Their having escaped from the talons of power and injustice was triumph sufficient to give new spirit to their partisans. Grievous accusations were heaped on the tyrant Governor, and much indirect matter was thrown in. Plots of the Jesuits, and some foolish meetings of them and their devotees, were connected with the cause. A madman was drawn in to charge the Duc d’Aiguillon with having tampered with him to poison La Chalotais; and it was confidently affirmed, even by Choiseul’s intimate friends, that a scaffold had been erected, and had not the Prime Minister had the suspicious precaution of dispatching a third messenger with a reprieve by a private road, La Chalotais had been executed, as the Governor had interrupted and stopped two former messengers sent by Choiseul for the same purpose. Of those intrigues D’Aiguillon fully purged himself in print; and of the last, Choiseul himself declared him entirely innocent. As he could not, however, clear himself of bitter tyranny, the public bated him little of the whole charge; so that, finding himself stand so ill in the eyes of a country which he aspired to govern, he took the resolution of demanding a public trial, and Choiseul took care it should not be refused, which the other did not expect,—artifices that by turns fell on both the artificers. The Parliament’s inquisition growing unfavourable to the great criminal D’Aiguillon, he flew for protection to the mistress. She and their Cabal persuaded the King to evoke the cause before himself at Versailles,—a strange and unusual force put on their free deliberations! They protested against the violence. The King silenced all their proceedings and all their remonstrances; a wound as fatal to D’Aiguillon’s honour as to their privileges. The Parliament threw up its functions.
At that period, Maupeou, the Chancellor, told the King, that if he would dismiss the Duc de Choiseul, the Parliament would submit, as it was the Minister himself who secretly fomented their disobedience,—nor was the charge improbable. But as fools have more sympathy for fools, especially if the acting fool has more cunning than the passive one, it was the Prince of Condé[143] who persuaded the King to determine on removing his Minister. Treachery drew the dagger, but interest had whetted it. The Prince was intimate with Choiseul, but wished to succeed him as Colonel-General of the Swiss,—a view of which a second treachery disappointed him. He was the lover of the Princess of Monaco, who was at law with her husband, and sued for a separation. By the Parliament’s suspension of their functions, her cause could not be heard. The Prince of Condé told the King the Parliament would submit; he told the Parliament the King would relax. They resumed their functions, sat for a day before the double imposture was discovered, gave sentence for the Princess of Monaco; and then the Prince of Condé, detected and disavowed by both sides, was banished to Chantilly; and at last entered into the Cabal of the other Princes of the Blood, and peers, who protested against the violence put on the Parliament.
The Duc de Choiseul received many private warnings of his approaching fate; but did not, or affected not to apprehend it. On the contrary, he gave out that he alone could make the peace, to which Spain would consent solely from esteem and consideration of him. He added, that the peace made, he meant to retire. In the midst of this delirium, or rather vaunt, the Duc de la Vrillière, with tears as insincere as Choiseul’s tranquillity, waited on him on the morning of the 24th of December with a written order from the King, commanding him to give up his post of Secretary of State and Postmaster-General, and enjoining him to retire to his seat at Chanteloup in Touraine, till he should hear farther. The Duc de Choiseul demanded if he might not delay till the following Wednesday, that his house might be aired. As La Vrillière hesitated, and seemed unwilling to bear that message, the Duke wrote to the King himself, and obliged the Minister to carry his letter. At night a repeated order came to depart the very next morning. “Ah!” cried Choiseul, “this is the drop that makes the glass run over!” He set out the next day with his wife and her physician. The Duchesse de Grammont followed them on the Wednesday. At Longjumeau, a little way from Paris, several men of quality attached to him met him as he passed, and the Duke, who had behaved with great resolution, melted into tears. The Duchess,[144] all her life a heroine and philosopher, maintained her dignity. She had often wished an end of her husband’s Administration, and once at dinner professed her desire of living retired with him; the Duchesse de Grammont said brutally, “Reste à savoir s’il le voudroit aussi lui.” The company of that rival sister was sufficient to embitter all the happiness of living for ever with her beloved husband.[145] The Duc de Praslin was banished to his country-house. Obscure officers were placed in their departments; but months passed before the principal conspirators assumed any authoritative posts. Paris swarmed with libels and execrations on them, the mistress, and the King; and Choiseul became adored, because his enemies were detestable or contemptible.[146]
CHAPTER VII.
Lord Sandwich appointed to the Admiralty.—Haughty Tone assumed towards Spain.—Death of the Duke of Bedford.—Its Effect on Parties.—Law Preferments.—Declaration of Spain respecting the Falkland Islands.—Panegyric of Choiseul by Lord Chatham.—He moves that the Spanish Declaration be referred to the Judges.—Quarrel between Wilkes and Maclean.—Motion in the Lords to remit Pressing.—Artful Speech of Lord Chatham.—Close Struggle on the Nullum Tempus Bill.—Discussions on the Spanish Declaration in both Houses.—Explanation of Lord Weymouth.—Wilkes lays a plan for drawing the House of Commons into a Contest with the City.—His Success.—The Queen of Denmark throws herself into the French Faction.—Bill to allow the East India Company to keep a Regiment of Foot in England.—Meeting and Prorogation of the Irish Parliament.—Motion to ascertain the Duty of Juries.—Appeal of the Earl of Pomfret.—Resistance to the Commitment of Printers in the House of Commons and in the City.—Discussion on Privilege.—The Lord Mayor appears at the Bar.—Revelation respecting Barré’s Attack on Mr. Pitt.—Protracted Conflict with the City.—Spain becomes impatient for the Restitution of the Falkland Isles.—Character of Dr. Johnson.—Famine in Bengal.
1771.
The deplorable state of the navy, set forth in the most melancholy colours by the Opposition, had raised so much discontent, that on the 9th of January, Sir Edward Hawke, almost fallen into a state of imbecility, found it necessary to resign his command of the Admiralty, which was immediately conferred on Lord Sandwich, lately appointed Secretary of State, in the room of Lord Weymouth. The Admiralty, in which he had formerly presided with credit, was the favourite object of Lord Sandwich’s ambition; and his passion for maritime affairs, his activity, industry, and flowing complaisance, endeared him to the profession, re-established the marine, and effaced great part of his unpopularity. No man in the Administration was so much master of business, so quick or so shrewd, and no man had so many public enemies who had so few private; for though void of principles, he was void of rancour, and bore with equal good humour the freedom with which his friends attacked him, and the satire of his opponents.[147]
Before he quitted the Seals, a secret came out, to which his acceptance of them gave occasion. Not choosing to be dipped in the Spanish business, he had taken the northern province, exchanging it for the southern with Lord Rochford. The Spanish Ambassador waited on the latter, to open with him on the state of the negotiation. But how was the Prince astonished when the Earl informed him, that orders had been sent to Mr. Harris, our resident in Spain, to leave Madrid immediately, if our last-sent proposals should not be accepted! Directions were given to him at the same time, to order our ships directly out of the Spanish ports; and no modification was allowed to Harris, but to take leave. The Prince of Masserano exclaimed bitterly on this mysterious and hostile step; said, he had been constant in writing home accounts of the pacific disposition of our Court, and now, when he expected a favourable answer from Madrid, he learned what amounted to a declaration of war! For himself, no man had ever been used so ill: but, on his own treatment he would not descant; the insult to his Court was so flagrant, that he declared, when the answer should arrive, he would not deliver it, till he should know how his master felt the recall of Harris. In this just resentment he quitted Lord Rochford abruptly. Francés, who was still here, and had not yet heard of Choiseul’s disgrace, complained to Lord Rochford of the indignity put on the Crown and Ambassador of Spain, which the Earl endeavoured to soften and explain away; but neither he nor Lord Sandwich could defend the measure. The fact was, Lord North had been seized with a panic on Lord Weymouth’s resignation, who, he concluded, would vaunt of having advised war; he had figured to himself Lord Chatham, armed with national vengeance, and the Opposition bellowing against his pacific inclinations. Instead of striking the peace before any obstructions could be given to it, he had obtained from the Cabinet Council, four days after Lord Weymouth’s retreat, the absurd direction to Harris to leave Madrid,—a rash act, dictated by fear, and from which nothing but Choiseul’s fall could have extricated him. But fortune smiled on him, and dissipated and disconnected all his enemies. At this very time the Bedford faction lost their head. The Duke died on the 14th, after having lived in a paralytic state above a year.[148] He left the care of his successor, aged but five years, and the management of his estate, to the Duchess, with whom were joined his daughter, the Duchess of Marlborough, and Mr. Palmer, his agent. To Rigby, his favourite, he bequeathed 5000l. Lord Gower was not mentioned in the will, probably from the hatred borne by the Duchess to her sister-in-law, Lady Gower, an intriguing, interested Scotch woman, as eager as her husband to see him Prime Minister. But the union of the party was much loosened by the Duke’s death; nor did Lord North neglect to strengthen himself against their Cabals. He offered the Seals of Secretary of State to the Earl of Suffolk, a young man of thirty-two, totally unpractised in business, pompous, ignorant, and of no parts, but affecting to be the head of Grenville’s late party. The young Earl answered with modesty, that as he could not speak French, he was incapable of treating with foreign ministers, nor was he conversant in business; he wished for some high office, but not that of Secretary; and recommended a few of Grenville’s friends to preferment. He was appointed Lord Privy Seal in the room of Lord Halifax, Lord North’s uncle, to whom the Seals were given, though still worse qualified—for he knew nothing, was too old to learn, and too sottish and too proud to suspect what he wanted.
But they were the great employments of the law which occasioned most remarks. Judge Bathurst,[149] one of the three Keepers of the Great Seal, for which he had scarce been thought worthy, was made Lord Chancellor, and created Lord Apsley, on whose ignorance the profession punned, calling him Lord Absque. De Grey succeeded Lord Chief Justice Wilmot (who retired) in the Common Pleas; Thurlow was appointed Attorney, and that abandoned man Wedderburne,[150] Solicitor-General. The last had certainly no superior in the House of Commons for eloquence, readiness, argument, or satire; nor in Westminster Hall for want of principles. His politics, like his pleading, were at the service of whoever offered him most.[151]