CHAPTER XVII.
Debates on the Embargo laid on Corn.—Party Tactics.—Walpole exerts himself to prevent Conway from resigning.—View of Lord Chatham’s Conduct.
On the 11th of November the Parliament met. Lord Suffolk opposed the Address of the Lords, and the debate turned on the illegality of the late Act of Council that had directed the embargo; the Opposition censuring the Ministers for not having called the Parliament to that end. To urge that the necessity had been pressing, that the delay necessarily attendant on issuing writs, on assembling the members, on passing the Bill, would have wasted the time, while the merchants who had contracted to send corn abroad would have taken advantage of such protraction and sent away their corn—and thus the evil would not have been prevented by paying too scrupulous regard to forms—these reasons did not satisfy men who would have found greater fault if the evil had not been prevented. The Duke of Bedford was more moderate, but wished the Parliament had been assembled. Lord Chatham, for the first time of his appearing in that House, spoke with coolness, dignity, and art, declaring that if any man was personal to him, or revived stories past, he should take no notice of them. This seemed to check Lord Temple’s heat, who, though severe in arraigning, forbore invectives against Lord Chatham; but proposed (as Mr. Grenville did in the other House) to issue 200,000l. from the Treasury for the relief of the poor—a vain attempt at popularity, and deservedly ridiculed. Lord Northington, with great boldness and defiance, said, he disclaimed accepting any pardon for the part he had acted in advising the embargo, and held law-books cheap when weighed against such a crisis. For himself he had acted on a larger scale. He concluded with haranguing against disunion. Lord Temple reminded him that two years before, he had declared unanimity was destructive. Lord Mansfield, from aversion to Lord Chatham and his Chancellor Camden, was now the advocate of the Constitution. The Act of Council he maintained was illegal, though he said he would give no opinion as the case might come before him in judgment, many suits being commenced, he heard, against officers of the customs for detaining corn from exportation on the authority of the Council’s order. Prerogative! there was no such thing: the King could do nothing but by law; was only free from arrest for debt,—truths that were scandalous in the mouth of a man whose soul was sold to Despotism. Lord Camden answered with firmness, and with sharp irony, on the new Whiggism of the Chief Justice. Himself, he said, had always been Whig, and should continue so. If it was not yet in our laws, it ought to be so, that Salus populi suprema lex. If this Act was a stretch of prerogative, it was but a tyranny of forty days. This sentence drew much censure—ridiculously so. In every Government there is—must be—a supreme power to exert itself when evils are too mighty for the common channel of law to divert. That power must have relieved the people, or they would have relieved themselves, for men will not starve, if you tell them there is no law that can help them. The very phrase, too, of forty days implied that liberty preceded and succeeded to that transient tyranny. It is when unlimited that tyranny is dreadful. The sentence, however, proved the text on which the following libels were preached for some months. Lord Mansfield was daunted, and retracted, and the House rose without a division.[293]
In the other House Mr. Grenville held forth on the illegality, and abused Mr. Conway, not for intention, but for ignorance and blunders. Burke spoke finely on the same side; but they could not attempt a division, the Duke of Bedford’s people having absented themselves. The Tories, however, exclaimed against Lord Camden’s dispensing power; a clamour that manifested their own principles. The Whigs dread the prerogative being used against the people; the Tories, it should seem, for the people.
The schism raised in the Opposition by the Duke of Bedford’s defection, and the general inclination attached to the late Ministers to close with Lord Chatham, had discouraged almost all thoughts of opposition. Grenville and his dozen of followers in vain attempted to rekindle it, and though Lord Rockingham wished to figure as leader of a party even out of place, and Burke, an adventurer, was to push his way by distinguishing himself as a formidable antagonist; yet the decency of that set of men was such, even of Lord John Cavendish, that they did not care to fly out. They retained much deference for Mr. Conway; and too many of their friends remained still in place, whom they might displease and lose, and without whom their numbers would be inconsiderable. They had acted, too, with such recent animosity to George Grenville, that it was a bitter resource to join his standard: nor were he and Lord Rockingham compatible, the Treasury being the object which neither would cede to the other. So forlorn a prospect deadened all factious spirit: Lord Temple went out of town. The Dukes of Bedford and Richmond were to go on the 19th; and though some scanty forces might rally after Christmas, all who waited to judge from the size of the majority whether duration might be expected to the present Ministry, would probably by that time have enlisted themselves in the troops of the Court. This moment, fortunate beyond all calculation, did Lord Chatham pitch upon to do the wildest of acts for the silliest of reasons. Without waiting to let so prosperous a conjuncture ripen into a system, he seemed to take a fortuitous concurrence of circumstances for established power; and though the predominant influence of the Court preserved him from falling, he involved himself in such a labyrinth of difficulties, that he found no other way of extricating himself than by a conduct more preposterous than the series of imprudence which had drawn him into his perplexed situation. I must now relate what he lost and for whom.
There was a nephew of the Duke of Newcastle who, when the Whigs had broken with the Court and sought to place Lord Chatham at their head, had attached himself particularly to that chieftain. Lord Lincoln,[294] the other nephew of the Duke, had quarrelled, as I have said, indecently and ungratefully with his uncle. Mr. Shelley,[295] the hero of the present episode, had copied that ingratitude, and for no worthier reason than because a peerage, to which he had no pretensions, had not been added to the boons his lavish uncle had already heaped on him, had joined himself to his cousin. But Mr. Pitt was his standard; and, furnishing himself with scraps of that orator’s new-coined diction, he retailed them on the most ordinary occurrences; so that as Mr. Pitt was called the Great Commoner, the nickname of the Little Commoner was bestowed on Shelley in ridicule.[296] This insignificant person did Lord Chatham, to gratify Lord Lincoln, design for Treasurer of the Household. Mr. Conway had remonstrated against the dismission of Lord Edgcumbe,[297] who held that staff, insisting that an equivalent, at least, should be given to Lord Edgcumbe, and with his consent. This had passed about a month before the meeting of the Parliament, and Lord Chatham said no more at that time. But six days after the opening of the session, Lord Shelburne, being with Mr. Conway, said, “I wish you would tell me how to write a civil letter to Lord Edgcumbe.” Conway started, and asked on what occasion? “To notify his dismission,” replied the other. Lord Chatham, it seems, had offered a Lordship of the Bedchamber to Lord Edgcumbe, a man of forty-five, very high in the Navy, who had served with reputation in Lord Chatham’s favourite war, and who, into a place only fit for a boy, must have entered below thirteen other boys! Lord Edgcumbe very properly declining such a post, Lord Chatham affected to resent it as an affront to the King, and wrote a verbose notification of the refusal to Mr. Conway, with frequent repetitions of his Majesty’s name and intentions. Conway, wounded at the treatment both of himself and Lord Edgcumbe, wrote a firm answer, justifying the latter.[298] Lord Rockingham, getting wind of this transaction, hurried to Mr. Conway, artfully reminding him that the late Duke of Devonshire, at his death, had recommended Lord Edgcumbe to the Duke of Cumberland; and that Lord Edgcumbe himself had lately, at Mr. Conway’s request, chosen his nephew, Lord Beauchamp,[299] into Parliament.[300] But Lord Chatham’s own conduct exasperated Conway more than any incendiary could. He wrote again to Conway, imputing all to the King’s intentions and to the necessity of accommodation. He could not have assigned a weaker reason. Shelley would not even have a seat in Parliament, for the Duke of Newcastle refused to re-elect him. Lord Edgcumbe commanded four boroughs, and it was within a year of the general election. Instead of replying by letter, Conway went and expostulated with Lord Chatham on the ill-usage of his friend, and of the silence to himself, desiring to retire; did not mean to oppose, but thought that the Government could do without him now Charles Townshend was in their service. Lord Chatham talked of his desire of pleasing all parties by taking some of all: some Bedfords—Burke, to please Lord Rockingham—(but Burke had said he would take nothing but on proviso of resigning, if Lord Rockingham went into opposition—though, as the Duke of Grafton told me, Burke would not have been obdurate if his demands had not been too extravagant)—Norton—Conway remonstrated—Lord Chatham rejoined, “only in case of a vacancy, perhaps Master of the Rolls, if the present should die.”
While this matter was in suspense, Mr. Conway moved the House of Commons for leave to bring in a bill in favour of all who had acted under the Order of Council for restraining exportation of grain. Grenville said the motion was not adequate to the case: the indemnity ought to extend to the Privy Council, as had been customary in the reign of Charles II. and at the Revolution. Yet he would not then propose the amendment; would wait to see the bill. If he should not find the extension there, that great question would and should be discussed. Burke, more moderate, said, it would be sufficient if the preamble specified all those who had counselled or advised. Beckford, to disculpate the Chancellor, said, in times of danger the Crown might dispense with law. Grenville started up, and demanded that the clerk should take down those words. Beckford said, he was glad to see that gentleman so zealous for liberty at present, but that he had interrupted him before he had finished his sentence; that he was going to add, by the advice of his Council, for the salus populi. Grenville demanded that those words should be taken down too. Several interposed, and desired that Beckford might have leave to explain himself. Grenville said, he aimed at the doctrine, not the person. Beckford pleaded ignorance, and that he was not one of the docti. Nugent replied, that the House had often been witness to his ignorance. “But, sir,” said he, “I exaggerate his ignorance to excuse him.” Hussey, a very honest man, and who had refused any preferment, though an intimate friend of the Chancellor, stated an explanation of Beckford’s meaning, which, indeed, was totally the reverse, and a full definition of liberty against a dispensing power, which the House accepted. I went home with Mr. Conway, and though I entirely approved what the Council had done, yet as precedents of power cannot be too strongly guarded against, I begged him, as Hussey had advised, to obtain a firm declaration against a dispensing power in the preamble to the bill. He was zealously of that opinion, and said he would. I told him, if Lord Chatham objected, that would be a much more laudable and wise subject for breaking with him, than on the private case of Lord Edgcumbe, which the world would consider but as a squabble about places and power. The Duke of Richmond and Burke tried to persuade me that Mr. Conway ought to break on Lord Edgcumbe, as their friends would desert the party, if the party did not resent the ill-treatment of individuals. I replied, I would neither flatter his Grace, nor Lord Rockingham; that, next to my country, I consulted Mr. Conway’s honour, and desired they should know it. That Mr. Conway could not break for Lord Edgcumbe, when he had not quarrelled with Lord Chatham on the Duke of Richmond’s account. That if he quarrelled on some constitutional point, he would bring double strength to the party. To break on persons might be called faction; and I thought too well of his friends to believe they would leave him. Hitherto they had not been very considerable; but their conduct in Administration, and their quiet behaviour since out of place, would give them new importance. That they said, Lord Chatham wanted to ruin their party: he might, but was recruiting them. That he would reduce himself to be dependent on Lord Bute, and would become of no consequence.—I did not persuade them, nor they me.
Lord Edgcumbe conducted himself with singular temper, being, in truth, desirous of an indemnification, which he told Mr. Conway he would still accept. The latter tried to obtain an earldom for him. Lord Chatham refused it with much verbiage, and pleaded the honour of the King engaged, and that himself had always determined to break all parties; and a wise method[301] he took, no doubt, by declaring that intention! It was not much wiser when he condescended to intimate that he would offer something to Lord Edgcumbe, but not for some days, lest he should seem to be forced. Lord John Cavendish said to me, he supposed Lord Chatham would not yield. I replied, Certainly not; but if he would, we should have a great triumph. This was to reconcile them to it in case the offer came. He told me the Duke of Portland and Lord Besborough would resign, unless Mr. Conway should desire them not. I understood this; it was an artifice to lay him under stronger obligations to them. Lord Besborough, extremely unwilling to resign, offered to give up the Post Office to Lord Edgcumbe, and, though a place he should dislike, (for he was still an older man,) to take the Bedchamber himself. Mr. Conway, charmed, as thinking this would accommodate everything, immediately sent word of it to the Duke of Grafton; but in a little hour received from Lord Chatham a haughty and despotic answer, that he would not suffer connections to force the King. Mr. Conway, losing all patience, wrote to the Duke of Grafton, that such language had never been held west of Constantinople. Still, however, to prevent the rupture, I persuaded him to soften the expression to, in this country; and insinuated to him, that Lord Besborough’s offer was a snare laid by Lord John, and conceived from my having told him that Lord Chatham would certainly not bend.
On the 22nd the Duke of Grafton told Mr. Conway that Lord Chatham had no objection to his proposing anything to the King in favour of Lord Edgcumbe, but would not himself: and the Duke added, “If the King would still grant it.” This made me fear another repulse. Mr. Conway, however, who scorned to bend to Lord Chatham’s haughtiness, desired his brother to ask an audience of the King, in order to make the proposals. Yet I obtained a delay till I should try to prevail on Lord Edgcumbe to accept the Bedchamber. In the mean time I met Lord Rockingham, who, taking me aside, laughed at the idea of Lord Besborough’s proposal; said it was a joke, and that Lord Chatham would only have laughed at them for it. I said, very seriously, “What, my Lord, have you sent Mr. Conway on a fool’s errand, and now disavow him?” He replied, the party knew nothing of it. Lord Besborough had done it from himself to prevent a rupture. I said Mr. Conway had received the proposal from the Duke of Portland. He said, he was sure not: yet so it proved. He pressed me earnestly to encourage Mr. Conway to resign. I said I could not take upon me to advise him to give up all he had. He laughed and said, it could not be for long; everything came round in this country. I replied, “Your Lordship, with twenty thousand pounds a year, talks very much at your ease; but Mr. Conway would have nothing in the world, and would not go into opposition to recover his fortune. He has told both Lord Chatham and the Duke of Grafton that he will not oppose.” This conversation was so ill taken, which was indifferent to me, that it broke off all correspondence between me and Lord Rockingham. I went to Mr. Conway and represented to him that they were trying to dupe him: that they now disavowed him, as they had done on Lord Chatham’s visit to the Marquis; and I added, that though Lord Rockingham affected to resent so warmly for him the treatment of Lord Chatham, his Lordship had treated him in the same manner the last spring on the establishment for the Princes. I wished to stop Mr. Conway from resigning till Lord Chatham should have gained the Bedfords from George Grenville; I wished to give Grenville time to involve himself in further declarations for liberty; I wished Mr. Conway to have a regiment again, which I had been the cause of his losing; and I was not unwilling to convince Lord Rockingham and Lord John Cavendish that Mr. Conway was not to receive orders from them. Of these four points, of which the second in truth would have availed little[302] but to disgrace Grenville if he returned to power, I accomplished all but one; and it will be soon seen that that, like many other prudential views, was defeated solely by the mismanagement of Lord Chatham. Wearisome contests it cost me for six months to prevent Mr. Conway’s resignation; and though I succeeded, and afterwards shut the door both on Grenville and Lord Rockingham, the person[303] who profited of my fatigues, and of the credit I had with Mr. Conway, proved so unworthy; and so sick did I grow both of that person and of the fatigues I underwent, that I totally withdrew myself from the scene of politics, and tasted far more satisfaction in my retreat than I had done in the warmest moments of success and triumph. The joys of a private station present themselves—are bought by no anxiety. I never found pleasures answer that were purchased by trouble. It is like many moral aphorisms, a theme for poets, untrue in practice.
All proposals of accommodations proving fruitless,[304] Lord Edgcumbe was dismissed, and his staff placed in Shelley’s hands. The wound rankled so deeply in Mr. Conway’s bosom, that he dropped all intercourse with Lord Chatham; and though he continued to conduct the King’s business in the House of Commons, he would neither receive nor pay any deference to the Minister’s orders, acting for or against, as he approved or disliked his measures;—a scorn that became his character, and which he supported with very different dignity from that of Lord Chatham, whose tone being fictitious and assumed, could not bear him out in the implicit obedience he expected. Like oracles and groves, whose sanctity depended on the fears of the devout, and whose mysterious and holy gloom vanished as soon as men dared to think and walk through them, Lord Chatham’s authority ceased with his popularity; and his godhead, when he had affronted his priests.
In all his actions was discernible an imitation of his model, Ximenes; a model ill-suited to a free government, and worse to a man whose situation and necessities were totally different. Was the poor monk thwarted or disgraced, the asylum of his convent was open; and a cardinal, who was clothed in a hair-cloth at Court, missed no fine linen, no luxury, in his cloister. Lord Chatham was as abstemious in his diet; but mixed Persian grandeur with herbs and roots. His equipages and train were too expensive for his highest zenith of wealth, and he maintained them when out of place and overwhelmed with debts: a wife and children were strange impediments to a Ximenes. Grandeur, show, and a pension could not wrestle with an opulent and independent nobility, nor could he buy them, though he had sold himself. His services to his country were far above those of Ximenes, who trampled on Castilian pride but to sacrifice it to the monarch of Castile. Lord Chatham had recalled the spirit of a brave nation, had given it victory and glory, and victory secured its liberty. As Ximenes had no such objects, the inflexibility of Ximenes was below the imitation of Camillus. It was mean ambition to stoop from humbling the crowned heads of France and Spain, to contend with proud individuals and the arrogance of factions—at least, would a real great man have doated on a coronet, who prided himself in lowering the peerage? Lord Chatham had been the arbiter of Europe; he affected to be the master of the English nobility: he failed, and remained with a train of domestics whom he could not pay. More like Nicholas Rienzi than Ximenes, the lord of Rome became ridiculous by apeing the tawdry pageant of a triumph. Yet, as what is here said is the voice of truth, not the hiss of satire, British posterity will ever remember that, as Lord Chatham’s first Administration obtained and secured the most real and substantial benefits to his country, the puerilities of his second could not efface their lustre. The man was lessened, not his merits. Even the shameful peace of Paris, concluded in defiance of him, could not rob the nation of all he had acquired; nor could George the Third resign so much as Pitt had gained for George the Second. Half the empire of Indostan, conquered under his Administration by the spirit he had infused, still pours its treasures into the Thames. Canada was subdued by his councils, and Spain and France—that yet dread his name, attest the reality of his services. The memory of his eloquence, which effected all these wonders, will remain when the neglect of his cotemporaries, and my criticisms, will be forgotten. Yet it was the duty of an annalist, and of a painter of nature, to exhibit the varying features of his portrait. The lights and shades of a great character are a moral lesson. Philosophy loves to study the man more than the hero or the statesman; and whether his qualities were real or fictitious, his actions were so illustrious, that few names in the registers of Time will excite more curiosity than that of William Pitt.
When Mr. Conway presented the Bill of Indemnity to the House, he ushered it in with strong declarations against the Chancellor’s doctrine of necessity justifying a dispensing power. He was much applauded by Grenville for extending the Indemnity to the Council, the latter inveighing against Lord Camden, and ascribing his tenets to folly, ignorance, weakness, and wickedness, such as cost Charles I. his life, and James II. his crown. Conway, who felt that himself had gone too far, took that opportunity of apologizing for the Chancellor, who, he said, he believed was no friend to a dispensing power in an odious light: the dispensing power claimed by Charles and James had not been founded on necessity. The Bill was ordered to be printed. After the debate I asked Lord John Cavendish if it was not more desirable to have the dispensing power condemned by a Minister than by a man in opposition?