CHAPTER IV.
General Observations.—Attempt to procure an Earldom for Lord Holland.—Reconstruction of the Administration.—Death of Charles Townshend.—Of the Comte de Guerchy.—Of the Duke of York.—Characters of the Royal Dukes.—French Travellers in England and Ireland.—Genius of Conway.—Conduct of Lord Townshend in Ireland.—Meeting of Parliament.—Debates on the Address.—Fresh Negotiations with the Bedford Party.
1767.
Nothing now remained but to resettle the Administration as we could on its old bottom, no new forces being to be had. But I must make a few observations.
In all my experience of the King or knowledge of his measures, he never interfered with his Ministers, scarce took any part in his own business (I speak of the past years of his reign), unless when he was to undo an Administration. Whether hating or liking the persons he employed, the moment he took them, he seemed to resign himself entirely to their conduct for the time. If what they proposed was very disagreeable to him, at most he avoided it by delay. How far he had entered into his mother’s and Lord Bute’s plans while they were all-powerful at the beginning of his reign, cannot be known. Afterwards he had, undoubtedly, confidence in none of his Ministers; which according with his extreme indolence and indifference to all men, his Ministers found little obstruction to their views from the closet, till the greater indolence of the Duke of Grafton and Lord North taught his Majesty to act on his own judgment, assisted by the secret junto of the creatures of Lord Bute. The sensible disgrace that fell on the Crown from so frequent a change of Ministries, had, at last, alarmed the King, and made a lasting impression. And yet the ruling principle of the reign, which had been, by breaking and dividing all parties, to draw attention and dependence only to the King himself, had succeeded so happily, that even these storms tended to strengthen the unbounded influence at which the King aspired, and which he pursued invariably on every returning calm. The ductility and congenial indolence of the Duke of Grafton, accompanied with much respect and good breeding, fixed his Majesty in preferring him to all the men whom he could employ: and though the Duke not long afterwards fell into a connection of very ill-odour at Court, yet the tedious tyranny of Grenville, and the inveteracy of Rockingham to Bute, were so much more dreaded, that Grafton did not cease to be almost a favourite; with the additional comfort to the King, that if forced to sacrifice him, it would be the loss of an useful tool, rather than of a Minister for whom he had any fondness.
Another observation is, that during the whole preceding negotiation the names of Lord Chatham and Charles Townshend were scarce mentioned, so insignificant had both rendered themselves to the nation and to every faction in it.
I cannot help reflecting, too, that had the Duke of Cumberland or the Duke of Devonshire lived, men in the prime of their age, many of the follies I have been recounting had probably been avoided. The excellent sense of the former would have kept Lord Rockingham and the Cavendishes within bounds; and the deference of his Royal Highness for the Crown would have restrained them from the excesses into which they fell against the King, the Princess, and the Favourite; for though nobody had less partiality to the two latter, he would not have encouraged a useless inveteracy, when himself would have enjoyed so much credit in the Government. The Duke of Devonshire, though inferior in parts even to Lord Rockingham, must have had the precedence of him in Administration; and being diffident, timid, decent, and fond of court, no man would have been more alarmed at the violent and obnoxious counsels of his brother John. The latter would undoubtedly have enjoyed much credit with the Duke; but as men govern others by humouring their tempers, not by driving them into contrary extremes, I question whether Devonshire would not oftener have checked than have been impelled by Lord John’s visions. As either the Prince or the Duke would probably have prevented many scenes that I have related, so both, I am persuaded, would have obstructed and discountenanced the frenzy into which their friends were hurried in the subsequent Parliament.
The share I had had in these transactions could not be totally a secret, especially to those who looked narrowly into or had connections with the Court; yet it did surprise me, I own, when the first person I beheld at my feet was Lord Holland. He sent for me, and weakly pretending that it was to gratify his wife, of all women the most indifferent to grandeur, he supplicated me in the most flattering terms to obtain him an earldom from the Duke of Grafton. In a long intimacy, and during every period of his power, he had barely once, and that when he foresaw I should not accept it,[33] offered me a faint attempt to serve me conditionally. I had the strongest presumption for believing that he had afterwards essentially injured me for declining to assist his bad measures. I was not at all sorry to have this opportunity of repaying both debts by forgiving both, and by endeavouring to obtain what he desired. The King had declined his request, pleading the state of his affairs. I told Lord Holland I would use all my interest with the Duke of Grafton to oblige him, but that I was not so vain as to think I could obtain the earldom for him, if his own importance could not. I did earnestly labour it, and really believe the Duke of Grafton did too, as he promised me he would: but the King could not be persuaded to grant it: I know not why. Lord Holland had well earned it. He read to me at the same time a long letter from Lord Bute, dated September 1st, 1766, in which in the strongest terms the Favourite disclaimed having been made acquainted with the last promotion of Lord Chatham, and the restoration of his own brother Mackenzie; adding that a great lady, to whom he (the Earl) often paid his court, had been as ignorant and incredulous of those steps as himself; and protesting that himself had not seen the King since the preceding July. I knew not how to give entire credit to this epistle: however, as it owned the continuation of his visits to the Princess, it imported little what embargo it was thought prudent to lay on his actual commerce with the King, nor by what channels the intercourse was kept up. The credit which Mackenzie soon gained with the Duke of Grafton spoke the duration of favour: and as no symptoms appeared of the Queen having acquired any political ascendant over her husband, the old connections probably subsisted still, though the clamours of the times inspired great caution in conducting them.[34]
On the 28th Lord Hertford, Mr. Conway, and I supped with the Duke of Grafton, when he and Conway were to take their final resolutions, and to fix their future Administration. Conway appeared by far the more determined; yet both agreed to go on, though the Duke laid in a specious salvo, that it should only be till Lord Chatham should recover. From that moment there was no further question of him. Conway, who desired his own liberty, willingly subscribed to that condition. The list was next to be adjusted. I proposed the Duke of Northumberland should be President of the Council, as an indication that the King intended this Administration should last. Both the Duke and Conway objected as savouring too much of Bute; for, however Rigby had charged Conway with being subservient to the Favourite, no man living was less propense to him, nor had less connection with him. I myself, who wished the Administration should have his support, had never been within his doors after he had been First Lord of the Treasury; and when I wished he should traverse any counsels of any faction, I was reduced to drop notices accidentally to such of his friends as I happened to have a common acquaintance with. Even Lord Hertford, though connected with him by his son’s marriage,[35] had not the slightest intercourse with him—not from disinclination, but from the shy, uncommunicative, and now timid disposition of that unpopular man. A greater difficulty presented itself,—the Chancellor[36] of Ireland was dying. Lord Chatham, wishing to gain the support of Norton, had wanted to purchase and appoint the latter to succeed to those Seals. Conway had already strongly objected to Norton on the flagrancy of his character, and renewed his opposition now, fearing abuse from the Rockinghams. I said, When they had adopted even Sandwich, could they reproach him with taking Norton? If Norton was not for the Ministers, he would be against them, and was too able to let it be indifferent on which side he acted. I proposed the Duke should take the deed on himself. Conway finding the Duke would not go on, unless this was done, gave it up. We then sketched out other arrangements; and it was settled that Conway should be either Cabinet-Counsellor and Lieutenant-General of the Ordnance, or third Secretary of State for America.
The Lieutenancy of the Ordnance was pitched upon, as Lord Townshend, to please his brother Charles, was destined to be Viceroy of Ireland in the room of Lord Bristol. The last, whose stately manners and delicate form were ill-adapted to please so rude and turbulent a people as the Irish, and who was now deprived of the support of his patron, Lord Chatham, had been alarmed at the rough reception that he heard was preparing for him; and fearing he should be turned out if Lord Rockingham or Grenville became Minister, had declared he would resign his government. He now wrote to the Duke of Grafton, that if his Majesty still laid his commands on him, he would go and take possession, but should not be sorry to be excused. He was taken at his word, and Lord Townshend appointed his successor. The latter yielded the Ordnance handsomely to Conway, who was obliged to retain his old Seals, it having been observed that a third Secretary of State being a new office could not sit in the House of Commons. The Duke of Grafton persisted in not dismissing Lord Northington, being desirous of keeping some post in his power that could facilitate his introducing the Bedfords. Thus no room was left for Lord Egmont or Lord Edgecumbe, with whom we were all willing to strengthen the Administration. Its recovering its permanency at all was a signal disappointment to Grenville and Rockingham, who had flattered themselves that Grafton and Conway could not be induced to go on, and who had certainly quarrelled upon the presumption that either the one or the other must succeed. Conway was indeed most averse to accept the Ordnance and retain the Seals, and wished heartily to give up the latter; and when compelled to keep both, would not accept the very lucrative emoluments of Secretary, as I had suggested: but of that hereafter.
Having thus contributed once more to a settlement agreeable to my wishes, fatigued with so long anxiety and suspense, torn from all the amusements I loved, and detesting details after my point was accomplished, nor more inclined than formerly to profit of the consideration I had acquired, I once more broke from politics, and set out for Paris, where I staid six weeks. In that little interval an unexpected event happened, which both shook and prevented a shock to the Administration.
On the 4th of September died Charles Townshend, of a neglected fever, in, I think, the forty-second year of his age. He met his approaching fate with a good humour that never forsook him, and with an equanimity that he had never shown on the most trifling occasions. Though cut off so immaturely, it is a question whether he had not lived long enough for his character. His genius could have received no accession of brightness; his faults only promised multiplication. He had almost every great talent, and every little quality. His vanity exceeded even his abilities, and his suspicions seemed to make him doubt whether he had any. With such a capacity he must have been the greatest man of this age, and perhaps inferior to no man in any age, had his faults been only in a moderate proportion—in short, if he had had but common truth, common sincerity, common honesty, common modesty, common steadiness, common courage, and common sense.[37]
A month before he died, he told Rigby he would resign, and would never rest till he brought him and his friends into place; and asked how he should do it. On the very day his wife kissed hands for a barony,[38] Townshend had threatened Conway to resign unless the peerage was granted. The very next day he told Conway that the peerage had been offered by the King. As soon as he was dead, Lord Mansfield owned that Townshend had assured him he would blow up the newly resettled Administration. His brother, the Viscount, who shared nothing with him but his duplicity, repaired to Rigby and desired to be directed by him in his Irish Administration, Rigby having much weight there through his friend the Provost.[39]
On the 17th of the same month died at Paris, the Comte de Guerchy, their Ambassador to England. His death was occasioned by a former ill-cured complaint, but hastened by the various mortifications he had received from D’Eon, and the recent neglect and ill-usage of his own Court. He had been a lover of the Duchesse de Grammont, the Prime Minister’s sister, who, aspiring at rank, had fixed on the Duc de Grammont as a man suited to her purposes. It was said that having consulted Monsieur de Guerchy, he, without considering that her resolution was probably taken, inveighed with too much sincerity against the choice of so contemptible a man, and was never forgiven. Certain it is that, his embassy being finished, he found nothing but coldness at home, and no hopes of reward or recompense for his services or mortifications. This cruelty being censured, pensions were granted to his widow and son.
On the very same day departed, at Monaco, Edward Duke of York, next brother of the King. His immoderate pursuit of pleasure and unremitted fatigues in travelling beyond his strength, succeeded without interruption by balls and entertainments, had thrown his blood, naturally distempered and full of humours, into a state that brought on a putrid and irresistible fever. He suffered considerably, but with a heroism becoming a great Prince. Before he died, he wrote a penitential letter to the King (though, in truth, he had no faults but what his youth made very pardonable), and tenderly recommended his servants to him. The Prince of Monaco, though his favourite child was then under inoculation at Paris, remained with and waited on him to his last breath, omitting nothing that tenderness could supply or his royal birth demand. The Duke of York had lately passed some time in the French Court, and by the quickness of his replies, by his easy frankness, and (in him) unusual propriety of conduct, had won much on the affection of the King of France, and on the rest of the Court, though his loose and perpetually rolling eyes, his short sight, and the singular whiteness of his hair, which the French said resembled feathers, by no means bespoke prejudice in his favour. His temper was good, his generosity royal, and his parts not defective: but his inarticulate loquacity and the levity of his conduct, unsupported by any countenance from the King, his brother, had conspired to place him but low in the estimation of his countrymen. As he could obtain no credit from the King’s unfeeling nature, he was in a situation to do little good; as he had been gained by the Opposition, he might have done hurt—at least so much to the King that his death was little lamented. Nor can we judge whether more years and experience would have corrected his understanding or corrupted his heart, nor whether, which is most probable, they would not have done both.[40]
The Duke of Gloucester, of as fair complexion, as short sighted, of worse health, but of a more manly form, was a Prince of a very different disposition. Reserved, serious, pious, of the most decent and sober deportment, and possessing a plain understanding, though of no brilliancy, he was of all his family the King’s favourite, though admitted to no confidence, intimacy, or credit. An honourable amour which totally engrossed him, and of which I shall have occasion to speak hereafter, preserved him from the irregularities into which his brothers Edward and Henry fell, and which the severity of confinement in which they were held by their mother until they attained the age of twenty-one, did much excuse.
Henry Duke of Cumberland, though not tall, did not want beauty, but with the babbling disposition of his brother York, he had neither the parts nor the condescension of the latter; familiarizing himself with bad company, and yet presuming on a rank which he degraded, and, notwithstanding, made an annoyance. His youth had all its faults, and gave no better promises.
In the room of Charles Townshend, Lord North, son of the Earl of Guilford, was appointed Chancellor of the Exchequer. He had sound parts, wit, and, it was thought, industry; an ungracious manner, a voice untuneable, and a total want of polish in his behaviour. He had been an active and ready agent in the whole cause against Wilkes, and was not a man that the friends of the Constitution could regard with partiality: but there were so few upright, that it was become almost eligible to select the exceptionable, in order to lessen confederacies amongst those whose union would be formidable should they return to power in a body. Lord North’s (supposed) application and facility of access repaired in some degree the negligence and disgusting coldness of the Duke of Grafton.[41]
At my return from France, where I had perceived how much it behoved us to be on our guard against the designed hostilities of that Court, as soon as their finances should enable them to renew the war, I laboured to infuse attention to our situation. We not only had little intelligence, but scarce suspicion. Our safety rested alone upon our fleet. No care was observed in watching the intercourse between the two kingdoms. The French, under pretence of curiosity, grown fashionable amongst them for the first time, resorted hither in considerable numbers. They visited the counties; and, under colour of studying commerce and manufactures, familiarized themselves with our weakness. Except Portsmouth and Plymouth, we had not a fortification in South Britain that could afford us time to recover from the panic of the first successful invasion. A few of the new travellers even visited Ireland—no subject of curiosity, if political reasons were out of the question. It was there, I did not doubt, but the first storm would burst. In vain I painted over and over this our defenceless situation; I could raise no attention, or at most was told we were not in a condition to do anything great. Methought it was just the position in which a great man would have attempted to exert genius—it was more true that we had no great man.
We had small bickerings with both France and Spain; but as we made no hurry to amend our circumstances, they took the leisure we afforded to recruit theirs. In the mean time the busy ambition of the Duc de Choiseul was preparing from a distance a general conflagration. France having refused the title of Imperial Majesty to the Czarina, her Ambassador, Prince Gallitzin, received orders to quit Paris in a fortnight. As she intermeddled in the affairs of Poland (which come not within my plan), the Duc de Choiseul intrigued at Constantinople till he poured an army of Turks into Russia; but that scene was not yet opened. Portugal and Spain quarrelling about some American possessions, the former seized Rio Grande. This was thought a desperate act of Ocyras to involve us in their protection; or, if we abandoned them, as an excuse for leaning towards the family compact. His subsequent conduct was so little favourable to our trade, that the conjecture seemed not unfounded.[42]
Mr. Conway grew impatient to give up the profits of the Seals. The Duke of Grafton and Lord Hertford disapproved it; but I drew them into consent by asking them, before him, whether, if he got a regiment, he would keep the salary of Secretary of State, of the Ordnance, and of Colonel, at once? He said, Certainly not; nor could they encourage him to keep all three. On this it was agreed he should immediately sacrifice the income of his place: he did; generously begging the King to bestow five hundred pounds out of it on the clerks of the office, which was granted. Such noble disinterestedness shut the mouths of Opposition, but did not open any in commendation,—an indication, that, however corruption was censured in this age, it was envy, not disapprobation of the practice, that raised clamour.
Lord Townshend, the new Lord-Lieutenant, was favourably received in Ireland. He carried with him the consent of the King that the Judges there should hold their places, as in England, quamdiu se bene gesserint. Impatient to acquire popularity, he notified this grace in his speech to that Parliament, though he had been positively instructed not to mention it in that place, only to promise it in private. Lord Mansfield and the lawyers here censured this conduct warmly, as a direct breach of Poyning’s law. The Chancellor being dead, and no successor appointed, (for Sewell[43] the Master of the Rolls refused it, nor would any great lawyer here accept the post without an additional pension, which Conway and others opposed,) the Irish Speaker, Lord Shannon,[44] and Tisdall[45] the Attorney-General, who aspired to that great seal, all acquainted Lord Townshend that there would be a motion of complaint that no Chancellor was appointed. Lord Townshend represented the indecency of such a step, and exciting the King’s servants to oppose it, the others promised to stop what they had secretly instigated. The alarm, however, caused the Government at home to send over for Chancellor Judge Hewet, an able lawyer, but much despised for his deficiency of parliamentary talents. Trifling as this first success was, it was the greatest service which the Lord-Lieutenant rendered to the Government. Obstinate against advice, thirsting for low popularity, and void even of decorum, he soon lost all consideration. Drunkenness and buffoonery, unsupported by parts or policy, rendered him the scorn even of the populace. That he might exempt himself from the reproach of whatever in his instructions was disagreeable to the Irish, he spoke of himself as entrusted with no power; and giving a loose to his own turn for caricature, he drew ridiculous pictures of himself in ignominious attitudes with his hands tied behind him; thus shunning opposition by meriting contempt.[46]
At home there appeared no symptoms of dissatisfaction among the people. The patrons of general warrants were still the only obnoxious persons. The Court, profiting of that disposition, exerted a little authority, the King dismissing the Earls of Buckingham[47] and Eglinton, who were devoted to the Grenvilles, from his bedchamber. They were succeeded by the Duke of Roxburgh[48] and Lord Bottetort.
On the 24th of November the Parliament met. The Duke of Bedford and Lord Lyttelton talked much against the Ministers and the outrages of the Americans. In the other House Dowdeswell observed that the King in his speech the last session had mentioned the encouragement of commerce, but took no notice now of having given any. He proposed to add to the address words that should give that encouragement. He asked, too, if the Ministers had any plan for lowering provisions, the dearness of which were become a capital grievance. Conway answered, No: he could not find that any man could point out such a method of reduction. The Manilla ransom having been mentioned, he wished, as the affair was pending, the House would not meddle with it. He had already, he said, received favourable answers on that subject. Himself was now accused of neglecting that business; formerly he had heard a minister (Grenville) pleading for Spain against the captors. Burke spoke with great and deserved applause, chiefly on the dearness of provisions; to remedy which, he said, if Ministers could form no plan, it would teach the people to undervalue Parliament.[49] He dwelt, too, on the discontents of the nobility—a new topic in a popular assembly! Wedderburn spoke well, too, and with greater acrimony. Conway, he said, when in Opposition, had been one of the loudest to censure the neglect of recovering the Manilla ransom, now had done nothing in it. Had been violent on being turned out; now Lord Buckingham and Lord Eglinton, very respectable men, had been dismissed. This philippic was coldly received, and the amendment rejected without a division. Grenville then, to mark that he had not and would not support Dowdeswell’s motion, rose with affected coolness, but betraying how much he was hurt. He had declared, he said, in the summer, that he desired no place; his friends knew he desired none. The King, he thought, had better keep the present Ministry than change so often. That the whole state of our affairs was not laid before Parliament: himself had in his pocket a Boston Gazette inciting the people to rebel. The governor there had no power to punish the printer. Himself had been much misrepresented in libels. Conway, too, had misrepresented him; he supposed, if by forgetfulness, would recant. It was but six months after the peace when Conway had attacked him on the affair of Manilla; now three or four years had elapsed. He offered to read the Spanish answer, but if he did, desired not to be called an advocate for Spain. He would appeal to the Spanish Ambassador if he had ever given up that ransom.
Nothing could be less justly founded than Grenville’s complaint of libels. Himself wrote one on American affairs, in which Lord Rockingham and Conway were treated with contempt and bitterness. His friend, the Dean of Norwich,[50] Thomas Pitt, and Rigby, not to mention his brother Lord Temple, dabbled continually in that way. Rigby had even revised Almon’s last political register, in which was an account of the conference between the Duke of Bedford and Lord Chatham at Bath.
Conway answered that he had been struck at the time with the idea that Grenville was pleading in behalf of Spain: himself might have been too warm then; was not ashamed to recant and ask his pardon, if he had misrepresented him. He had heard, he said, that Mr. Grenville desired no place; but wondered he was so much wounded by libels. He himself was abused by one Almon once a-month for being avaricious; he believed it was pretty well known how unjustly. He always bought the pamphlet,—the only hurt he did to the printer. Almon had lately been so modest, as so solicit him for a patent for printing a book; he had spoken to the King and obtained it. Everybody must live by their trade; abuse was Almon’s trade. He himself sometimes differed with the other Ministers; he was pinned on no great man’s sleeve. He now warned his colleagues that he should differ with them whenever he was of a different opinion.
The conduct of Grenville in this debate was extremely remarkable. He not only seemed transported into very impolitic separation from the Rockinghams by his violence against the Americans, but even by personal resentment against the former: while at the same time his affected moderation had the appearance of having taken a new part, that of standing detached and waiting to see whether he could not penetrate with more facility into the closet when standing alone, than by the joint effort of two discordant factions. Whatever were his motives, he soon fell a sacrifice to this very conduct.
On the report of the address, Grenville engaged in a hot altercation with Dowdeswell and Burke on their different ideas of what ought to be done with respect to America. Rigby, provoked at Grenville’s unseasonable disputation, and perhaps not sorry to offend him, could not help saying he saw no use in that contest unless it were to tranquillize the Administration, who might have apprehended the union of the two Oppositions. The younger Onslow diverted the House with proposing, in imitation of the Romans, who used to send senators to inquire into the state of their provinces, to dispatch Grenville to America on that errand. Two days after Grenville complaining in form of the Boston Gazette, the elder Onslow moved to put off the consideration for six months, which the House, with a laugh, approved.
On the 27th, Lord Weymouth, observing invidiously that the Ministers were only in the House of Lords, moved to inquire into the state of the nation on the Tuesday sennight.
Thomas Townshend, the younger, succeeded Lord North as half-pay master; and Jenkinson in Townshend’s room was appointed a Lord of the Treasury.
On the 29th opened another new scene. Mr. Conway told me, as the greatest secret, that the Bedford faction had offered themselves to the Duke of Grafton on these limited, though few, conditions,—that Lord Gower should be President of the Council; that Rigby should have a place, and that Lord Weymouth should divide the Secretary’s place with Lord Shelburne, taking either the European or American department. Conway added that he could not object to so considerable an accession of strength to the Government, but had pressed the Duke of Grafton to suffer him to resign. He was unwilling to expose himself to more abuse from the Rockinghams, though they would not speak to him, and all except Richmond and the Cavendishes censured him in all places. I warned him to put the Duke of Grafton on his guard: and advised that his Grace should demand from the Bedfords a specific renunciation of Grenville, lest their view should be to introduce him afterwards, as they might hope Conway would quit and leave the Seals open. But, in truth, I did too much honour both their honesty and policy. I saw this reinforcement would establish the Government, would diminish Conway’s trouble if he staid in employment, or would facilitate his retirement, which he wished; and to which his irresolution and the impossibility I had found of making him take the first part, had perfectly reconciled me. I was weary of sacrificing myself for others, and wished as much as he did to withdraw from politics. At the same time I was desirous that the Bedfords might disgrace themselves as much as might be in this transaction. The motives to their new conduct were these:—
Rigby had passed over to Ireland in hopes of obtaining to have his place of Master of the Rolls there confirmed in the Act for establishing the Judges for life, but had not succeeded. This disappointment, the rupture with the Rockinghams, and the precarious state of the Duke of Bedford’s health, who was breaking, and on the point of being totally blind,[51] had suggested to Rigby the thought of abandoning Grenville, whose tedious gravity mixed ill with so bacchanalian a junto; and, which was more important, was so obnoxious to the King. It was not difficult to infuse these ideas into his associates, Rigby being the only one who had prevented their deserting Grenville long before. Grenville’s American phrenzy, and his absurd breach with Dowdeswell and that party on the opening of the session, and his avoidance of hostilities towards the Court, which alarmed the Bedfords lest he should anticipate them and make his peace first, drove Rigby into immediate negotiation, which the unpromising state of their Opposition could but make desirable. Lord Temple was not come to town; and as Grenville told Rigby, would not come before Christmas, unless the Duke of Bedford sent for him: but that Court were not desirous of laying their chief under such an obligation. The Duke of Newcastle had in vain tried to renew the negotiation between the two opposing factions. Grenville’s wrong-headedness, and many civil professions towards the Duke of Bedford dropped by the Duke of Grafton the first day of the session, encouraged Rigby to make the overtures above mentioned. They were conveyed by Vernon and Meynell,[52] jockeys and gamesters of Grafton’s society; the latter his intimate in private, the other, brother-in-law of the Duchess of Bedford.[53]
Among the various and precipitate changes of the Duke of Grafton at which I have hinted, and which afterwards constituted so capital a part of his character, it was not the least astonishing the partiality he had taken up for Lord Gower, who had been in love with the Duchess of Grafton; and a principal reason assigned by the Duke for their separation was his wife’s attachment to Lord Gower and the Duchess of Bedford—at the same time acquitting her of any criminal partiality. To policy and to the fear of attacks from Lord Gower and that set in the House of Lords, the world imputed Grafton’s facility in meeting the overtures. But it was not then known how little policy and how much sudden caprice influenced his Grace’s most important steps.
The Duke of Bedford (for the message was sent in his name) demanded a solemn promise that it should never be known if no treaty was concluded. They desired, too, that the proposal should not be carried directly to the King, but that the Duke of Grafton would sound his Majesty’s inclinations. The Duke answered that he would take no step without consulting Mr. Conway, and even declared that he would acquaint him with the offer. They replied civilly that they were confident of Mr. Conway’s honour and secrecy, and would trust him, confessing also that there was nobody else fit to conduct the House of Commons,—that is, they would stick at nothing to get into place, nor at nothing afterwards to show ingratitude and insolence to the man to whom they had stooped to be obliged, as soon appeared. The negotiation being so prosperously advanced, Rigby went out of town for three days, as was his way on such occasions, that if it miscarried he might to Grenville plead ignorance.
Having thus far sacrificed to seeming decency, they began to say that the Duke of Bedford had not quite surmounted his objection to acting under Conway, but did not doubt but he would. It seemed extraordinary that they should have commenced the negotiation before that difficulty was removed. It alarmed me the more as I had conceived peculiar pleasure in thinking what a triumph it would be to Conway to see the Bedfords suing to act under him so soon after having proscribed him. It was no less satisfaction to have Grenville experience what I had often and often announced to him, that the Bedfords would betray him the first instant they should find their advantage in it. Yet I again apprehended that he was behind the curtain, when I heard that, on opening their views farther, they had not only asked some place for Lord Sandwich, but for Lord Lyttelton; yet they were so sincere in their treachery, as to relinquish the latter early. Nor had I occasion to warn Mr. Conway against acting with Grenville, which he had refused to do when requested by Lord Rockingham. But as Lord Sandwich was now mentioned, I thought it necessary to alarm the Duke of Grafton for the Cabinet, into which I saw they meant to force too large a number. He said he was on his guard. I thought, too, that Lord Shelburne ought not to be discontented. The Duke agreed, and talked of fidelity to Lord Chatham. All this was conveyed to him at my desire by Mr. Conway, for as yet the Duke had not imparted the negotiation to me. Hearing, however, that he was inclined to bestow a vacant seat at the Admiralty on one of the Duke of Bedford’s friends, though promised to Lord Lisburne,[54] I recommended the Duke’s adhering to all the engagements he had entered into for the ensuing elections. Lord Sandwich and Rigby were great traffickers in that trade, and the Duke, on the contrary, was ill-suited to it. He had lost Suffolk and Kent by not exerting himself, and Liverpool because he would neither see Sir George Maccartney, nor trouble himself to give an answer. If admonished, he would say he did not like his post and would resign. Many irreconcileable enemies he made on this single article of elections by imperiousness, and refusing himself to all access. In this negotiation alone he outwent even the promptitude of the Bedfords; and they saw themselves so sure of success that their demands were not only swelled, but Lord Weymouth, as a prelude to their laying down all pretensions to patriotism, moved to put off the consideration of the state of the nation. The nation was safe and flourishing as soon as that faction had even an antepast of emoluments. But in or out of place their conduct was void of decency. The first day of this session, but five days before their message, the Duke of Bedford had threatened that the King’s debts should not be paid. This his Majesty resented with warmth, and said, the Duke of Bedford, when last in place, had been the first to propose it to him. This menace from Bedford, and Weymouth’s motion for the state of the nation, were proofs that it was Grenville’s preposterous conduct that had fixed Rigby’s determination to treat.
Dec. 4th.—Happening to go to Mr. Conway I met the Duke of Grafton at the door. I waited, but was called in immediately. The Duke said he was sure he could trust me with their great secret; wished to know my opinion on it, and then related the negotiation. I seemed much surprised, approved of taking the Bedfords, but expressed great suspicion on their having named Lord Lyttelton.[55] The Duke said that point was given up; that George Grenville had been with the Duke of Bedford, who had declared he was weary of opposition, and that his friends were so too; and that himself and Mr. Grenville were free to take any part they pleased. I heard this with few replies; but the Duke adding that they proposed Mr. Conway should resign the Seals, as they heard he was desirous to do, I broke out, and treated the proposal as an unheard-of impertinence in a fragment of a minority. I told the Duke roundly that he and Mr. Conway were the ministry, and that his Grace could not in honour give up Mr. Conway; and that it was ridiculous in the aspirants not to have surmounted the Duke of Bedford’s pretended point of honour before they offered themselves; and as they allowed their not doubting but it would be surmounted, it ought not now to be insisted on. The Duke answered, it was not they but Meynell who had said he thought they would give it up: that himself had said he could not treat on it, but would refer it to Mr. Conway. To my utter astonishment Mr. Conway acknowledged himself ready to give up the Seals. It should not be told, he said, that his place prevented so great an event for the King’s service. I grew warmer, and said, it was being turned out by them. He said, No; they had only proposed it, as he had expressed dislike of his place. It would be pride and obstinacy to keep it only out of contradiction. I replied, Such pride would be well-founded when they took upon themselves to remove him. The Duke seemed, though with indifference enough, to be on my side; and I saw Conway was hurt that the Duke, as he ought to have done, did not take it upon himself to reject the motion; and I believe, adhered the more to his opinion from that just scorn. The Duke said the City’s confidence was only in him and Conway, and was increased by the accession of Lord North instead of Charles Townshend, of whom he related a thousand tricks. Seeing I could make no impression on Conway, I asked the Duke what Lord Chatham would say? He replied, If Lord Chatham would do nothing, and left them to do the best they could, they must do the best they could. He seemed very willing to part with Lord Shelburne, who, he said, did not communicate with him, and whose part Conway honourably took. I was so much provoked at the insolence of the Bedfords, and at the facility with which the Duke, after so often having declared he would not go on without Conway, and after so many obligations both to him and to me for Conway’s assistance, gave him up, that after repeating to the Duke in strong terms how much his honour was concerned not to sacrifice Conway, he said at last he would send word to the Bedfords that Mr. Conway was ready to give up his place, but that he himself would not consent, as it would be changing the Administration. I asked how the King would approve the plan? “Oh!” said the Duke, “we shall ask him when it is settled.” He pleaded in his own defence that these recruits were necessary, as from the weakness of the Administration, all men were exorbitant in their demands, and threatened to resign if not gratified: and he read some letters to us, the arrogance of which I found had much offended his haughty temper. I staid with Mr. Conway till the Duke was gone, but soon left him, telling him he thought nothing a virtue but his own moderation.
If I lost my temper on the notification, reflection did not reconcile me to the measure. Not to mention the impertinence of the supposed point of honour in the Duke of Bedford, who, because he had excepted to Conway in the meeting with the Rockinghams, pretended to think it necessary to adhere to it in the very instant of deserting Grenville, I was shocked at the indifference and levity of the Duke of Grafton and the indecency of his making the proposal in such bare-faced terms to Mr. Conway. I had expressed that indignation with so little management, that the Duke, I am persuaded, did not forgive it. That was the least part of my concern. His mutability was so glaring, that I determined never to have anything to do with him more; and, in fact, did not see him again in private afterwards. It was yet more lasting reflection that I made on the futility of politics. All my success and triumph in the preceding summer had lasted but five months. Conway was desirous to quit, and the Bedfords were to come into place. It determined me to busy myself no more in such delusive scenes. I had in the preceding winter notified to my constituents at Lynn, that I would serve no more in Parliament. The door was thus already favourably open to me. Mr. Conway’s resignation would leave me at liberty to have done with politics. I took my resolution to abandon them with the present Parliament—a happy determination, and which I never found one moment’s cause to repent. For, if the alarming designs of the Court have since forced me at any time to encourage opposition to their measures, I still had seen too much of parties, factions, and their leaders to embark with any. Still, the weakness of the human mind, and the difficulty of bursting from all one’s passions at once, did not suffer these reflections to strike root directly, but occasioned my making a few more struggles to thwart the overbearing arrogance of the Bedfords.
After parting from Mr. Conway, I saw Lord Hertford, who talked of going out of town. I said, he absolutely must not. He asked Why? I replied, I could not tell him; but go he must not. I was resolved to keep the secret, but yet to disappoint the full effect of the plan, so far as to reduce the Bedfords to come in under Mr. Conway.
He himself came to me the next morning, saying, I had quitted him in such a passion, that he wished to talk the affair more cooly over with me. I said, I had never in my life been so much hurt as at seeing him submit to such an affront. He denied that it was one. At last I almost engaged him to say he would keep the Seals till the end of the session, and then resign them. All I desired was to finish with that triumph.
Lord Hertford, impatient to learn the meaning of my mysterious behaviour, came to desire an explanation of it. I told him I had received private intelligence that the Bedfords would soon make an offer of themselves; and that, therefore, he must go to the King, and tell him he came to put his Majesty upon his guard, for Lord Gower had got such an ascendant over the Duke of Grafton, that he could do what he would with him: but his Majesty must ask time to consider; and, above all things, insist that nobody that had stood by him should be given up, lest it should look more like changing than strengthening the Administration. “Oh!” said he, “that I am sure the King will not hear.” “Ay,” replied I, “but he must insist too that there shall be no alteration in the plan of elections.” This, I knew, would strike Lord Hertford, who was dealing largely for boroughs—and so it did. He fired, and said he would press it strongly; but he was sure no offers had yet come, for the King would have told him. I suspected by this that the King did not trust him so much as he thought, or wished to have thought, for I did not doubt but the Duke had already broken the matter in the closet. I said, “My Lord, be not too sure.” “Why?” said he; “have any offers been made?” I replied, My intelligence could not go so far as that; but I suspected there had: and I added, “When you tell the King, watch his countenance. If any offers have been made, he will tell you on this opening; or, at least, you will discover it in his face.”