FOOTNOTES:
[76] Indeed they could not with much consistence condemn him of neglect, after they had previously and unanimously voted the following resolution, which was their 25th:
“The Court are of opinion, that while the Ramillies (the Admiral’s own ship) was firing in going down, the Trident and ships immediately ahead of the Ramillies proved an impediment to the Ramillies continuing to go down.”
It was proved, too, beyond contradiction, that he could not foresee that the French fleet would not stay for him, as they remained with their sails aback to the mast; and that he must have been up with them in ten or fifteen minutes, if the impediment had not happened from the Trident and Princess Louisa.
[77] I do not mean to say that none of the Judges on the Court-Martial had really been convinced that by the severity of the law they could not acquit the Admiral, though they thought him guilty of only a momentary error of judgment.
[78] I say, powerful man, not man in power, for Lord Hardwicke, Lord Anson, the Duke of Newcastle, &c., were not then in place—but them Geary must have meant, for he could not fear disobliging Mr. Pitt and Lord Temple by speaking out, when it was his silence that prejudiced them. It was plain Geary thought, what happened so soon afterwards, that the command of the Admiralty would still be in Lord Anson.
[79] [Lord Hardwicke. Lord Anson had married his daughter. It must, however, be admitted, that our author’s language in this passage is as obscure as his reasoning is unfair and inconclusive.—E.]
[80] Mr. Pitt, loud enough to be heard by half the House, cried out, “I wish you joy of him.”
[CHAPTER XI.]
Debate in the House of Lords on the Court-Martial Bill—Lord Mansfield—Proposal to examine the Members of the Court-Martial—Their Examination—Bill debated and dropped in the House of Lords—Result of the Proceedings in Parliament—Intended Petition for Mercy from the City not proceeded with—Execution of Admiral Byng—Reflections on his behaviour—Rochester Election—Death of Archbishop Herring—Abolition of the Office of Wine-Licences—Intrigues to dismiss Mr. Pitt, and form a new Ministry—The Duke of Cumberland goes to Hanover to command the Army.
March 1st.—The Lords read the Bill. Lord Mansfield treated Keppel’s behaviour as weak and inconsistent: made a panegyric on the twelfth Article, which he said had restored discipline: censured the House of Commons for precipitate proceedings; and went indecently into the question of the Admiral’s behaviour; for which he was called to order by Lord Denbigh, who told him, that to evade the pressing arguments that called for the Bill, he had endeavoured cruelly to raise indignation against the prisoner, who might receive benefit from the scruples of his Judges; whose scruples and request were alone the objects before the House. The Chief Justice replied, he did not intend to oppose the whole Bill—but he must ask, who they were that demanded it? What! a month[81] after sentence!—was what they had to say within the oath of secrecy? Indeed, he had always been against the oath; he never approved judging in a mask. He had heard of a case where a majority voted that a sentence should be unanimous. He said the proviso, empowering only the willing to speak, was partial. If all should say they meaned error of judgment, the Admiral ought to be acquitted. If the sentence was iniquitous, it ought to be annulled. But it was cruel to fix this examination on the King: the Lords ought to step between the Crown and the people. The sentence, he said, could only be annulled by Parliament. A Bill might be necessary, but one totally different from this. He proposed to have the members of the Court-Martial called to the bar of the House; and he concluded with no humane observations, nor more to the Bill than his former speech, that there had been times when a sea-officer had blown up his ship, rather than be taken, or retreat.
As I would by no means blend in one censure the behaviour of the two lawyers, Mansfield and Hardwicke, I will here say a few words on the former. He took a severe part against the persecuted Admiral—why, I pretend not to determine. As the death of Mr. Byng tended no ways to his interest, as he had no guilt to expiate by the blood of another, and as friendship infuses humanity, but not cruelty, one should not suppose that Lord Mansfield acted on personal motives, or from a desire of screening Newcastle. I will not even suppose that a propensity to thwarting Pitt dictated his asperity. He saw his country undone; might think Mr. Byng had hastened its fate; might feel a national resentment; might think severity necessary; and as it is observed that timorous natures, like those of women, are generally cruel, Lord Mansfield might easily slide into rigour on this as he did on other occasions, when he was not personally afraid.
Lord Temple gave much the same account that I have given, of his own behaviour, as first Lord of the Admiralty; he read the letter from the Court-Martial, and thought that their anxiety must have proceeded from having meant error of judgment.
Lord Halifax spoke strongly for the Bill, and urged that it was founded on justice and humanity; condemned the sentence, and said, it appealed from itself. That if the Judges of that Court had thought the Admiral really guilty, they had been most guilty to write such a letter. As that could not be the case, could their Lordships avoid wishing to have the bottom of such a strange transaction known? He excused the Court-Martial for having stayed so long between their letter and any farther step, because they waited to see what effect, and concluded the effect they promised themselves would follow from their letter. That the sentence could not be annulled without this Bill, nor explained without it, for had it been possible for any man, Lord Mansfield would have made sense of it.
Lord Hardwicke pleaded against the Bill, upon the single supposition that they were to tell the opinions of each other. He desired that all of them might be ordered to attend, and asked whether these scruples had not flowed from solicitations, and from being tampered with by the Admiral’s friends—and he, who said he wished to inquire whether they had not been tampered with by the Admiral’s friends—proposed—what? that they should not attend till Thursday—it was then Tuesday.
Lord Granville replied, that they would not speak even there, till their mouths were legally opened. That he had always disapproved the oath of secrecy; and now particularly, when his Majesty and the House of Commons were willing that the oath should be set aside, who could refuse it?
The Duke of Newcastle, as usual, echoed his oracle, and wished to have all the lights that could be had in twenty-four hours. The Duke of Bedford asked what objection there was to hearing them the very next day? There could but two questions be asked of them: “Were they willing to speak?” “Had they anything to say?” Lord Halifax pressed for the next day. Lord Temple defended them from private influence, and proved that their present behaviour was entirely consonant to their sentence and letter. When they found that all the difficulties on their minds, which they had hinted at in their letter, had no effect, could they do otherwise than apply to the Legislature to be empowered to set forth their difficulties at large? Lord Sandwich owned, that if he did not think the Bill necessary, he would oppose it, because he was astonished to find that an unprecedented message to the Commons was pleaded as a reason for the acquiescence of the Lords.
Lord Hardwicke caught up that argument, and said the Royal Message ought not to be pleaded there, since it had not been vouchsafed to that House. I hesitate to repeat the latter part of his speech. Will it not be thought that the part I took in this affair influenced me to misrepresent a man, to whose intrigues and authority I cannot help imputing in great measure the Admiral’s catastrophe? Who, when I paint a shrewd old lawyer, as weakly or audaciously betraying his own dark purposes in so solemn an assembly, but will suspect that I forged an event which seems so strongly to prove all that I have charged on him? In answer to these doubts, I can only say, that this was one of the events on which I formed my opinion; that it is strictly true; and that I would not venture to report it, unless it had passed in so solemn and public a place as the House of Lords, where all who there were present heard, and could not but avow that I speak truth—in short, Lord Hardwicke, as a reason for deferring to hear till Thursday the members of the Court-Martial, pleaded that there was an Irish cause depending before the House, which was appointed for the next day, (Wednesday.) If ever the least public business that pressed, had not made all law-suits give way, this might have been at least a precedented reason. But what was the Bill in question? Certainly in the then situation of affairs of as critical importance, and of as much expectation as had ever engaged the attention of the public; and to want to postpone it to an obscure Irish cause! Could good-nature in person forbear to surmise, that this demand of an intervening day was, could only be made, to gain time to tamper with the witnesses? Good-nature at least, would allow, that who suspects such men as Geary of being tampered with by the poor and powerless relations of a criminal, might be suspected of a disposition to tamper, when he had power,[82] and only wanted time; which too he had the confidence to demand—I say confidence, for Lord Hardwicke said authoritatively, “I adhere to Thursday.” Alas! he did not know how much he could do in half the time.
Lord Denbigh asked with indignation, “does that noble Lord put in competition with the honour of his country a cause of Irish bankruptcy?” And the Duke of Devonshire begged that the Court-Martial might be heard on the morrow, because some of them were under sailing orders. Lord Hardwicke, unmoved, said, “the Bill will not be before you to-morrow: the officers in question must be examined separately.” Lord Temple replied, that the wind might change by Thursday, and that some of them were going on expeditions of the utmost consequence to this country. He begged their retardment might not be laid at his door. He repeated the urgency of their sailing. The Duke of Bedford desired then to have the orders of the House reversed, and to have the second reading of the Bill fixed for the morrow. Lord Hardwicke (who, if I have suspected him wrongfully, was at least conscientiously impatient to do justice on those Irish bankrupts) persisted; and maintained that the orders could not be reversed, unless every Lord present consented. Have I dared to forge all this? The rest of the Lords, who did seem to think that winds and that fleets sailing in their country’s cause were of more instant importance than a case of Irish bankruptcy, prevailed even on the late scrupulous Chancellor to postpone private justice for one day, and the Court-Martial were ordered to attend the next.
March 2nd.—The day opened with a complaint preferred by Lord Sandwich against the publisher of a newspaper, who had printed the oath of secrecy with false additions. Lord Mansfield took on himself the management of the examination. To combat his ability and Hardwicke’s acrimony, the unhappy Admiral had no friend among the Lords but the Earl of Halifax; honest and well-disposed, but no match for the art of the one, or the overbearingness of the other, and on too good terms with both to oppose them in a manner to do any service; and Lord Temple, circumscribed both in interest and abilities from being thoroughly useful. The Chief Justice acquainted the House that the questions he proposed to put to the members of the Court-Martial were, “Whether they knew any matter previous to the sentence, which would show it to be unjust, or procured by any unlawful means? and, whether they thought themselves restrained by their oath from disclosing such matter?” Lord Temple said, “Everybody would be at liberty to ask any other questions;” and Lord Halifax said, “They would not be confined to those of Lord Mansfield.”
Admiral Smith, the President of the Court, was then called; a grey-headed man, of comely and respectable appearance; but of no capacity, of no quickness to comprehend the chicanery of such a partial examination. He, and the greater part of his comrades, were awed too with the presence of the great persons before whom they were brought. Moore, and one or two others, were neither awed nor haggled with their inquisitors. Lord Morton caused the twelfth Article to be read; and would have asked Admiral Smith, whether he then thought, or ever did think, that Article applicable to error of judgment? The impropriety of the question, and the intemperate warmth of the Lord who put it, when he was checked by Lord Talbot, broke in on the solemnity of the scene, and disturbed it. Lord Temple observed, that Smith had already answered the Earl’s question by stating in their letter the words, even by error of judgment. Lord Hardwicke said, that letter was not an oath, and hoped would be out of the question; yet he owned the interrogatory was most improper. Lord Temple insisted that they were under the virtue of their oath till the sentence was pronounced, and they were dissolved as a Court.
Lord Mansfield then asked the President, whether he knew any matter previous to the sentence which would show it to be unjust. He answered, “Indeed I do not.” Lord Mansfield—“If it was given through any undue practice?” Admiral Smith—“Indeed I do not.” Lord Halifax then asked him, if he desired to have the Bill? He replied, “I have no desire for myself. It will not be disagreeable to me, if it will be a relief to the consciences of any of my brethren.” Lord Halifax asked him farther, whether he could reveal anything relative to the sentence, that was necessary for the King to know, and to incline him to mercy? The Admiral said, “Indeed I have not, farther than what I wrote at that time to Lord Lyttelton, signifying that we were willing to attend, to give our reasons for signing that letter.” Lord Lyttelton said, “He had returned that letter to the Admiral, that he might read it there.” Lord Hardwicke asked, whether he thought himself restrained by his oath from mentioning those reasons? He answered, “The application for mercy was unanimous. I think I am at liberty to give the reasons why I requested that mercy.” Nobody chose to ask him those reasons—the friends of Mr. Byng, one must suppose, lest it should interfere with the necessity of the Bill. His enemies did not desire to know themselves, or that anybody else should.
Admiral Holbourn was then called, and to the two former questions of Lord Mansfield, and to the two of Lord Halifax, answered bluntly, “No.”
The next that appeared was Admiral Norris; a most weak man, who after resisting, from the friends of Mr. Byng, great solicitations to interpose in time in favour of the prisoner, to whom he was believed the best disposed, (except Moore, the greatest professor of tenderness to Mr. Byng’s family,) had at last sunk under great inquietudes of remorse; and had pressed most earnestly for parliamentary relief. If in effect he overturned all the consequences of that compunction, he was to be pitied more than blamed. Struck with awe of the tribunal before which he appeared, he showed how little qualified he had been for a Judge, when so terrified at superior Judges. He lost all comprehension, understood no questions that were asked, nor knew how or when to apply the very answers he came prepared to give. When Lord Mansfield put his question to him, whether he knew anything previous that would show the sentence to be unjust, he replied, that he desired to be excused from answering while under the oath of secrecy. Lord Mansfield said, to what did he apprehend his oath went? had he anything to tell, if released from the sanction of it? Lord Fortescue objected, that nobody had a right to ask him his reasons for desiring to be absolved from his oath; and Lord Ravensworth said, an answer in the affirmative would look like accusing himself—indeed it was difficult to know how the Court-Martial could complain of what they had done or submitted to, without accusing themselves in the heaviest manner. Lord Hardwicke declared, if this question was not answered, that he would vote against the Bill. “And why,” said he, “are these excuses made for Mr. Norris? he does not make them for himself. Ask him in the very words of the Bill.” It was evident that Norris thought, that in order to obtain the Bill he must not give the least satisfaction on any question. Accordingly, when questioned if he knew anything that would show the sentence to be unjust? he replied, “No.” If he knew anything of undue practices? still he answered “No.” Yet when Lord Halifax asked him, whether he was desirous the Bill should pass? he replied, “Yes.” Lord Halifax—“If he knew anything that was necessary for the King to know, and that would incline him to mercy?” He begged leave not to answer, and withdrew. The contradiction in this behaviour must be left to the comment of the reader. The only observation I would make, not only on Norris, but on his associates, (I speak not of those who evidently were influenced,) is this. If, as they all said, they knew nothing unjust, why did they solicit to be released from an oath of secrecy, under the lock of which they had no secret? Is it not more probable that they were ashamed of what they had done, and neither knew how to bear or avow it?
Admiral Broderick was short and steady in negatives to all the questions. Holmes as explicit, saying he knew nothing to incline the King to mercy but the sentence and their letter. Lord Halifax then informed the Lords, that Norris had recollected himself, and desired to return to the bar. Lord Cholmondeley and Lord Stamford objected to it, but even Lord Hardwicke could not close with such rigour, though he declared against repeating the like indulgence. Norris returning, and being asked if he knew anything proper for his Majesty to know, and that might incline him to mercy, replied, “At the time that I said I desired the Act might pass, I thought we should have an opportunity of explaining our reasons for signing the sentence.” These words, though obscure, and by no means adequate to what was expected from his desire of being reheard, seemed to imply that he had been drawn into the harshness of the sentence from some arguments of the improbability that it would be carried into execution. This in the utmost candour I own; it was what all the advocates for rigour insisted was the case: though the defence in truth is but a sorry one, for what can exceed the weakness of condemning a man, whom one thinks innocent, upon the supposition that he will afterwards escape?
Geary, the accommodating Geary, the repenter of his repentance, came next; answered No, to Lord Mansfield’s questions, like the rest: to Lord Halifax’s, whether desirous of the Bill, replied No, but have no objections to it, if it will be to the satisfaction of anybody; and that he knew nothing for mercy but the sentence and letter. “Could you,” said Lord Fortescue, “if the Act should pass, explain the sentence better?” “My oath of secrecy,” said Geary, “will not let me say more.” Captain Boyce gave his three noes to the questions. So did Moore to Lord Mansfield’s. When asked by Lord Halifax, if desirous of the Bill? he said, “I am very desirous of it, that I may be absolved from my oath; I have been under concern when I took it—I don’t mean on this point.” To the other question relative to the King and mercy, he said, “I don’t think myself at liberty to answer while bound by my oath.” To Lord Fortescue, whether, if absolved, he could better explain the sentence and letter? he replied in these equivocal words, “I could give better reasons for my signing.” Simko, Douglas, and Bentley, were unanimous in negatives to all the questions. Then Keppel appeared. Being asked if he knew anything unjust?—after long silence and consideration, he replied, No. Whether the sentence was obtained through undue practices? No. Whether desirous of the Bill? “Yes, undoubtedly.” Whether he knew anything necessary for the knowledge of the King, and conducive to mercy? Keppel: “I cannot answer that, without particularizing my vote and opinion.” Lord Halifax asked him whether he thought his particular reasons had been asked now? He replied, No. He retired. If Keppel had had no more to tell, than that he had been drawn into the harsher measure by the probability of the gentler preponderating at last, he had in truth been much misunderstood: his regret had worn all the appearance of remorse. How he came to appear so calm and so indifferent at the last moment, in which either regret or remorse could hope to have any effect, I pretend not to decide. Such as showed any compunction of any sort I would excuse to the utmost. Those who determined no compunction should operate, and those who, like Moore and Geary, abandoned their contrition to make their court, I desire not to absolve. The former were gratified, the latter were rewarded. Dennis was the last who appeared, and took care to have no more tenderness before the Lords than he had exerted in the House of Commons.
Lord Temple then desired that the Court-Martial might be absolved from their attendance; and that the depositions might be read over. When finished, he said (what indeed in his situation he could not well help saying, considering how few questions had been put, except the captious ones of Lord Mansfield, and how little satisfaction had been obtained, and that even Keppel himself had not said half so much as he had said in the House of Commons,) Lord Temple, I say, after congratulating the King and nation on the temper that had been observed, said, the discussion might produce an opinion that the sentence was just: he had had doubts, but now they were all removed: yet he would ask, whether still it were not better to indulge the conscientious with the Bill, especially as it would clear all doubts in others?
Lord Marchmont and Lord Hardwicke objected warmly to that proposal, and treated the House of Commons with the highest scorn. The former said, he had the utmost contempt for the Bill, and hoped their Lordships would set their mark on all who had traduced the Court-Martial, whose very countenances had shown their breasts. He begged the House no further to load his Majesty, but to reject the Bill. Lord Halifax acknowledged, that all who read the preamble, must have concluded that they had something material to divulge: yet not one had produced any one circumstance. For himself, he was never ashamed to retract, when the ground had gone from him. Yet he thought they still must have had reasons for their extraordinary behaviour, and wished for the Bill to clear up that wonderful sentence and letter. But Lord Hardwicke authoritatively put an end to the Debate; said the recital to the preamble had been false; that they had sworn there had been no undue practice, and that it appeared upon what no grounds the House of Commons had proceeded; which he hoped would tend to ease the mind of his Majesty. He proposed, and it was ordered, that the whole examination should be printed.
The affair having concluded in this extraordinary manner, the friends of Mr. Byng could no longer expect any mercy. If he could be brought to the verge of death after such a sentence and such a recommendation from his Judges; if the remorse of those Judges could only interpose; undoubtedly their retracting all distress of conscience, and upholding their sentence in a firmer manner than when they first pronounced it, could neither give the King a new handle to pardon, nor any hopes to the Admiral’s well-wishers. They despaired, though they ceased not to solicit. Of the Court-Martial,[83] it must be remembered, that Norris, who had faltered, was never after employed—that Keppel was—that Moore had immediately assigned to him the most profitable station during the war.
I hasten to the conclusion of the tragedy: a few intervening incidents I shall resume afterwards.
The 14th of March was appointed for execution. Yet one more unexpected event seemed to promise another interruption. The city of London had all along assumed that unamiable department of a free government, inconsiderate clamour for punishment. But as a mob is always the first engine of severity, so it is generally the foremost, often the sole body, that melts and feels compassion when it is too late. Their favourite spectacle is a brave sufferer. This time they anticipated tenderness. On the 9th, at eleven at night, four Tory Aldermen went to Dickinson, the Lord Mayor, to desire he would summon a Common Council, intending to promote a petition to the King to spare the Admiral. The motion was imputed to Mr. Pitt. The magistrate, as unfeelingly formal as if he had been the first magistrate in the kingdom, replied, it was too late; he would be at home till noon of the next day. On the morrow they sent to him not to dismiss his officers, but he heard no more, though they continued squabbling among themselves till two in the morning. Thus the last chance was lost. Had the first midnight emotion been seized, it might have spread happily—at least the King could not have pleaded his promise of severity pledged to the city. I hesitate even to mention what I will not explain, as I cannot prove my suspicion: but I was eye-witness to a secret and particular conference between Dickinson and another man, who, I have but too much reason to think, had a black commission.
The fatal morning arrived, but was by no means met by the Admiral with reluctance. The whole tenour of his behaviour had been cheerful, steady, dignified, sensible. While he felt like a victim, he acted like a hero. Indeed, he was the only man whom his enemies had had no power to bend to their purposes. He always received with indignation any proposal from his friends of practising an escape; an advantage he scorned to lend to clamour. Of his fate he talked with indifference; and neither shunned to hear the requisite dispositions, nor affected parade in them. For the last fortnight he constantly declared that he would not suffer a handkerchief over his face, that it might be seen whether he betrayed the least symptom of fear; and when the minute arrived, adhered to his purpose. He took an easy leave of his friends, detained the officers not a moment, went directly to the deck, and placed himself in a chair with neither ceremony nor lightness. Some of the more humane officers represented to him, that his face being uncovered, might throw reluctance into the executioners; and besought him to suffer a handkerchief. He replied, with the same unconcern, “If it will frighten them, let it be done: they would not frighten me.” His eyes were bound; they shot, and he fell at once.[84]
It has often been remarked that whoever dies in public, dies well. Perhaps those, who, trembling most, maintain a dignity in their fate, are the bravest: resolution on reflection is real courage. It is less condemnable, than a melancholy vain-glory, when some men are ostentatious at their death. But surely a man who can adjust the circumstances of his execution beforehand; who can say, “Thus I will do, and thus;” who can sustain the determined part, and throws in no unnecessary pomp, that man does not fear—can it be probable he ever did fear? I say nothing of Mr. Byng’s duels; cowards have ventured life for reputation: I say nothing of his having been a warm persecutor of Admiral Matthews: cowards, like other guilty persons, are often severe against failings, which they hope to conceal in themselves by condemning in others: it was the uniformity of Mr. Byng’s behaviour from the outset of his persecution to his catastrophe, from whence I conclude that he was aspersed as unjustly, as I am sure that he was devoted maliciously, and put to death contrary to all equity and precedent.[85]
I have perhaps dwelt too long on his story—let me be excused: I could not say too much in behalf of a man, whose sufferings, with whatever kind intention, I unhappily protracted!
The cousinhood intended to supply Byng’s seat at Rochester, with Dr. Hay of their own Admiralty, whom Fox had jostled out of Parliament. The King, by suggestion from the same quarter, told Lord Temple, “That Rochester was a borough of the Crown, not of the Admiralty; nor did he like Hay or any of their Admiralty; they had endeavoured to represent his justice as cruelty; he would have Admiral Smith chosen there.” The subject was artfully selected, a relation of their own. Lord Temple, with more calmness and decency than he often condescended to employ in the Cabinet, contested it long: and at last said, he would not obstruct his Majesty’s service and commands—but he would be no borough-jobber, he would have nothing to do with it, nor would he pay the price of blood by bringing into Parliament the President of that Court that had condemned Admiral Byng. As the measure was taken to get rid of Mr. Pitt and his friends, it was hoped they would resign on this obstacle, which might pass for a private affair: but they were too wise to be the dupes. The Duke of Devonshire was ordered to recommend Admiral Smith to Rochester, but the poor man was shocked both at succeeding a person he had sentenced, and at being chosen for a stumbling-block to his friends. He said he had not sufficient estate for a qualification; and declined. Admiral Townshend, the gaoler of Byng, had no scruples, and was elected.
On the 8th of this month, advice was received that a French army of one hundred and four thousand men, commanded by the Comte de Clermont and Marshal D’Etrées, were marched to the Lower Rhine.
A slight event that, by displaying the Duke’s moderation, indicated his having views at that time which it was worth his while, by curbing his natural temper, to gratify, may be fitly mentioned. Colonel Forbes, a man of parts and spirit, had long lain under his displeasure, being suspected of having writ some severe pamphlets against him. They were, in truth, the compositions of one Douglas. Forbes, during the preceding summer, had ingratiated himself with the Duke of Bedford in the camp at Blandford, where his Grace had been reading Bladen’s Cæsar and Bland’s Military Discipline, and playing at being a General, for he was always eager about what he was least fit for. He immediately undertook to reconcile Forbes to the Duke,[86] who would not listen to him. Richbell’s regiment falling vacant in Ireland, the Lord-Lieutenant gave himself no farther trouble to obtain the favour of the Duke for Forbes, but carried a warrant ready drawn to the King, who signed it, and Forbes had the regiment. The Duke bore it without a murmur.
On the 13th, died Dr. Herring, Archbishop of Canterbury, a very amiable man, to whom no fault was objected; though perhaps the gentleness of his principles, his great merit, was thought one. During the Rebellion he had taken up arms to defend from oppression that religion, which he abhorred making an instrument of oppression. He was succeeded by Dr. Hutton, Archbishop of York, a finer gentleman, except where money was in question. The Duke of Newcastle, to pay court to Leicester-house, had promised York to Dr. Thomas, of Peterborough, the Prince’s Preceptor: but though he had been raised by the King himself, his Majesty (to thwart the Princess, who had indulged the Bishop in no weight with her son, and was consequently indifferent about him) refused to confirm the grant, and bestowed the Archbishopric on Gilbert of Salisbury, who had formerly shed courtly tears in a sermon on the Queen. Gilbert was composed of that common mixture, ignorance, meanness, and arrogance. Having once pronounced that Dr. King ought to be expelled from Oxford for disaffection, the latter said he would consent to expulsion, provided Gilbert would propose it in convocation—the motion must have been in Latin. Thomas was permitted to succeed to Salisbury. On the news of Gilbert’s promotion, they rung the bells at York backwards, in detestation of him. He opened a great table there, and in six months they thought him the most Christian Prelate that had ever sat in that see.
18th.—Legge opened the new taxes, and particularly proposed to abolish the Commissioners of Wine-Licences, which office he would incorporate with that of the Stamps. Among those Commissioners was one Harris, a dependent and intimate of Fox, who broke out on this occasion in the most imprudent manner—“Was this the beginning of reformation? why was it not carried farther? why not abolish one of the Secretaries of the Treasury? why did Mr. Legge himself receive double salary as Lord of the Treasury?” He himself would have been content with half the pay of Secretary of State. Sir Robert Walpole had never destroyed the offices and influence of the Crown. He taxed Hardinge with being author of this scheme. Legge replied, yes, it was the beginning of reformation; and if others would, he himself would serve for nothing. Beckford said principiis obsta; he liked better to begin with small things than great, because from the former there might be hopes—but he knew, he saw, why Mr. Fox was averse from demolishing the influence of the Crown. Of all things he should disapprove any diminution of the salaries of great officers, in order to carry on the war, for then he was sure there would soon be a peace. Pitt was very ill, and could not attend.
I hinted that it was determined to dismiss Mr. Pitt and his friends, or provoke them to resign. I shall now explain that measure, which opens a new scene.
The French had made an irruption into Germany with a mighty Army, and threatened Hanover. The King had neither able Generals there nor Ministers on whom he could rely. The latter were Austrians in their hearts, with the additional incumbrance of possessing estates in the countries of the Empress. The Duke, since the accession of Mr. Pitt to the Administration, was become a favourite. The King readily vented his mortifications to his son, whom he knew would cheerfully be a confidant, of his aversion to the Princess and her faction. By the channel of the Duke and Princess Emily, Fox had insinuated innumerable prejudices and obstructions to the new Ministers. At this juncture the King cast his eyes on the Duke, as the sole resource for Hanover. His son had saved his Crown: he wished to owe the preservation of the dearer Electorate to him. The Duke was very averse to the charge. War with all its charms could not tempt him now. His many defeats by the French still ached. If to be clogged with orders from Pitt,—if to be obliged to communicate with him, and depend on him for supplies, command itself would lose its lustre. Even if successful, the popularity of Pitt would ravish half his laurels; should he miscarry, his misfortunes would all be imputed to himself. Fox snatched at this dilemma: he knew the King would pay any price to rescue Hanover, and suggested to the Duke to demand as a previous condition the dismission of Pitt;—could his Majesty hesitate between an unwelcome servant and a favourite dominion? The terms were granted, but were too soon performed. The King hurried away the Duke. His Royal Highness would not endure even for a fortnight to be accountable to Pitt; yet there had been no time to settle a new Administration. The inquiries still hung over the heads of the old Ministers, and though a whole Parliament of his own interposed their bucklers, Newcastle shuddered at the glimpse of an axe in the faint hand of a wearied rabble. Fox wished for power without the name of it; Newcastle for both. If his Grace would have united with him, Fox would have taken the Paymastership, with a Peerage for his wife, and a pension of 2000l. a year on Ireland for himself. But Newcastle could be pinned down to no terms: he advanced to Fox, retreated farther from him, would mention no conditions, nor agree to any. Lord Mansfield had early gone to Claremont and endeavoured to fix him to Fox; but as that Lord himself told the latter, Newcastle was governed by Lord Hardwicke, even by a letter. Fox would then have assumed the Government himself, could he have conjured together the slightest vision of a Ministry. He tried Lord Granville, he courted Devonshire, he offered the Treasury to Bedford; but, though nobody was more sanguine in the cause than the latter, yet as it was not easy to give Rigby an equivalent for Ireland, he took care to regulate his patron’s warmth within the pale of his own advantage.
In this strange uncertainty the day of the Duke’s departure was fixed; and fixed it was that Pitt and Lord Temple should be thrust out by any means. Pitt had behaved with as much veneration as his Majesty could expect; with as much as he was fond himself of receiving: surely he had even shown that German measures were not beyond the compass of his homage. But he had introduced eloquence into the closet. The King was a man of plain sense, and neither used ornament in discourse nor admired it; sometimes too the drift of his royal pleasure was too delicate to be conveyed but in hints. He liked to be served in essentials; it was better not to expatiate on them. Lord Temple was still more tiresome; and when his verboseness did not persuade, he quickened it with impertinence. On the affair of Mr. Byng he had even gone so far as to sketch out some parallel between the Monarch himself and the Admiral, in which the advantage did not lie on the side of the battle of Oudenarde.
The King resenting this and other instances in the strongest manner, Lord Temple sent him word by the Duke of Devonshire, that he could not serve him more, though he should not resign till a convenient opportunity; that he would not even have come out of his Majesty’s closet as a Minister, if it would not have distressed those with whom he was connected. Pitt himself kept in the outward room, saying, he no longer looked upon himself as a Minister; and attributing this storm solely to Fox, he bade Lord George Sackville, who was feeling about for a reconciliation between him and Newcastle, tell that Duke, that he was not so averse to him as his Grace had been told: let him judge by my actions, added he, if I have been averse to him.
The idea of the approaching change no sooner spread than it occasioned the greatest astonishment: indignation followed; ridicule kept up the indignation. The first jealousy was, that British troops would attend the Duke to Germany. Fox called on Legge in the House to disavow this, which he did; and the former declared that it had never existed even in the wish of his Royal Highness—(that measure indeed was reserved for Pitt!) George Townshend, to prevent the change by intimidating, called for more papers; but as Fox wished for nothing more than to dispatch the inquiries, after which he would be at liberty to appear again on the scene, he pressed to have them begin; and Townshend was forced to yield that they should commence on the 19th of April, the first day after the recess of Easter. Sir Francis Dashwood said, that day would interfere with the meeting at Newmarket, and proposed a later time. Fox said there would be a second meeting, with which a later day would equally clash. I blush to repeat these circumstances—was it a greater proof of the levity of our character, or of the little that was to be expected from the inquiries, when a senate sat weighing horse races against national resentment and justice—Newmarket against the fate of Minorca![87] George Townshend added some sharp words on the abuse published against Pitt. Fox said, he desired the liberty of the press might continue: nobody had suffered more from it than himself, yet he would not be for restraining it. Did Mr. Townshend object to cards and pictures?[88] George Grenville said, he knew when he accepted a place what tax he was to pay for it; yet said Fox, “I have been most abused since out of place.”