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]