Lord Rockingham having received this letter, owned to the Duke of Grafton and Mr. Conway that it was the most artful letter he ever saw, and would puzzle him and his friends to answer. The Chancellor told Lord Hertford he never saw anything so ably drawn; not a word could be mended. As it passed for the Duke of Grafton’s composition, I allowed for what quantity of applause might be attributed to that belief. The letter, however, remained unanswered: Lord Rockingham only pressing the Duke for an audience of a quarter of an hour with the King; but the Duke told him it could not be obtained.
At night, Mr. Conway and I going home with Lord Hertford to supper, the latter found a most pathetic letter from the King, which said the Duke of Grafton had just been with him, and had peremptorily declared he would not go on without Mr. Conway; and therefore his Majesty called upon Mr. Conway, in the most earnest manner, not to leave him exposed to Lord Rockingham, who had insulted him so much. The Duke of Grafton, the latter said too, had promised the King to desire Mr. Walpole would use all his interest with Mr. Conway; to whom his Majesty engaged to give the Blues on Lord Ligonier’s death, and any civil place, if he did not like that of Secretary of State. Mr. Conway cried out at once, it was impossible. I immediately saw that if I persuaded him then to stay, he would dispute, and thence would confirm himself in his resolution. I determined, therefore, to let the first burst of his feeling pass over without contradiction, that I might work on him another way. I walked about the room with as melancholy an air as I could put on, only dropping now and then, that it was the most serious crisis I ever knew. At supper I spoke not a word. When the servants were retired, his brother, Lady Hertford, and his own wife, Lady Ailesbury, attacked him in the most eager manner, pressing him to comply with the King. He resisted as firmly; I jogged Lord Hertford privately, who understood me, and said no more: but the two ladies were out of patience, thinking me on Mr. Conway’s side. Still I would not speak, but seemed to be lost in thought, though I attended to every word he said, to learn where his principal objection lay, and soon found it was to Lord Chatham. When we rose up to go away, the ladies pressed me to give my opinion, which I had expected, and intended to bring them to do. I then spoke with tears in my eyes; said I was sensible of the honour the King had done me; but, for the King nor anybody, would I give Mr. Conway any advice in so important a moment, till I had considered the question most cooly and thoroughly. He was much pleased, and said that was very fair. I then knew I should do what I would; Lord Hertford proposed that he and his brother should go early the next morning to the Duke of Grafton, but I shifted that off, and winked to Lord Hertford, who then said, he would go first, and Mr. Conway should come to me in the morning to talk the matter over. The moment I got home, I wrote back to Lord Hertford to explain my meaning, and desired he would not come to me till an hour after the time appointed for meeting his brother at my house.
The next day (the 18th), Mr. Conway came to me, I told him he had convinced me that while the treaty was going on, he could not with honour engage to the King to undertake a share of the Administration, which would encourage the King to break off the treaty: but if Lord Rockingham and his friends continued unreasonable, I thought him bound in honour to extricate the King from the difficulties in which he had, by his promise of resignation, involved him. That if he (Conway) refused, his Majesty, rather than give up all Lord Bute’s friends, would certainly set up some one of them: such a step would drive the Opposition into the last violences, and might end in a civil war. That the nation was now quiet and satisfied; and that all sober men, not ranked in any faction, would not bear to see the King taken prisoner. That all men saw through the pretences of the several factions; that all danger of arbitrary power was over, when the most Lord Bute pretended was, to save a few of his friends from being displaced: but that another danger was growing upon us, a danger I had always feared as much as the power of the Crown,—danger from aristocracy, and from those confederacies of great lords. I showed him that the present dissatisfactions were nothing but combinations of interested and ambitious men; that Lord Rockingham and his party had deserted their principles by adopting Grenville and the Bedfords, who had been the instruments of Lord Bute’s bad measures, besides having been criminal in other excesses without his participation. I dwelt on the outrageous behaviour of the Duke of Richmond the day before, who had told me that if Conway should refuse to act with Grenville when united with them (the Rockinghams), they would bid him go about his business; and that he himself would tell Conway so to his face (the greatest excess, in truth, of which I ever knew the Duke of Richmond guilty; whose friendly heart was uncommonly unaccustomed to resent a difference of opinion in those he loved, and who in a few days after this heat gave a clear proof of his firm attachment to Conway). I continued to say to the latter, that I saw he must do something, though I did not well know what: if anything, I thought that, to show he did not act from interest, and to strike a great stroke in character, he must resume the seals of Secretary of State, but refuse the salary. The Rockinghams might then say what they pleased; that I myself had always defied all parties on the strength of my disinterestedness: and I then offered him half my fortune, which he generously refused, but he was exceedingly struck—as I knew he would be—by a proposal that would place his virtue in so fair a light. How well soever I knew the method of drawing him to my opinion, it is but justice to say that, had I been so inclined, I never could have swayed him to any wrong act; nor had I so often occasion to lead him towards my sentiments as to fix his irresolution, which wandered constantly from one doubt to another, and paid too much deference to what men would say of him. This was the case in the transaction I am relating. Lord Rockingham and his friends did not weigh a moment what Mr. Conway owed to the King, to the Duke of Grafton, to his country, or to himself. They availed themselves of what had been more a threat than a promise, in order to blow up the Administration and create confusion. To Conway they had not paid the least deference, acquiesced in nothing he proposed to them or for them, and most arrogantly pretended to involve him, against his repeated declaration, in a system composed for their own convenience, and by their own wilful blindness with his and their country’s most grievous enemies. Could I employ too much art to set him above such treatment? He told me he had had some such thought as I mentioned, and would certainly follow my advice; but he would resign first on the next Wednesday (this was Friday), and then he should be able to talk with more authority to the Rockinghams. We agreed to keep this a secret from all the world; and I was only to give the Duke of Grafton and Lord Hertford hopes. I said, he might be sure I would keep the secret for my own sake; circumstances might change, and I would not pledge myself to the King, and be reproached afterwards if he was disappointed. I said, too, that I would not go to Court (as I ought to have done after the King’s letter), that I might give no jealousy; but would let the King know the reason of my absenting myself. “I like policy,” said I, “but I will always speak truth, which I think the best policy.” Conway grew impatient at his brother’s not coming, and went to the Duke of Richmond. Lord Hertford arrived the next moment. I bade him be satisfied, but would not tell him on what grounds. He did not approve his brother’s resigning, but I convinced him it was necessary to yield that point in order to carry the greater. We agreed, indeed, that to his brother he should not give it up, that his brother might not suspect our being too much in concert. We then went to him. The Duke of Richmond told him that they had sent for the Bedfords to town. Lord Hertford and I disputed about the resignation before Mr. Conway; and as I wanted to prepare the Duke of Grafton, I said I was sure I could convince the last. Lord Hertford said I could not. “Well,” said I, two or three times, “you shall see I can. I will go to him—shall I?” Conway said, “Well, go.” Lord Hertford kept his brother in dispute. I went, gave the Duke hopes; told him, he himself must retain his place, but must let Mr. Conway resign. He said, if it would satisfy Mr. Conway’s delicacy, he would. I thus carried all my points, and knew I was doing right. At the same time I must confess there was a moment in which, reflecting on my success, and on the important service I had rendered to the King in so distressful and critical an hour, I was tempted to think of myself. I saw I might have written to the King, or asked an audience, or made any terms I pleased for myself. My brother had just been at the point of death, and presented me with the near prospect of losing half my income. What would remain, would depend on the will of every succeeding First Lord of the Treasury; and it was determined in my own breast that I would pay court to none. I resisted, however; and in this favourable shining hour, resolved to make no one advantage for myself. I scorned to tell either my friend or myself, and sat down contented with having done the best for him, and with shutting the door against a crew I hated or despised: yet I had one more struggle to come before the victory was complete.
At night the two brothers and I saw the Duke of Grafton again. Our intelligence agreed that Grenville had said to his friends that he had reserved himself at liberty to oppose. This showed what headlong voluntary dupes Lord Rockingham and his friends had made themselves.
On the 20th, a meeting was held at the Duke of Newcastle’s, of Lord Rockingham, the Duke of Richmond and Dowdeswell, with Newcastle himself, on one part; and of the Duke of Bedford, Lord Weymouth, and Rigby on the other. The Duke of Bedford had powers from Grenville to act for him, but did not seem to like Lord Rockingham’s taking on himself to name to places. On the latter asking what friends they wished to prefer, Rigby said, with his cavalier bluntness, “Take the Court Calendar and give them one, two, three thousand pounds a-year.” Bedford observed that they had said nothing on measures: Mr. Grenville would insist on the sovereignty of this country over America being asserted. Lord Rockingham replied, he would never allow it to be a question whether he had given up this country: he never had. The Duke insisted on a declaration. The Duke of Richmond said, “We may as well demand one from you, that you never will disturb that country again.” Neither would yield. However, though they could not agree on measures, as the distribution of places was more the object of their thoughts and of their meeting, they reverted to that topic. Lord Rockingham named Mr. Conway; Bedford started; said, he had no notion of Conway; had thought he was to return to the military line. The Duke of Richmond said, it was true Mr. Conway did not desire a civil place; did not know whether he would be persuaded to accept one; but they were so bound to him for his resignation, and thought him so able, they must insist. The Duke of Bedford said, Conway was an officer sans tache, but not a minister sans tache. Rigby said, not one of the present Cabinet should be saved. Dowdeswell asked, “What! not one?”—“No”—“What! not Charles Townshend?” “Oh!” said Rigby, “that is different; besides, he has been in opposition.” “So has Conway,” said Dowdeswell; “he has voted twice against the Court, Townshend but once.” “But,” said Rigby, “Conway is Bute’s man.” “Pray,” said Dowdeswell, “is not Charles Townshend Bute’s?” “Ay, but Conway is governed by his brother Hertford, who is Bute’s.” “So is Charles Townshend by his brother,[26] who is Bute’s.” “But Lady Ailesbury[27] is a Scotchwoman.” “So is Lady Dalkeith.[28]” From this dialogue the assembly fell to wrangle, and broke up quarrelling. So high did the heats go, that the Cavendishes ran about the town, publishing the issue of the conference, and taxing the Bedfords with treachery.
Notwithstanding this, the same evening the Duke of Bedford sent to desire another interview, to which Lord Rockingham yielded; but the Duke of Richmond refused to be present. So much, however, were the minds on both sides ulcerated by former and recent disputes, and so incompatible were their views, that the second meeting broke up in a final quarrel; and Lord Rockingham released the other party from all their engagements. The Duke of Bedford desired they might still continue friends—that was, at least, agree to oppose together. Lord Rockingham said, No; they were broken for ever.[29]
It was at this meeting that the Duke of Newcastle appeared for the last time[30] in a political light. Age and feebleness at length wore out that busy passion for intrigue, which power had not been able to satiate, nor disgrace correct. He languished above a year longer, but was heard of no more on the scene of affairs.
Chance and folly having thus dispersed those clouds that were only formidable by their assemblage, the task grew easier to re-establish some serenity; yet the principal actor could not help distinguishing his superior absurdity before the act was closed.
The Duke of Richmond acquainted me, on the 22nd, that Lord Rockingham was going to the King to thank his Majesty for his gracious offers, to ask pardon for having dealt with Grenville and the Bedfords, and to acquaint him that he could not undertake the Administration. One should rather have expected that when he confessed his error in applying to them, he would propose to accept without them. I said, not with much ardour, that I hoped they would now accept alone; and I asked what was to become of Conway? The Duke replied, They had told him he must go on. “Well, my lord,” said I, “but then you cannot continue to oppose.” “No,” replied the Duke, “if the King should offer us full power, he might be sure now that we could not make use of it against his friends; yet I do not know whether we should undertake. I think we must at least allow our friends to take on with the Court.” I commended this noble behaviour, and approved the admission of their friends; but their first thoughts had been too right to last.
Lord Rockingham went to Court, and asked an audience; but instead of the decent part he had meditated, he sillily entered into former complaints against Lord Bute. The King, as unnecessarily frank, owned that he had never intended to give him the Treasury, but to keep the Duke of Grafton. Thus they parted, each more soured than they had met. The King complained that Lord Rockingham had taxed him with breach of his word, and that he had not offered to accept without Grenville, &c. Lord Rockingham, that the King had not asked him to undertake—as if the language he had held, had been conciliatory. His party resented highly what they called the King’s insincerity; and the Duke of Richmond, dining with Conway and me, expressed the utmost warmth, declaring they would accept nothing under as full powers as had been granted to Lord Chatham. Conway endeavoured to moderate; but as I could go farther than it was proper for Conway to do, I ridiculed the ascribing as much importance to Lord Rockingham as to Lord Chatham; and said the former could only compose an Administration in dumb show, so few of the party being speakers, and none of any rank among them, but his Grace, having any parts. I asked how they could treat Mr. Conway so ill? They had called on him to resign; had that very morning acknowledged he must stay, and had advised him to stay; and now the Duke said, they had only meant he should stay just for the present moment. But there was no allaying the Duke’s heat; and indeed, unless they would have acquiesced in the only rational plan, a junction with the Administration, without insisting on the pre-eminence of Rockingham, it was indifferent to me whether they were pacified or not. The difficulty, however, was increased to Conway by the regard they had paid to him, and which had widened their breach with the Bedfords. But besides their having allowed the necessity of his staying in place, their struggle for him was not only what he had deserved at their hands, but had much the appearance of having been but a decent tribute, since they had owned to the Bedfords that they doubted his accession; and what was yet stranger, they had stickled for him, when they were morally certain he was not only averse to, but would not accede to, their coalition with Grenville. Every part of the miscarriage had flowed from their own fault. They had conjoined men to their plan without the King’s leave, even without asking it, had refused on the terms he had offered; and had concluded by affronting him to his face; had owned they had no excuse for opposing any longer; and now were desirous Mr. Conway should oppose with them, only because they had been to blame. Such inconsistencies could not be wiped out by their having made use of his name against his consent. Yet, as Conway’s delicacy was great, I told the Duke of Grafton, when he sent for me the next morning, that it was of absolute necessity that his Majesty should once more offer the Administration in form to Lord Rockingham, as nothing but the positive refusal of the latter would induce Mr. Conway to go on. I knew, I said, it was not very civil to his Grace to advise him to propose again a successor to himself; but my confidence that Rockingham would again refuse, and the benefits resulting thence, encouraged me to press that advice. The Duke, though disinclined to the measure, was persuaded. I sent Lord Hertford to the King with the same counsel; said, I was sure they would refuse; if they did, I besought his Majesty to express no resentment, but to soothe them, and say, that though they would not undertake the Administration, he yet hoped they would support it, and suffer their friends to enlist, which at least would produce a defection from their party.