We were both astounded, to use an obsolete but strong word, at so sudden an event, and I was particularly shocked at his being so overborne in a manner I had never heard of, nor could imagine possible between Prince and subject. I was hurt personally at the figure I had been making for a day before, telling everybody by his authority that he was determined to decline, and I was vexed at his taking no notice of me or the rest of the family when he accepted. All these considerations working on my mind at this distracting moment induced me, Lord Rockingham joining in it, to press him to return forthwith to the King, and entreat his Majesty either to allow him time till next morning to recollect himself, or to put the Great Seal in commission, as had been resolved upon. We could not prevail; he said he could not in honour do it, he had given his word, had been wished joy, &c. Mr. John Yorke came in during this conversation, and did not take much part in it, but seemed quite astounded. After a long altercating conversation, Mr. Yorke, unhappily then Lord Chancellor, departed, and I went to dinner.
'In the evening, about eight o'clock, he called on me again, and acquainted me with his having been sworn in at the Queen's house, and that he had then the Great Seal in the coach. He talked to me of the title he intended to take, that of Morden, which is part of the Wimple estate, asked my forgiveness if he had acted improperly. We kissed and parted friends. A warm word did not escape either of us. When he took leave he seemed more composed, but unhappy. Had I been quite cool when he entered my room so abruptly at three o'clock I should have said little—wished him joy, and reserved expostulation for a calmer moment.'
Mrs. Yorke's account of these 'altercating conversations' between the brothers, at the second of which, on the evening of the 17th, she was herself present, is naturally much more highly coloured. Charles Yorke was evidently terribly discomposed by it, speaking of Lord Hardwicke's language as 'exceeding all bounds of temper, reason, and even common civility.' 'I hope,' he said to his wife, 'he will in cooler moments think better of it, and my brother John also, for if I lose the support of my family, I shall be undone.'
I need not pursue the subject of this distressing difference between the brothers, which no doubt assumed an altogether exaggerated importance in the sensitive and affectionate, but self-centred, mind of poor Charles Yorke, shaken as he was by the strain and struggle of these days, but which was probably the immediate cause of his fatal illness.
'We returned home' (from St. James's Square), writes Mrs. Yorke, 'and Mr. Woodcock followed in the chariot with the Great Seal. The King had given it in his closet, and at the same time Mr. Yorke kissed his Majesty's hand on being made Baron of Morden in the county of Cambridge. Not once did Mr. Yorke close his eyes, though at my entreaty he took composing medicines…. Before morning he was determined to return the Great Seal, for he said if he kept it he could not live. I know not what I said, for I was terrified almost to death. At six o'clock I found him so ill that I sent for Dr. Watson, who ought immediately to have bled him, instead of which he contented himself with talking to him. He ordered him some medicine and was to see him again in the evening. In the meantime Mr. Yorke was obliged to rise to receive the different people who would crowd to him on this occasion, but before he left me, he assured me that when the Duke of Grafton came to him at night, he would resign the seals. When his company had left him, he came up to me, and even then, death was upon his face. He said he had settled all his affairs, that he should retire absolutely from business, and would go to Highgate the next day, and that he was resolved to meddle no more with public affairs. I was myself so ill with fatigue and anxiety that I was not able to dine with him, but Dr. Plumptre did; when I went to them after dinner I found Mr. Yorke in a state of fixed melancholy. He neither spoke to me nor to Dr. Plumptre; I tried every method to wake and amuse him, but in vain. I could support it no longer, I fell upon my knees before him and begged of him not to affect himself so much—that he would resume his fortitude and trust to his own judgment—in short, I said a great deal which I remember now no more; my sensations were little short of distraction at that time. In an hour or two after he grew much worse, and Dr. Watson coming in persuaded him to go to bed, and giving him a strong opiate, he fell asleep.
But his rest was no refreshment; about the middle of the night he awaked in a delirium, when I again sent for Dr. Watson; towards the morning he was more composed, and at noon got up. In about an hour after he was up, he was seized with a vomiting of blood. I was not with him at the instant, but was soon called to him. He was almost speechless, but on my taking his hand in an agony of silent grief he looked tenderly on me, and said, "How can I repay your kindness, my dear love; God will reward you, I cannot; be comforted." These were the last words I heard him speak, for my nerves were too weak to support such affliction. I was therefore prevented from being in his room, and indeed I was incapable of giving him assistance. He lived till the next day, when at five o'clock in the afternoon, he changed this life for a better.'
Lord Hardwicke meanwhile had decided to follow the very friendly and right opinion of Dr. Jeffreys, 'that he would do his best to support the part which his brother had taken,' and came to town with that resolution on 'Friday in the forenoon' but he found that Charles Yorke had been taken very ill that morning.
'When I saw him on the evening of the 19th he was in bed and too much disordered to be talked with. There was a glimmering of hope on the 20th in the morning, but he died that day about five in the evening. The patent of peerage had passed all the forms except the Great Seal, and when my poor brother was asked if the seal should be put to it, he waived it, and said "he hoped it was no longer in his custody." I can solemnly declare that except what passed at my house on the Wednesday forenoon, I had not the least difference with him throughout the whole transaction, not a sharp or even a warm expression passed, but we reasoned over the subject like friends and brothers…. In short, the usage he met with in 1766 when faith was broke with him, had greatly impaired his judgment, dejected his spirits, and made him act below his superior knowledge and abilities. He would seldom explain himself, or let his opinion be known in time to those who were ready to have acted with him in the utmost confidence. After the menacing language used in the closet to compel Mr. Yorke's acceptance and the loss which the King sustained by his death at that critical juncture, the most unprejudiced and dispassionate were surprised at the little, or rather no notice which was taken of his family; the not making an offer to complete the peerage was neither to be palliated nor justified in their opinion. It was due to the Manes of the departed from every motive of humanity and decorum. Lord Hillsborough told a friend of mine, indeed, that the King had soon after his death spoke of him with tears in his eyes and enquired after the family, but it would surely not have misbecome his Majesty conscious of the whole of his behaviour to an able, faithful, and despairing subject, to have expressed that concern in a more particular manner, and to those who were so deeply affected by the melancholy event.
'A worthier and better man there never was, no more learned and accomplished in his own profession, as well as out of it. What he wanted was the calm, firm judgment of his father, and he had the misfortune to live in times which required a double portion of it. Every precaution was taken by me to prepare him for the offer, and to persuade him to form some previous plan of conduct, but all in vain. He would never explain himself clearly, and left everything to chance, till we were all overborne, perplexed and confounded in that fatal interval which opened and closed the negotiation with my brother. With him the Somers line of the law seems to be at an end, I mean of that set in the profession who, mixing principles of liberty with those proper to monarchy, have conducted and guided that great body of men ever since the Revolution.'
Fever, complicated by colic and the rupture of a blood-vessel, caused Charles Yorke's death, the consequence of the extreme nervous tension which he had undergone, of which his widow has left a most touching and graphic description. I wish I could have found room for the whole of her account of those days. The circumstances of his physical constitution and the mental struggle he had suffered are quite sufficient to account for his death without the gratuitous assumption of suicide, which there is nothing in the family papers to support. There is no doubt that this idea was prevalent at the time, and allusions to it are to be found in many subsequent accounts, down to that in Sir George Trevelyan's 'Life of Fox.' Perhaps it is not too much to hope that this allegation may be at last disposed of in the light of the papers by his brother and his wife. We have two clear and positive declarations in these papers: first, that in the beginning of his illness he declined his physic, and afterwards took an opiate; second, that there followed the rupture of a blood-vessel. When Lord Hardwicke saw him for the last time on the 19th he was 'extremely ill'; 'there was a glimmering of hope on the 20th in the morning, but he died that day about five in the evening.'