilty of a slip; and therefore, against such a prosecutor as Wilkes, was justifiable. Lord Halifax had availed himself of his privilege, till Wilkes was outlawed, (and so he did for years after); the journeymen printers had applied to be bought off. Dryden Leach’s attorney had come to him (Norton), and said he had heard it was wished to compromise Leach’s cause; but he (Norton) had refused, but had offered to bring it to an issue in a week; since then had never heard of him. Till that very day they had not been able to get the bill of exceptions sealed. Charles Yorke had said that question had never been argued; but he (Yorke) had argued it himself. (This Yorke denied.) It would be a quære whether Lord Halifax, as Secretary of State, was a Justice of Peace. Had not the most respectable characters, living and dead, been abused? That sort of libel deserved no quarter.

Colonel Barré said the Inquisition itself did not seize papers for evidence. Opposition keeps Ministers in order, though many oppose from faction. About twenty officers had opposed the Court last year on the question of General Warrants! It was now said, all but one had repented—if they had, were such officers fit to be employed? He commended Lord Nuneham[53] and Lord Charles Spencer, who had resisted the connections and importunities of their families: and then said ironically, “When the two present honest Secretaries of State[54] die, the Court may choose one of the most profligate abandoned dogs in the kingdom to replace him.”—This was levelled at Lord Sandwich, who was sitting under the gallery. Barré then advised the Ministers to adopt the question without amending it—why would they do things too well? Such a man as Sandwich would write a panegyric on Nero. If this question was suffered to pass, it would make the King beloved and the Ministers less hated. General Howard,[55] in answer to the attack above, said, he remained of the same opinion as last year, and had never paid court nor asked pardon.

Lord North defended his uncle Halifax, on whom he thought Barré had bestowed the epithet of little-minded. Barré said he had applied it to the Administration in general. He was glad to see Mr. Grenville with all his friends about him. It had been said in a foregoing debate that he had carried the whole Administration home in his chariot. He liked Lord North’s panegyric on one of the Secretaries—if anybody had a mind to make a panegyric on the other, he was welcome.

Conway again declared his surprise that they would load such a question with so many words. Why not pass it simply, or put a negative? Was there ever an instance of such a preface with new matter? On the Star Chamber and other grievances each resolution stood single. Lord Halifax might be in the right, but had caused delay. All that we have valuable stands on resolutions.

Grenville then spoke his usual hour; and immediately after him Sir George Saville rose to take notice of most obnoxious words that had fallen from Dr. Hay in the beginning of the debate. I hear, said Saville, that the Law of Government is superior to the Law of the Land: such words are impeachable. Dr. Hay replied that the Law of Government meant the Law of Necessity. This produced great warmth and calling to order, till at last Sir George Saville said he was glad the gentleman did not avow those words. Hay taxing Conway with want of temper, the latter replied, he believed those who had meant to hurt him, had hurt themselves more. Onslow offered to produce pamphlet for pamphlet written by the Administration: and then Hussey very ably and for fifty minutes discoursed against the arbitrary tenets set up by the Court and its lawyers; yet still with the candour and decency peculiar to him. The circumstances inserted in the amendment, he said, were not true. He doubted if ever the question could be determined in Westminster Hall. This was the first time that ever a probable cause was pleaded in behalf of General Warrants. New doctrines sprung up every day in Westminster Hall. A number of points must be determined before that cause could be decided; as whether a Secretary of State is a Justice of Peace; whether his messenger is a constable; whether the reason assigned for the commitment was a probable cause, &c. Great difficulties, too, there were in contending with the Crown, and against its influence and its money, &c. He did not believe that the warrants would come before the Courts below. The predecessors of these Ministers had always compounded such prosecutions. The Justices in Ireland having imposed illegal oaths, the House had declared them illegal, but went no farther; excusing the Justices on the circumstances of the times: it was in King William’s reign. Lord Palmerston,[56] a young man of sense, and who spoke then for the first time, declared himself convinced by Hussey’s arguments. Rigby pronounced Lord Halifax’s intrenching himself within privilege, justifiable; for who knew what damages might be given against him?—and so far was true; juries could impose fines to the vastest amount; and as such fine became the property of the prosecutor, the Crown itself could not remit it. But what latent defects, therefore, were discovered by agitating these questions? A Secretary of State could commit a grievous injustice, and yet could avoid punishment, if sheltered by the privilege of his peerage. On the other hand, for a slight imprisonment, a jury, naturally partial to their equals, especially when oppressed, and as naturally averse to their superiors, can give damages to the amount of the defendant’s whole estate, without his being able to obtain redress from any quarter.

At half an hour after four in the morning the Question, as amended, was rejected by 224 against 185, the Opposition being forced to divide for the question that had been imposed on them, or they could have obtained a division on none at all.

A remarkable circumstance in the foregoing debate, but which would have interrupted the thread of the narration, was that Norton told the younger Onslow that he should be diverted, for he would treat Yorke worse than ever he had been treated—and he kept his word, being willing to lower Yorke, who might be his competitor for the Seals. Yorke bore this insult with too little spirit, and thence and by his fluctuating behaviour, and by discovering far less parts than he was supposed to possess, daily sunk in the estimation of the House.

CHAPTER III.

Distinction between late Motions on General Warrants shown in the Votes.—Dismissal of Officers.—Proceedings against Almon deferred.—Mr. Grenville’s Resolutions.—Dr. Browne’s Pamphlet.

The next day Sir William Meredith, uneasy that Dr. Hay’s ridiculous preface should, by being united to his question, pass for his, proposed his difficulty to the House, the Speaker having been so impartial as to delay the impression of the votes. Grenville confessed it was hard, and yielded that a distinction should be made. Conway caught artfully at this concession, acknowledged Grenville’s candour, owned he had been too warm himself, but desired Ministers to observe what difficulties were brought on gentlemen by such unparliamentary arts. Grenville repented his concession, and Dyson, the Jesuit of the House, endeavoured to explain it away; but Conway pinned them down to what had been yielded, and the votes were so cooked as to ascribe the amendment to the House, and distinguish it from Meredith’s original motion.

Not content with this atonement, the elder Onslow, two days afterwards, on a motion for paving the streets, parodied Dr. Hay’s question, but desired it might not be printed in the votes, as none of his constituents would understand it.

We of the Opposition had another business on the anvil, as knotty and full of difficulties as the question on General Warrants, and on which it was as arduous to decide whether we should bring it into Parliament or not. This was the complaint on the dismission of officers for their parliamentary conduct. Lord John Cavendish had pledged himself to move it; and it would not only revive the odium against the Ministers on a topic of such popular sound, but the cruelty exercised on General A’Court, deprived of his bread for a silent vote, and the rigour shown to Conway, though so decent and conscientious, had been particularly crying. Still there were both solid and private objections. The all-puissance of the Court was sure of putting a negative on the question; and thence officers would become still more dependent when the Crown should be thus authorized to cashier them at pleasure, by the approbation of Parliament. Charles Yorke and Charles Townshend were afraid of a debate that would reduce them to quit their allies before they had made their peace, or to oppose the Crown on so favourite a branch of prerogative as that of holding a scourge over its dependents. The Duke of Richmond, though he had promised, if the question should be stirred, to take part for Conway, could not wish for the occasion of differing with an Administration with whom, on every other point, he was united; and the officers in general, though they would have rejoiced to be emancipated from their dependence, were as little desirous of seeing a topic agitated, which would have obliged them to approve the practice, or exposed them to the resentment of the Crown, with the certainty, at the same time, that a censure of the practice could not be obtained by so weak an Opposition. Nor, hurt as I was at the treatment of my friend, could I myself wish to have the matter discussed in Parliament, where, by voting against the measure of dismissing officers for their conduct in the House, I must in fact have condemned my father, who had used the same severity, though on far higher provocation, and against determined opponents. Even Conway himself, aware that he should be deserted by his brethren, the officers, was by no means eager for bringing on the question. In this dilemma, Lord Temple advised Lord John to go to Hayes, and learn of Mr. Pitt whether, if they should defer the motion, he should be for it, when he should be able to come forth. This very advice indicated that Lord Temple at that time knew not Mr. Pitt’s mind, and wished to learn it for his own private reasons. Mr. Pitt’s answer then, and his change on the same occasion afterwards, marked that at that hour he had received no overtures from the Court, and that afterwards he probably had, as will be seen. Lord John went to Hayes, and found Mr. Pitt in bed with the gout. Pitt said he knew not when he should be able to come to the House: if he could he should be warmly with the Opposition; yet he feared too many negatives on that question would authorize the Court to dismiss officers. He condemned the practice strongly; and said whatever party or division of party might prevail hereafter, he hoped, though he grew an infirm old man, and that all was over with him, that they would do justice, not only to the persons dismissed, but to the principle. He was sorry the question of the Warrants had been stirred this year: had Opposition waited till a decision against them had been pronounced in Westminster Hall, not an argument in their behalf would have remained.—When Lord John returned with this answer, I begged him to wait, and to give out that it was in compliment to Mr. Pitt, which would do credit to our cause—and by delaying, I hoped to avoid the question.

Almon,[57] an active and officious printer for the Opposition, and attached to Lord Temple and Wilkes, having been prosecuted for publishing the excellent letter on libels, appeared on February 6th, in the King’s Bench, to show cause why an attachment against him should not be issued. As Lord Mansfield would not openly appear in this cause (he himself being severely treated in that pamphlet), as Judge Denison[58] had resigned, and the new judge had not taken his seat, Wilmot,[59] the remaining judge in that court, said, “It would be too much for him to take upon himself.” The Attorney-General moved to have Almon bound over to the next term. His counsel desired he might be heard, or dismissed; but he was bound over. This suit was afterwards dropped when Mr. Grenville found it convenient to have libels written against the Administration.

The same day Onslow moved for a call of the House for that day fortnight, that the House might be full on the great questions of Dismission of Officers, of Canada Bills, the Money due on the Manilla Ransom, the Cider Tax, &c.; and it was agreed to.

Grenville then proposed his thirty-five resolutions[60] towards a bill for laying duties on America, by his memorable Stamp Act. This famous bill, little understood here at that time, was less attended to. It removed the burthen of a tax to distant shoulders; and the most momentous acts are seldom much discussed, when no immediate interest occurs to oppose them. The colonies, in truth, were highly alarmed, and had sent over representations so strong against being taxed here, that it was not thought decent or safe to present their memorial to Parliament. The chief colonies had long been increasing in power and opulence; and wise men had not been wanting to foresee how difficult it would become for so small an empire as Britain to contain them within the necessary limits of dependence. Nor would that subjection probably be maintained, but by garrisons and regular forces; the charge of which, if borne by the colonies themselves, would leave to England but a precarious power over them; or would be too weighty an expense on the mother-country; and would even place a greater military force in the hands of the Crown than would be consistent with the freedom of this constitution; for of necessity the troops stationed in America must be often changed, and brought back to Britain; or might grow too intimately connected with the colonists; or might lose sight of all obedience but to their own officers. Long had the colonies been neglected, or overlooked. Sir Robert Walpole, whose maxim was, Quieta non movere, had been content with seeing no troubles arise in America. He had left that province to its proper minister, the Duke of Newcastle, Secretary of State, who had a closet full of despatches from that quarter unopened for a large number of years.[61] The Board of Trade, whose department it was, had sunk into a perfect sinecure for Members of Parliament; insomuch that Martin Bladen,[62] one of the commissioners, applying himself to the duties of his office, it was said with humour, that Bladen was Trade, and the other commissioners the Board. Two events concurred to rouse both the Americans and the English Government from this lethargy. The first was the conquest of Canada, which, delivering the colonies from apprehensions of the French, had thus early taught them to feel their own weight and importance. The second was the power of the Crown being in the hands of Grenville. It had been proposed to Sir Robert Walpole, to raise the revenue by imposing taxes on America; but that Minister, who could foresee beyond the benefit of the actual moment, declared it must be a bolder man than himself who should venture on such an expedient. That man was found in Grenville, who, great in daring, and little in views, was charmed to have an untrodden field before him, of calculation and experiment. The opposition of the Americans touched a third string predominant in his nature,—an obstinacy of supporting his will and his power. In the light of easing and improving an overburthened country and revenue, he was not blameable in wishing it could be accomplished. Nor, considering how great a debt had been incurred by supporting the colonies in the last war, was it unreasonable to desire that they should assist their mother in contributing to lighten a burthen become almost too grievous to be supported. But to this single object were all Grenville’s views and knowledge confined. His policy by no means embraced impediments or consequences. To say that his plan would be confined to the present assistance as then chalked out, was what neither himself pretended, nor was it by any means adequate to the mischiefs the attempt might produce. He himself termed it but an experiment towards farther aid, and as such the Americans immediately understood it. Little did he weigh the danger of a contest between the mother-country and such distant, extensive, and now powerful subjects. Less did he attend to the opportunity he threw into the hands of Spain and France, of exciting a mutinous spirit in our colonies, and when occasion should serve, of throwing assistance into them against their parent. Least of all did he foresee the damage he would inflict on trade, and how far the expected aid would be from compensating the loss the British merchant would suffer by a quarrel with our outlying brethren; but it was the fate of the times I am now describing,—I mean during the administrations of Lord Bute and Grenville,—to stir questions which, for the happiness of the whole, had better have slept in oblivion. The Americans soon learned to enter upon and discuss those problems of government, the benefits of which happy nations had better enjoy than agitate; which, from the perversity of man, are never universally assented to, and consequently cannot be moved without mischief; and which wisdom will never recal from speculation into dispute, but when the afflictive hand of power makes opposition to them the only remedy left against tyranny and arbitrary will.

From this moment nothing was heard from America but questions on the right of taxation, and whether the colonists had not carried with them all the birthrights of English freemen: whether their assemblies were not Parliaments, and whether any man could be taxed who was not represented. Parallels were drawn between the Americans, Scotland, and Ireland; and while all obedience was acknowledged[63] to the Crown, the jurisdiction of the British Parliament came to be undervalued, and set at nought. Every assumption of liberty that had been pleaded here against our kings, was now set up against the jurisdiction of England. The overflow of political writings in these islands had long been transmitted for vent to America, and were now the basis of a new paper war. Nor were there wanting in the chief provinces men of subtle and liberal minds, who knew how to set their pretensions in the fairest light. Still less was there a dearth of aspiring demagogues, who felt how much consideration must attend real or affected patriotism. On both sides of the ocean, there happily were found some men of that moderate frame of mind, who, though commonly the last to attain credit in the loud cry of faction, were successful in tempering the evil, though censured at home, and but ill rewarded with the attention they merited from America.

I have thus touched upon the outlines of this ill-omened dispute. More must be said on it hereafter; yet shall I sparingly treat a subject on which so many volumes have been written, and which at the moment I write[64] seems calmed—I fear, not composed. New pretensions erected, and the honour of old claims to be asserted, seldom moulder away pulveris exigui jactu. These disputes, like all others on government, date from the foresight always wanting in new institutions. Men talk of patriarchal systems, and original compacts. Necessity and accident formed all systems, and men were governed long before they reasoned. Where ambition was in the governed, and wisdom and humanity in the governors, the system proved gentle and moderate. Where the contrary happened, power was earlier felt. When once formed, succeeding men were ambitious to usurp government, not to correct it. When it grew intolerable, it was patriotism to force it back to its principles. At last, patriotism itself was found to be the shortest, as it was the most plausible step to power: and the patriot becoming the attorney for his countrymen, proved the only winner by the gain of the cause. When the New World was discovered, it was parcelled out as the property of the princes whose subjects made discoveries. The expense of settling it, after driving out or butchering the natives, would have been enormous: the hazard from such long voyages and new climates, most unpromising. To tempt their old subjects to make the experiment, it was necessary for the European sovereigns to offer both great and specious encouragement. From Britain especially, where the monarch was not absolute, he could not despatch large involuntary embarkations. Grants of vast tracts of land were a shining bait; and, as the fashion gained ground, lasting privileges were superadded. Charters, clothed with the most flattering conditions, were liberally bestowed; and as the Crown was the sole dispenser of those graces, the King’s Ministers were little likely to insert any other dependence as terms on which the boon was granted. Assemblies were instituted, rather in imitation of Parliaments, than as subservient to that of the maternal empire. Little in those faint outsets of new government was it natural to foresee that one day or other it might come to be wished that the line had been drawn with more precision. Thus (as I have said, it has happened to governments in general) conclusions have been drawn from premises which never existed. The Americans founded themselves on charters greedily asked and carelessly granted; and though I would be far from weakening written, or any established principles, it is easy to see that, whatever the letter of such charters may be, or the spirit on which they were bestowed, the Legislature could not intend they should exempt the colonies from the jurisdiction of Parliament. I have indeed no doubt but Elizabeth, James, and Charles would not have been averse to establish their own authority over new provinces, independently of Parliament: but the question on either hand was certainly never in contemplation. Both policy and humanity, in this great contest between Britain and her colonies, should rather use their efforts to reconcile their interests, than to pronounce between them. Parliament ought to have no ampler jurisdiction over the colonies, than it has over the inhabitants of Britain; nor would that be sufficient guarantee for the liberties of America, if Parliaments, vindicating their authority by force, should be inclined to feel partiality against those that had resisted its domination. Equal claim to indulgence and lenity of treatment with other British subjects should be ascertained to the colonies, if under the same jurisdiction. An unequal yoke, from whatever cause imposed, whether under a King or a Parliament, must be felt most by those most subjected to it. The colonists have affected to be willing to contribute to the aid of the whole, provided they may tax themselves,—a pretension liable to great difficulties: for, though to avoid dependence on British Parliaments, they may at present choose this flattering alternative, what security can there be that their assemblies, thus erected into Parliaments, will remain harmoniously ready at all times to share the burthen? Some have demanded for the Americans a right of sending representatives to the English Parliament,—a question, even if acceptable to them (which it is thought it would not be), perhaps still more replete with danger. We know tolerably well what a British Parliament can and cannot do: how far it can be corrupted, how mischievous that corruption may be, and how far the weight of the House of Commons can operate against the two other parts of the Legislature: but who can tell what change in the constitution might be effectuated by touching, by enlarging the actual existence of that assembly? Add a great number of members; it may grow cheap, or too preponderant in the scale. A large number of Americans may clog, and clash with, every British operation. A small number may be too potent, from the very extensive dependencies they must enjoy in that part of the world. A member of each province would become its viceroy: and when we see how prodigious is the influence of any popular orator here, though under the eye of the Sovereign, what would be his authority if a Pitt, or a Wilkes, were to return to America, clothed with the mantle of disgust and patriotism?

These, therefore, are questions to be skinned over, if possible, by moderate councils. On some disputes, to pronounce is to declare battle. While undecided, men will weary themselves and others with literary altercation. Determine the point, and the adversaries have recourse to the means of recovering the ground they have lost. It is the kindest way of ruling men to govern them as they will be governed, not as they ought to be governed. The peace and happiness and security of society is the intention of laws, and ought to be of law-givers: and to reconcile is perhaps a more amiable virtue in a patriot than to reform. It has not the same glaring appendages; but carries a more internal comfort to the man that exerts it, as it is purchased with fewer and lighter hardships to those in whose service it is employed.

When Grenville moved the resolutions, Colonel Barré was the first, and almost the single man to oppose them, treating severely Charles Townshend, who supported the motion.[65] Barré, Alderman Baker, and a few more proposed to adjourn the consideration, but were defeated by a majority of 245 against 49, after a debate that lasted till nine o’clock. On the 15th, when the bill was brought in, Rose Fuller presented a petition from Jamaica, desiring to be heard against it by counsel. This Grenville, with heat and haughtiness, opposed, as it was a petition against a money-bill. Conway pleaded for receiving the petition, showing the distinction between this and taxes laid at home, where the persons to be taxed have representatives with whom they can entrust their interests, and who can object to any designed burthens that may be too oppressive. Charles Yorke made a long speech against receiving the petition; but it was in truth a set speech in favour of the bill, and occasionally applied to the petition. The House ill-relishing opposition to a tax which was not to fall on themselves, the petition was rejected, and the bill easily passed. About the same time a petition from the Cyder counties met with the same fate on a division of 150 to 82.

So triumphant was the Administration that the very creatures of Mr. Pitt were forward to chant their praises and stigmatize their opponents. Besides a sermon against libels, preached on the 30th of January by Dr. Lyttelton, Bishop of Carlisle, there was at this time a servile tract against Faction, published by Dr. Browne, who, a few years before, had written a thing, called An Estimate, which, notwithstanding its pert and silly positions, had met with unaccountable success. In that piece Mr. Pitt had been his hero. This Browne, the ape of Pope, and who had written some poems, not without merit, had afterwards produced two very indifferent tragedies;[66] and, lastly, an absurd treatise on Music, which he pretended to apply to the formation of a visionary Government. He ended his life deplorably by his own hand in a fit of illness and madness, having been invited to Russia to assist the Czarina in some of her ostentatious projects on legislation, and being oppressed, either with imaginary glory, or despondence of supporting his reputation.[67]

These panegyrics, or vindications, answered no better to the Ministers than their severity. Williams, the re-printer of the North Briton, being sentenced to the pillory, he went thither in a coach marked 45, the number of the famous paper for which Wilkes suffered, and which became his hieroglyphic with the mob, who near the pillory erected a gallows, on which they hanged a boot with a Scotch bonnet. At the same time 200l. was collected for Williams.

CHAPTER IV.

Isle of Man Act.—King’s Illness.—Motion respecting Ex-officio Informations.—Warburton.—Dismissal of Officers.—Newfoundland and Virginia Petitions.

Among Grenville’s economic projects, one was to purchase from the Duke of Athol the sovereignty of the Isle of Man, which was the harbour and entrepot of the smugglers between Great Britain and Ireland, and who were secured by the jurisdiction of that Peer. As the Duke was unwilling to part with his property, Grenville, well-founded in his scheme, determined to force it from him by Act of Parliament, or to oblige him to compound under that terror. A bill was accordingly brought in for that purpose, and the Duke and Duchess[68] were heard by their counsel. Mr. Grey Cooper,[69] who pleaded their cause, made a most admired speech at the bar of the House, and the Scotch members and the Opposition supported the Duke’s rights. At last the matter was adjusted by purchase of the title of the Duke and Duchess, for which the former received 70,000l., and her Grace 2000l. a year for life.

On the 20th the House was called over, as appointed; but, Mr. Pitt not appearing, the magnificent threats of motions which our party had thrown out, were again laid aside, and at last dropped, from various reasons as will be mentioned, but particularly by the great event to which the King suddenly falling ill gave birth.

Some time before his marriage the King’s face was full of pimples. These had so entirely disappeared, that it was apprehended he had made use of external remedies to repel them. It is certain that from that time he frequently laboured with disorders on his breast, particularly during the Queen’s first pregnancy. He was now again seized with a cough and fever, for which he was repeatedly blooded four times, and was apprehended to be in much danger.[70] So critical a situation made men take notice that, to secrete him from all intercourse with his Court, Lord Bute had placed the King at Buckingham House, a damp unwholesome spot, and rendered more perilous by the neighbourhood of two infectious hospitals. The vigour of his age and his sanguine constitution seemed to require more exercise and air than he enjoyed in that sauntering and domestic life. It was even said that Dr. Duncan[71] advising his Majesty to have one of his palaces in the country fitted up, and to live there for some time, Lord Bute harshly reprimanded the physician, and asked him what he had to do to advise beyond his line?—a question which reason could easily have answered, though awe might not. After stating some intervening matters, I shall return to this subject.

The Chevalier d’Eon having accused the Comte de Guerchy of a design to have him assassinated, the grand jury found the bill against the Ambassador. This new insult was not more perplexing to the Ambassador than it was to the Ministers. The latter determined to remove the verdict by a writ of certiorari into the King’s Bench, and then to issue another of noli prosequi. The affront, in the meantime, met with no support, and was soon forgotten in the subsequent national disputes.

On the 4th of March, Nicholson Calvert, seconded by Serjeant Hewet, moved the House to take from the Attorney-General the power of informations ex-officio—a blow intended to stigmatize Norton, as well as to serve liberty. Mr. Conway having observed that those popular questions only terminated in confirming the power that was abused, had vainly laboured to prevent the motion. Grenville and the lawyers opposed it; and denying that the power had been abused, urged that there was no reason for taking it away. Charles Yorke spoke on the side of the Court, and, after a short debate, the motion was rejected by 204 to 78.[72]

Bishop Warburton,[73] who thought the persecution he had suffered from Wilkes and Churchill, his devotion to the Ministry, and his great pre-eminence in learning over his brethren on the Bench, had entitled him to one of the most considerable mitres, resented so much the promotion of Terrick to the see of London, that, during the King’s illness, in the King’s own chapel, he preached on neglected merit, and, with the same modesty that shines through his writings, drew pictures of himself and his rival under the distinctions of merit and demerit.[74]

The City of London petitioning the House of Commons for more money for the new bridge at Blackfriars, Lord Strange, Elliot, and Rigby opposed, the latter saying rudely, that he did not know what obligations the King had to the City. Grenville, with more prudence, countenanced the petition and procured a gift of 7000l.

Lord John Cavendish, impatient to fulfil his engagement, prevailed on Lord Rockingham to go to Hayes, and know if Mr. Pitt would come to town, or desired to have the motion on dismission of officers delayed any longer. Mr. Pitt’s language was now exceedingly altered, though he still highly condemned the dismission of Conway. The question, he said, touched near upon prerogative. It ought to have been brought on early in the session; was sorry to hear it had been reported that the question had been postponed on his account: himself had never advised to agitate it. Lord Rockingham even doubted, from his inexplicit conversation, whether, if he should appear in the House, he might not make the same declaration there—a new reason for alarming us that were averse to the motion. Lord Temple inquired after the result of the visit. Lord Rockingham declared himself less satisfied than ever with Mr. Pitt. Lord Temple assured him they were as well disposed as ever to the Opposition; but then dropped, that if the former designed arrangement had taken place, he did not believe it would have held six months. “Why?” said Lord Rockingham. “Because,” replied Lord Temple remarkably, “I believe the Duke of Devonshire, and others of you, never liked that the Treasury should be put into my hands.”

The Budget was opened by Grenville on the 29th of March, an occasion that generally produces applause to the Head of the Treasury, who must possess more lights on that subject than other men; and those lights strike the more forcibly, as the audience are little masters of such intricate details; and as the monied men, who alone feel the force or deficiency of the Minister’s arguments, are rarely endowed with eloquence, or even elocution. Yet Grenville, who valued himself on his knowledge of finance, and who, of all qualifications, wanted not redundancy of words, spoke but languidly and unsatisfactorily, chiefly pointing his very long speech against a pamphlet published by Hartley, on the State of the Nation. Himself, he said, would never punish any invectives against himself; yet he betrayed every symptom of soreness and malice. In very few years afterwards he used the same means with Hartley against the Administration; and, previous to a session of Parliament,[75] published, or countenanced, an invidious State of the Nation; but met with a far more severe and able return than he himself had made to Hartley.

On the 1st of April, the King withdrew to Richmond for a week, but returned unexpectedly on the 3rd and 4th to his levee and drawing-room. This sudden appearance was at that time supposed calculated to prevent any notion of his being ill; and consequently to avoid any proposal for a Bill of Regency, in case he should fail. The Favourite, in the meantime, began to give more open marks of his disgust to the Ministers. A bill for regulating the poor, drawn by one Gilbert,[76] a member, and steward to Lord Gower, had passed the Commons with slight animadversion, and had been sent to the Lords. The Earl of Egmont opposed it strenuously on the first and second reading, and with much applause; yet it was then carried. When it came into the committee, Lord Bute’s friends exerted themselves to throw it out; though, to disguise his opposition, Lord Bute absented himself, and the Earl of Northumberland voted for it; but as the Favourite’s creatures, the Earls of Denbigh and Pomfret, as well as Lord Egmont, conducted the party against the bill, the Bedford party were not the dupes of such flimsy arts. Lord Mansfield faintly supported the bill; the Dukes of York and Gloucester voted for it, yet the commitment was rejected by 58 to 44, Newcastle, Lord Temple, and the Opposition uniting against the Bedfords. Lord Pomfret then moved to put off any farther consideration of the bill for two months; but that measure seeming too violent after it had passed one House, and had been twice approved in the other, it was carried by 50 to 49, to resume it after the holidays; when the Bedfords consented to drop it.[77]

April the 3rd,—Sturt[78] and John Pitt[79] presented to the Commons a petition from several merchants complaining of encroachments by the French at Newfoundland—another grievance that reflected on the late peace. The Ministers had the assurance to oppose the reception of the petition, but managed as awkwardly as indecently; and, at last, moved to examine Commodore Palliser,[80] who commanded on the station in question. Palliser was a vigorous officer and a sensible man, and had been so much esteemed by Lord Anson, that Admiral Saunders, desiring to have the assistance of Palliser, had offered to relinquish the use of a 74-gun ship, if the Admiralty would send Palliser with him. General Conway, Colonel Barré, and Lord George Sackville made severe remarks on the conduct of the Ministers. Palliser was called for, but declaring he was not prepared, the House allowed him time till the next day.

When he appeared again, he produced a letter he had sent to the French Commodore, at St. Pierre, with remonstrances on their behaviour; and proved that he had by no means connived at their innovations. They had denied the justice of most of his complaints; but to some had returned no answer. Admiral Saunders, who spoke then for the first time, and with extreme unreadiness, justified one of our captains who had burned some French boats, and said he would have done the same. Late at night a sudden dispute arising whether Palliser should be asked his opinion on an Act of Parliament relating to the fisheries, the Ministers, who sought to evade farther examination, opposed the question being put to him. Some warm men in the Opposition supporting that motion (though the wisest did not concur with them), divided the House, to the great joy of the Ministers, who rejected the question by 161 to 44: and thence, at once, determined to stifle any farther inquiry, Rose Fuller moving to adjourn the consideration for three months; and Nugent to thank Palliser for his account of his own conduct, though there were witnesses waiting to show it had not been irreproachable. So eager were the pacific Ministers to justify France, and wink at her encroachments.

Mr. Garth, the same day, presented a petition from the agent for Virginia against the New American Mutiny Bill, which ordered the billeting of soldiers on private houses, as there were no inns in that country; but this petition, too, the Ministers refused to hear. In the debate, Grenville quoting the Scotch law, young Thomas Townshend spoke well and warmly against making the Scotch law our precedent; and the younger Onslow said, that three Scots were preferred for one Englishman. Elliot spoke finely in answer; said he thought English and Scots were the same; and that if himself had merit enough, he should pretend to any English place. That partialities were always common; had been shown to Sussex,[81] and ought to be to Buckinghamshire; and if the men of the latter county[82] were the most worthy, he would support them. The House then adjourned for the holidays, when Grenville, finding the American merchants vehemently averse to his new bill for billeting soldiers in that country, promised to drop it.

CHAPTER V.

State of Parties.—King’s Illness.—Regency Bill.

When the Houses met again after the recess, a very new scene opened to the public, though unfolded by degrees, and of which all the springs were not at first discovered. Accident, the rashness of Opposition, and the intemperance of Ministers concurred and wrought up the ensuing confusions; but the source lay in the mutual jealousy of the Favourite and Grenville, on which I have already touched, and which terminated in lasting mortification to the two rivals, and gave birth to the various and fluctuating exhibition of politics that took place and succeeded each other from this period. In truth this was the era of faction, though it did not immediately predominate. Hitherto it might be said that the two parties of Whig and Tory still subsisted; though Jacobitism, the concealed mother of the latter, was extinct. The Court had indeed admitted few Tories into place, from their total want of abilities. But though Grenville and the Duke of Bedford had always called themselves Whigs, and the Chancellor Northington really was one, yet Lord Bute had left the standard of prerogative in the Court, and his successors had relaxed none of those high-flown doctrines. Nothing could be more despotic than Grenville’s nature. Bedford was drawn by the Duchess and Rigby to adopt any principles, however contrary to his opinion, that favoured her love of power, or Rigby’s rapacity: and Lord Mansfield retained great weight in a cabinet so framed to embrace boldly any arbitrary measures that he was always ready to suggest and always afraid to execute himself. On the other hand, the Opposition, though headed by Newcastle, who had sailed with every current, and though composed of great and proud families, dated from the stand they had made, or by resentment had been forced to make, to the Favourite’s plan of extending the prerogative. Lord Temple stood on no ground but popularity; and the cast of Mr. Pitt’s life, contrary to his temper, had thrown him too on the affections of the people. The crisis I am going to describe broke these ill-consolidated connections into several factions; and though one of those factions adhered more steadily to their professions than the rest, the subsequent contests were rather a struggle for power, than the settled animosity of two parties, though the body of Opposition still called itself Whig, an appellation rather dropped than disclaimed by the Court; and though the real Tories still adhered to their old distinctions, while they secretly favoured, sometimes opposed, the Court, and fluctuated according as they esteemed particular chiefs not of their connection, or had the more agreeable opportunity of distressing those who supported the cause of freedom. As their whole conduct was comprised in silent votes, and never was considerable enough to turn a single scale in the political changes,[83] I shall seldom mention them any more.

The King’s illness had occasioned a general alarm; but, though he escaped the danger, his health was so precarious, and he had such frequent disorders on his breast on taking the least cold, that all sober men wished to see a Regency settled by Parliament in case of his death. Yet most of those who possessed or hoped for power, dreaded such a bill: and even they, who wished best to their country, could not be without apprehension from it, as it would probably be framed on the model of the last, which contained the odious and arbitrary clause of præmunire,[84] and as it would undoubtedly be calculated to continue the domination of the Princess and the Favourite, or of the Ministers then in place, an alternative equally threatening to liberty. The Princess could by no means desire to hear a Regent nominated, as she could not flatter herself she should be the person in preference to the mother of the future King. Should even a minority not happen, the designation of the Queen for Regent would teach mankind whither to address their homage, and draw from the Princess that court which till now had been paid to her as all-powerful over the mind of her son. Lord Bute had brought himself into as disagreeable a predicament. By having quitted his place in the Cabinet, what pretensions could he have to one in the Regency? Should he even obtain one by the King’s recommendation or nomination, could he hope for any influence under the Queen, to whom the Council would bow? Could he promise himself that the present Ministers would impart that power to him under a Queen not likely to be his friend, from which they endeavoured to exclude him now, though possessing the favour of the King? The Ministers were still more jealous of any such bill. As, according to the plan of the last, the great officers in place at the time of the King’s death were to remain of the Council of Regency, Grenville and his adherents concluded that, to prevent such a contingency in their favour, they should immediately be removed. Accordingly those good men who preferred any eventual confusion to the loss of their places, set themselves roundly to work to prevent, or if they could not prevent the proposal, to stir up opposition from every quarter against such a regulation, be it what it might.

Notwithstanding these various obstacles, the necessity of some provision surmounted all impediments; and the very opposition made by the Ministers did but serve to fix the irresolution of the Favourite. I saw that this was the favourable moment for bringing out the half-concealed, and, by consequence, for producing a total, rupture between Lord Bute and the Ministers. I early went to Lord Holland, and asked him why they did not think of a Regency-bill? He said he had pressed it on Lord Bute and Lord Mansfield, but the latter was too timid to propose it. That he himself had written twice to Lord Bute on that subject, and had given him leave to show his letters to the King, which he believed he had not done: himself, however, should not desist from pressing it, as he owned he believed the King in a consumption, and not likely to live a year. We then talked over all the considerable persons, and how their affections would probably lie on such a question. Among others I named Lord Granby, and said, he was wholly Grenville’s. “Yes,” replied Lord Holland, “and should the King die, might, if he had sense enough, be king himself; and now,” said he, “you see the wisdom of not letting any of the princes of the blood be at the head of the Army.” I was not so dull as not to see deeper into this hint. It informed me why Mr. Conway had been removed out of the Army with so much alacrity. It was a context to what Grenville himself had dropped to me on that head, “that the King could not trust his Army in such hands:”—that is, the Court was determined to insure the Army for whatever purposes they might have occasion to employ it in. Another of Lord Bute’s creatures told me about the same time that Grenville was grown too powerful in the House of Commons. I own I did not think the Constitution quite ruined, when the House of Commons could make a Minister formidable to the Crown. These and such like accidental passages discover how deep the views of the Court had gone. How happy for the nation that they who had laid such plans were so unequal to the execution!

A few days afterwards, Lord Holland desired to speak with me. He did not seem to have anything particular to say, but rather to want to sound me on the disposition of my friends in the Opposition; and to learn if, in case of a rupture between Lord Bute and Grenville, they would soften to the former. As I thought any encouragement from the Opposition would inspirit Lord Bute, and hasten his breach with the Ministers, I instilled that assurance as strongly as I could into Lord Holland, who said Lord Bute complained that the Duke of Cumberland and the Opposition were as acrimonious as ever. This was true but in part, for the Duke had already been gained to a certain degree by the King: and as Lord Holland was very inquisitive to know from me on what cause the Duke had been sent for to the King, and had been shut up with him for two hours on the foregoing Sunday, it was a proof that Lord Bute had not that confidence in Lord Holland which the world suspected. I did not then know of that private interview of the King with the Duke. Lord Holland said he guessed it was on the Regency-bill: that he believed the Ministers had not proposed such a bill to the King, but that his Majesty had to them,[85] and had ordered them to prepare one. Lord Holland rejoiced at it,—for he feared for the stocks. He repeated over and over that he believed things would remain as they were; but he dropped enough to convince me that that was by no means the intention of Lord Bute. “Things,” he said, “were not ripe yet; many things were wanting: he lamented the death of the late Duke of Devonshire, whose temper was not bitter, and who could have done much: that Opposition resorted to Mr. Pitt, who would have nothing to do with them: that Grenville would be glad to be well with Mr. Pitt, but that he, poor man, was ill in bed.” This tenderness to one he hated so much, was a clear indication that any assistance against the Ministers would be welcome. I soon learned how much farther these wishes had gone than I was then apprized of. I told him he knew enough of the Duke of Newcastle to be sure that the Court might have him whenever they pleased; and as Newcastle governed the Opposition, Lord Bute needed not doubt their concurrence. Still Lord Holland had the weakness to repeat that Lord Bute would be nothing, and meant no change. To facilitate my measures, I had it conveyed to the Bedfords, that the Favourite lost ground; and that Lord Holland was his instigator in promoting the bill,—an idea which I soon found they eagerly adopted, and as eagerly showed their resentment of on the first opportunity.

I imparted to Lord John Cavendish the probability of Mr. Pitt coming into place. He said, “If that should be so, we could no longer oppose: his family would take nothing, but the young Duke would go to Court.” This I reported to Lord Holland: he replied, To be sure, if there was any change, the Duke of Devonshire must be at Court; nor would the King scruple to say he had been in the wrong in refusing to see the late Duke.

At length it was declared that a bill of Regency was intended; but to the great dissatisfaction of mankind, it was declared, too, that the nomination of the Regent would be reserved by the bill in the King’s breast. The crowd instantly conceived that this was a mode of bestowing that important trust on the Favourite; a chimera too wild and much too dangerous to enter into so dastardly a nature as Lord Bute’s. I have no doubt but there was an uniform intention of appointing the Queen Regent; though to save the dignity of the Princess, and to keep up a dubious attention towards her, she might have obtained this palliative, with the contingency too, however improbable, of her outliving, and then occupying the place of the Queen. The Ministers rejoiced at these murmurs; and to pay their court to the Queen, and to mortify the Princess and her favourite, spared no pains to heighten this disgust, which they even pretended to adopt; proceeding so far as to make representations to the King against his keeping the nomination secret. His Majesty was obdurate. At last they obtained that the Regent should be one of the Royal Family: a clear indication of their affecting to suspect that he had had thoughts of Lord Bute for that high office. When this was conceded, and yet the Queen was not named, it seemed to intimate that she was not the person designed. Grenville and the Bedfords were not men to offend by halves, or to halt when they had gained ground. Pursuing their blow, they told his Majesty, that the Queen not being one of the Royal Family, if his Majesty had her in contemplation, it would be requisite to specify her by name. Even this point they carried at last. Yet thus had every step of the former Regency-bill furnished precedents for the most dangerous attempts. A power had been granted to the late King, of adding by his will four persons to the Regent’s Council. As prerogative seldom adheres to the strict letter of a precedent, but builds new pretensions on the slightest foundation, the Crown now, from four secret nominations, had jumped at once to demand a secret nomination of the Regent. Newcastle, one of the three authors[86] of the former bill, was still alive to behold its copy, as was also Fox, the opposer of it; but Newcastle now dreaded, and Fox recommended the example!

The four secret nominations in the last bill of Regency had arisen from the resentment of the Dukes of Grafton[87] and Dorset,[88] Lord Chamberlain, and Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, that their posts were not thought of importance enough to be admitted into the Council of Regency. Yet Dorset would not have profited of the new expedient. It was thought that the four persons on whom the late King had fixed, were the Duke of Grafton, the then Duke of Devonshire, who had retired from business, the Earl of Waldegrave, and Dr. Butler, Bishop of Durham.[89] On the majority of the successor, it was supposed that the late King had burned that designation; but his present Majesty told Lord Mansfield that he had found the paper, though he would not disclose who had been the persons specified.

This measure of secret nominations was now revived—no doubt with the view to the admission of Lord Bute to the Council, which the opposition of the Ministers and the temper of the times would not openly allow at that moment. The jealousy occasioned by this step was augmented by no mention being made, in the first concoction of the bill, of his Majesty’s brothers[90] and uncle.[91] A plan which reserved so much at the disposal of the secret Junto, and which plan was not concerted with, but dictated by the King to his Ministers, could not leave the latter a moment’s doubt of their having lost their influence; nor could fail to point out to them that that influence was restored in its full force to the Favourite. From that moment the Ministers assumed almost the style, entirely the conduct, of Opposition; Rigby scrupled not to say, that, if no opposition was made to the bill, Lord Bute would grow intolerably insolent: and the new Lord Waldegrave[92] said artfully to an anti-courtier, “We cannot oppose this bill; but why do not you?” This conduct of the Ministers taught me my lesson. The more they laboured to instigate our party to attack the bill, the more pains I took to dissuade my friends from being warm against it. For six months I had tried to raise effectual war against Lord Bute and the Ministers. The strength of their party when united, and the weakness of ours, had baffled all my endeavours. The happy moment was now come, when discord had declared itself amongst them: and I was sure, whichever division of them should remain in possession of the closet, must court our assistance. I knew my friends too well to think they were numerous or able enough to form an Administration alone. Should the King be reduced to admit them to a participation of power, they had such good principles and such fair characters that they would be a balance to the rest, and might prevent many of the evil designs in agitation. In my opinion I inclined most to Lord Bute; for, though the mischief had sprung originally from him, he had betrayed a pusillanimity that made him far from formidable. Grenville and the Bedfords had as bad principles, better heads, and far more courage. I knew, too, that though my friends, when joined to Lord Bute, might temporize, might be corrupted, or might not be able to obstruct Lord Bute’s views, Grenville and the Bedfords, if once fixed in Opposition, would not be tame and impotent, as we had been. No truth is more certain to me than this; though an Administration ought to be composed of virtuous men, it is by no means desirable that an Opposition should be so. It is so seldom that there are good measures to obstruct, that the mischief done by opposition is small in proportion. It must be remembered, too, that opposition obstructs rather than prevents; and the difficulty on opponents is the greater, if the measures are good; salutary councils making their own way at last, after fascination has vented its poison. But the bad measures of powerful men can only be combated with efficacy by a determined party, equally able to expose their evil tendency, and prompt to venture on any arts to defeat them. Good men weep over their country when they should defend it. Cassius killed the tyrant; Cato, himself. If Lord Bute was again to be Minister, I wished to see Grenville and Sandwich patriots.

The Ministers having struggled in vain, and being reduced at last to support what they could so ill digest, the King, on the 24th of April, went to the House of Lords, and sending for the Commons, recommended to both Houses to provide a bill of Regency[93] on the plan of the last, but with this singular and material difference, that his Majesty demanded to be invested with the power of appointing, from time to time, by instruments in writing under his sign manual, either the Queen, or any other person of his Royal Family residing in Great Britain, to be the guardian of his successor, and Regent of these kingdoms, until such successor should attain the age of eighteen years. Thus had the Junto flattered themselves that the transient and loose mention of the Queen’s name would stifle all murmurs, on the supposition that even so vague a designation would make men presume that no other person could be preferred to her Majesty, after a specification that marked her as proper for the trust.

Flattery, more nimble in venting itself than jealousy, poured forth panegyrics on the magnanimity of so young but provident a monarch. His grandfather had dared to eye his own tomb; but could an aged Prince, in conscience, leave his kingdoms and family unprovided of a rule of government? How far more heroic his present Majesty’s firmness, who, in the vigour of youth, reflected on his own mortality, and whose foresight provided against dangers which his most loyal Peers and Commons prayed to Heaven might never be heaped on that bitterest distraction of grief, the loss of his Royal Person![94] In the Upper House the Address was moved by Lord Halifax. In the other, Grenville was not so wrapt in admiration and encomium, but he recollected himself enough to open more of the contents of the bill than were necessary to excite only loyal Hosannahs: and he took care to declare that the measure had flowed from his Majesty, not from the suggestion of his Ministers. The path thus early chalked out to cavil, Nicholson Calvert started some objections, though he would not oppose the Address. Beckford went farther, and said he would not vote for it, as it mentioned the expedience of the bill, to which he did not agree; and then talked much nonsense, of Parliament being the guardians of a minor king. Calvert, who was mad, was convinced by Beckford’s nonsense, and their two were the only dissenting voices; George Onslow having checked the debate by observing that the bill was not yet before them. He, however, and T. Townshend dropped some severe sentences. Grenville and Lord North, who seconded him, were profuse on the moderation of the King in accepting so bounded a civil list, and in establishing the judges for life—proof of dearth of topics for panegyric! I have mentioned how trifling were the advantages which the King had foregone in his revenue. By the patents of the judges, not he, but his successor would be limited. The same measure had been proposed to the late King: he replied, he was content to have no power of displacing the judges himself, but he would not bind his heir.

The scope of the bill being now disclosed, it was incumbent on our party to fix on the measures they would pursue with regard to it. We had accordingly a meeting of the chiefs, at the Duke of Newcastle’s, on the 25th. I found the young men warm against the bill, and full of the idea that it was solely calculated to re-establish the empire of the Princess and the Favourite. They neither knew, nor would listen, to the state of factions in the Court. I told them they were doing the business of the Ministers, who wished for nothing so much as a vigorous opposition to the bill. The only answer I could obtain was, they should lose their characters if they did not oppose. If they did oppose the bill, I thought nothing more likely than that the Ministers should recover the ground they had lost in the closet, by supporting the very bill that they were instigating us to oppose. Nay, in the warmth of debate, the passions of the Ministers themselves might grow heated; and, as men are always most angry with those from whom they have received the latest offence, the Ministers, if roughly attacked as the agents of Lord Bute, might again become so; and he would certainly resent less from those who should carry through his bill, than from those whose enmity was inveterate and unalterable. At best, Grenville and his faction would have leisure to carry on the war against the Favourite, while they saw him and the Opposition grow daily more inveterate. My arguments were all in vain. The listlessness of the party was now converted into blind zeal: and a direct opportunity of reviling the Princess and Lord Bute seemed already to those warm young men a triumph over them. As we parted, I told Lord John Cavendish that I thought it much more for the interest of our country to break the Ministry, than to oppose a single bill; “but,” said I, “there is not a trap the Ministers set for you, but what you fall into”—words that soon proved to be prophetic.

On the 29th the King sent a message to the Lords, desiring, instead of the four secret nominations, to have his four brothers and his uncle[95] specified in the bill; reserving only to himself the power of filling up their places if they died. This step seemed to exclude Lord Bute; but if ever he had been designed to be admitted, this measure was only a plausible evasion. Frederick, the youngest prince, was in a deep consumption. The Duke of Cumberland’s life was not less precarious; and without any such contingency, a place in the Cabinet Council would entitle the Favourite to one in the Regency. The bill was then read for the first time. It was followed by another bill sent from the other House, and brought in there by Lord John Cavendish, to oblige Peers and members of Parliament to appear to suits, and to allow suits to proceed, if such privileged persons refused to appear and make answer. This was occasioned by the indecent refusal of Lord Halifax to appear to Wilkes’s complaint. The Ministers had suffered the bill to pass the Commons, intending to have it rejected by the Lords. The Peers had read it twice, and were now going to commit it, when Lord Suffolk[96] moved to have it put off for three weeks—Lord Weymouth for two months, a method seldom used before the Committee has attempted to correct a bill. Lord Temple proposed to adjourn the consideration for a week, that their minds might not be diverted from the important consideration of the Regency-bill; but Lord Suffolk’s motion was carried by 61 to 52, though Lord Mansfield and Lord Bute voted for the bill. This was a more explicit declaration of hostilities than the Favourite had yet attempted; at least it was paying court to the Opposition, and canvassing for their support to the Regency-bill. Still so great was the confidence of the Ministers in their own strength, or their want of judgment so capital, that they lost the moment of ruining the Favourite, and of establishing themselves at his expense. Had they peremptorily refused to carry the Regency-bill through, or had they resigned their places, pleading their disapprobation of it, the whole odium had fallen on Lord Bute; and as they would have been joined by the Opposition in that clamour, the Court must have yielded to any terms they had thought fit to impose. Instead of such strenuous conduct, they heaped nothing but disgrace and mortification on their own heads. The Court obtained its bill, however modified, but was equally offended at the Ministers. The nation beheld them with contempt, while they promoted obstruction to a bill, which they confessed they disapproved, and yet submitted to support. They flattered without humouring, impeded without preventing, and offended without hurting. This timid and double conduct they changed into open treachery and provoking insolence, when the moment was come in which they ought to have studied nothing but reconciliation.

On the 30th, the bill was read for the second time. Lord Lyttelton made a fine speech against giving unconstitutional powers, such as that of appointing an unknown person Regent. It was asking them, he said, to put out their own eyes. He hinted a wish of having the Queen named, and was going to make a proposal tending that way, but was stopped by Lord Halifax, for no better reason than that her Majesty might not always be a proper Regent, though she was so then. The Duke of Newcastle having been so deep in the fabrication of the former bill, dared not object to anything similar in the present, and therefore said he had no objection but to the reserve of specifying the Regent, a power that ought not to be entrusted to any King. The Chancellor,[97] in his rough style, treated the Duke and the former bill with contempt and acrimony. The last bill, though drawn by all-wise, all-patriotic Ministers, had been, he said, most imperfect. This would correct it. Lord Lyttelton had ascribed the last bill to the late Earl of Hardwicke,[98] whom the Chancellor ridiculed, and said it had been calculated for his own power, and that of Newcastle and Pelham: and he asked bluntly why they had not substituted in that bill the Duke of Cumberland in case the Princess had died? That they were guilty, if the faults of the bill had been owing to craft. The Princess had been at that time so long resident in England, that it was reasonable to appoint her Regent. The youth of the Queen and her little acquaintance with the country rendered her less proper. Would their Lordships wish to place her Majesty in so invidious a situation, and wrest her out of her subjection to the King? Who would wish to have his own wife so independent? Would they determine that the same person should be Regent for seventeen years,[99] to whom they would entrust such power for three years? The Duke of Newcastle replied, that the age of the present King had been so far advanced as had made no substitution of Regents necessary. He had never known till within a few days, that in the eye of the law the Queen is not of the Royal Family. Lord Shelburne said the Constitution was secure in itself, and knew no minority. Parliament supplied all deficiencies. His objection was not to parts, but to the whole bill. Lord Sandwich said he was informed that our laws made no provision for a minority, but that whoever got possession of the infant King’s person, was King. In that case military force would be most likely to govern. The next thing he should dread would be a democracy: a popular orator,[100] backed by turbulent magistrates, might seize the government. Lord Temple said he appealed from Cæsar ill-advised to Cæsar well-advised; was himself of no party, nor connected with any party; was, and had been, against all Regency-bills. Lord Mansfield answered, that the King had heard so much of regencies formerly, that of this bill he had thought himself. If their Lordships did not think a bill of Regency necessary, his Majesty was under a mistake: but he feared they were sowing the dragon’s teeth. By the ancient Constitution the Parliament was dissolved at the King’s death. The Queen or great men secured a majority, and then called a Parliament to confirm their power. Bills of indemnity, restitution, and regency flowed properly from the Crown itself. Regency was a trust, not power. What would be good for his Majesty’s children, would be good for his people. At least there would be a foundation for Government to set out upon: unless it was thought that deliberation would be wiser, when men should be heated by the crisis, than now, when they could coolly provide against a distant period. The Parliament had not acted so negligently in Queen Anne’s reign, but settled a regency, and got stability before the event happened. Last time it had been considered whether it were not wise to make a perpetual act; but it was answered that the bill, then passed, would be a precedent, and change of circumstances might not make exactly the same provisions always proper. Lord Temple shrewdly, and bitterly, with allusion to Lord Mansfield’s friends, family, and supposed principles, asked him, Supposing the Parliament had left to Queen Anne the secret nomination of her successor, whom his Lordship thought she would have appointed?

Between six and seven the House divided, 120 for the bill, and only 9 against it, Newcastle and his whole party retiring, either from shame of contradicting their former conduct, or not being determined to give openly the offence which they had sounded so high in private; or that Newcastle was biassed by the Duke of Cumberland, whom the King had consulted secretly, both on the bill and on the subsequent measures which he wished to pursue. Thus Lord Temple, with his small faction, and one or two of Mr. Pitt’s friends, was deserted, after the most sanguine expectations of a vigorous opposition. He resented this desertion with his usual intemperance; yet what claim had he on the concurrence of those with whom he had sedulously declined all connexion? His resentment on this occasion was, I do not doubt, a leading step to a new alliance into which he soon after hurried. His companions in the vote I have mentioned were the Dukes of Grafton and Bolton, the Earls of Shelburne, Thanet, Ferrers, and Cornwallis, the Viscount Torrington, and Lord Fortescue. The Duke of Grafton’s[101] vote thus early pointed out that he looked more towards Lord Chatham than to Newcastle. Lord Lyttelton, more temperate than his cousin Temple, had withdrawn with Newcastle and the others to avoid voting, the Chancellor having forced a division by declaring the non-contents had it. Lord Lyttelton then read his motion to address the King, to name the person or persons whom his Majesty would successively recommend for Regents, as there was no precedent of devising regal power. The Duke of Bedford moved to adjourn the motion till the next day, for which he was grossly abused by the Chancellor, who was averse to all admission of the motion.

On the morrow Lord Lyttelton made his motion accordingly, urging that the Crown cannot devolve its power on unknown persons. Was it prudent to give the King absolute power, on the presumption that he would do nothing but for the good of his successor? Lord Mansfield replied, that giving such power was not contrary to precedent, though not founded on precedent. The usage and precedent of Parliament formerly had been to make no precedent at all. If all the persons substituted should fail, it would be necessary to frame a new bill. It was wise not to let the person designed for Regent be acquainted with that designation. The longer time the King should have to determine on the choice of the person, the better that election would be. The Duke of Richmond,[102] though declaring he disapproved of Lord Lyttelton’s motion, said he wished to know who the Royal Family were? He wished to have it defined, or to learn from the judges. Was the Princess Dowager of the Royal Family? Were the Princess Amalie, and the Princess of Hesse[103] and her children? Were the hereditary Prince[104] and the King of Prussia?[105] The hereditary Prince had been naturalized: might he, if resident in England, be Regent? How long time constitutes residence? He should not like the Prince for Regent, though it was indifferent to him who was so, for he hoped the laws were sufficient. By the Act of Settlement her Majesty could not be Regent: nor could she, though naturalized; for an act of naturalization must have a disqualifying clause, or is invalid. Had her Majesty been naturalized? His Grace declared himself of no opposition; that he hated and had always opposed opposition. Lord Denbigh pronounced that all who are prayed for by the Common Prayer-book are of the Royal Family. Would it be prudent, he asked, to put a question to the judges before the bill was framed? By her marriage, he thought the Queen was naturalized of course. Lord Pomfret with great violence opposed the motion, but was called to order by Lord Lyttelton for having quoted the speeches and vote of the preceding day, the latter declaring that he acted from conscience, not by concert. The Duke of Grafton professed great gratitude to the King for the bill; though, when framed, it must be considered as the act of the Ministers; and that, unless it was perfect, it were better to have no bill. It could not please the people, for everything was left in doubt. It took from the King the joy of seeing the whole nation pleased with the nomination of her Majesty. Would not this be casting a slur on her? Though built on the last bill, the present, with regard to her, widely differed. On the sixteenth of the month the Queen would be twenty-one. The delay of a single fortnight would have seen her of age. The bill was precipitated now after it had been declared that all business was over. Lord Mansfield said, mysteriously, that he had his private opinion on who are of the Royal Family; but he should not declare it. (He and the Chancellor had both told the King that neither the Queen nor the Princess Dowager were of the Royal Family.) Lord Talbot, who had opposed the bill of the last reign, said he had liked on the preceding day to see certain Lords (Newcastle, &c.) in the majority, when they did not direct the majority. He hoped this motion would not be mentioned out of the House, lest it should get into seditious papers. He thought the present bill left too little power to the Regent: it must be the Queen. He understood the Royal Family to be the Queen, the Princess Dowager, the royal dukes, and the Princess Amalie. Lord Shelburne spoke well for decision and precision. It is urged, said he, that the King can have no views: what views could Parliament have, but the security of liberty and property? The Duke of Bedford said it was great condescension in the King to limit the Council of Regency to a certain number: but the Act ought not to be irrevocable for sixteen years together. He looked on the Royal Family to be those who are in the order of succession one after another, and usually resident here in England. (This definition was evidently laid down to exclude the Princess Dowager.) The Administration had no merit or demerit by this act; it was purely the deed of his Majesty. Lord Egmont[106] said it must be more agreeable to the Queen to be named Regent by the King than by Parliament (a poor argument, as the recommendation of the King must have been more agreeable to her than silence out of respect to his mother). The Opposition supposed possible infirmities in his Majesty: could there be none in the Queen? More respect had been shown to her than to him. Lord Dartmouth summed up very ably all the arguments of the courtiers; and concluded with observing in answer, that some few would certainly know whom the King destined for Regent, and might form their intrigues accordingly. The motion had indeed taken its rise from the Crown, but he supposed his Majesty had taken advice on the mode.

The House then divided, and Lord Lyttelton’s motion was rejected by 89 to 31; Newcastle and his friends, and the Bishops attached to him, chiefly forming the minority: Lord Temple sullenly staid away.

But while the debate had been going on, an event happened which gave birth to all that followed. The Duke of Richmond had drawn up a question which he intended to put to the judges, to ascertain who were persons of the Royal Family. He had stated the Princes and Princesses in their order of succession. I happened to be standing on the steps of the throne: the Duke showed me the sketch of his motion. I observed that he had omitted the Princess Dowager; and instantly reflecting, from the behaviour of the Ministers, and from what has just dropped from the Duke of Bedford, that they wished to exclude her from the possibility of being Regent; and concluding, too, that if she was stated as one of the Royal Family, they would be rash enough to oppose it, I said, “My Lord, your Grace is not in Opposition, and do not mean any offence by this motion: why then do not you insert the name of the Princess? By omitting her she will think you purposely intend to affront her.” The Duke was struck with my advice and inserted the Princess’s name. The Ministers, more violent and insolent than even I had expected them to be, plunged headlong into the snare I had laid for them; and as will soon be seen, wantonly, cruelly, and treacherously, gave such provocation, both to the King and Princess, as scarce the most intemperate Opposition could have been guilty of.

The Duke of Richmond then read to the House his intended motion,[107] and proposed that the judges should be ordered to attend on the morrow. Lord Mansfield said it would be better to correct the words of the bill: the judges could not be consulted till some words were settled. He would not point out any words, lest he should pledge his opinion for the passing them. The Duke of Richmond replied, the words had been proposed by the King—and was going to proceed; but Lord Sandwich, already alarmed at the name of the Princess, suddenly moved the House to adjourn.

On the 2nd of May the Duke made his motion. The Chancellor said, he had been too much fatigued to answer his Grace the day before. The question was now, whether the Queen could be naturalized? Himself would be for rejecting the bill if her Majesty could not be Regent. He thought she was naturalized by her marriage, and incorporated one of the Royal Family, the Christian religion having been adopted into the common law. By a law of Edward III. all the King’s children are naturalized whereever born. That her Majesty was not disabled by the acts of William III., or George I. If she was not effectually naturalized, she had got a bad settlement for her jointure. The clause in the Act of Settlement was futile, for one Parliament cannot bind a succeeding one. However, if any doubt remained, he hoped his opinion would not be conclusive, but that the judges would be consulted. He could not tell who were of the Royal Family; but he knew who were not—the Pretender and his sons. He desired to have the Princess understood to be of the Royal Family. The other branches, while they have an establishment abroad, were not within the present Act. If the hereditary Prince should die, and his Princess come over, she would be within the Act. The Duke of Richmond replied, that if there was nothing positive in the common law to show the Queen was ipso facto naturalized, there was in the statute law to prove the contrary: and therefore asked, if part of the clause in the Act of George I. must not be repealed? That clause declaring, that no person naturalized could hold land or office, and enjoining that they should not be naturalized without such a clause. Many doubts, he said, had already been expressed in the House, whether the Princess was of the Royal Family: without doors there were still more doubts. He had been stopped the day before by a trick of adjournment. Lord Mansfield had owned he had an opinion, but would not declare it: it was therefore the more necessary to have that uncertainty cleared away, for which end he had a motion ready drawn in his hand.

The House then resolving itself into a committee, the Duke proposed to state his amendment, unless their Lordships would consult the judges. The Chancellor said, it would be improper to ask the judges who are of the Royal Family, but not whether the Queen was naturalized. The judges could only interpret laws passed. Lord Halifax pretending to plead against delay, laboured to prevent the Duke from stating any question that might declare the Princess of the Royal Family; but Richmond, with inimitable firmness and address, maintained his ground, and moved to insert the words Her Royal Highness the Princess Dowager and others descended from the late King, now resident in England; though Lord Halifax had tried to substitute a distinction between a Royal Family of consanguinity, and a Royal Family of affinity. After a long squabble the Duke’s motion was rejected, and the ministerial party having allowed that the judges might be consulted on the Queen’s naturalization, Lord Folkestone moved to put the question to them on the morrow. Lord Mansfield, from fear of being pressed to give the answer he had given to the King, or to change it, or from some apprehension equally unworthy of his situation, absented himself. The Chancellor appeared there, as has been seen, and contradicted himself.

On the 3rd the Judges, by the mouth of the Lord Chief Justice Pratt, declared that the Queen was naturalized by her marriage, and capable of being Regent; but how great was the astonishment of mankind at what followed! Lord Halifax, hastening impetuously into the House, went up to the Duke of Richmond, and asked if his Grace was satisfied? The Duke replied, “By no means: you have rejected my motion and left my doubt in full force.” “Then, my Lord,” said Lord Halifax, “if you will move it again, I will satisfy you”—and standing up in his place, he delivered an intimation (not a message) that it would be agreeable to his Majesty to have the bill recommitted; which being complied with, Lord Halifax, on the same mysterious authority, proposed to insert the motion of the Duke of Richmond, rejected the day before, specifying the several persons of the Royal Family, only omitting the Princess Dowager.[108] This wonderful proposal took place instantaneously; and, it being early in the day, several Lords and others, whose curiosity was carrying them to see the conclusion of so interesting a scene, met the Ministers returning from the House with exultation at their success; and could scarce believe, and less comprehend, the meaning of so daring and improbable an enterprize.

Daring in truth it was, and perhaps not to be paralleled. The fact happened thus:—Lord Halifax[109] and Lord Sandwich (the latter of whom had probably machinated so treacherous a step) had posted to Buckingham House a little hour before the Lords assembled, and surprising the King alone, had most falsely, and contrary to all likelihood, assured him, that the House of Commons would certainly strike the name of the Princess Dowager out of the bill; and therefore that the most decent and prudent method to save the honour of his Majesty and her Royal Highness would be, for his Majesty to permit it to be hinted to the Lords, that he himself desired their Lordships would omit his mother’s name, before they transmitted the bill to the Commons. The young inexperienced monarch, taken by surprise, alarmed at the insult announced, and not having time, or not having presence of mind to demand time for consulting his mother and his Favourite, answered with good-nature, that he would consent if it would satisfy his people. The traitors seized that assent, and, hurrying away with double rapidity to the House of Lords, procured in the very name of their master that indelible stigma on his own mother!

Intoxicated as they were with presumption, or blind with the thirst of revenge, still it is hard to conceive how the Ministers dared to venture on so provoking and desperate an insult. Could the King pardon such an insult on his understanding, or the Princess submit to such an affront to her dignity and character? Could the Crown retain a shadow of power without discarding such servants? Could the wildness of Opposition have imagined such an act of aspersion, or have found a sufficient number so destitute of hopes and of flattery, as to fix a stain on the whole royal blood? That Sandwich should have conceived a plot so base, especially when surprise and stratagem were to be the ingredients, was not marvellous: that Grenville should have embraced it, and lost all sight of ambition in the glut of his revenge, proved what dominion every bad passion had over him in its turn; that the Duke of Bedford should have closed with it, was but another instance of the empire his associates had over a mind naturally good—that none of the connexion, composed of men devoted to fortune, should have started at a proposition so big with ruin to their hopes of favour, evinced that when they had lost sight of honesty and decorum, they flattered themselves that no position could be so desperate, from which they might not recover by as bad arts as those which brought them into the dilemma. Their subsequent conduct showed that they were determined to storm the Cabinet they could not retain by address.

It is not less worthy of remark that this bill, so carefully planned to save the honour or humour of the Princess, became the instrument of loading her with disgrace; while the Duke of Cumberland and the King’s brothers, who had been sedulously passed over in silence, saw themselves reinstated in the very bill from which the Princess was alone excluded: the Queen, who had been sacrificed to the jealousy of her mother-in-law, was the sole person that reaped both honour and a certain view of power from an act in which she had been so little respected. The Duke of Bedford and Lord Sandwich were overturned by this, as they had been by the last bill of Regency in the preceding reign.[110]

CHAPTER VI.

Debates in the House of Commons on the Regency Bill.

The bill thus wonderfully modified was sent to the House of Commons, where it was read the first time without a word of animadversion or notice. In fact, the extraordinary step taken by the Ministers had occasioned such consternation, that no man was ready to decide what part he would take. As my views had been so fully answered by the hostilities into which I had drawn the Ministers against the Court, I wished my friends to lie by, and wait the event of that quarrel. The Duke of Cumberland, who had been secretly applied to by the King for his protection against the Ministers, and who was content with seeing the Princess thus publicly branded, and consequently divested of all hope of being Regent, was desirous, too, that the Opposition should give no farther impediment to the bill. By his direction Lord Albemarle prevailed on his brother, Admiral Keppel, on Admiral Saunders, General Honeywood, and others of the military, to declare they were satisfied and would go no farther. But there was a head so incomparably wrong and obstinate, that no discretion, no address, no salutary counsel, could regulate or restrain its determinations. This was Lord John Cavendish, the most conceited and self-willed young man I ever knew, and whose love of rule would listen to no advice that crossed his own ideas. He insisted on making Lord Lyttelton’s motion for naming the Queen Regent, and intended to move it at the first reading of the bill. Mr. Conway no sooner came into the House, than Lord John took him aside to persuade him to concur in that measure. I observed this, and followed them. Fitzroy[111] and Honeywood joined us, and declared against it. Mr. Conway was staggered, and advised deferring the motion till the day of the commitment. We agreed to meet at night at Sir George Saville’s; but I would not go, being determined not to act with them in such ill-timed hostilities, and knowing I should have more weight with Conway in a private conversation, than in a tumultuous debate; but I prepared Fitzroy, and sent him warm to the meeting: having hinted to him that I could see no reason why the Duke of Devonshire’s youngest brother should govern the Duke of Grafton’s brother. Fitzroy went and repeated the opinion of the officers against the motion. Lord John said, rudely, it was to save their commissions. Mr. Conway yielded, and the motion was resolved on. Yet, Lord John’s brothers, George and Frederick, and Admiral Keppel, all repeated their opinion to me, and complained of Lord John’s warmth. Lord Rockingham, though much swayed by Lord John, I shook; then went to Mr. Conway, where I found the last. He was more obstinate than ever, and said he wished the Opposition was reduced to six or seven, who could depend on one another. I smiled and said, “I was too old to wait on his Lordship to Utica.”

May 7th. The bill was read a second time, and Lord John made his motion to address the King, to name the Regent;[112] but it was so thinly and feebly supported, that they could not divide for it. De Grey, the Solicitor-General, was so good a courtier, that on this emanation of the King’s mind, as he called it, he declared he would be against the bill, if the Regent was named. T. Townshend observed that the nomination was to be testamentary, and yet no witnesses to it. That though a living king might be complimented with the attributes of divinity, everybody knew how little respect was paid to a dead king; and then, laughing at De Grey, he said, “If in these times of no Cabal, no ambition, (the Solicitor’s words,) we could settle no provision, would it be more possible in future? or would the House imitate the Parliaments of Henry VIII., which gave him power both over religion and the succession? George Grenville expressed respect to Lord John, but asked how any man who was against the whole bill, could approve of that motion? was this an unlimited power? The King could name a very small number as the bill now stood. This bill had been framed after those drawn by Lord Somers and Lord Hardwicke. The testamentary instruments were to be sealed by three great officers, and much form to be used in recalling them. Would you address the King to name all the future substitutions that he might make? There was no precedent, it was said, of such a bill—was there any of such an address? The motion went to an unrestrained nomination. Should the King name, would the House not confirm it?—and then what a precedent would there be! Lord John Cavendish replied, that he was not against the whole bill, though he disapproved many of the clauses. Yet they who disliked the whole would be consistent, as they might desire to make it as perfect as might be, though they could not obtain all they wished. At present, the King might revoke his nomination, and yet omit to substitute another person. For himself, he still disliked any secret nomination. T. Townshend, too, said, that if the address was carried, the House would not be tied down to approve any improper person. Onslow went farther, and said, that in a vacancy the throne was elective. Charles Yorke, that if the King was out of the kingdom, his power was defective. A general bill for all times could not be framed. The judges thought that the grandchildren of the Crown were not the children of the Crown. Yet all the King’s family should look up to the King, and ought not to be made independent of him. Colonel Onslow said, he would appoint the people father of the child, till the child could be the father of them. Mawbey offered to second any man who would expressly name the Queen; but that proposal and the motion for the address were almost unanimously rejected. James Grenville then objected to the commitment of the whole bill, though he was not against all Regencies, but had heard none such as he should like described. Colonel Barré was for a Regency, but saw no precision in the proposed bill. Should there be no bill, what power could punish a bold man that should engross the government? The house would punish him who was as bold and daring as any man. (This seemed meant at Lord Bute, though much more true of Grenville.) He was against the King’s power, of naming the Regent. It was a bad measure, having so many capital figures in it. He was an enemy to adulation, but must ask, if men, who would give up their rights under a good prince, were likely to reclaim them under a bad one? If the Queen was intended for Regent, let the House meet the wishes of their Sovereign and name her. If her Majesty was ambitious, she might have availed herself of this bill. Yet he believed she had both art and ambition, but had used them for no end but to make her consort adored. Was that a reason for excluding her? This bill had no stamp of royalty in it. All the King’s acts had tended to decrease his prerogative. This was a ministerial bill. Nor Somers nor Hardwicke had proposed a secret nomination. Cardinal Beaton had read a paper to his dying master, and passed it off for the King’s act: such an artifice might be repeated. In the Council of Regency the Princes might outvote the Queen. Should the Queen die in three or four years, was the King’s nomination to take place of the wisdom of Parliament then sitting? He declared that in his military capacity he would serve with fidelity, but in the House would oppose what he held was not for the King’s good. Norton, the Attorney-General, declared that the Parliament appointed to sit for six months after the King’s death might sit, or not, at the option of the Crown. Wedderburn, boasting that he dated his principles from the Revolution, said he approved the bill, because copied from those times. They had delegated power to unknown persons by establishing a Regency of such as should be in possession of the great offices at the death of Queen Anne. General Conway approved of sending the bill to the committee out of respect, and in order to try to amend it; but thought the power to be granted worse than the want of provision. It was not unconstitutional to make provision against accidents, but it was so to make bad provision. The King would now be empowered to name for the whole sixteen years that his son might be a minor. For the House of Lords, he said, they had deliberated without concluding, and then concluded without deliberating. Grenville said, that not going into the committee would be putting an end to all bills of Regency. If the difference of opinion was so great already, what would it be on the King’s death, if no provision were made? It was unconstitutional to say that King, Lords, and Commons could not repeal any act. Had not they repealed two-thirds of Magna Charta, particularly in the case of wards and liveries? For himself, he dreaded some great military man (the Duke of Cumberland), and thought he already heard the lion roar. Onslow replied, that a Secretary of State, ready with head and hand to execute General Warrants, was more formidable than a King, who was popular by deserving to be so. The bill was committed, and the House rose at nine o’clock without a division.

I went the next day to the Duke of Newcastle; he saluted me with saying how much he was against my opinion of absenting ourselves from the House (which I had proposed the day before, when I found I could not restrain our party otherwise). It would ruin our characters, he said, to keep away;—(I could scarce refrain from laughing at hearing him talk of character)—and that if we did not oppose in the House of Commons, the Duke of Bedford would not in the House of Lords—(this was founded on the report of Morton intending to move for reinstating the name of the Princess). “And do you think, my Lord,” replied I, “that the Duke of Bedford will oppose if we do? I know he will not; and I will tell your grace what will happen; the very reverse of what you expect. Instead of being against the Princess, you will be included in a vote for her. No mortal will speak against her: if nobody does, there will be no division, and thus you will vote for her.” He was struck, and said he was sorry, but the young men would have it so. I said, “My Lord, why do not you govern your young people, and not let them govern you?” He replied: “They all say they will be governed by me sooner than by anybody, except where their conscience directs;” however, he would go and talk it over with Lord Rockingham. I then went to Mr. Conway and told him what had passed. I said “I saw we were all to be governed by a raw obstinate vain boy; that I found I had no weight; and though I would vote with them once more, if we were drawn into a division on the Princess, that they might not say I deserted them from interested views, yet it should be the last time; and I would go to the House no more. That he gave up his opinion to Lord John, though he would not to me; and that if Lord John did but whistle the words honour and virtue, he could turn him (Conway) which way he pleased.” Mr. Conway complained of my warmth, and said Lord John had given up the question on the army at our desire, (which was true,) that for his part he desired no place, and liked very well to act with a few. “And how long,” said I, “do you think they will let a few only act? What are we doing? or why? is it not for our country? If we can serve it better by silence than by speaking, is not it preferable?” He said he preferred his character and the Cavendishes to his country. “Then,” said I, “I would never have embarked with any of you, had I known you only acted for the applause of the mob.” However, I made no impression on him but by one argument; and by that not enough. I said, “If you force a division against the Princess, you will have very few with you. Those few will hate you for it. Most of your friends will leave you, as they did last night, by which you discovered to the Ministers your weakness, and the divisions in your party. If you force most of your friends to abandon you, as most men will, by so ungentleman-like, outrageous, provoking, and unjustifiable an act, as stigmatizing the King’s mother, for which you cannot give a plausible, and dare not give the true reason,—(for will any of you venture to allege what none of you can prove, her intrigue with Lord Bute?)—you demolish the party at once. Those of you who shall vote against the Princess will abuse those who vote for her, as influenced by mercenary views; and thus, when you have once made them desperate, and shall have forced them to have merit with her, they will of course adhere to her whom they have been courting. I have divided the Ministry by suggesting to the Duke of Richmond to name the Princess: you are going to give the Ministers an opportunity of recovering the ground they have lost, by defending her against you.” “Why,” said Mr. Conway, “if the Ministers should break, to which division would you go?” “Certainly,” said I, “to Lord Bute and Mr. Pitt, rather than to the Bedfords.” He declared he should prefer the latter. In short, we did not agree at all; though he said all he could to soften me, and expressed the greatest concern at differing with me: but it was so material not to suffer Lord John’s inexperience and folly to govern the party, that I determined to make my stand there; for I saw that young man’s rashness was capable of over-turning in an instant all I had been planning for six months. I first had tried to form a party to overthrow the Administration, Bute, Grenville, Bedfords, and all. When I found the Opposition too weak and too foolish to compass that, I turned to the next best thing, dividing Bute and the Ministers. In that I succeeded; and then saw all my schemes and labours on the point of being blasted by a silly boy, who, when all I had foreseen happened, had not a word to say for himself. Thus did I perceive how vexatious it was to live with many fools and not with enough! I did not forget the lesson: it took deep root, and was the first inducement to me to form a resolution of quitting politics. Other events contributed; and I was wise enough not to throw away those fruits of my experience. Yet, before I quitted the scene, I had the pleasure of accomplishing all the views that first set me in motion, of demolishing a dangerous Administration, of humbling Grenville and the Bedfords, and of convincing Lord John Cavendish, that it had been more prudent not to provoke me by attempting to interfere with my influence with Mr. Conway. With regard to the Duke of Newcastle, whom I had always despised, and with whom a common cause had obliged me to act, I did find how well-grounded my contempt of him had been, and to how little purpose it was to act with him. He was always eager, but never ready: delighted in talking over measures, but knew not how to begin or pursue them; and was as happy in seeming to lead an ineffectual party, as he had been in governing the nation. He thought he possessed secrets if he did but whisper, or was whispered to. Attendance on him was his supreme joy; and if two of the party came to him on the same business, he made one of them wait, to wear an air of mystery to both. There never was a man who loved power so much, and who could enjoy the shadow with the same content, when the substance was gone. Nor is it less remarkable, that, though favour at Court was the object of his life, he began it with insulting the Prince of Wales (George II.), and concluded it with affronting the Princess Dowager.

CHAPTER VII.

Debates on the Regency-bill.—The Princess Dowager’s name reinserted in the Bill.—Bill for altering the Duties on Italian Silks.—Riots of the Weavers on its introduction.—Projected change in the Ministry.

On May the 9th, the House went into committee on the bill. Rose Fuller said he would not opiniate the point, but declared he was against the precedent of appointing an unknown person Regent; not against any of the persons that had been named as qualified: yet surely none of them were so proper as the Queen. Should a younger brother be appointed by his Majesty’s will, it would offend the elder. So had the Parliament thought in the minority of Henry VI., with regard to the Dukes of Bedford and Gloucester. It was the more necessary to name the Queen, as he had heard of another motion going to be made. Everybody, therefore, would understand the reason of his motion. He moved, accordingly, to insert the name of the Queen, instead of the words such persons; and was seconded by Mr. Onslow, and by Sir W. Meredith, who declared he had intended to make the same motion. It was objected to by Burrell,[113] who said, the Duke of Cumberland’s name had not stood in the original bill; had been inserted on after-thought; would the House omit him now? Lord George Sackville said, he had been against even the respectful manner in which Lord John Cavendish had proposed to address the King to name the person he should wish for Regent: he was much more against the present motion. In history there was no precedent worth following. His Majesty was tied by parental affection to name the Queen, and was best qualified to know his own family, and who would be most proper for the office. If his youngest brother was best qualified, let him be named. Let the whole family be taught to pay their court to and imitate the King. Conway replied, that the power now to be given was a compliment to all future kings. Would Parliament be able to say, We trusted this power to George III. for his virtues, and refuse it to any other king, though vicious. The young Princes of the blood might prove ambitious. The bill itself would be of no force if the King should leave the nomination not filled up. No provision was made against such a contingency. When the late King went abroad, he always left a private letter empowering the Lords of the Regency to fill up places. In that reign though the Duke of Cumberland was so proper for Regent, yet his present Majesty’s mother had been preferred—let the House therefore imitate that sole precedent. Dempster opposed the motion, yet with passing general censures. He did not approve, he said, all the Ministers had done, particularly the dismission of General Conway. He did not approve the oriental adulation heaped on the birth of this bill; he saw nothing so heroic in it. He did not approve the power entrusted to the Regency of continuing the Parliament for three years. Lord North urged that the motion was unnecessary, because everybody knew there would be no person named against whom the House could have any objection. Sir George Saville said, he was astonished to hear that uncertainty was the parent of security, and certainty of uproar and confusion. He was afraid of delegating new powers; he rejected all arguments founded on personal considerations. He felt them as strongly as anybody, but they were false, unlogical, and unfair. All the persons declared capable, were proper; but while there was one more proper, the rest were improper. Lord Frederick Campbell said, the motion tended to appoint a person with greater power than the King’s. Dowdeswell replied, that the powers given by the bill were not new powers to supply the defects of a minority, but new powers granted to the King. Should he appoint an improper person, who could stand up to object to such great persons? He wished he could see any general bill of Regency; but when such difficulties were started on these bills, he feared future kings and ministers would recommend no more bills, therefore he wished to see a general one. He did not know which he feared most, the union or the disunion of the Royal Family. George Grenville said, he had the highest authority for declaring that the powers to be granted to his Majesty would be executed immediately, and the public would know they were. “Would it be only sealing the instrument,” Colonel Barré asked, “or would the person named for Regent be known?” “I said,” replied Grenville, “the powers would be executed, and that it would be known they were; not the person.” “The Crown knows,” said Colonel Barré again, “that we are no Parliament of Paris, but proposes matters to us, and we ought to show what we think of them. Queen Mary asked the same power as had been granted to her father, and was refused. It shows, therefore, how ready the Crown is to take advantage of precedents. The princes of the blood might grow to court the Ministers; it was a bill to encourage faction. Whither could the power be carried, where it would be less likely to do mischief than to the Queen! By not naming her, the House must suppose the Queen might not be Regent, and so her children would be torn from her by the will of her consort. Perhaps the King wished to induce the Parliament to name the Queen, that the Parliament might then be bound to support her. Mr. Dowdeswell had asked, whether, on an improper person being named, the Parliament would object? Yes; even in the reign of Charles II. the Parliament had spoken out. Grenville, he believed, had not drawn the bill. It came from a quarter that made it wear all the marks of ministerial distraction.” Whencesoever it had issued, he believed those of his profession (the military) would reap all the harvest. Averse as he was to the Ministry, the bill, he thought, would torture them more than they deserved. The motion was rejected at six o’clock by 258 to 67.

As soon as the division was over, and while the House was expecting Morton’s[114] motion, Mr. Conway came to me and said he would go away with me, as would Sir William Meredith and others; and that they would not vote in the question on the Princess, but on the third reading of the bill, when their vote would not be personal to her. I immediately went out, but found nobody followed me. I did not like to be single, and returned, but at last carried Mr. Conway away. In the meantime, Morton and Kynaston,[115] a noted Jacobite, moved to reinstate the Princess’s name in the bill. Samuel Martin, a servant of the Princess, and known from his duel with Wilkes, spoke strongly for that measure; declared he was totally unauthorized, and believed her Royal Highness averse to be named. The bill, he found, had been altered, by what means he did not know; nor was it proper to tell if he did. He must suppose the alteration came from nowhere but the other House. None of the Royal Family but the Princess were excluded. If the Queen should die, who would be so proper for a Regent as her Royal Highness? Why did the other House stigmatize or put a brand on her? And then looking at Grenville, he said, the Princess had had occasion to see the professions made to her were not from the heart. Dr. Blackstone spoke in the same behalf, as did the younger George Onslow, who beseeched his friends to look on him with an eye of pity, for being forced to differ with them from conscience. In case of the Queen’s death, the Princess, by law, was the most proper person to replace her. The more persons capable of the Regency, the worse; but when all the rest were named in the bill, he could not consent to exclude her Royal Highness. His cousin took the other side, but called God to witness that he intended no personality. He had been for the nomination of the Queen, and now thought the smaller the number the better. He had heard the Secretary of State had procured the omission of the Princess. This occasioned his being called to order. Sir John Rushout, as the ancient oracle of the House, declared that Onslow might say what he had heard from common fame, but might not say he had heard it himself. Onslow, on that authority, affirmed he had been told that the Secretary of State did not make the motion for omission of the Princess by private authority; and on that authority he desired explanation. Had the House of Commons received such a message, it would have quieted them. The present motion was cruel to the Princess: the correction in the House of Lords, he was persuaded, was not personal. Had the Duke of York been omitted, his own objection to restoring the Duke’s name would have been the same. Grenville[116] replied, that the words moved by Lord Halifax were inserted to prevent doubt: himself had thought they would not be disagreeable to her Royal Highness—hoped they were not—thought they would be universally acceptable—thought there had been authority for the omission, but found there was not; would concur in any compliment to the mother of his sovereign.

This cold, half-owning, half-denying speech, completed Grenville’s ruin with the Princess. Martin vowed to God he did not know her opinion on the question, and was believed as much as Grenville and Onslow had been. Morton more artfully said, that if her Highness had intended to send a message to the House, it would not have been by so insignificant a man as himself. Onslow said, he hoped it would not be interpreted as if he meant to brand the Princess. Whoever used that term, branded the House of Lords. Lord Palmerston gave a strong dissent to the motion, though he owned the situation was disagreeable. The Princess, he said, was excluded by a great and general line. The motion then passed without a division, but with several No’s. Equally to the disgrace of both sides, the Ministers servilely revoking what they had insolently and unjustifiably done; the Opposition withstanding the reparation, yet not daring to avow,—nay, disavowing the very motive of the obstruction they gave.

I had thus, as I flattered myself, prevented the greater number of our friends from personally offending the Princess. My arguments and their own interest had kept many from the House. I did not doubt but the Ministers would be dismissed, if the Court found that it had hopes of mollifying the Opposition. But the next morning I perceived the vertigo was returned with fresh force. On going to the House, Sir William Meredith told me that Onslow was determined to put it to a division on the report, encouraged by the many negatives on the Princess’s question. This was judging weakly, for many would cry “No!” who would not have voted, when they would have been personally distinguished by a division. He added, that Forester, the Duke of Bedford’s lawyer, had laughed at them for not dividing. I was not the dupe of that art; the less as Rigby had been the first to acquaint Mr. Conway with Morton’s intended motion; and to draw in our party, the Bedford faction had given out that Forester would oppose the re-establishment of the Princess’s name. Lord Rockingham confirmed this intelligence—agreed with me, but said he could not prevail on the Duke of Newcastle, on whom I found the Bedfords had contrived to make the impression they wished. Sir William Meredith added that Onslow had said to him over night, “I believe you, Conway, and T. Townshend acted from conscience, but all the rest from interest.” I replied, “Sir William, Onslow may say what he pleases, yet he will accept a place before I shall. I had rather be taxed with self-interest, than call God to witness I mean no personality, when I am doing the most personal thing in the world.” Provoked at this new absurdity, I went away, depending that Mr. Conway, who had retired with me the day before, and had promised me not to vote against the Princess, would be firm to his promise; yet when the question came on, he had the weakness, though he tried to prevent a division, to vote with the Cavendishes against her. They pretended to desire he would not, but knew how much the fear of their silent reproaches would operate on him.[117] Newcastle’s people were violent, and insisted on a division, driven on by John White,[118] an old republican, who governed both Newcastle and Lord John Cavendish, and who hoped this vote would divide the Opposition from Mr. Pitt, whom White hated, and who he certainly knew would never personally affront the Court. Yet after all their hopes, the result of this intemperate measure was a contemptible minority of 37. What was more unlikely, Rigby retired, and did not vote with the majority, though he had declared nothing should make him vote against the Princess. Her triumph would have been complete, if anything could have effaced the affront she had received, and which must remain on record. What the few Whigs in that little minority could plead in their defence, was difficult to say. They had loudly condemned the motion for removing Sir Robert Walpole on public fame, and now endeavoured to stigmatize the Princess on the same ground, without daring even to assign it as a pretence. The conduct of the Ministers was still more double; and many believed that the Duke of Cumberland’s hatred of the Princess had drawn him at last to concur with the Bedfords in instigating Newcastle to this measure. Grenville scarce concealed his sentiments; and Lord Burghersh telling him he would go away, rather than vote with the Tories, unless he, Grenville, desired him not; the latter bade him follow his own inclination—he stayed and voted against the Princess.

After some other clauses proposed and rejected, the Bill passed at eleven at night. During the debate Onslow attacked Charles Townshend, (who had spoken for the Court,) and congratulated the Treasury-bench on their acquisition. Townshend replied in one of his best speeches, but with his usual want of judgment, boasted of his own steadiness for sixteen years; saying, “Surely, in these times, with a little common sense, I might have been dependent if I had pleased.” The answer was obvious—“With a little common sense you might.”

Rose Fuller declared that if the motion for reinstating the Princess was rejected, he, to show his impartiality, would move to omit her Royal Highness’s daughters and Princess Amalie. It was said with humour, that would be like Lord Anglesey, who beating his wife,[119] she said, “How much happier is that wench (pointing to a housemaid) than I am!” He immediately kicked the maid down stairs, and then said, “Well! there is at least one grievance removed.”

On the 13th, the bill, returned from the Commons, with the name of the Princess Dowager reinserted, was read in the House of Lords, and the Ministers were to swallow the amendment, and palliate their past conduct as well as they could. The task was allotted to Lord Sandwich. He owned Lord Halifax’s amendment had met with his hearty concurrence, and he had expected it would have passed through both Houses unanimously: had thought it would be disapproved of by no person whatever. But whether that amendment or the correction of it should take place, the great point would be obtained of ascertaining who were the persons capable of the Regency. He hoped, therefore, their Lordships would agree to the correction sent up from the other House. Parliament could not mean to exclude the Princess, if it would be disagreeable to her Royal Highness, or to any other person: the sole meaning had been to remove doubts. Should he himself adhere to the former words, he should be inconsistent, for those words had no longer the same meaning; but he had thought the amendment would have been universally approved. He had meant to establish any description that would be agreeable to the King and people. It was now of consequence to be unanimous in re-establishing the name of her Royal Highness.

By Sandwich and Grenville dwelling so much upon the expectation they had conceived, that the omission of the Princess would be universally approved, it was plain they had flattered themselves with acquiring such popularity by that act, that the King would not dare to remove them. This had driven them on the outrage they had committed. The event proved just the contrary of what they had expected. Obnoxious as the Princess was, the heinousness of the insult to her, and of the treachery to the King, shocked all mankind, and seemed doubly offensive in men from whom the King had a right to expect defence, and who had plunged so deep into the most arbitrary and unpopular measures. It was not by their hands that the nation wished to see the Princess and Favourite humbled. The same fate attended Sandwich now, that had pursued the discovery of the “Essay on Woman.” The profaneness of Wilkes, and the unpopularity of the Princess, were forgotten in the more odious means employed to disgrace them.

The Duke of Richmond took notice that the words now inserted by the House of Commons were precisely the same with those he had moved himself, and was glad they were likely to be agreed to; yet when he had proposed them, Lord Sandwich had moved to adjourn. His own wish had tended to precision; and his view, to pass the act in the manner most agreeable to the King. When Lord Halifax had brought other words, he had concluded those words were agreeable to his Majesty, for he believed Lord Halifax incapable of deceiving the King or the House (this was pointed at Lord Sandwich). He had now heard that their Lordships must eat their words; and that what had happened was a stigma on her Royal Highness. Surely that was not paying court to her: such assertions had more zeal than judgment in them; and were injurious to the House. Lord Sandwich replied, that he had moved to adjourn, because the question had been too great to be determined suddenly: he had not been against the Duke’s motion. He knew of nothing injurious from the other House.

The Duke of Portland[120] disagreed with the new amendment, because he recollected, he said, the authority with which the omission of the Princess had gone down to the other House. To reinstate her now would be inconsistent and contradictory. Lord Talbot said there was no inconsistency in changing, when founded on the opinions of the other House. It was advantageous to the constitution to have the joint wisdom of both. Lord Ravensworth said he had always been for naming the Princess, yet disapproved the new amendment, because the former amendment had come from the King. The Duke of Newcastle dissented from the amendment; protested he had no views; could only serve his country by his opinion in that House. He would not say the other House had no right to make this amendment; but they had not shown that respect to the Crown, or to their Lordships, that they had meant to show. It had been usual to receive nominations or stipulations from the Crown. The House of Commons should not have taken upon themselves to nominate. He thought Lord Halifax incapable of bringing anything but truth from the King: he wished, therefore, the former words had not been altered.

The present alteration was not warranted by precedent. Lord Halifax’s motion had reduced the number of those that were capable of the Regency, and therefore was a desirable measure. Lord Denbigh expressed his astonishment at the former extraordinary motion, which had flowed from as extraordinary a quarter. He had not been present, yet should have voted for it, extraordinary as it was; should wonder if their Lordships should not agree to correct that wonderful measure. During the meridian of Newcastle’s power, now dwindled, the Princess was named Regent. If Prince Frederick[121] should, by failure of the rest of the Royal Family, come to be King before he was of age, the Princess, by Newcastle’s bill, must be Regent. He believed his Grace’s great age had made him forget one of his favourite children. Lord Talbot said he did not believe the Duke objected to the Princess, but would have had the Commons consider the motion as the King’s. He would not enter into the merits of the Princess. Though he held that stick in his hand (of Lord-Steward), he had never known a Court-secret. Should the King die, the Princess would be too afflicted to act. He then ridiculed the Opposition; and concluded with saying, “I was once a patriot, my Lords, for patriotism is always in opposition.” Lord Pomfret declared strongly in favour of the Princess; and the amendment was agreed to without a negative. The bill passed.

But though the Ministers had been forced to make atonement, the sacrifice was by no means accepted. The King treated them with every mark of estrangement and aversion; and it was visible to every eye that their fall was determined. Previous to their dismission, they tasted of the horror in which they were held by the people. The very day on which the Regency-bill passed, the Lords read another bill sent from the Commons, for imposing as high duties on Italian silks as are paid on those of France, on this foundation, that the French sent their silks to Genoa and Leghorn, and then entered them there as Italian merchandize. This bill had passed the Commons with little notice, all attention having been engrossed by the plan of the Regency. When it was read by the Lords, the Duke of Bedford alone spoke against it; nobody said a word for it, and it was thrown out.[122] It happened that the silk manufacture was at a low ebb, and many weavers in Spitalfields were unemployed. The next day about three or four thousand of those poor men went very quietly and unarmed to Richmond, to petition the King for redress. The Queen was walking in the paddock, and was alarmed by their numbers; but they gave no offence, and followed the King in the same peaceable manner to Wimbledon, whither he was gone to a review. The King told them, he would do all that lay in his power to relieve them, and they returned pleased and orderly.

But the next day, May 15th, whether they distinguished between the assurances given by his Majesty and the rejection of the bill by the Lords; or whether, as is more probable, they had been instigated under-hand, they went to the House of Lords in great bodies, behaving in the most riotous manner, abusing the Peers, and applauding the Commons, who had passed their bill. The Chancellor’s[123] coach they stopped, and asked him if he had been against the bill? He stoutly replied, Yes. They were abashed at his firmness, and said they hoped he would do justice. He replied, “Always, and everywhere; and whoever did, need fear nothing.” When the Duke of Bedford appeared, they hissed and pelted him; and one of the mob taking up a large stone for the new pavement, dashed it into the chariot: the Duke broke the force of the blow by holding up his arm, but it cut his hand, and bruised him on the temple; so narrowly he escaped with his life. They then followed him to his own house, where with great temper he admitted two of the ringleaders to a parley, and they went away seemingly appeased.[124]

The next day the House of Lords issued out orders for preservation of the peace; but the weavers continued to parade the streets and the park, though without committing any violence.

On the Friday, the Lords sent for Justice Fielding, who said the weavers had done no mischief. The Chancellor, who had been trusted by the Ministers with none of their late extraordinary measures, and who probably foresaw their downfall, was sullen, and would take no part. Few Lords attended, and everything announced to the Ministers their approaching disgrace. About dinner-time, the Duke of Bedford received intelligence that his house would be assaulted at night, on which he sent away his jewels and papers, and demanded a party of horse; the Duchess[125] persisting in remaining with him in the house. His friends and dependants, and several officers, garrisoned it; and as was foreseen, the rioters in prodigious numbers assaulted the house in the evening, and began to pull down the wall of the court;[126] but the great gates being thrown open, the party of horse appeared, and sallying out, while the riot act was read, rode round Bloomsbury Square, slashing and trampling on the mob, and dispersing them; yet not till two or three of the guards had been wounded. In the meantime a party of the rioters had passed to the back of the house, and were forcing their way through the garden, when fortunately fifty more horse arriving, in the very critical instant, the house was saved, and perhaps the lives of all that were in it. The Duke, however, and his company kept watch all night; and the coffee-houses were filled with curious and idle people, who sent with great indifference every hour to learn how the siege went on. The disappointed populace vented their rage on the house of Carr, a fashionable mercer, who dealt in French silks, and demolished the windows. All Saturday they remained peaceable; and though another attack on Bedford House was threatened, no further mischief ensued.

On Sunday evening I went to compliment the Duke and Duchess, as most of their acquaintance did, on their escape. I found the square crowded, but chiefly with persons led by curiosity. As my chariot had no coronets, I was received with huzzas; but when the horses turned to enter the court, dirt and stones were thrown at it. When the gates opened, I was surprised with the most martial appearance. The horse-guards were drawn up in the court, and many officers and gentlemen were walking about as on the platform of a regular citadel. The whole house was open, and knots of the same kind were in every room. When I came to the Duchess, and lamented the insult they had suffered, she replied, with warmth and acrimony, that the mob had been set on by Lord Bute. I was not much inclined to believe that, nor thought a mob a tool with which Lord Bute would choose to amuse himself. Immediately after, came in the Earl and Countess of Northumberland. Words cannot describe the disdainful manner in which they were received.[127] The Duke of Bedford left the room; the Earl was not asked to sit, nor spoken to; but was treated with such visible marks of neglect and aversion, that Lord Waldegrave said to another of the family, “Faith! this is too much.” In my own opinion, the mob was blown up by Humphrey Cotes,[128] and the friends of Wilkes. Almond, the friend and printer of the latter, owned to me, that they were directed by four or five gentlemen in disguise, who were not suspected; and seemed willing to disclose the secret to me. I said, “Name no names to me, I will not hear them.” He gave me a print published by Cotes against Lord Bute and Lord Holland; and talked of risings that would be all over England. I said, “I should be sorry to have the mob rise: it would occasion the army being quartered in London, and then we should be enslaved.”

Perhaps I have dwelt too minutely on this episode; perhaps I have done so on many other points equally unimportant. But it must be remembered that I am painting a portrait of the times, rather than writing history. The events, too, of this time were so linked together, that trifles gave birth to serious eras; and unless it be detailed with the circumstantial exactness which I shall use, and which I stood in a situation to know more thoroughly than most men, from my intimacy or connection with many of the actors, the history of this reign will be very imperfectly understood; and posterity would see sudden and extraordinary changes; without being able to account for them from the public appearances of things. When it is known, it will be easy to compose a more compendious account; and my narrative, that may serve for the scaffolding, may be thrown by as no longer of use.

The King, on all other occasions so able and steady a dissembler, did not affect now to disguise the offence he had taken at his Ministers. He had long inwardly groaned under their insolence and disagreeable qualities: and though for some time Lord Bute a little restrained his Majesty’s impatience to throw them off, both the Favourite and the mother had contributed to foment the King’s aversion. The Duchess of Bedford had openly affronted the Princess, and avowed her hatred to Lord Bute. To Lord Sandwich the Favourite bore private resentment, for having courted a little too assiduously, though he was disappointed in the pursuit, rich old Wortley Montagu, Lady Bute’s father.[129] But Grenville was the principal rock of offence. I have mentioned his jealousy and ill-treatment of the Favourite; his manners made him as distasteful to the King, as his engrossing fondness for power had made him to the Favourite. His ill-judged economy had led him to refuse twenty thousand pounds to the King, to buy the ground behind the Green Park, where the King had made a new garden, and where, by the loss of that purchase, a new row of houses was erected, that overlooked the King and Queen in their most domestic hours. And, as if non-compliance with even his innocent pleasures was not sufficiently offensive, that awkward man of ways and means, whom Nature had fitted for no employment less than a courtier’s, fatigued the King with such nauseous and endless harangues, that, lamenting being daily exposed to such a political pedant, the King said to Lord Bute of Grenville, “When he has wearied me for two hours, he looks at his watch to see if he may not tire me for an hour more.”

The measure of these disgusts was filled up by the conduct of the Ministers on the Bill of Regency; yet, though that conduct threw down the sluice, the resolution had been taken before to discard them on the first opportunity. When the Duke of Cumberland had waited on the King, before setting out for Newmarket, his Majesty had vented himself to his uncle on the uneasiness he felt from being in their hands, and he must have felt before he chose that Prince for his confident. At Newmarket, the Earl of Northumberland had private instructions to continue the negotiation, and the Duke had listened with no unwilling ear, as I have hinted before; yet he had been so over-prudent as not to trust the secret to the chiefs of the Opposition, who, driven on by Lord John Cavendish, had intemperately displayed their aversion to the Princess and Favourite, while they had not the least suspicion that the Duke was secretly paving the way for their return to Court. Yet even that intemperate behaviour of the Cavendishes and their friends could not deter the Court from the resolution of removing the Ministers, whose crime appeared, as indeed it was, of a much blacker dye. Indeed, those of the Opposition who had gone the greatest lengths, were not of importance enough to make the Court lay aside its design. The royal Junto depended on the support of the Duke of Cumberland, and could not doubt but they might have Newcastle, whenever they called for him: the rest of course must follow their leaders. But the Court intended to avail itself of a still firmer support, and that was Mr. Pitt’s, on whose easy compliance they depended too inconsiderately—and with still greater inconsideration, they began to take the machine to pieces, before they had made the common preparations for refitting it. This rash conduct was probably inspired by the riot of the weavers, which the Court regarded as the sense of the nation expressed against the Administration. Had the King temporized, he might have dealt to advantage with any faction he chose. By beginning with the dismission of the Ministers, he exposed himself to the extravagant demands of all who saw the dilemma to which he had reduced himself, and the necessity he was under of submitting to some disagreeable set of men or other, who were sure to make him purchase dearly a support that they knew he wished not to accept at all.[130]

CHAPTER VIII.

The King’s differences with his Ministers.—Negotiations with Mr. Pitt to form a new Administration.—Contemplated appointment of a Captain-General.—Reconciliation of Lord Temple and Mr. Grenville.—Ministers recalled.—Dismissal of Mr. Mackenzie.—Parliament Prorogued.

On May the 18th, Grenville went to receive the King’s orders for the speech at the close of the session, which was to end the next week. The King said, coldly, there was no hurry; he would have the Parliament adjourned, not prorogued. Grenville, thunderstruck, said, “There was so much mystery in that speech, that he must beg leave to ask if his Majesty had any thoughts of making a change in his Administration?”—“Certainly,” replied the King; “I cannot bear it as it is. I will have the Parliament only adjourned.” “I hope,” replied Grenville, “your Majesty will not order me to cut my own throat.”—“Then,” said the King, “who must adjourn the Parliament?”—“Whoever your Majesty shall appoint my successor,” said Grenville.

The Ministers, on the communication of this notice, took the only sensible step that remained in their situation, which was, by dissolving the Administration themselves, to involve the King in such a labyrinth of negotiations and demands, as might end in nothing, and reduce him to apply again to them. Accordingly, Bedford, Grenville, and the two Secretaries of State acquainted his Majesty they should resign on the following Tuesday, if no Administration was formed by that time.[131]

Hostilities thus commenced, other secrets came out. It was known that the design of the Court was to place the Earl of Northumberland at the head of the Treasury. The Duke of Cumberland had come into the plan, and Lord Albemarle had been sent very privately to Hayes, to ask Mr. Pitt’s assistance and junction in that scheme. Pitt’s behaviour was neither promising nor condescending. Yet, both the King and the Duke were so bent on union with him, that Lord Albemarle had been despatched again to Hayes with repeated offers. Pitt talked in general terms of a total alteration of measures; of a strict alliance against France; and of condemnation of General Warrants, though to be turned in some shape that might save his Majesty’s honour. Still, however, he kept great reserve, and to draw the fuller éclat from the negotiation, let Lord Albemarle perceive that he would not deign to negotiate with a substitute, but expected a personal interview with the Duke of Cumberland himself. Even this was granted, and (it was thought) wisely, as, if Pitt could be awed, it must be by so able and respectable a Prince. On the other hand, some men feared that Pitt’s haughtiness was more likely to augment than stoop to any dignity below the throne.

On the 20th, his Royal Highness went to Hayes. With much elevation, Pitt did not seem untractable. He made three principal demands: Regulation of General Warrants; Restitution of Officers; Alliances with Protestant Powers. The first article the Duke told him would be accorded; the King himself had named the second; the third would be most subject to difficulty. Of domestic regulations, Pitt only named the Chief Justice Pratt for Chancellor, which the Court endeavoured to elude by the offer of a peerage instead of the Seals. The Duke at last said that, though not authorized, he would venture to offer him carte blanche. Lord Temple should have the Treasury, Lord Northumberland would take any other post. Mr. Pitt said, Lord Temple would not take the Treasury, but some other place—if any: nor would he promise that himself would take any part in the new system.

The Duke of Cumberland, before he went to Hayes, had sent for Lord Temple to town; and it was observed, that from the time that lord saw Mr. Pitt, the difficulties and reluctance of the latter were visibly augmented.

One of my most earnest wishes was to see Mr. Pitt restored to the head of the Administration. Nobody knew his faults better, but nobody admired his genius more; no man had felt greater pride than I had felt, from the glorious position in which he had placed my country. The moment I learnt the negotiation, I laboured to my utmost to draw my friends to support him, if he should become Minister. Nor had I previously neglected to excuse their late behaviour, of which I persuaded Lord Holland they repented. He wished them to notify their sorrow in form: but though I was willing to have that signified, yet I could not expect the Cavendishes would recant: nor was I in haste to press it, as I waited for what I soon heard—the treaty with Pitt. Lord Holland said he was convinced the King would never forgive Lord Halifax and the Duke of Bedford, and would dismiss them if he could; but Grenville, he thought, would be saved, as he had had no hand in the transaction. “No hand!” said I, “he was as deep as any of them.” “Against the Princess, I allow he was,” said Lord Holland; “but did not contribute to draw the King into that cruel step.” This exception appeared so strange to me, that I almost thought there was truth in a saying of that time—that Grenville must remain Minister, because there was no other man in a tye-wig fit to preside at the Board of Treasury. I found from Lord Holland, that he had been denied access to Lord Bute, who had sent him word he could not see him, as so great a crisis was at hand, in which he himself had no share. The very message proved the contrary. If the message was true, and not concerted between them, it must have been a silly evasion prepared by Bute, that he might assure Pitt he had not seen Lord Holland; or to disguise to the latter the treaty with the former. It is not even improbable that Lord Bute had tasted so much vexation from the Regency-bill, which Lord Holland had earnestly pressed upon him, that he might not be inclined to have recourse to the same councils again. Lord Holland, however, let me discover how anxiously he wished to overturn the Ministers, be the means what they would. He dropped to me these remarkable words—“What an artful man might do with these mobs!” But I was not a man to dip my hand in such resources.[132]

On the day that the Duke of Cumberland went to Hayes, a committee of the House of Lords sat on the Riots. Lord Sandwich said, he hoped their Lordships would adjourn till the Duke of Bedford could come in safety to the House. Lord Halifax said, there were rumours of a change of Ministers; but it was impossible the King could give up so faithful a servant as the Duke of Bedford to the mob; and threw out many insinuations of the mob being stirred up by Lord Bute. Lord Pomfret took this up with great warmth; but during the altercation the Lords were informed that the Sheriffs of London (probably by concert with the Ministers) attended with material information. Lord Halifax went out to them; and returning, said, there was a diabolic plot. Being called in, the Sheriffs said they had received certain information that the weavers were to rise in arms at five in the morning, were to be joined by the butchers and watermen, and destroy Bedford House. The Chancellor said the notice ought to be laid before both Houses; but the Lords contented themselves with voting an address to the King for a proclamation against the rioters, with giving directions to the civil magistrates to secure the peace, and with granting an additional guard of one hundred men for Bedford House, as the Duke had desired.

The next day Mr. Conway brought me intelligence that gave me inexpressible concern, and struck me with more alarm than any public measure I ever knew. It was, that Lord Halifax had written to the King that his Ministers advised his Majesty to employ Lord Granby as the most popular man in England, and the Duke of Richmond and Lord Waldegrave as generals under him, to suppress the riot—advice that breathed the desperate ambition of the ministerial faction, and showed their intention of usurping the government by force: Lord Granby having assured them at a council of their friends, that he would firmly adhere to them. But this was not the part of the intelligence that most alarmed me: it was the consequence of this letter, the King on the receipt of it having written to his uncle that he would immediately name his Royal Highness Captain-General. This was at once firing the signal of civil war: the generals were named on either side. I implored Mr. Conway to hasten to the Duke, and prevent, if possible, before it was too late, so rash and fatal a step: it would be sufficient for the King to refuse delegating Lord Granby. The Duke begged the King to suspend his resolution, and told him, that if he accepted the nomination, it should only be for the present, and he would appoint Lord Albemarle to act under him. And he sent to Lord Granby, that he should accept the charge but for the purpose of suppressing the riots, and that he should not in any other point interfere with his Lordship. This, though it showed temper, discovered but too great alacrity to undertake the commission. To Hayes, too, his Royal Highness despatched Lord Frederick Cavendish, to acquaint Mr. Pitt with the intended measure. Mr. Pitt with his wonted elevation treated the matter lightly, and said the riots were of no consequence. The dismission of the Ministers he approved of, in consequence of their actions: if only as enemies of Lord Bute, the case was different. He had no objection to Lord Bute as Favourite, but as he disagreed with him on measures.

The Ministers determined to push their blow, prevailed on the Duke of York, who they meant should balance his uncle, to go to Richmond, and in their names to advise his Majesty to come and stay in town. Many of the Tories, dreading the power of the Duke of Cumberland, declared they would abandon Bute and adhere to Grenville. Fortunately the Duke himself told the King that the riots were not of consequence enough for him to be appointed Captain-General. The Favourite, too, had taken alarm, and apprehending a parliamentary motion against himself, had summoned all the Scotch to attend the House. Thus blew over a cloud that might have been productive of such fatal events!

The negotiation in the mean time with Mr. Pitt continued, but made no advance. The Duke of Cumberland understood that he refused to come into place, and proposed to the King to form an Administration without him. The Duke of Newcastle, though he would not venture to take any responsible place himself, was eager for the same measure; and the Cavendishes were not less ready to join such a system. It was proposed to place Lord Lyttelton at the head of the Treasury, with Charles Townshend as Chancellor of the Exchequer, and General Conway Secretary at War. The latter and I saw the inefficacy of this expedient, and protested against it. Such an Administration we agreed could not last six months. The Opposition would be said to join Lord Bute, and would suffer in their reputation. Finding so few facilities, the Duke determined to make one more essay, and desired Lord Lyttelton to go to Hayes, and know the last resolution of Mr. Pitt. What words can paint the astonishment of Lord Lyttelton, or indeed of mankind, when that Lord, who was to carry Lord Temple to Hayes with him, was informed at Lord Temple’s door, that Mr. George Grenville was alone with his brother? Lord Lyttelton waited two hours with Lady Temple. It was by that time too late to go to Hayes till after dinner. Lord Temple vouchsafed to make no explanation to Lord Lyttelton, but said it was only a private reconciliation. He said the same the next day when, with Lord Lyttelton, he waited on the Duke of Cumberland; adding, that their reconciliation did not extend to political connection. “But that, I suppose, my Lord,” said that sensible Prince, “will soon follow.” Lord Lyttelton had previously waited on his Royal Highness at his return from Hayes, and owned that he could not say Mr. Pitt and Lord Temple were agreed, though still they were open to treat. Lord Temple complained to the Duke that the King had been advised to take his old Ministers again; and wondered who had advised it. “I did, my Lord,” said the Duke firmly, “thinking Mr. Pitt’s a flat refusal, and finding nobody else would engage without him.” Before they parted, the Duke made Lord Temple own, that carte blanche had been offered to Mr. Pitt; yet that point Mr. Pitt and his friends never allowed.[133]

What the Duke had said, was true. He no sooner heard of the reconciliation in the family of Grenville, than he advised the King to submit, and take up with his old Ministers. The reconciliation explained Mr. Pitt’s conduct, and the seeming variations in it; for though in terms he never consented to accept, the Duke owned to Mr. Conway, that he had talked as if actually in place. He had said, “Pratt will be at the head of the law.”—“I said no such thing,” said the Duke; “the King may be engaged to Mr. Yorke; I know nothing of it.” Pitt replied, if he did come in, he could not depend on the faith of the Court, and on influence in the Cabinet; “I do not know, Sir,” continued he, “if I can even depend on your Royal Highness’s influence.” “No, indeed,” replied the Duke, “for I shall have no influence there myself. The King called me to this business, and the moment it is over, I shall retire to Windsor.” But these irregularities had all flowed from the conduct of Lord Temple, who had thrown every obstruction in the way of the negotiation, and had affected even to complain of the Duke of Newcastle, for proposing Lord Lyttelton for the head of the Treasury, though he himself could not be persuaded by Mr. Pitt to accept it. It may be remembered, that in my visit to Stowe, I had discovered how little cordiality subsisted between Lord Temple and Mr. Pitt. From that time, the former had certainly leaned towards his brother George; and, as if the love of confusion predominated even over his ambition, he had selected this important moment to clog Mr. Pitt’s measures by openly rushing into connection with his brother George. Lord Bristol,[134] and Augustus Hervey,[135] had, at Lord Temple’s desire, negotiated the reconciliation; and besides the very lucrative interest that Grenville had in accepting the offer, it was doubly sweetened now by the defeat it gave to Mr. Pitt, who in honour would not, or in prudence could not, enter upon Administration by a breach with his brother-in-law, his benefactor, and popular associate, Temple, and only for being reconciled to their common brother, George Grenville.[136] The reversion of Lord Temple’s estate[137] could make even the inflexible Grenville stoop; and if his acrimonious heart was obliged to pardon his brother, it was indemnified by revenge on his sister’s husband. Mr. Pitt, when Lord Temple and he parted, said pathetically,

Extinxti me teque, soror; populumque Patresque
Sidonios, urbemque tuam!

The Ministers, who no doubt had learnt from Lord Temple the King’s distress, went to his Majesty on the 22nd, and being acquainted that it was his purpose to retain them in his service, insolently told him that they must ask three things. First, Would his Majesty promise, on his royal word, not to consult Lord Bute any more, nor suffer him to interfere in business? Secondly, Would he dismiss Mr. Mackenzie[138] from the direction of Scottish affairs? Thirdly, Would he immediately declare Lord Granby Captain-General? The King said the last would be the greatest affront imaginable to his uncle, after he had been thought of for Captain-General. Grenville replied insolently, he did not understand why his Royal Highness was so often at Court. “But,” continued the King, “are these questions, or terms?” They said, “Questions.” “But do you mean,” said the King, “to adhere to them as sine quâ non?”—“We do,” replied they. The King said, he would give them an answer at night.

In the evening, the King, instead of seeing them, sent for the Chancellor, and ordered him to carry his answer to the Ministers. It was: that there was no longer any question about Lord Bute: but his Majesty would give his word not to see him. He would dismiss Mr. Mackenzie,[139] but would by no means yield to make Lord Granby Captain-General. But though the stand-out of prudence was made on the last article, the indignity offered personally to the King on the second was the most crying. Mr. Mackenzie had possessed a place of 2000l. a year for life. To accommodate some arrangement in Scotland, he had given it up, and the King had given him another of 3000l. a year; but it not being a patent place for life, the King had promised him, upon his honour, that it should never be taken away during his reign. This severe sacrifice the insolent faction now extorted; the Court, in its present distress, not daring to venture a rupture, of which any part of Lord Bute’s family should be the cause.

The Ministers did not hesitate long; though Rigby tried to enforce[140] their adherence to all the three demands. They waited on the King the next day, declaring their acceptance of the two conditions, but annexing a third, the dismission of Lord Holland from the Pay-office, which was granted without a murmur; though, when Lord Holland had undertaken to carry through the Peace, the King said to his wife, he should never forget the obligation.[141] The King ordered Lord Sandwich to write the letter of his dismission, but Sandwich had the decency to excuse himself, having lived even till now on friendly terms with Lord Holland, and then actually inhabiting the Pay-office, which Lord Holland had lent him the two last years. Charles Townshend succeeded Lord Holland, though he had been designed Chancellor of the Exchequer by the Opposition, and acted with them when they came into power; and to complete the disgrace of Lord Bute’s family, and as if wantonly to mark their disregard to all propriety, the Ministers removed Lord Northumberland from the government of Ireland, and named for his successor the Viscount Weymouth,[142] an inconsiderable, debauched young man, attached to the Bedfords, but so ruined by gaming, that the moment before his exaltation, he was setting out for France, to avoid his creditors. The Duke of Cumberland retired to Windsor, declaring he had done with Opposition. His whole conduct, indeed, in this transaction, had been noble, and becoming the relation in which he stood to the Crown. He had forgiven all the slights he had experienced from the Court, had handsomely taken up the cause of his nephew, and had even submitted to act as messenger to Mr. Pitt. The Dukes of Richmond and Manchester[143] had offered his Royal Highness their assistance against the Ministers. The former, enraged at the disgrace of his brother-in-law Lord Holland, wished to reconcile him to the Duke, but the Prince would lend no ear to it. Nor, unsuccessful and baffled as our party had been, did they grow at all more reasonable. Lord Frederick Cavendish, probably from knowing the inclinations of the Duke of Cumberland, was desirous his brothers should soften towards Lord Bute. I, too, saw the necessity of that step; as, added to our own numbers, we should have the favour of the Crown, and the support of Lord Bute, Lord Northumberland, Lord Holland, and their friends. “It is true, we should,” said Lord Frederick, when I mentioned this; “but then, we should have Mr. Pitt against us.” “I doubt it: Mr. Pitt was not disposed to offend the King: he never was heartily a friend to us;” and his subsequent conduct proved how much he preferred any connection to union with George Grenville.

The privy seal of Scotland thus wrenched from Mackenzie, was offered to Lord Lorn:[144] he declining it, it was bestowed on his brother Lord Frederick Campbell, who, with unparalleled ingratitude and indecency, accepted it. He was nearly related to Mackenzie, had lived in the strictest intimacy with him, and had received from Lord Bute a place in Scotland of above 400l. a year for life, by a preference that had made two considerable chiefs in that country the mortal enemies of the Favourite. Thurlow,[145] an able lawyer, was named secretary to Lord Weymouth; and Lord Warkworth, the Earl of Northumberland’s son, was set aside from being Master of the Horse to the Queen, to which he was destined by the Court, in the room of Lord Weymouth.

To complete their vengeance even on inferior offenders, the Ministers caused the House of Lords to inflict severe penalties on several printers, and to reprimand Justice Fielding, the blind, but only useful magistrate, for having been negligent during the late riots. Yet as so much persecution and arrogance could not but excite much ill-will and mutual hostilities, it now came out that, before the loss of their bill, the weavers, suspecting that Lord Hilsborough was against them, had waited on him to implore his protection. To convince them he was not their enemy, he showed them a letter from Lord Halifax, in which the latter had begged him not to oppose the bill, Lord Halifax having an estate in Spitalfields, which would be greatly benefited by the success of the bill. To this the weavers had trusted; and the disappointment had blown up their fury. How Lord Halifax came not to support his own interest, or how it was compensated to him, did not appear. But with this triumph over all their foes, the Ministers put an end to the session by proroguing the Parliament, May 25th. Ten days more crowded with events scarce ever passed; for the Regency-bill was finished on the 14th, and between that and the 25th had happened the riot, the King’s declaration of his intention to dismiss the Ministers, the several journeys to Hayes, the reconciliation of Lord Temple and Grenville, the various attempts to form another Administration, the recall of the Ministers, and the several instances of their revenge and insolence. The King was left a prisoner to the Cabal, Lord Bute punished by the very instruments of all his bad acts, and Lord Holland disgraced by his once dear allies, the Bedfords and Rigby. The only joy the nation could feel was in seeing such poetic justice, for if they pitied not the sufferers, they could but abhor the executioners. If Lord Bute had advised the Peace, the Duke of Bedford had negotiated it. If General Warrants were employed for his service, Lord Halifax had issued them. If he had had any hand in the dismission of officers, Grenville had executed it. And if he had authorized the severe proscription of opponents, Lord Holland had marked the victims. Ampler atonement was still due; and it was not long delayed.

Defeated as the King’s attempts had been to deliver himself from the thrall of his Ministers, he could not sit patient under so many indignities. The insult offered to his mother, and the breach of his own royal promise imposed on him, were injuries not to be pardoned. His resentment broke out on every occasion, and the Parliament was no sooner prorogued than he took all opportunities of frowning on his tyrants and thwarting their desires. The Ministers proposed to make Lord Waldegrave or Lord Suffolk Master of the Horse to the Queen. Her Majesty said no Minister should interfere in her family, and named the Duke of Ancaster.[146] The first regiment that became vacant, the King bestowed on Lord Albemarle’s brother, General Keppel. The young Duke of Devonshire, by the King’s desire, was carried to Court by his uncles; and the Duke of Cumberland was still ready, as the King knew, to protect him against the Cabal. His Royal Highness said to Lord John Cavendish, “I can oppose the Crown when Ministers do wrong, but will now support it when it is insulted.”

CHAPTER IX.

Differences between the King and his Ministers.—Further Negotiations with Mr. Pitt.—Attempts to form a Whig Administration.—Summary of the Negotiations.—New Ministry formed.—Mr. Dowdeswell.—Marquis of Rockingham.—Mysterious Behaviour of Mr. Pitt.—Arrival of the Prince and Princess of Brunswick.

Presuming on their superiority in Parliament, and hurt at the marks of the King’s aversion, the Ministers determined once more to subdue him totally, or reduce him to new distresses. On the 12th of June[147] the Duke of Bedford, accompanied by Grenville, Sandwich, and Halifax, waited on his Majesty with a remonstrance, which the Duke had drawn up, which took an hour in reading, and which, though it had been much softened by Grenville in their private meeting, the King had the greatest difficulty to command himself enough to hear it read to the end. It tended to give him a month to consider whether he would take a new ministry or retain the old. In the latter case he was told that he must smile on his Ministers, and frown on their adversaries, whom he was reproached in no light terms with having countenanced contrary to his promise. Invectives against the Princess were not spared; nor threats of bringing Lord Bute to the block. The King made no answer, but made a bow as a signal for them to retire. When they were gone, he said that if he had not broken out into the most profuse sweat, he should have been suffocated with indignation.[148]

No redress was left but to apply once more to Mr. Pitt; and should he again decline, to form some desperate Administration of Lord Bute’s friends, and any detached persons that would join in so unpromising a system. To prevent the former—at least, to detach Lord Temple from Mr. Pitt—the Dukes of Bedford and Marlborough offered to resign either of their places in favour of the former. Temple, though expressing his good wishes, declared he would take nothing with the Administration as it then stood, but should like to see a new one formed out of all parties. Yet the Court did not despair of Mr. Pitt’s concurrence. James Grenville told Colonel Fitzroy that Mr. Pitt wished to see his brother, the Duke of Grafton, who had particularly distinguished himself by attachment to Pitt. The Duke, however, was so cautious that he would not go unless Mr. Pitt would directly request it; but sent Fitzroy to Hayes to know if Mr. Pitt desired to see him. Fitzroy stayed three hours and a half, while Pitt, in his vague inconclusive manner, was profuse of words, which did not tend to any definite meaning. It was rather a complaint of the late application. He said, that in August, two years before, he had been promised the King’s countenance; now no such thing had been mentioned, but that bubble Lord Northumberland had been pressed upon him, and the Duke of Cumberland had even urged it to him for an hour and a half. That he had not wanted the Treasury for Lord Temple, nor would have filled the carte blanche if it had been given to him. After much desultory conversation of the like sort, Fitzroy said, “Then, Sir, the result of all is, that you are resolved not to treat any more.” “Resolved! that is a strong word,” replied Pitt; “but this is my answer; Mr. Pitt’s determinations are fixed: all negotiation is at an end.”

The Duke of Grafton soon followed his brother. Mr. Pitt told him that Mr. Grenville had been there, and had begun to talk politics, but he had stopped him, and said, “Sir, a truce to your politics, for I never will talk politics with you again as long as I live.” In this visit the Duke thought he did not perceive a total unwillingness in Mr. Pitt still to listen to accommodation. On that report, and urged by the necessity of making one more attempt,

On the 17th the Duke of Grafton was again dispatched to Hayes to tell Mr. Pitt that the King was convinced he could not do without him, and to invite him to Court. Mr. Pitt replied he was ready to come, if his Majesty would graciously condescend, in consideration of his lameness, to see him on the ground-floor. Accordingly,

On the 19th he was three hours and a quarter with the King at the Queen’s house, and as long on the 22nd again, professing his readiness to undertake the direction of affairs. Everything he asked was accorded; particularly a close alliance with Prussia if possible. He named Lord Temple for the Treasury; the Duke of Grafton for Secretary of State, with himself; Sir George Saville for Secretary at War; Keppel and Saunders for Commissioners of the Admiralty, he did not care in whose room, nor should he be violent in turning out; though, as so many had suffered, there must be a large sweep.

During this transaction Pitt would not deign to make any communication to the Duke of Cumberland, who, notwithstanding, behaved nobly, said he would do all the good he could, and would take nothing ill.

Two days after these conferences, arrived Lord Temple from Stowe, and went to Hayes. The next day he waited on the King, and refused to accept the Treasury, saying he had a delicacy which must always remain a secret. This was generally supposed to be levelled at Lord Bute. Some thought of the Duke of Cumberland, and others that it regarded his own brother, George Grenville. But surely Lord Temple was not so overrun with delicacy that he could afford to make a secret of the only delicacy he seemed ever to have felt, the turning out his own brother to take his place himself!

The next day Pitt waited on the King again, and declared he was still ready to accept, if Lord Temple would; and in the presence of the latter, told his Majesty that for himself he was satisfied, and trusted his royal declarations. And to the Duke of Grafton he said, that he lamented with tears in his eyes Lord Temple’s refusal to accept. That Duke urged Lord Temple warmly, and told him he would forfeit all character if he remained obstinate; but when power could not influence him, what could reproaches do? He persisted, and Mr. Pitt would not take his part without him. Pitt had certainly made nearer advances to Lord Bute in this negotiation than the King either asked or expected; and Lord Temple, who never failed to take any credit to himself at the expense of his friends, openly calumniated Mr. Pitt for leaning towards Lord Bute, whom, he said, he himself had not ventured to trust. Pitt, it was true, had told the King that his Majesty ought in conscience to restore Mackenzie—and in truth both sense and honour dictated that advice to any man who entered into his Majesty’s service. In the City, Lord Temple’s emissaries abused Mr. Pitt for too much Butism, as Lord Sandwich did for his eagerness to promote a new war on the Continent. But what could excuse the conduct of Lord Temple, who, having an opportunity of redressing all the breaches of the Constitution, against which he had been so clamorous, now not only waived that duty, but leagued with the very men whom their own guilt and his voice and pen had pointed out as the criminals?[149]

The Duke of Cumberland now fearing that the King’s desperate position would drive him to form an Administration, with Lord Egmont at the head of the Favourite’s faction, which the Court had thought of, pressed the Whigs to undertake the Administration, and proposed Lord Rockingham for head of the Treasury. In consequence of this desire, a meeting of the chiefs of the Opposition in town was held at Claremont June the 30th. There were present, Newcastle himself, Lord Rockingham, the Duke of Portland and his brother, the three Cavendishes, Lord Grantham, General Conway, Thomas Walpole, George Onslow, Lord Ashburnham, two of the Townshends, and Lord Villiers.[150] The question of acceptance was debated; Newcastle answered for the Duke of Grafton’s readiness. Portland was warm on the same side, but proposed to turn out Lord Bute’s people. The rest were very doubtful. Newcastle declared his willingness to accept, but as he could not answer for all his friends, he desired each would deliver his opinion separately. Charles Townshend,[151] Lord Ashburnham,[152] T. Walpole, Onslow, and Lord Villiers disapproved of coming in without Mr. Pitt. Onslow pressed them to wait, as he said he hoped there would soon be a coalition of all parties against Lord Bute. T. Walpole[153] would not even promise to support so unpromising an Administration. Conway thought it perilous, but would not decline the danger. The rest agreed with Newcastle.

I was ill in bed and could not be present at the meeting; but when Conway reported the particulars to me, I thought I never heard a more wild proposal, nor one fraught with greater improbability of success. The nomination of Lord Rockingham for Minister at any season would have sounded preposterous; in the present, sufficient alone to defeat the system. Nor had I a more advantageous opinion of the rest that were to compose it: all young and inexperienced men, unknown to the nation, and great by nothing but their rank and fortunes. Conway agreed with me, but professed that if the Duke of Cumberland laid his commands on him to accept, he would not flinch from the enterprise.

The next day Newcastle reported to his Royal Highness the indifferent success of the assembly, yet with such eagerness to come again into power, that he answered for Lord Ashburnham, and gave hopes of prevailing with the rest. The Duke, not apt to be daunted, encouraged the trial; and thus, without any new consultation, his Royal Highness acquainted the King that he was ready to form an Administration for him. To disgust those who still adhered to Mr. Pitt, the Duke said he would now disclose what he had not told before, that Mr. Pitt, when he parted with the King, had told his Majesty that, though he thought Mr. Grenville the meanest and weakest of Ministers, yet there was no man he should advise his Majesty to employ so soon. This anecdote was confirmed by Mr. Pitt’s conduct in the next year. Censured, however, as Mr. Pitt was, his conduct was both prudent and honourable. Nothing had barred his acceptance but Lord Temple’s refusal of co-operating with him. Himself told the elder T. Townshend that, had he been younger, or had had one friend to whom he could have entrusted the Treasury, he would have undertaken the Administration without Lord Temple; but this was not the sole occasion in which he found the disadvantage of having kept all connections at a distance. Lord Temple’s defection he termed an amputation.

The King did not hesitate a moment to receive the new arrangement proposed by his uncle, nor clogged it with either terms or objections. Whatever was asked was instantly granted; and if no such courtly overtures were made, as Mr. Pitt had dropped to ingratiate himself with the favourite star, the Duke had, however, the address to ward off any unwelcome conditions from being imposed upon the King. Indeed, no conditions at all were proposed. The Whigs, content with the power of doing right, as their subsequent actions proved had been their intention, forbore to stipulate for redress of grievances; and though the King might expect more complaisance on certain points than he afterwards experienced, he was too glad to be revenged on his old Ministers, and too content with finding no unwelcome sacrifices demanded, to boggle at a treaty which was restricted solely to the disposition of places. Many of the new placemen were not less rejoiced to find themselves exalted above their most sanguine expectations; though that precipitate rise ought to have admonished them of the weakness and instability of their party. But the rage of the fallen Ministers exceeded, out of all proportion, the joy both of their masters and successors. And as defeated insolence soon turns to despondency, they were abject enough to deny that they had driven the King a second time to take his part. It was too late now to repent, and the new Ministers kissed hands on July the 8th.[154]

The Marquis of Rockingham was appointed First Lord of the Treasury; the Duke of Grafton and General Conway, Secretaries of State; the Duke of Newcastle, Lord Privy Seal; and the old Earl of Winchelsea, likewise coupled with this juvenile troop, was made President of the Council; and Mr. Dowdeswell,[155] Chancellor of the Exchequer. The Duke of Portland succeeded Earl Gower as Lord Chamberlain. Thomas Townshend[156] the younger, Lord John Cavendish, and George Onslow were appointed Commissioners of the Treasury. Lord George Cavendish and Sir George Saville, though firm friends to the new system, handsomely declined accepting places. The Earl of Egmont, the only friend of Lord Bute that was advanced, was made First Lord of the Admiralty, with the Admirals Keppel and Saunders, Sir William Meredith, and the Spanish Charles Townshend. Thomas Pitt, in compliment to his uncle, was offered to remain at that board, but chose to follow Mr. Grenville. The Earl of Ashburnham was made Keeper of the Great Wardrobe; Lord Barrington, Secretary at War, instead of Treasurer of the Navy; the Earl of Besborough and Lord Grantham, joint Postmasters. Lord Powis[157] was turned out of Treasurer of the Household, to make room for Lord Edgcumbe;[158] and the Earl of Scarborough[159] succeeded Lord Thomond, who resigned with his brother Grenville, as Cofferer. Thomas Pelham[160] replaced Lord Charles Spencer as Comptroller; Lord Villiers was made Vice-Chamberlain in the room of William Finch,[161] who retired with a pension; and Lord Gage,[162] Paymaster of the Pensions, in the room of Mr. Neville. Inferior promotions it is not necessary to recapitulate: let it suffice to say, that the new Ministers dismissed but two of Lord Bute’s friends, Lord Despencer and one who will be mentioned hereafter.[163] On the other hand, the Duke of Cumberland had wished to detach the Duke of Bedford from Grenville, (an object only desirable for the breach it would have made in their party,) and sent General Fitzwilliam with carte blanche to Rigby. The latter rejected it with scorn, and with ample abuse on his Royal Highness as a politician.

I have specified the new plan as it took place, but must take notice now of some steps leading to it. Grenville, on his reconciliation with his brother, had notified it to the King in a long declamation. The King answered, He did not trouble himself with the friendships of others, and wished nobody would with his. When the change was determined, the Chancellor received the King’s orders to write to Grenville and the two Secretaries of State to bring their seals the next day. The Duke of Marlborough, Earl Gower, and Rigby resigned.

In the first draught of the new settlement it was proposed that Mr. Conway should be Chancellor of the Exchequer; and for some time Lord Rockingham refused to accept without that assistance. Conway’s inclination was to be Secretary at War; his resolution not to quit the military line. I, who knew his unacquaintance with the business of the Treasury, the disgusting coldness of his manner, which would revolt those he ought to court, and who foresaw (though not to the degree I found afterwards) how little he was made to ingratiate himself with strangers, and consequently to conduct the House of Commons, earnestly dissuaded him from undertaking that post. My opinion concurring with his own sentiments, though at first he had been staggered, he set himself to refuse that employment with a vehemence much beyond his natural temper. For Secretary of State he was excellently fitted, and no man ever applied himself to the business of his office with such unrelaxed industry. Unluckily, the department he refused was bestowed on Dowdeswell, who was so suited to the drudgery of the office, as far as it depends on arithmetic, that he was fit for nothing else. Heavy, slow, methodical without clearness, a butt for ridicule, unversed in every graceful art, and a stranger to men and courts, he was only esteemed by the few to whom he was personally known.[164]

The Marquis of Rockingham was almost the reverse. More childish in his deportment than in his age, he was totally void of all information. Ambitious, with excessive indolence; fond of talking of business, but dilatory in the execution; his single talent lay in attracting dependants: yet, though proud and self-sufficient, he had almost as many governors as dependants. To this unpromising disposition, he had so weak a frame of person and nerves, that no exigence could surmount his timidity of speaking in public; and having been only known to that public by his passion for horse-races, men could not be cured of their surprise at seeing him First Minister, as he never could give them an opportunity of knowing whether he had any other talents. A silent First Minister was a phenomenon unknown since Parliaments had borne so great a share in the revolutions of government. His personal character was blameless—unfortunately, the times required something more than negative qualities![165]

The most sensible step taken by the new Ministers at their outset, was endeavouring to gain the countenance of Mr. Pitt—at least, affecting to wear the marks of enjoying it. One of the Vice-Treasurerships of Ireland, vacant by Rigby’s resignation, was offered to James Grenville, who expressed, and I believe sincerely, his concern at not being able to accept it. The Cofferer’s place was also tendered to Lord Lyttelton, who had much occasion for it, and who no less sincerely lamented that his having been included in the family reconciliation of the Grenvilles forbad his joining in a system founded on the disgrace of Mr. Grenville. But a step more material, and more likely to impose on the world, met with better success. This was an offer of the peerage to Lord Chief Justice Pratt. Lord Rockingham, whose aunt[166] was married to Lord Mansfield, and who hoped for the assistance of the latter, was averse to this measure, on the evident probability that Pratt would be a troublesome rival of Mansfield in the House of Lords. In truth, that probability made Pratt’s peerage infinitely more important to the nation than the court paid to Mr. Pitt by it could be; and had the new arrangement produced no other benefit to the country, that single step had made the change desirable. Nothing could be more dangerous than the influence of so arbitrary a man as Lord Mansfield over the House of Lords, where a lawyer of such eminent abilities was sure to preponderate; for the Chancellor[167] was too profligate in every light to carry any authority. Pratt, with great thankfulness, took the title of Lord Camden.

Still, more weight was wanted. Charles Townshend and Charles Yorke were applied to. Each fluctuated according to their various degrees of timidity and irresolution. The first seemed transported with the change—then refused to engage—and then would not lose his place. Thus he neither pleased the fallen Ministers, nor satisfied his successors. His brother,[168] whom he feared, went to the King, declaimed against the change, yet at last promised to support it. Charles seemed to support it only because he had not promised. Yorke’s scruples had deeper root. His ambition pointed immediately at the Chancellor’s Seals; and finding no hopes of them, he dreaded offending the other party, who might recover their power and that of making a Chancellor. These perplexities he did not express; but at first pleaded reluctance to come in when his friend Dr. Hay was turned out. He next had qualms about Norton, who was not his friend, and who now, to the universal joy of the nation, was turned out by the new Ministers, with the no slight dissatisfaction of Lord Bute. Charles Yorke then consented to take the place of Attorney-General in Norton’s room, and as quickly repented of and recalled his consent. However, as he too was one who had great sway with Lord Rockingham, and as his family inclined to the new system, Yorke remained of their connection, and some time after was again made Attorney-General.[169] His youngest brother[170] was preferred to the Admiralty, and the Earl of Breadalbane, whose eldest daughter[171] Lord Hardwicke had married, was appointed Privy Seal of Scotland, Lord Frederick Campbell being turned out; a half oblation to the King;—the real reparation not being made by the restoration of Mackenzie. Lord Lorn, who had given up his brother-in-law Conway, was as little delicate on the disgrace of his own brother Lord Frederick. No sooner had the change taken place, than not resenting the latter, and trusting that the former was not resented, Lord Lorn wrote to Mr. Conway from Scotland to say, that as he was so connected with the Duke of Bedford, he could ask nothing from the new Administration; but if the King should offer him a regiment, he could not refuse it from his Majesty, though he could not violate his connection with the Bedfords. Mr. Conway could not mistake the drift of this casuistry. The regiment was offered, and accepted.

Mr. Pitt’s behaviour was various and full of mystery. When Norton was turned out, Pitt sent him word that it was not done by his advice, and that were he Minister, he should be glad of the assistance of such abilities. As nobody supposed that Mr. Pitt directed the new Administration, however good his intentions to them might be; as he and Norton had ever acted in an opposite line, and on opposite principles; and as Norton had by no means been gentle in his attacks, the message seemed uncalled for and mean-spirited: nor was it to be accounted for, unless in scorn of Yorke, or as an innuendo to Lord Bute, that his friends would have received better quarter, had the treaty with Pitt succeeded or should succeed another time. The Duke of Grafton and Admiral Saunders had been advised and pressed by Pitt to promote the formation of the new Ministry. The latter asked if he might mention that advice? Pitt replied, “Tell it everywhere.” Pitt then went to Stowe for a few days, returned to town, visited Grenville, and was with him for some time. The Duke of Grafton hearing that in consequence of that visit Grenville had affirmed that Mr. Pitt had to him expressed disapprobation of the new system, the Duke wrote to Mr. Pitt, who declared he had seen Mr. Grenville but once since the new Administration had taken place, and then not in private, and had not to him, or to any one else, disapproved of the present arrangement.[172]

There still remained some persons to be satisfied, and more were necessary to be acquired. Lord Shelburne was offered his old place at the head of the Board of Trade. He declined it in a pompous letter, in which he said he regarded measures, not men; he would wait to see what their measures (he should have said what their success) would be. The post was conferred on the Earl of Dartmouth. Stanley was dissatisfied with not being allowed to keep the Admiralty with the government of the Isle of Wight. Lord Howe, on the contrary, though promoted by Grenville, accepted the Treasurership of the Navy. Lord Digby,[173] to compensate to Lord Holland for the loss of his place, was created an English peer; but the latter had rendered himself so obnoxious to the new Ministers by his character, by his connection with the Favourite, and by the persecution he had carried on against the Whigs, that they who consulted their own characters, and indulged their resentments beyond what prudence dictated, totally neglected him. Nor could the Duke of Cumberland or House of Cavendish forgive him. Lord Strange chose to preserve his employment, and pleaded having bargained with the late Ministers that his place should not affect his conduct in Parliament. There was another man who was early in the most humble application to the Duke of Cumberland to be received into the new establishment; this was Lord George Sackville. He did not ask, he said, for anything in the military line. The Duke was disposed to give him hopes only; but, by more judicious addresses to Lord Rockingham, Lord George was not long before he obtained one of the lucrative Vice-Treasurerships of Ireland.

There was much more difficulty about the Duke of Richmond. He had entirely broken with the late Ministers, and attached himself to the Duke of Cumberland. The arrangement, however, had been made without any suitable provision for his Grace. At last he was offered the place of Cofferer. He said modestly that he knew he had not the same pretensions to the first posts as the other young noblemen of his own rank, since he had not suffered like them, had not engaged with them in opposition, and consequently had not the same merit with the party. He owned, however, that he wished for an active place in business. I persuaded him not to accept Cofferer, and assured him I would not rest till I saw him placed in a situation suitable to his rank and talents. I kept my word; and as the Duke of Cumberland had dropped a hint of making Lord Hertford Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and of sending the Duke Ambassador to Paris, I pursued that idea, though the Duke wished rather to be employed at home; till, on Lord Hertford’s nomination to Ireland, I pushed Mr. Conway so warmly that he obtained the embassy for the Duke of Richmond. Mr. Conway had had more difficulty in succeeding for Lord Hertford, whose conduct, in not taking part with his brother and his wife’s nephew, the Duke of Grafton, had given universal disgust to the party. Richmond was indeed the only steady acquisition the Ministers made. Yet the intemperance of the disgraced Cabal threw another important convert into their hands. Grenville told Lord Granby that the new Ministers had wished to turn out his father, the Duke of Rutland, in order to save the Duke of Marlborough. Lord Granby was advised to ask the King if this was true. The King denied it; and in that conversation made such impression on that light man, that, with the addition of the first vacant regiment for his uncle, Lord Robert Manners, Lord Granby was entirely gained over from his late allies. This blow was sensibly felt by Grenville, who was not endowed with the spirit of patience. His behaviour on his fall was abject and full of lamentation; and, as disgraced Ministers are seldom pitied, so the occasion generally calls forth even those spots that flattery had concealed from the prying eyes of opposition. The vaunted economy of this Minister had not been restrained to the public service. It now came out that he had obtained the reversion of one of the lighthouses[174] for himself under another name; and that, having bestowed an inferior office in the Treasury on his cook, he had bid the man expect no wages for five years. Lord Halifax had been guilty of worse corruption: he and his mistress had sold every employment in his gift.

But if the integrity of the new Ministers shone by the comparison with their predecessors, in want of prudence they seemed to have taken the example of those very predecessors for the rule of their own conduct. Nothing could induce them to take the smallest step that might secure favour in the closet, by even civility to the Favourite. Perhaps the disguise used by the King deceived them into an idea of that attention not being necessary. He told them early that he understood their bargain, and that Lord Bute should not meddle; and that if Elliot and Oswald would not work (support them by speaking in Parliament) he gave them power to turn out both. The conduct of the Ministers, as individuals, was honourable—but in not restoring Mackenzie, unjust both to the King and the sufferer, and too great a sacrifice to popularity. I pressed the restitution of Mackenzie to Mr. Conway, and urged that, as public men and friends to their country, it behoved them to bend a little in order to secure their power in exclusion to men of worse designs. But to talk to Conway against public opinion was preaching to the winds. Even Lord Northumberland, from his relation to the Favourite, was neglected in the new system, though he had been deprived of the government of Ireland by the late Cabal on the same foundation.

The Princess of Wales was the first offended on finding she could promise herself as little influence over the new Ministers as of late she had experienced from the last. A conversation was much talked of, in which it was said warm words were overheard between her and her son, who was distinctly heard (according to the report) to tell her, that he had ventured his crown to obey her. The disgusts of Lord Bute’s friends, and of the late Ministers, whose rupture had its origin in the animosities between the Princess and the Duchess of Bedford, gave occasion to an excellent bon mot of George Selwyn, who said of the two factions, that, like thieves going to execution, they laid their ruin to lewd women.

Notwithstanding their sacrifices to popularity, and with self-created omens that promised them little stability, the first public notice taken of the new Ministers gave them no reason to think that there was a general approbation of their advancement. In the Address of the City of London on the birth of a Prince, the King was told that when his measures should be established, that great body would be ready to support them. The Ex-ministers took this as a compliment to themselves; but it more probably had reference to Mr. Pitt, the idol of the citizens.

Abroad the change was no sooner known, than Prince Ferdinand wrote to Mr. Conway to propose coming over with the Hereditary Prince, or afterwards, and begged Mr. Conway to tell him in confidence whether the King would like it. The King said he should like it much, but that Prince Ferdinand had better wait till his nephew was gone back again to Germany, because the latter, having married a Princess of England, must be distinguished by ceremonial. Whoever remembered how little distinction had been paid to the Prince, even on his marriage, could not believe this to be the true reason of the King’s waiving the visit. It was more natural to think his Majesty was not eager to be witness of Prince Ferdinand’s popularity, when his own was at so low an ebb; nor could he wish that his new Ministers should enjoy the triumph and advantages of a visit that seemed paid to them rather than to himself. Whatever hindered it, Prince Ferdinand never came. The Prince and Princess of Brunswick did arrive by particular invitation. Some thought Lord Bute hoped to engage Mr. Pitt by the intervention of the Hereditary Prince; but the court paid of late, both by the Prince and his wife, to the Princess Dowager, had entirely won her affections, and removed her antipathy to the House of Brunswick.

CHAPTER X.

Walpole’s Separation from his Party.—His Character of Mr. Conway.—Commencement of the Troubles with North America.—Death of the Duke of Cumberland.—His Character.—Negotiations with the Courts of Versailles and Madrid respecting the Fortifications at Dunkirk and the Ransom of the Manillas.

The dissolution of our Opposition now afforded me that opportunity of retreating from those who had composed it, for which I had so eagerly longed; nor was I dilatory in executing my resolution. Many new reasons concurred to make me adhere to the plan I had formed. It was against my opinion that my friends had accepted the Administration; and though I would not peremptorily advise Mr. Conway to decline taking part, when he told me he thought himself obliged in honour to obey the King’s and Duke’s commands, still I saw so much weakness both in the leaders and the numbers, that I entertained no hopes of the permanence of their power. Chiefs who could not conduct a party with sense, seemed little qualified to govern a nation. I had given notice, that if ever they attained power, I would have nothing farther to do with them. They had attained it now, but with so little prospect of maintaining their ground, that nothing was so probable as their being soon driven to opposition again. In that I was determined to engage with them no more. If I quitted them triumphant, they would have no right to call on me should they again be defeated by their own want of skill. I had fully satisfied my honour and my engagements, and had anybody cause to complain, it was myself—but I chose to part with them on good terms; nor would I, when I was really hurt, condescend to utter a reproach. This topic truth demands that I should explain. I had entered into opposition on the view of the violent measures, and still more violent designs of the Court. Personal dislike to the Bedford faction had inflamed my natural warmth, and the oppression exercised on Mr. Conway had fixed in me an unalterable desire of overturning that Administration. Not the smallest view of self-interest had entered into my imagination. On the contrary I risked an easy ample fortune with which I was thoroughly contented. When I found unjust power exerted to wrong me, I am not ashamed to say I flattered myself that, if ever our party was successful, I should obtain to have the payments of my place settled on some foundation that should not expose me to the caprice or wanton tyranny of every succeeding Minister; for court I was resolved to make to none, whether friend or foe,—a haughtiness I maintained throughout my life, never once condescending to go to the levee of any first Minister. My wish of making this independence perfectly easy I had hinted to Mr. Conway during our opposition. He received it with silence. It was not in my nature to repeat such a hint. As disinterestedness was my ruling passion, I did hope that on the change some considerable employment would be offered to me, which my vanity would have been gratified in refusing. It was mortifying enough to me, when Mr. Conway (for I have said that during the last negotiation I was confined in bed with the gout) reported to me the proposed arrangement of places, to find that my name had not been so much as mentioned. That I would take no place was well known,—I had frequently declared it. From the Duke of Cumberland, to whom I had never paid court; from the Duke of Newcastle, whom I had constantly ridiculed; from Lord Rockingham and the Cavendishes, whom I had treated with a very moderate share of regard; I had no reason to expect much attention: and though some notice is due to all men who are respected in a party, they were excusable in proposing nothing for me, when they found nothing demanded for me by my own intimate friend and near relation. He must be supposed to know my mind best: if he was silent, what called on them to be more solicitous for my interest? But what could excuse this neglect in Mr. Conway? For him I had sacrificed everything; for him I had been injured, oppressed, calumniated. The foundation of his own fortune, and almost every step of his fortune, he owed solely to me. How thoroughly soever he knew my sentiments, was a compliment at least not due to me. Whatever was due to me, much or little, he totally forgot it; and so far from once endeavouring to secure my independence, in his whole life after he never once mentioned it. I had too much spirit to remind him of it, though he has since frequently vaunted to me his own independence. Such failure of friendship, or to call it by its truer name, such insensibility, could not but shock a heart at once so tender and so proud as mine. His ensuing conduct completely opened my eyes. When I saw him eager and anxious to exalt his brother Hertford to the Vice-royalty of Ireland, and his brother-in-law Lorn to a regiment; and when he omitted no occasion of serving them and the Duke of Argyle[175] and Lord Frederick Campbell—all four, men who had abandoned him to persecution without a pang, I saw clearly into his nature. He thought it noble, he thought it would be fame, to pardon the neglect he had met with; and that the world would applaud his generous return of their ungenerous and interested behaviour. No glory would have accrued from his serving me, as it would have been natural and no more than was expected. His heart was so cold that it wanted all the beams of popular applause to kindle it into action. I had command enough of myself not to drop a word of reproach on a friendship so frozen; but, without murmur, and with my wonted cheerfulness, as soon as my strength was tolerably recruited, I declared my intention of making a visit to Lord Hertford, at Paris, before he quitted his embassy. I acted with the same unconcern to the whole party, for I would neither suffer them nor my enemies to know that I had any cause to be dissatisfied with Mr. Conway. When I scorned to open myself, even to him, it was not likely I should be more communicative to others. As disgust with my friends did not, as most commonly happens, reconcile me to my enemies, I foresaw that I might still have occasion to make use of my power with Mr. Conway to the annoyance of the latter; for though Mr. Conway had none of the warmth of friendship, yet he had more confidence in me, and knew he might have, than in any man living; and, notwithstanding the indifference I have described, he frequently trusted me afterwards with secrets that he reserved from his wife and his brother.

He no sooner discovered that my intention was to remain in France much longer than he expected, than he broke out into complaints, entreaties, and reproaches: and, as if he had satisfied all the duties of friendship, and I had violated them, he tried with angry words to divert me from my purpose; urged the occasion he should have for my advice, and called my retreat desertion of my friends. Satisfied with making him feel the want of me, and now hardened against the calls of friendship, I treated the matter lightly, civilly, and desultorily. I reminded him of the declaration I had often made of quitting the party as soon as they should be successful, which he could not deny; and, with a little mixture of conscious scorn, I said I knew the obligations the party had had to me; I knew none I had to them. Vexed, and his pride hurt, he employed Lady Ailesbury to tell me in his presence that he looked upon my behaviour as deserting him; and himself dropped many peevish accents. Fixed in the plan I had laid down to myself, nothing could provoke me to be serious; I carried off all with good humour; and, above owing to a retort of reproaches what I ought to have owed to his sentiments, I parted with him with such inflexible, and consequently mysterious, cheerfulness, that he knew not what interpretation to put on my behaviour—if he did guess, he was more blameable than I suspected. His insensibility had made me insensible; his ingratitude would have given me stronger sensations. But it is justice to him to say, that I think he was incapable of ingratitude: his soul was good, virtuous, sincere; but his temper was chill, his mind absent; and he was so accustomed to my suggesting to him whatever I thought it was right for him to do, that he had no notion of my concealing a thought from him; and as I had too much delicacy to mention even my own security, I am persuaded it never came into his conception. His temper hurt me, but I forgave his virtue, of which I am confident, and know it was superior to my own. We have continued to this day on an easy and confidential footing; but conscious that I would not again devote myself for him, I have taken strict care never to give him decisive advice, when it might lead him to a precipice. Before I set out, and as a mark that I meant no breach with him, at the same time to serve another friend, and to wear an air of interest with the Administration which might disguise my dissatisfaction, I desired Mr. Conway to raise Sir Horace Mann, the resident at Florence, to the rank of envoy; which was immediately done. The Bedfords, however, knew me enough to surmise that my retreat was the effect of some dislike I had conceived to the new system; and at my return to England, near eight months afterwards, officiously threw out civilities that might draw me to their connection. I soon let them see that whatever my dislikes were, nothing had happened to soften my conduct, or change my opinion of them and their principles. Nor was it much longer before they found that I had lost neither inclination nor power to bar their return to Court by the weight I retained with Mr. Conway.

I left England in August, and did not return till the April following. A very interesting scene passed in the interval, on which, as I was not an eye-witness, I shall be more brief than ordinary; but as I corresponded with Mr. Conway, was consulted by him, and received other information from very good authority, I shall set down nothing but what I know to be truth; and that will be sufficient not to leave any material break in the thread of my narration.

The new Ministers had scarce taken possession of their places, before they were alarmed with accounts of the mutinous behaviour of the Colonies, on the attempt to carry into execution the new Stamp Act. The Americans were determined not to submit to it; and great pains had been taken in order to bring about a general union of all the provinces, in order to oppose the admission of the tax. To all it was disagreeable; yet some Colonies accepted it. Virginia and New England were the most refractory, and precipitated themselves into great violences. In some parts, the ships that brought over the stamps were seized and the stamps burned. The officers of the new revenue were not suffered to land, or were cruelly treated, their houses forced and pillaged, and their persons menaced. The governors themselves were not secure, and trembled lest their few strongholds should be seized by the hand of rebellion. In the most mutinous towns there was no possibility of executing the Act. But the weapon with which the Colonies armed themselves to most advantage, was the refusal of paying the debts they owed to our merchants at home, for goods and wares exported to the American provinces. These debts involved the merchants of London, Liverpool, Manchester, and other great trading towns, in a common cause with the Americans, who forswore all traffic with us, unless the obnoxious Stamp Act was repealed. Nothing could be more delicate to the new Ministers than such a crisis. They themselves had opposed the Act. Should they enforce the execution, which could only be done by the sword, it would be tyrannizing against their consciences, and supporting a bad or weak act of their antagonists. They would risk lighting up a rebellion in the Colonies, would ruin the mutual intercourse and trade between the mother-country and the outlying provinces; would endanger those distant dominions flinging themselves into the arms of France or Spain, at least receiving succours thence; while they were threatened at the same time with insurrections in the trading towns at home, who loudly demanded a repeal of the bill, on which depended the payment of what was due to them, and the hopes of re-establishing so beneficial a commerce.

On the other hand, to repeal a revenue-bill, because it was distasted by those obnoxious to it, was setting a precedent of the most fatal complexion. What country, what town, what profession, what order of men, would submit to the most legal impositions, if Government once showed itself afraid, and recoiled, as soon as force was used to reject the duty? In the present case the insult was unparalleled and accompanied with every kind of aggravating circumstance. Not only payment of the duty was refused, but the very authority called in question by which it was enjoined. The Parliament of Great Britain, said the Colonists, had no right to impose internal taxes on them: they were not represented there; they would tax themselves. This was striking at the very vitals of the Constitution, for however the Colonies affected to distinguish between the King and the Parliament, the Act had been the act of the whole Legislature, and the Constitution knows not the King in a legislative capacity distinct from the two other branches of the Legislature. Here was disobedience to the law, and rebellion against the principle of all our laws. Nor was this speculative view the sole object to weigh in the decision the Ministers were to make. Should they embrace the measure of repeal, were they sure they could carry it? The Act had passed by a great majority in both Houses, and with the royal assent. Was it probable that such majorities could be induced to revoke their opinion in compliment to mutinous associations that flew in the face of their ordinance, and denied their authority? Was it likely that the King would approve of, or consent to, such diminution of his Majesty, before an attempt had been made to enforce it? When do princes bend but after a defeat? There could be no doubt but force would easily reduce the Colonies to obedience. They had no strongholds, were ill-armed, a disjointed body, not yet engaged in a common cause, nor so compact a corps as easily to be put in motion together; and from being distinct governments, habituated to different usages, and actuated by different interests, easily to be separated from a joint plan, and more likely to obstruct than to promote one general system of operations. To temporize in favour of resisting subjects would be speaking that language of Whiggism so distasteful to the Court, so dissonant from the tone of the present reign, and so much objected to the new Ministers during the late opposition. It would be opening a door to the flattery of their antagonists, who, instead of setting out by obstructing the measures of the Crown, would have an opportunity of paying their court at the expense of the Ministers themselves.

These were deep and weighty considerations, and, with this precipice on either hand, were young, artless, inexperienced men to date their career. Grenville, the parent of the Bill, and even fond of it beyond the love of a politician, was not a man to overlook so sudden a prospect of recovering the ground he had lost. Though he would have revelled in an opportunity of glutting his vengeance and enforcing obedience to his law, he could not but enjoy the distress to which the crisis reduced his adversaries. It suited his proud spirit to call for assertion of the Crown’s and Parliament’s dignity; and his revengeful spirit, to drive the Ministers on measures so repugnant to their principles and opinions, and, rather than not see the Colonies punished, he wished to have the punishment inflicted even by his adversaries. He toiled to obtain the most circumstantial evidence of the mutiny; he exaggerated every instance, and called aloud on the hand of power to vindicate the honour of the Legislature.

As the accounts from America grew every day worse, the Ministers, who at first were inclined to repeal the Act, were borne down by the flagrancy of the provocation. But being temperate men in themselves, fixed in their principles, forseeing not only more extensive but more immediate evils from violence, (for the danger from the clamours of the merchants and trading towns increased in proportion,) and possibly indignant at the attempts made by their antagonists to drive them to extremities, they coolly and firmly resolved to remove the grievance, rather than involve their country and outlying brethren in a series of calamities more destructive of the common good than the wound given to the authority of Government. Whoever will reflect on the state of the dangers they were to encounter, and which I have specified above, must own that their conduct was virtuous, honest, prudent, humane, and brave: it will be difficult, I believe, to discover that it could be interested.

This determination of the Ministers to attempt the repeal of the Stamp Act was putting their power to the test at once; and was the more adventurous, as they certainly had not taken any steps to secure the previous favour of the Crown. If on one hand they increased by this measure the animosity of Grenville and his party, and held out to him the means of making his cause common with that of the Legislature; on the other, they afforded an opportunity to Lord Bute and his faction of returning their hostilities, and of veiling his grievances under the mantle of the King’s and Parliament’s dignity. The Colonies, however pleased, could lend no support to their protectors, who, in truth, could stand on no ground at home, but on the popularity they had already acquired with the people, and should acquire with the mercantile part of the kingdom. In this exigence they lost the only real pillar of their Administration at Court.

Notwithstanding the services he had rendered, it is not probable that the Duke of Cumberland had made any progress in his Majesty’s or the Princess’s affections. He had driven out obnoxious Ministers, it is true, and furnished the King with a new set when no others would venture to enlist. But were not these new men more attached to his Royal Highness than to the person of the King? and had not the Duke promoted his own views in forming an Administration for his nephew? Had his Royal Highness interested himself to obtain any terms for the Favourite? Was not the latter in a manner proscribed by the friends of his Royal Highness? Had not the most select of those friends been as offensive to the Princess as the late Ministers themselves? Undoubtedly; and yet the personal character of his Royal Highness was in such estimation, his behaviour was so full of dignity, he was so attached to the Crown, and understood the Court so much better than the Ministers, and could dare to hazard language in the closet which their want of authority and favour forbad them to use, that he could have interposed in their behalf, or could have bent them to necessary submission to the Crown, which no other man in England was capable of doing. But of this mediator the Ministers were soon deprived.

On the 30th of October his Royal Highness was playing at picquet with General Hodgson.[176] He grew confused, and mistook the cards. The next day he was recovered enough to appear at Court; but after dinner was seized with a suffocation, and ordered the window to be opened. One of his valets-de-chambre, who was accustomed to bleed him, was called, and prepared to tie up his arm; but the Duke said, “It is too late!—it is all over!”—and expired.

I have spoken so much of his Royal Highness’s character in the beginning and in various parts of these Memoirs,[177] that little addition is necessary. His haughtiness and severity had made him most obnoxious in the early parts of his life. His profound understanding had taught him to profit of his mortifications; and though he never condescended to make himself amiable but to very few, he became as much respected, though deprived of power, as if his heroism had been victorious. Whether his good sense would have resisted prosperity with equal temper, I much doubt. He would have made a great King, but probably too great a King for so corrupt a Country. His indifference to death, which he had so long and so frequently had in prospect in the last years of his life, and which he seemed to invite, was, I believe, less owing to the solidity of his courage, which was intrepid, than to the unhappiness of his situation. His bodily infirmities,[178] though borne without complaint or impatience, were grievous. His mind had been more sensibly afflicted. Born with a martial spirit and fond of command, he had not only been unsuccessful in every battle, except that of Culloden; but had been forced by cruel circumstances from the favourite profession of his soul; in civil life he was kept, by the temper of his father and the aversion of the Princess Dowager, in a state of neglect and disgrace. Fox, who he had a right to expect should stickle for his power, had betrayed and abandoned him; Pitt had made it a point to bar him from all influence; and the two Pelhams, after leaning on him for a while, had sacrificed him to the Princess and to their own ambition or jealousy of credit. His mind had not been formed for idleness, and could ill digest an exclusion from all military and all civil councils; and was too lofty and too unpliant to feed on trifling amusements. It had the great, but none of the little, powers of philosophy; could bear misfortune, but could not compensate to itself for the want of its object. He used books rather than liked or valued them, and cared for none of the arts. His principles restrained him from going any considerable lengths against the Crown; nor could he stoop to bestow those caresses that are necessary to form extensive connections. He dealt his smiles to those who followed him, like a King that rewards, not like the head of a party, who has farther to go. The dignity of his conduct and behaviour gave his Court the air of a dethroned monarch’s, but had nothing of a Prince whom his nephew’s Court had suspected of having views on the Crown.

The King, at his Royal Highness’s request, had promised the first vacant garter to the Earl of Albemarle,[179] and now with great propriety bestowed on him that of his master. The Ministers, too, were assured by his Majesty that the Duke’s death should make no alteration in the present system.

In London, the Duke’s death was deeply felt; and when the orders for mourning were issued, which, according to usage, were as for an uncle, and regulated by the late shorter ceremonial, the middling and lower people almost universally went into the closet mourning with weepers, and wore it for the whole time that had been customary before the contraction enjoined in the late reign. An attempt was made for a subscription to raise a statue to his memory, but without success:[180] and the new area in Berkeley Square being destined for the place, Adam,[181] a Scotch architect, defeated the project, from the hatred which his nation bore to their conqueror, by proposing to erect a statue[182] of his Majesty on that very spot, a compliment his Majesty too willingly accepted, and which became ridiculous by the King himself being at the expense. The Duchess of Bedford, then at Bath, distinguished her animosity as absurdly, by wearing slighter mourning for the Duke than that prescribed by the Court.

The Administration was not without difficulties with regard to the Courts of Versailles and Madrid, who delayed to demolish the fortifications of Dunkirk, to liquidate the payment on the Canada Bills, and to settle the ransom of the Manillas. But though the new Ministers were more in earnest in their attempts to obtain all these ends than their predecessors had been, the ignominy of not obtaining them lay heavier on the latter. They it was who had sacrificed so much glory and advantage to the two Courts—at least all of them had concurred with Lord Bute in that paltry Peace; and when they had retained so small a portion of our conquests, and stipulated for such slight indemnifications, on them it lay to have secured at least the accomplishment of such poor terms. Indeed they had not dared to use a vigorous tone to either Court; for could the Ministers of Louis or Charles believe that those men would seriously undertake a war for trifles, who had sacrificed so much to purchase a Peace that they might have dictated? They accordingly had hoped that they should wheedle the two Courts to save them from the reproach of having accepted fallacious conditions, rather than attempted to call loudly for execution of the Treaty. The new Ministers had less to fear in speaking out. They had nothing to manage for their own sakes; and if the nation was not in a situation or a temper to go to war for the violation of the Peace, they were not answerable for the measures that had reduced us to such a state of timidity. It would be glorious to them to extort what the peacemakers had not dared to insist on; or baffled, the shame would lie at the door of their predecessors. Our Ministers, therefore, at Versailles and Madrid were ordered to make the demands with spirit. The Duke of Richmond, though he had concurred in the Peace, wanted no alacrity to enforce the terms of it. He had had little or no connection with the late Administration, had never been favourably looked on at Court, had no predilection for Lord Bute, and now entered with warmth into alliance with the Ministers. Though possessed of the Dukedom of Aubigné, he was far from having any partiality to France: and having naturally a high and national spirit, he was ready to hold as firm a language as the Administration could choose to authorize. In truth, his friends apprehended that he would be more likely to embroil the Courts than to relax in following his instructions. Yet young, inexperienced, and high-souled as he was, no man could conduct himself with more prudence and temper. Though he negotiated with obstinacy, he bore the flippancy and evasions of the Duc de Choiseul with admirable patience, neither betraying the honour of the Crown, nor exposing it to any unwarrantable contestations. In the short period of his embassy he performed an essential service by his resolution, quickness, industry, and perseverance. It is almost sufficient to say, that he settled one point of his negotiation and was unwelcome to that Court: a proof that he neither temporized too far, nor was over-reached by men of larger experience. On his way to Paris he passed purposely by Dunkirk. The Duke of Cumberland had disapproved of that visit. “My Lord,” said the Prince, “Dunkirk is not worth going to war for: if you do not visit it, you may say it is destroyed; you cannot after seeing it with your own eyes.” This implied that his Royal Highness was convinced France did not mean to destroy it. As I had arrived at Paris before the Duke of Richmond, I had learnt the desperate situation of their finances, and was witness to the disturbances occasioned to their Government by the active spirit of their Parliaments. I had written to Mr. Conway on these grounds, to advise their authorizing the Duke to talk big to the French Court, who, from the causes I have mentioned, were less in a situation than we were to recommence war. Mr. Conway heartily approved my views. The Duke had more doubts, but yielded to my reasons when he came over and found the soundness of my intelligence. The measure succeeded to my expectation. The Duc de Choiseul consented at last to settle the affair of the Canada Bills. Our merchants at home had blundered in their calculation, and asked less for themselves than they were entitled to. Sir John Lambert,[183] an English banker at Paris, pointed out the error to the Duke, who, with amazing quickness, himself discovered a method of obtaining, within twelve thousand pounds, a full indemnification for them. The French Court yielded to this new demand.[184] I persuaded the Duke to conclude the negotiation without any new transaction with our merchants at home, lest the readiness of the French should cool; and I urged him to ratify the agreement on the authority of three letters from Mr. Conway, who pressed to finish the bargain, and enjoined him to threaten the French Ministers that he (Conway) would represent it to Parliament, if they did not do us justice. The Duke doubted whether, having put the business into a new train, he could justify concluding it without again consulting the merchants. I persuaded him to despatch a courier to Mr. Conway, to say he would conclude, but not to specify in his public letter the error of the merchants, lest the Court of France should get intelligence, and repent of their facility.

With regard to Dunkirk, nothing was to be obtained. Choiseul told the Duke of Richmond that the late Ministers had not been so difficult. “But,” said the Duke, “before I came away, I saw in the Secretary’s office a strong letter to your Court on the subject of Dunkirk.” “True,” said Choiseul, “but it was not written till after Lord Halifax knew he was to be turned out.” This indiscretion flowed from Choiseul’s natural levity, not from any intention of hurting our late Ministers, whose fall he regretted, and on whose complaisance[185] he could better build than on men who had loudly condemned the Peace. Still was France not alarmed while Mr. Pitt remained without power. Their dread of him existed in all its force. To judge of it, one should have seen, as I did, the efficacy of his name to change their countenances and language. One day at dinner with the Duc de Praslin, when Mr. Pitt was accidentally mentioned, the Duc, with visible marks of alarm, asked if Mr. Pitt was coming into place again? And it is true that when any Frenchman gave a loose to their natural presumption before me, I had no occasion but to drop a careless hint that he was likely to be again employed, to strike silence through a whole company.[186]

One other point obtained by the new Ministers was a mutual exchange of envoys between England and Prussia, their first intercourse of communication since the war. Mitchell, destined for that embassy, was created a Knight of the Bath.[187] Count Malzahn came hither from Prussia.

November the 5th, Lord Camden, Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, decided in that court the great cause between Wilkes and the Secretaries of State, in favour of the former.[188]

Terrick, Bishop of London, set himself to prosecute mass-houses, with what view I know not; for though noways blameable in his morals, zeal for religion by no means entered into the composition of the man. Ambition, creeping upwards by little intrigues, formed his whole character. Perhaps he thought this activity might be one step to the primacy. He had not much chance under the new dispensation.[189] The Duke of Newcastle, whose fears had surmounted his passion for the first rank in power, had told the King that he would content himself with making bishops in concert with the archbishop. Content or not, he had waived the Treasury, and Lord Rockingham, become First Minister by accepting it, was too fond of power not to engross all he could. It was a proof how old Newcastle was grown, when he bore this pre-eminence without jealousy or treachery.

Lord Rockingham had been advised, seeing the present Parliament had been chosen by Lord Bute, and recruited by Grenville, not to trust to it, but to dissolve, and call a new one; and that measure was for some time in deliberation. For his own interest he would have acted wisely, no doubt, in taking the advice; but he at last rejected the proposal, saying, that in so factious a time it would produce unheard of corruption. The sentiment was laudable, but neither faction nor corruption has decreased since that time.[190]

CHAPTER XI.

Meeting of Parliament.—Debates on the Stamp Act and the state of North America.—Death of Prince Frederick, the King’s youngest brother.—Walpole’s Observations upon the state of France at this period.—Death of the Dauphin.

On the 17th of December the Parliament met. Grenville, apprized of the intention to repeal the Stamp Act, had laboured to form a strong Opposition, giving out that the Ministers were going to rescind all his acts, because his. The very first day of the session he proposed to address the Crown, to know how the Stamp Act had been enforced; and in amendment of the address, proposed to insert the word rebellious in speaking of the Colonies.[191] He professed great readiness to congratulate his Majesty on the birth of a young Prince. With regard to the Duke of Cumberland’s death, he would not, he said, flatter dead whom he had never flattered living. He was answered by Elliot, Lord George Sackville, and Norton, who, though dismissed, showed he had not imputed his disgrace to the Crown; and whatever the intentions of the Crown might be, it was thought proper that a majority should first be secured, lest the Cabinet should again be taken by storm. Charles Townshend spoke for the Ministry,[192] with great encomiums on Conway. Grenville finding so little countenance, withdrew his motion.

In the other House, Lord Suffolk moved for an assurance to the King that the Lords would support his Majesty and the Parliament against the Colonies. He was supported by the Duke of Bedford, the Lords Gower, Halifax, Sandwich, and Temple. The last declared there was no truth in the reports spread of differences between him and Mr. Pitt; they agreed on every point. The first assertion was false; the latter soon proved to be so. Lord Shelburne spoke for the Ministers, though his friend Colonel Barré had declined their offers.[193] But the concurrence of Shelburne and the retiring of Lord Camden spoke sufficiently, that they knew or suspected Mr. Pitt would take part for the repeal.[194] The Chancellor, Lord Pomfret, and the Duke of Grafton opposed the motion. Lord Mansfield, in a timid trimming speech, besought the Ministers to agree to the motion, and retired. The question was rejected by 80 to 24, though the new Opposition had flattered themselves that in the House of Lords lay their greatest strength. But they were sorely disappointed of Lord Bute’s support, which they expected on all the questions relative to America.

Two days after the former motion, the Duke of Bedford moved for all papers that had been sent to America relating to the Stamp Act, and since the passing of it. The Duke of Grafton quashed that proposal, by promising all the papers should be produced. Rigby moved the same question in the Commons, and was severely treated by Beckford, and the motion was rejected, the Duke of Grafton forgetting to acquaint the Ministers in that House that he had granted the demand to the Lords. This obliged the King to send the papers to the House of Commons likewise.

Grenville, the next day, by surprise, proposed that the House should adjourn, but to the 9th instead of the 14th as the Ministers intended, in consideration of the urgent affairs of America—as if five days could make any difference. But the motion was rejected by 77 to 35: so ductile and subservient to present power was that assembly! Alderman Baker called Grenville’s an insolent motion: being called to order, he was silent for some minutes; and then said, he had been trying to find another word—if the House could, he desired them to supply it. Then treating Grenville as the author of all the troubles in America, the latter threw the blame from himself on the Parliament.

Lord Temple, disheartened at so unpromising an outset of the session, had the confidence and meanness to hurry to Mr. Pitt at Bath; and now stooped to solicit the assistance of him whom he had so lately traversed, and whose offers he had so haughtily rejected. Mr. Pitt in his turn was inflexible.

On the 29th of December, died the King’s youngest brother, Prince Frederick, an amiable youth, and the most promising, it was thought, of the family. The hereditary disorder in his blood had fallen on his lungs and turned to a consumption.

I will close the account of this remarkable year with a few observations I made in France.

Louis the Fifteenth did not want sense, and had as much humanity as was consistent with insensibility and indolence. The first prevented him from suspecting evils that did not immediately fall under his eye; and the latter from inquiring what oppressions his people suffered. He was more shy than reserved, and all these qualities tended to make him the slave of habit. He hated new faces rather than loved old servants. Being free from ambition, having no appetite for glory of any kind, and impressed with sentiments of devotion, he preferred peace, and listened to any overtures of treaty, whether victorious or vanquished. To the Queen he had been for many years strictly constant; was always a civil husband, and, in her last illness, a tender one. To his children he was most affectionate.[195] To his mistresses profuse, but capable of harshness whenever he quitted them. Cardinal Fleury governed him with unbounded authority. Madame de Pompadour, by art, and at last by complaisance in procuring other women for him, engrossed him entirely, but with no hold on his affections, for her death made not the slightest impression on him.[196] The Duc de Choiseul having been placed by her, succeeded to the ascendant that habit gives, and thence excluded other favourites, rather than became one himself. The King’s life was regulated by the most mechanic sameness. An hour or two he could not deny to his Ministers: hunting took up the rest of daylight. Women amused his private hours: cards and a supper, with a select company, concluded the evening. All the flattery of that vain and obsequious nation, who love themselves in their kings, gave him no pleasure. It was a negative kind of nature that could neither be totally spoiled nor amended. But the true picture of him was an anecdote, that I learned from good authority. A sensible confident of Cardinal Fleury reproached him with not making the King apply to business. This was the answer of that wise Minister: “I have often endeavoured what you recommend; and one day went so far as to tell the King that there had been kings dethroned in France for their fainéantise.” It seemed to strike him deeply. He made no reply: but two days afterwards said to me, “I have been reflecting on what you told me of some of my predecessors being deposed—pray resolve me: when the nation deposed them, were they allotted large pensions?” “From that moment,” said the Cardinal, “I saw it was in vain to labour at making him a great King.”

The Queen was not only a pious but a good woman. Indifferent to the gallantries of her husband, and free from ambition, she lived well with him, his mistresses, and ministers. Fond of talking and universally obliging, the nation thought her void of any particular attachment; yet she showed an unalterable friendship to the Duchess de Luynes: and her affection to her father, King Stanislas, and the loss of her son the Dauphin undoubtedly hastened her death. Though she could not prevent the expulsion of the Jesuits, the King’s esteem for her mitigated their fall. It was to the honour of both that, though the daughters of Stanislas and Augustus, the Queen and the Dauphiness lived in uninterrupted harmony.

The Dauphin, who died while I was in France, was totally unknown till his death. His great caution of not giving jealousy to his father, and his respectable fear of not alarming the bigotry of his mother and wife, had made him conceal both his good sense and the freedom of his sentiments with such care, that the former was not suspected; and the latter was so unknown, that the nation, now running with their usual vehemence into any new opinion, and, consequently, growing Freethinkers, believed and hated him as an enthusiast. Yet he had a good understanding, had carefully, though secretly, cultivated it, and was a modern philosopher in the largest sense of that term. During his illness, which continued many weeks, he seemed neither to regret his youth nor hopes; was patient, complaisant, and indulgent; and a few days before his death gave proof of his good sense and good nature. A man of quality that attended him had the brutal absurdity to solicit him to ask some favour, on his behalf, of the King, “who,” said the person, “can refuse your Royal Highness nothing in your present condition.” The Dauphin laughed at the indelicacy, but would not divulge the name of the man. To please his family the Prince went through all the ceremonies of the Church, but shewed to his attendants, after they were over, how vain and ridiculous he thought them. Many expressions he dropped in his last hours that spoke the freedom of his opinions; and to the Duc de Nivernois he said, he was glad to leave behind him such a book as Mr. Hume’s Essays.[197]

The Dauphiness, with whom he lived on the best terms, he had, however, no fondness for: his first wife had been far more dear to him. The second was morose and ungracious; and, dying in a year after her husband, was not at all regretted. In her last moments, having sharply reprimanded the Duchesse de Lauragais, the latter, turning to another lady, said, “Cette Princesse est si bonne, qu’elle veut que personne ne la regrette.”[198]

The Duc de Choiseul, the Prime Minister, was a man of excellent parts, but of a levity and indiscretion, which most of that nation divest themselves of before his age, or when they enter into business. Except the hours which he spent with the King, the rest of his life was dissipation, pleasure, profuseness, and bons mots. Rash, daring, and presumptuous; good-humoured, but neither good nor ill-natured; frank, gay, and thoughtless, he seemed the Sovereign more than the Minister of a mighty kingdom. Scorning, rather than fearing, his enemies, he seldom undermined and seldom punished them. He dissipated the nation’s wealth and his own; but did not repair the latter by plunder of the former. Mr. Pitt’s superiority he could never digest nor forgive; and though he was incapable of little mischief in his own country, great crimes had rather a charm for him. He excited the war between the Russians and Turks, to be revenged on the Czarina; and I saw him exult childishly in his own house on her first defeats. At last he descended to the mean and cruel oppression of Corsica, for the sake of gathering a diminutive laurel, after being baffled in the large war. Gallantry without delicacy was his constant pursuit. His wife, the most perfect character of her sex, loved him to idolatry;[199] but, though a civil husband, he spared her no mortification that his carelessness could inflict. His sister, the Duchesse de Grammont, too openly connected with him by more ties than of blood, had absolute influence over him, and exerted it cruelly and grossly to insult the Duchesse de Choiseul, who, more than once, was on the point of retiring into a convent, though without the least belief of the doctrines held there. Madame de Grammont, who had none of the accomplishments that graced the small but harmonious figure of the Duchesse de Choiseul, had masculine sense, and almost masculine manners. She was wonderfully agreeable when she pleased, a vehement friend, a rude and insolent enemy. The nation revered and neglected the wife; detested and bowed to the sister. The Minister had crushed the Jesuits, for he loved sudden strokes of éclat; and, to carry that measure, had countenanced the Parliaments till they grew almost too ungovernable. But as he seldom acted on deep system, he sometimes took up a tone of authority, and as quickly relaxed it—a conduct that confounded the nation and a little the Parliaments; but that war from thoughtlessness, or to ruin a rival, the Duc d’Aiguillon, he chiefly left to the latter; and he could not have left it to worse hands. Proud, ambitious, vindictive, and void of honour or principle, the Duc d’Aiguillon, with very moderate parts, aimed at power with the Crown, by being the Minister of its tyranny.[200] The infamous oppression exercised on that undaunted man, M. de la Chalotais,[201] flowed from the revenge of this Duc, who, to carry his point, lent himself even to the exploded Jesuits: and though that connection could be no secret to the Duc de Choiseul, he suffered rather than encouraged a plan that clashed so much with the service he had rendered to his country by abolishing the Order. Nor was it to his honour that shame and the outcry of mankind rescued M. de la Chalotais, rather than the justice of the Prime Minister.[202]

The Parliaments of France were filled with many great, able, and steady magistrates. The philosophy and studies of the age had opened their eyes on the rights of mankind; and they attempted with heroic firmness to shake off the chains that galled their country. Yet a distinction should be made between the magistrates and the men called or calling themselves philosophers. The latter were really a set of authors and beaux esprits, who, aping the sentiments of Montesquieu, Rousseau, and Voltaire, especially of the latter, endeavoured to raise themselves to an independent rank, to a kind of legislation in the community. After attacking and throwing off Christianity, they ran wildly into the fondest and most absurd doctrines of the old Greek philosophers; and, with the lightness of their own nation, and prompted by arrogance and love of pre-eminent singularity, they wrote atheism with little reserve, and talked it without any. The chief of these vain and loquacious witlings were D’Alembert,[203] Diderot, and that puny writer Marmontel. I am sorry to add to the list the name of a far more amiable and more profound man, M. Buffon, though, except in their indecent petulance, he too much resembled the rest of his cotemporaries in his sentiments. The women, who hurry into any new fashion, and then lead it, talked of matter and metaphysics with as little caution and as much ignorance as their directors. The magistrates of the Parliaments were very different men. Sober on the religion of their country, they meddled with it no farther than as it interfered with liberty; and few of them were so audacious in their most private conversation as to adopt the abominable licentiousness of the men I have been describing. But if they were decent on religion, they had not the same prudence in the conduct of their civil views. Heated by the term Parliament, they chose to believe, at least to inculcate the belief, that they were possessed of the rights of a British Senate. Nothing could be more meritorious than a struggle for such a system. But the Parliaments of France were not only nothing but courts of judicature, but the pretension was too early and too untimely to be yet pushed. As I had some friends in the Parliament of Paris, I remonstrated to them on the danger they ran of over-turning an excellent cause by their precipitation. To obtain solidly and step by step some material concessions, was the conduct they should have pursued. Whatever little they should so attain would be a benefit to the nation; time and precedent might add more. A minority or national distress would have opened a wider door; but by setting out with unbounded pretensions, unfounded in their Constitution, they warned the Crown to be on its guard; and, what was worse, they could depend on no support but in their own courage and in that uncertain resource, patriotic martyrdom. The Crown, popular in France whenever it pleases, and almost in any country, and powerful without popularity in that country, could not but regard their pretensions with the eye of jealousy. The nobility, ignorant, haughty, and willing to be tyrannized over by one that they might be authorized to tyrannize over thousands, were, and must be, disinclined to the extension of subordinate jurisdiction. The clergy were the natural and now the provoked enemies of the Parliaments. The military are seldom captivated by any franchises but their own; are devoted to the Crown, and led by, and composed of, the nobility: nor did the Parliaments take any pains to make a schism in the soldiery. Even the people, who would taste most benefit from acquisitions to liberty, were disinclined to the Parliaments. The Presidents purchase their charges, and enjoy them with a[204] state and haughtiness that is ill-relished by the commonalty. Able manifestos were slight arms against such a combination of prejudices. While I staid in France I had an opportunity of seeing with what a momentary breath the Crown could puff away a cloud and tempest of remonstrances. Being pushed too home, the King, suddenly and very early in the morning, appeared in the Chamber of Parliament. The Magistrates were in bed, were summoned, and found the King surrounded with his guards, and with all the apparatus of majesty. He commanded four of his Ministers to take their seats at his feet in a place where they had no right. He called for the registers, tore out their remonstrances, enjoined silence to the Parliament, and departed. In the street he met the Sacrament, alighted from his coach, knelt in the dirt, and received the blessings of all the old beggar-women. By night the consternation was universal; no man dropped a word, unless in commendation of the King’s firmness. The Magistrates sighed, but respectfully. The philosophers were frightened out of their senses. In a few months the Parliaments recovered their spirit, and the Court again temporized. Yet when their memorials had been read, and had their vogue in common with the poems and operas of the week, the sensation ceased, and lettres de cachet lost nothing of their vigour.

There was scarce a man of quality in France above the rank of president that countenanced the cause. There was one of the blood royal that affected to be their protector; but too much despised by the Court, too inconsiderable and too half-witted to hurt anybody but himself. This was the Prince of Conti. Handsome and royal in his figure, gracious at times, but arrogant and overbearing, luxurious and expensive, he had gathered together a sort of Court of those who had no hopes at the King’s, but without the power of giving or receiving any support. Confused in his ideas, yet clear in his opinion of superior intelligence, he was at once diffuse and incomprehensible. The little tyrant of a puny circle, he gave himself for the patron of liberty. No man would have carried his own privileges farther. The Court took no umbrage at such a foe.[205]

It could not but be a singular satisfaction to me to find in so adverse a nation so few men whose abilities were formidable. One or two of the subordinate Ministers were men of domestic and civil address. The Prince de Soubise, a sensible man of fair character, who enjoyed the most personal favour with the King, and, it was thought, might be Minister if he pleased, had no ambition.[206] The Maréchal d’Estrèes was a good-humoured old nurse;[207] the Maréchal de Broglie[208] as empty a man, except in the theory of discipline, as ever I knew. The Comte, his brother, who had more parts, had not enough to make them useful;[209] and both brothers were in disgrace. The Marquess de Castries,[210] a good officer, was not on any terms with Choiseul, and was no deep genius. The Duc de Praslin, the Minister’s cousin, was ill-tempered and disagreeable, and far from possessing superior abilities.[211] The clergy were at a low ebb. The Archbishop of Toulouse, reckoned the most rising of the order, was aspiring and artful, but absorbed in his own attention to intrigue, which gave him an air of absence. He was only considerable by comparison.[212] He and many of his order did not disguise their contempt for their own religion. As the women who had most sway were Freethinkers, a fashionable clergyman was by consequence an infidel. The ablest man I knew, and he as indiscreet as the Duc de Choiseul, was the old Comte de Maurepas. Lively, gay, and agreeable, he seemed to feel no regret for his disgrace, though he ought to have blushed at the imprudence that occasioned it. He had not only caused to be written, but himself, at his own table at Versailles, before a large company, had sung, a severe ballad on Madame de Pompadour. His fall and a long exile were the consequence. To make his ruin irrecoverable, she persuaded the King that he had poisoned a former mistress, the Duchesse de Chateauroux. From the same animosity, Madame de Pompadour had diverted a large sum that Maurepas had destined to re-establish their marine. Knowing his enmity to this country, I told him, and the compliment was true, that it was fortunate for England that he had been so long divested of power.[213]

CHAPTER XII.

Death of the Pretender.—Intrigues against the Ministry.—Debates on the Stamp Act, and the Petition from America.—First Speech of Mr. Edmund Burke.—Character of his Oratory.—Mr. William Burke.

On the first day of the year died at Albano that sport of fortune, the Chevalier de St. George, better known by the appellation of the Old Pretender. He had not only outlived his hopes, but almost all those who had given him any hopes. His party was dwindled to scarce any but Catholics; and though he left two sons, his line was verging to extinction. The second son was actually a Cardinal; the elder, sunk in drunkenness, despair, and neglect at Bouillon.[214] His father’s death seemed a little to reanimate him: but that revival was but waking to new mortification. The Court of France did not even put on mourning for the father; and when Prince Charles determined to set out for Rome, the Pope despatched a courier to prevent him. The Roman nobility were not fond of being preceded even by a phantom of royalty; and both they and the College of Cardinals were apprehensive of the sottishness and rashness of the young man. The Pope dreaded the resentment of England, and feared an order to prohibit English travellers from visiting Rome; a mighty source of wealth to that city. And he,[215] who had so obstinately protected the Jesuits against the threats of France and Spain, and who at last sacrificed part of his dominions[216] to his zeal for the Order, had the timidity to renounce the most meritorious martyr of the Church, rather than expose himself to the very uncertain vengeance of a heretic Court. The Young Pretender persisted in his journey: the Pope as pertinaciously refused to acknowledge him for King of England; yet with the additional absurdity of continuing to style him Prince of Wales—though he could not be the latter without becoming the former. To such complete humiliation was reduced that ever unfortunate house of Stuart, now at last denied that empty sound of royalty by that Church and Court for which they had sacrificed three kingdoms! Pathetically might the Prince have exclaimed,

“Hic pietatis honos! sic nos in sceptra reponis!”

The Cardinal of York ceded to his brother the annuity he received from the Pope, whose only bounty, whose only grace was restricted to the allowance of that exchange.

About the same time died Frederick the Fifth, King of Denmark, in the forty-second year of his age:[217] a good prince and beloved, and void of any capital fault but that northern vice drunkenness. If we may believe the history of that kingdom, no nation has been blessed with so many humane sovereigns. It is more remarkable that they have not grown worse since they became absolute.

Before, and during the adjournment of the Parliament, the Ministers perceived how little they could flatter themselves with the stability of their situation. From being persecuted by both factions of the old and new Administration, Lord Bute began to assume the style of holding the balance between both. He meant at least to show the new Ministers, that while they disdained to humble themselves before him, the success of their measures would be precarious. The Crown itself seemed inclined to consign its numbers to him against its own measures—a wise equilibrium, that either way produced confusion to its interests. Before Christmas, the Favourite had held a council of his creatures at the Earl of Northumberland’s; the meeting consisted of eighteen Lords and Commoners, and in the latter number was Charles Townshend. Dinners were afterwards given to twenty-five Lords by Bute himself, and others to the Commons by Lord Litchfield. And lest mankind should misapprehend the part the Favourite intended to take on the Stamp Act, Lord Denbigh, his standard-bearer, and Augustus Hervey, asked audiences of the King, and leave to resign their places, as they purposed to vote against the repeal. The farce was carried on by the King, and to prevent any panic in those who might have a mind to act the same part, his Majesty told them, that they were at liberty to vote against him and keep their places. This was, in effect, ordering his servants to oppose his Ministers. The latter, on this exigence, consulted Mr. Pitt, desired his advice for their conduct on the Stamp Act, and invited him to take the lead in their Administration. He replied, with his usual haughtiness, that he would give no advice but to his Majesty or the Parliament; that he would never sit at Council with Newcastle;[218] and should think himself obliged to offer the Treasury to Lord Temple; and that there must be other arrangements. Those arrangements, he intimated, were, that whether Lord Temple accepted the Treasury or not, Lord Rockingham must not expect to continue there.

This answer being reported to the Council, who had obtained the King’s permission to make the overture, gave great offence, particularly to Newcastle, who found himself proscribed; and to Rockingham, who cared not whether he were proscribed or not, if he was to be divested of the Treasury. It was warmly decided that it would wound the King’s honour to send any more messages to a man who had thus often rejected his Majesty’s condescension. But though this message had been suffered, it had by no means had the King’s approbation, who now no longer wished that Mr. Pitt should unite with the present Ministers; and it was as little his intention to bind himself by the rules they prescribed to his honour. He did not despair of gaining Mr. Pitt alone and unconnected, who, the King and the Favourite flattered themselves, would be more complaisant than either of the factions. If indulged in his foreign plans, he was less likely than any man to interfere in the scheme of domestic power. Anything was to be sacrificed to accommodate the Favourite, to save his creatures, and to preserve his influence. Could that be maintained, the Crown would be rewarded with new extension of the prerogative. This reciprocal view was the key to all the secrets of the closet, was the source of all the indignities past, of the disgraceful fluctuation that ensued, and of all the humiliations that fell on the King himself, who unfortunately had been taught to prefer a forced authority to that which flows, and was so disposed to flow, from the love of his subjects.

On the 14th of January the Houses met. Lord Villiers[219] and Mr. Thomas Townshend moved the Addresses. Seymour and Bamber Gascoyne, Nugent and Stanley, attacked the Ministers for their want of spirit against the Americans, and for suffering the authority of Parliament to be called in question by the rebellious Colonies. “The tax,” said Stanley, “was not a twentieth part of what they could afford to pay; but that was not the point: he had rather have a peppercorn to acknowledge our sovereignty, than millions paid into the Treasury without it.” As he was speaking, Mr. Pitt appeared in the House, and took the first opportunity of opening his mind, not only on the Stamp Act, but on the general situation of affairs. Though he had on other occasions, perhaps, exerted more powers of eloquence (though he was much admired now even in that light), yet the novelty and boldness of his doctrines, the offence he gave by them at home, and the delirium which they excited in America, made his speech rank in celebrity with his most famous orations. For these reasons, and as the repeal of the Stamp Act was the last great question on which he figured in the House of Commons, I shall be more particular in the detail of it, having received authentic notes from one that was present at the delivery, and therefore more to be depended on than the printed copy.[220]

He had come to town that morning, he said, unconcerted and unconnected, and not having arrived early enough, desired to hear the proposed Address read, which being done, he thought it, he said, a very proper one, though he should wish to separate from it the unhappy measure of the Stamp Act. No day had been so important since the time, a little above a century ago, when it had been debated whether we should be bond or free. More than ordinary circumspection was requisite on that nice, difficult, and hardly debateable question. Truth did extort from him that the compliment of early applied to the present meeting of Parliament did not belong to the American part of the question. He would have called the Parliament sooner. He then pronounced that the House of Commons did not represent North America. It had, as the Legislature, not as representatives, taxed North America. For him, the question was too hard; but, popular or unpopular, he would do as he thought right. Was there a set of men in this country by whom he had not been sacrificed? He saw before him a set of gentlemen whom he respected—some of them his old acquaintance; these were part of the Administration: but were there not other parts? One day one man was uppermost, another day, another man. Was there not an invisible influence from more quarters than one? No matter whence they came, if they did mischief—God knew whither this country was going! Had we not seen one Ministry changed after another, and passing away like shadows? All that could be done for this country was to place it in a safe situation. When he served his Majesty, he had mentioned it as his advice that he wished to have that part of the Act of Settlement enforced, which directs that every Minister should sign his opinion. Liberty formerly was not made use of as a horse to ride into employment upon; they rode into the field upon it, and left their bones there. As he might be deprived by ill health from attending his duty in the House when this question should come on, he begged leave to deliver his opinion then. He would repeal the Stamp Act immediately, and accompany it with a bill declaratory of their own high rights and privileges over that country, which should be done upon the most extensive plan. But he would repeat it, That House had no right to lay an internal tax upon America, that country not being represented.

General Conway said, he had the honour of agreeing with almost every word that had fallen from Mr. Pitt; but if there was any blame to be cast for not meeting the Parliament sooner, he must bear it in common with the rest of his Majesty’s servants who advised it. For himself he had been unworthily and accidentally called to the high employment he then bore; he had not studiously thrust himself into it, and could assure the right honourable gentleman that he should think himself happy to resign it to him whenever he should please to take it. Himself had not made use of liberty to ride into employment; it was indifferent to him, and he should be equally happy to turn his horse’s head and ride out again.

Mr. Pitt assured him that he had not glanced at him in any word he had uttered, he had too high an opinion of him. The only piece of advice he would give Mr. Conway was not to be ridden, and he dared to say he never would.[221]

Mr. Grenville said, the Stamp Act had been thoroughly considered, not hurried at the end of a session. It had passed through the different stages in full Houses with, he thought, only one division on it. “Look,” said he, “into Magna Charta; you will see we have a right to tax America; and that all laws are enacted by Commune Consilium Regni: and will the honourable gentleman then say we have not a right”—He was interrupted by Pitt; and, after some squabbling and explanation, Grenville continued: “Why then I understand the gentleman’s opinion to be, that you have a right on every other occasion except to lay an internal tax”—Being again interrupted, Mr. Pitt begged to be indulged in a few words by way of reply, and then, as was common with him, launched out into a new harangue: “Though the gentleman,” said he, “is armed at all points with Acts of Parliament, yet I will venture to say that if he was to take the three first words that he might find in a dictionary, they would be full as much to the purpose as his Commune Consilium Regni. Does he consider that, at the time he speaks of, the barons had all the land—though indeed the Church, God bless it! had then a third, when the bishops, mitred abbots, and such things, had influence? I laugh, sir, I laugh, when it is said this country cannot coerce America; but will you do it upon a point that is intricate, and in a matter of right that is disputed? Will you, after the Peace you have made, and the small pittance of the fishery that is left you, will you sheath your sword in the bowels of your brothers, the Americans? You may coerce and conquer, but when they fall, they will fall like the strong man embracing the pillars of this Constitution, and bury it in ruin with them. Gentlemen may double down Acts of Parliament till they are dogseared, it will have no effect upon me; I am past the time of life to be turning to books to know whether I love liberty or not. There are two or three lines of Prior applicable to the present question, supposing America in the situation of a wife: they are these, where he says—

“‘Be to her faults a little blind,
Be to her virtues very kind,
And clap the padlock on her mind.’

“I don’t know how it is,” continued he, “when I had something to do in advising, there were always three hundred gentlemen ready to be of my opinion—I don’t know how it came about—perhaps it was their modesty—I wish they would not be quite so modest. Indeed there was one person who is now gone to the House of Lords, and sits there by an old barony,[222] who was honest enough to disagree with me, and called it my German war: I have loved him ever since for being so honest to speak his mind; I see his employment is taken from him; had I been employed, he is one of the first persons I should have endeavoured to keep in, for no other reason but because he had differed with me. When I was in power, I do not doubt but I had friends who would have advised me to burn my fingers, and would have recommended such a tax as this. Look at past Ministers, and see what they thought of it. Lord Halifax,[223] educated in this House, Lord Oxford,[224] Lord Orford,[225] a great revenue minister, never thought of THIS. If you had the right, it would be a fatal policy; for will not that people, if they share your taxes, claim the right of manufactures, of free trade, of every other privilege of the mother-country? An honourable gentleman talked of a barleycorn; I say this tax is but a barleycorn—fifty thousand pounds are but a barleycorn. Will you have your Treasury look big at the expense of two millions? My ideas and knowledge of America have been chiefly learnt from gentlemen of the army. There is not the captain of a company of foot that is not fit to be a Governor of North America. How can you depend upon Spain after the treatment she has shown to that brave and gallant officer,[226] who has suffered for his lenity towards them at the Manillas, and now feels their perfidy? It were to be wished that the heart of every grandee in Spain beat as high as his! In the situation things are, nobody can trade in North America but a lawyer. I hate distinctions; I do not consider the soil or the cradle where a man is nursed; I look for sense and wisdom, if he has it. I have done all in my power to show I hate distinctions. Before this war it was a measure not to trust the sword in the hands of the northern part of his Majesty’s subjects; but the late war convinced everybody what just praise they deserved for their conduct.” Here he was called to order by Mr. Grenville, who said, “This is not the first, second, third, fourth, fifth, or sixth time that the honourable gentleman has mistaken or misrepresented. I have also been misrepresented upon other subjects, particularly with regard to the Spanish trade. I call upon gentlemen now in power to prove I gave any orders to prevent that trade, or any other, but at the request of the merchants themselves.” Here Mr. Grenville himself was called to order by Lord Strange, who observed, how much Pitt and Grenville had led the House astray from the debate; which Onslow excused by saying, that the first day of a Session, when the King’s speech is debated, is always understood to be a day of free conversation. Still much confusion ensued; and at last the Chancellor of the Exchequer[227] said, in answer to Grenville, that when accounts relative to trade should be produced, they would prove to be in a melancholy state. Mr. Conway said, that the explanation which Mr. Pitt had been pleased to give, had relieved his mind; he considered from how high a drop fell that fell from him, and what an effect it had upon the rest of the world. He assured Mr. Pitt how ready he was, he would not say, to act with him, but under him, and declared he knew at present of no hidden influence. The Address passed without a negative.

Mr. Conway, then, by order of his Majesty, presented at the bar the letters and different intelligence to and from America, and moved to have them taken into consideration on the Thursday sevennight following.[228] Mr. Rigby proposed to have them printed. Mr. Conway observed, that those papers mentioned particular names of men and their transactions, and therefore objected to the printing. Mr. Nugent said, Too much had been done now to leave any room for secrecy; and Mr. Conway gave it up. Huske[229] told the House very properly, that, if they printed the names, they would never have any more intelligence: on which the Attorney-General proposed, as was done on the inquiry into the loss of Minorca, to print the papers, but omit names. It passed, however, for printing all. The next day Sir George Saville, who had been absent, and the Speaker,[230] who had been uneasy at the order for printing the names, prevailed to have the order for the names revoked, and the Speaker was entrusted with the supervisal.

Mr. Pitt’s speech, as I have said, gave great offence, and even to the Scotch, though he had endeavoured to distinguish them from Lord Bute. It was a greater disappointment to the late Ministers, who had not expected that he would prove so favourable to their successors. Lord Sandwich, so recently a persecutor of Wilkes and the press, had now set up a most virulent and scurrilous paper, called Anti-Sejanus,[231] written by one Scott, an hireling parson, and chiefly levelled at Lord Bute. Concluding that Mr. Pitt did not approve of any men who enjoyed the power at which he himself aimed, the new daily libel set out with profuse encomiums on him. It now took a short turn, and involved Mr. Pitt, too, in a medley of scurrility; but what with want of talents, what with want of decency, this paper was one of those few vehicles of ribaldry which was forced to put itself to death before the object of its patron was answered.

On the 27th of January, Mr. Cooke, of Middlesex, presented a petition from some of the North American provinces assembled in Congress, against the Stamp Act. Jenkinson and Dyson, placemen, but creatures of Lord Bute, opposed receiving it; as did Nugent and Ellis, who called it a dangerous federal union. Dowdeswell, the new Chancellor of the Exchequer, agreed with them, as there was nothing, he said, in the petition, but what had been already received in others from the separate provinces, and therefore he wished Cooke to withdraw what he had offered. Mr. Pitt warmly undertook the protection of the petition, which he affirmed was innocent, dutiful, and respectful. He did not know the time, he said, when he had been counsellor to timid councils; but on this occasion should have thought it happy to have made this the first act of harmony. He painted the Americans as people who, in an ill-fated hour, had left this country to fly from the Star Chamber and High Commission Courts. The desert smiled upon them in comparison of this country. It was the evil genius of this country that had riveted amongst them this union, now called dangerous and federal. He did not see but honest Wildman’s[232] or Newmarket might be talked of in the same strain. This country upon occasion has its meetings, and nobody objects to them; but the names of six or eight Americans are to be big with danger. He could not guess, by the turn of the debate, whether the Administration intended lenity or not. To him lenity was recommended by every argument. He would emphatically hear the Colonies upon this their petition. The right of representation and taxation always went together and should never be separated. Except for the principles of Government, records were out of the question. “You have broken,” continued he, “the original compact, if you have not a right of taxation.” The repeal of the Stamp Act was an inferior consideration to receiving this petition.

Sir Fletcher Norton rose with great heat, and said, He could hardly keep his temper at some words that had fallen from the right honourable gentleman. He had said, that the original compact had been broken between us and America, if the House had not the right of taxation. Pitt rose to explain—Norton continued; “The gentleman now says, I mistook his words; I do not now understand them.” Pitt interrupted him angrily, and said, “I did say the Colony compact would be broken—and what then?” Norton replied, “The gentleman speaks out now, and I understand him; and if the House go along with me, the gentleman will go to another place.”[233] Pitt at this looked with the utmost contempt, tossed up his chin, and cried, “Oh! oh!—oh! oh!” “I will bear that from no man,” said Norton: “changing their place, did not make Englishmen change their allegiance. I say the gentleman sounds the trumpet to rebellion; or would he have the strangers in the gallery go away with these his opinions? He has chilled my blood at the idea.” “The gentleman,” rejoined Pitt, “says I have chilled his blood: I shall be glad to meet him in any place with the same opinions, when his blood is warmer.”

Hussey, Colonel Barré, Thurlow, and, of the Ministerial people, Lord Howe and Onslow, only were for hearing the petition; but Conway objected, as it came from the Congress, and said, if the separate petitions had been heard last year, this would not have happened now. He wished to have the petition withdrawn, as he should be sorry to have a negative put upon it. George Grenville insisted on the House deciding as the question had been proposed. Burke, who maintained that the very presentation of the petition was an acknowledgment of the right of the House, declared for receiving it; but Lord John Cavendish and Alderman Baker declaring they thought it of little importance; and the former moving for the orders of the day, that motion was carried without a division.

There appeared in this debate a new speaker, whose fame for eloquence soon rose high above the ordinary pitch. His name was Edmund Burke, (whom I have just mentioned,) an Irishman, of a Roman Catholic family, and actually married to one of that persuasion.[234] He had been known to the public for a few years by his “Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful,” and other ingenious works; but the narrowness of his fortune had kept him down, and his best revenue had arisen from writing for booksellers. Lord Rockingham, on being raised to the head of the Treasury, had taken Burke for his private Secretary, as Mr. Conway had his cousin William. Edmund immediately proved a bitter scourge to George Grenville, whose tedious harangues he ridiculed with infinite wit, and answered with equal argument. Grenville himself was not more copious; but, with unexhausted fertility, Burke had an imagination that poured out new ideas, metaphors, and allusions, which came forth ready dressed in the most ornamental and yet the most correct language. In truth, he was so fond of flowers, that he snatched them, if they presented themselves, even from Ovid’s Metamorphoses. His wit, though prepared, seldom failed him; his judgment often. Aiming always at the brilliant, and rarely concise, it appeared that he felt nothing really but the lust of applause. His knowledge was infinite, but vanity had the only key to it; and though no doubt he aspired highly, he seemed content when he had satisfied the glory of the day, whatever proved the event of the debate. This kind of eloquence contented himself, and often his party; but the House grew weary at length of so many essays. Having come too late into public life, and being too conceited to study men whom he thought his inferiors in ability, he proved a very indifferent politician—the case of many men I have known, who have dealt too much in books or a profession: they apply their knowledge to objects to which it does not belong, and think it as easy to govern men, when they rise above them, as they found when themselves were lower and led their superiors by flattery. It is perhaps more expedient for a man of mean birth to be humble after his exaltation than before. Insolence is more easily tolerated in an inferior, than in an inferior mounted above his superiors.[235]

William Burke, the cousin of Edmund, wrote with ingenuity and sharpness; and both of them were serviceable to the new Administration, by party papers. But William, as an orator, had neither manner nor talents, and yet wanted little of his cousin’s presumption.[236] Edmund, though the idol of his party, had nothing of the pathetic and imposing dignity of Pitt, though possessed of far more knowledge, and more reasoning abilities. But Pitt could awe those whom he could no longer lead, and never seemed greater than when abandoned by all. Charles Townshend, who had studied nothing accurately or with attention, had parts that embraced all knowledge with such quickness, that he seemed to create knowledge instead of searching for it; and, ready as Burke’s wit was, it appeared artificial when set by that of Charles Townshend, which was so abundant, that in him it seemed a loss of time to think. He had but to speak, and all he said was new, natural, and yet uncommon. If Burke replied extempore, his very answers, that sprang from what had been said by others, were so painted and artfully arranged, that they wore the appearance of study and preparation: like beautiful translations, they seemed to want the soul of the original author. Townshend’s speeches, like the Satires of Pope, had a thousand times more sense and meaning than the majestic blank verse of Pitt; and yet, the latter, like Milton, stalked with a conscious dignity of pre-eminence, and fascinated his audience with that respect which always attends the pompous but often hollow idea of the sublime.

CHAPTER XIII.

Irksome Position of the Ministers.—Debate on Five Resolutions on American Affairs.—The Ministers triumph on the first Resolution.—Continuation of the Debate.—Pitt’s eccentric Conduct.—Mr. Grenville moves an Address to the King, to enforce the Laws.—Opposed strenuously by Pitt.—Violent Scene in the House.—Double Dealing of George III.—Warm Debate on the Production of Papers.

The situation of the Ministers became every day more irksome and precarious. On the last day of January they carried a question by so small a majority, that, according to Parliamentary divination, it had all the aspect of an overthrow. Mr. Wedderburne had presented a Scotch petition, and moved to have it heard on that day month. The Ministers, disinclined to it, proposed to defer it for six weeks, and prevailed but by 148 against 139;[237] the Grooms of the Bedchamber, Lord Strange, Chancellor of the Duchy, Lord Mount Stewart,[238] Dyson, and even Lord George Sackville,[239] so recently preferred by the Ministers, being in the minority, and Charles Townshend declining to vote. To shake the credit of the Ministers, at least to humble them by promoting a vigorous Opposition to their measures, Lord Bute’s agents affectedly sought the company of the discontented chiefs, and hung out to them hopes of Lord Bute’s support. His greatest dread was union against him; his constant and repeated practice, to break and divide all parties and connections. In the crisis of which I am speaking, he was particularly anxious to prevent the junction of Mr. Pitt and the Ministers. The latter, notwithstanding so many unpromising appearances, and having nothing to fear but the loss of their places if firm, of their characters if they temporized, maintained their ground, and

On February the 3rd Mr. Secretary Conway, in consequence of the papers that had been delivered and read in the Committee, proposed to vote five resolutions, which, he said, the world would expect in consequence of the notices laid before Parliament. A friend to the Americans he professed himself; but begged not to be understood to pledge himself for future measures, nor even for the repeal of the Stamp Act; yet could he but feel for that country, to whose miseries nothing was wanting but a scene of blood, and whose language was the language of despair? He thought them to blame; but he thought them pardonable. “The other day,” said he, “all had been peace and harmony in that country. All order of things had been reversed since the Stamp Act. The late Acts of Parliament had been so many repeated blows on those people. Look at other countries; they never bear fresh taxes. There was even then uneasinesses in the Colonies of our enemies. The richest provinces had been thrown away by the imposition of new taxes. He would mention the grievances of America historically, as the Sugar Act, and the swarms of cutters to interrupt the Spanish dollar trade. This Act was false in its principles, and dangerous in its policy. Himself should never be for internal taxes, and would sooner cut off his hand, than sign an order for sending out force to maintain them.” He then read the following resolutions:—

First.—That Great Britain had, hath, and ought to have full right and power to bind the Americans in all cases whatsoever.

Second.—That tumults have been carried on.

Third.—That the votes of the assemblies are illegal.

Fourth.—Humbly to address his Majesty to bring the authors of riots to condign punishment.

Fifth.—To address, that the sufferers by riots be compensated.

He added, that he looked on the right of taxation as a point of law; Parliament might take it up. If he was to be called to account for his letters, he repeated it again, he would do anything but exert military force. Whenever the blow should come, he would stand on his defence, and meet it like a man, with all the firmness of justice, and indifference of innocence.

Stanley spoke for supporting the dignity of the Constitution, and quoted Mr. Legge for having had views of raising assistance from America; which country, he had thought, ought to maintain its own army. Charles Yorke said, if it was impossible to carry the Stamp Act into execution, it was better to repeal it; the House might make free with its own work. Yet he talked much of the omnipotence of Parliament, and said, “Lord Coke had declared he did not know how to set bounds to its power. Our right was entire, supported by forms of precedents, and the language of the Constitution. The moment one part of the Legislature was given up, no friend would trust you, no enemy would fear you.” This trimming speech was ridiculed by Beckford. He saw, he said, no infallibility in an Act of Parliament: the learned gentleman had quoted nothing fairly; lawyers never did. He would prophecy, that the moment the Stamp Act should be repealed, it would be like the quarrels of lovers, the renewal of love. Nugent said, the subjects who went from this country, had carried with them their privileges, but had left their duty behind. Dr. Blackstone, an able writer, but an indifferent speaker, declared, Tory as he was, that Parliament had no right to impose internal taxes. Hussey pleaded for the Colonies, and urged that internal taxes had never been carried so far as by the Stamp Act. The House ought to have said, “Pay, or we will tax you.” To this hardship had been added that of taking away their trials by juries. He advised to exercise legislation with justice and humanity; and concluded, that Parliament ought to consider less the acts of the Americans, than their own. Wedderburne was as warm for sticking to fundamentals, as Hussey had been temperate. Burke, allowing the right of taxation, and that their own charters were against the Americans, was yet for temporizing, according to the variation of circumstances, the neglect of which had brought Ministers into disgrace. Principles should be subordinate to Government. The Stamp Act, on account of the dignity of the mischief it had produced, required the discussion of a particular debate. Lord Frederick Campbell objected to distinctions between theory and practice, which, he said, had brought on the Revolution. If the Americans carried with them their liberty, how came it that the King in Council had a right to tax them? Colonel Barré talked of the Americans as worse treated than French or Spanish provinces. The Chancellor of the Exchequer said, that the Parliament’s power of taking away their charters gave it a right of taxation; but to repeal the Act would be a safer way.

George Grenville, who had reserved all his fire for Conway, attacked him with the utmost animosity. The Americans had been blameable, but were pardonable according to the Secretary of State. For his part, he did not think rebellion pardonable. He had never advised to resist taxes; had never advised people to stand to their tackle and resist. Was there not an order under the gentleman’s own hand, in papers on the table, to send a military force? and yet, forsooth, he would sooner cut off that hand! His insinuation was void of truth; there were no cutters sent to the West Indies; no such orders to cruize on the Spanish trade. He had proposed, and now called on the House to fix a day for inquiring into that affair. For shame! let it not be repeated any more. First let the business be done, and then let it be known by whose fault affairs had been brought to the present crisis.

Mr. Pitt made another oration on general liberty, and in favour of the Colonies, but not various enough from the former to demand being particularized. Sir Fletcher Norton answered him with equal warmth—and then burst out such a confutation of the lies Mr. Grenville had been venting, that it was wonderful how even his pallid features could quench the blush of shame. Conway acquainted the House that he had two letters in his hand, one from Sir William Burnaby,[240] acquainting him that the Spanish trade could not go on under the present regulations; and he offered to read them to the House, or give them to Mr. Grenville himself. “I may be mistaken,” said Conway; “but he shall not say I misrepresent.” Grenville still repeated that there were no such orders given to regulate that trade. Admiral Keppel said, he could take upon himself to affirm that that trade had suffered; and Huske undertook to prove to the House, that orders had been given by the Treasury under Mr. Grenville’s Administration, relative to the restrictions laid on the Spanish trade: and Mr. Grenville had no more to say. At near three in the morning the question was put, and the first resolution was carried without a division, Mr. Pitt’s, and four or five voices only, dissenting: the rest of the propositions were adjourned to another day.[241]

In the House of Lords the Opposition ran the Ministers nearer, and even carried one or two questions by majorities of four and five. Lord Bute himself, almost acting patriotism, said, Nothing should oblige him to be for the King’s wish if he did not approve the measures of the King’s Ministers. In the House of Commons the sittings were long, repeated, and full of warmth; but the Ministers, supported by the popularity of the measure, and by the ascendant of Pitt, (which never appeared more conspicuously, though eccentric,) pursued their point, and weak as they were from the treachery of the Court, from their own inexperience, and from deficiency of great talents, were able to weather the various storms that concurred, and concurred only, for their destruction.[242]

On the 5th the House went again on the resolutions. To the second Dyson proposed to add, whereby the execution of an Act of the last session of Parliament has in such provinces been defeated. This was opposed, particularly by Mr. Pitt, though he said his support could be of little efficacy to American liberty, standing as he did almost naked in that House, like a primæval parent, naked, because innocent; naked, because not ashamed. Elliot declared for moderating rather than for repealing the Act, and Grenville himself agreed that it might be altered; on which Burke triumphed and taunted him: and Pitt, to whom Grenville had made compliments, declaring that there he would make his stand, the amendment was withdrawn. The third resolution passed without contradiction. The fourth, Conway himself offered to give up, as too severe; and Pitt, with encomiums on his constitutional lenity, encouraging him to depart from it, it was withdrawn. The fifth occasioned more debate. Nugent proposed to correct the words, recommend to governors to recompense the sufferers, and to substitute the word require; and the Master of the Rolls declaring the whole resolution illegal, as the House could not recommend in cases of money, that motion, too, was given up. Grenville proposed others for compensation, protection, and indemnification to the officers of the revenue, &c. Pitt went away, after highly praising the Ministers, protesting how desirous he was of agreeing with them, and assuring them that, as far as he could support them, they might depend on his support. Grenville’s motions carried on the debate for two hours more; when both sides, fearing to divide, and Elliot moderating, Grenville was, with much difficulty, persuaded to suffer the amendment of his motions. Those questions and alterations may be found in the journals; nor do I pretend to great accuracy in words of that sort: the sense and substance I mean to give, the forms may be collected by historians, or corrected by critics. It is the business of the former, the existence of the latter, to be nice in minutiæ.[243]

On the 7th of February the Opposition determined to try their strength. Mr. Conway acquainted the Committee that though the voluminous quantity of his correspondences prevented his being able as yet to lay them before the House; still that they deserved the most important consideration, as representing the deplorable state of that unfortunate country, America, where all was anarchy and confusion—without courts, without laws, without justice; and yet he had not heard a breath of disloyalty,—it was the countenance of despair. They looked upon their trade and liberty as gone; and yet he thought it his duty to acquaint the House that one of his correspondents was of opinion that the Stamp Act might still be carried into execution.

Mr. Grenville, untouched and unmoved by so calamitous a picture, moved to address the King to give orders for enforcing the laws, and for carrying all Acts of the English Parliament into execution. Charles Townshend, making a merit of not having declared his opinion on the repeal, approved the Address, and yet disliked the latter words, which could be interpreted to be levelled at nothing but the Stamp Act. This was much extended by Burke; faintly taken up by Yorke; and the motion supported on the other side by Jenkinson and Norton. Mr. Pitt, who arrived under extreme pain, argued against the proposed Address with unusual strength of argument, and demonstrated the absurdity of enforcing an Act which in a very few days was likely to be repealed. He encouraged a division rather than the admission of such an Address. Such a question, followed by such a majority as he foresaw would be against the Address, would show the weakness of the wisdom, and the weakness of the numbers of those who proposed and approved it. Supposing orders should be sent out immediately, in consequence of such an Address, to enforce the Act, the scene that would ensue would make the Committee shudder; what could follow but bloodshed, and military execution in support of a law, which perhaps might be repealed in a week’s time, and our Governors abroad might go on enforcing it after it was repealed? When he was Secretary of State, the fleet lay wind-bound in the Channel for nine or eleven weeks—what would be the consequence of such an event now? He pressed Grenville to withdraw his motion; and then, excusing himself on his illness, went away.

Grenville, as obdurate as the winds of which Pitt had talked, and who, having checked a glorious war, seemed to promise himself other triumphs over his countrymen, expatiated on the haughtiness of Pitt, and denounced curses on the Ministers that should sacrifice the sovereignty of Britain over her Colonies. Conway retorted on the inhumanity of Grenville, and that sort of intrepidity that menaced two millions of people, who were not in a situation to revenge themselves; and by apt allusion to Grenville’s remorseless despotism, told him that Count d’Ocyras,[244] the most intrepid Minister that ever was, had yet rescinded the duties in the Brazils. In confirmation of Mr. Pitt’s arguments, he told the House the packet would depart in two days; was it advisable to let it carry this precipitate, and perhaps useless Address to America? useless, if the Stamp Act was repealed, as he avowed he hoped it would be. Nugent argued on the danger of giving way; on the spirit of resistance this would infuse into the Irish; and on the contempt with which France would treat our demands, if we knew not how to govern our own subjects. The resolutions of the House, unenforced, would, he said, be holding a harlequin’s sword over the heads of the Colonists. Lord Granby declared for, and Sir George Saville against, the Address. Beckford was bitter on Grenville; and Norton so abusive on Yorke, that Sir Alexander Gilmour told him, in his own famous phrase, that he could have kept company with nothing but drunken porters. Colonel Onslow with more good humour, said, he looked upon the altercation between the two learned gentleman (Yorke and Norton) as a race for the Chancellorship. Much personal heat, however, ensued, and put an end to the debate, when the motion for leaving the Chair, which had been proposed by Yorke, was carried (and the Address consequently rejected) by 274 to 134; the very majority being greater than the whole amount of the Opposition; though Lord Bute’s friends and all the Scotch and the Tories, and Lord Granby, and near a dozen of the King’s own servants, voted in the minority. It was matter of ridicule, that in the lists given out by Lord Sandwich, their faction had been estimated at 130; and Lord Bute’s tools had vaunted that he could command fourscore or ninety votes. The astonishment and mortification of Grenville and the Bedfords were unequalled. They had quarrelled with and defied the Favourite when they were in power; and were now seeking and courting his support, when he seemed to have lost his power almost as much as they had.

The Ministers, however triumphant, were with reason disgusted at the notorious treachery of the Court; and remonstrated to the King on the behaviour of his servants. Evasions and professions were all the replies; but no alteration of conduct in consequence. On the contrary, within two days after the last division in the House of Commons, a scene broke forth that exhibited a duplicity, at once so artful, and yet so impolitic, so narrow-minded in its views, and so dangerous in its tendency, that the warmest partizans of royalty, of the Princess, and of the Favourite, will never be able to efface the stain. What crooked counsels, and how insincere the mind, which could infuse or imbibe such lessons!

Lord Strange, one of the placemen who opposed the repeal of the Stamp Act, having occasion to go into the King on some affair of his office, the Duchy of Lancaster, the King said, he heard it was reported in the world, that he (the King) was for the repeal of that Act. Lord Strange replied, that idea did not only prevail, but that his Majesty’s Ministers did all that lay in their power to encourage that belief, and that their great majority had been entirely owing to their having made use of his Majesty’s name. The King desired Lord Strange to contradict that report, assuring him it was not founded. Lord Strange no sooner left the closet than he made full use of the authority he had received, and trumpeted all over the town the conversation he had had with the King. So extraordinary a tale soon reached the ear of Lord Rockingham, who immediately asked Lord Strange if it was true what the King was reported to have said to him? The other confirmed it. On that, Lord Rockingham desired the other to meet him at Court, when they both went into the closet together. Lord Strange began, and repeated the King’s words; and asked if he had been mistaken? The King said, “No.” Lord Rockingham then pulled out a paper, and begged to know, if on such a day (which was minuted down on the paper) his Majesty had not determined for the repeal? Lord Rockingham then stopped. The King replied, “My Lord, this is but half;” and taking out a pencil, wrote on the bottom of Lord Rockingham’s paper words to this effect: “The question asked me by my Ministers, was, whether I was for enforcing the Act by the sword, or for the repeal? Of the two extremes I was for the repeal; but most certainly preferred modification to either.”

It is not necessary to remark on this story. The King had evidently consented to the repeal, and then disavowed his Ministers, after suffering them to proceed half-way in their plan, unless it is an excuse that he secretly fomented opposition to them all the time. His middle way of modification, tallying exactly with what had been proposed in the House of Commons by Elliot and Jenkinson, proved that, notwithstanding all his Majesty’s and Lord Bute’s own solemn professions, the latter was really Minister still; and that no favour could be obtained but by paying court to him. In such circumstances is it wonderful that the nation fell into disgrace and confusion, or that the Crown itself suffered such humiliations? A King to humour a timid yet overbearing Favourite, encouraging opposition to his own Ministers! What a picture of weakness!