On the last day of the month the ministerial committee that had been appointed to consider on the means of ascertaining the power of Parliament, at last made their report; it was long, foolish, and trifling, was universally ridiculed, particularly by Burke, and ended there. They had wished to drop it, but Sir Fletcher Norton, thinking it would inspire some awe for the House—at least, to his person—threatened to resign the Chair if at least some effort at an opinion was not made. The other committee, which Wedderburne had proposed and headed, and from which he had promised great discoveries, ended still more disgracefully in no report at all! Sir George Saville treated him with much scorn, saying, it was extraordinary that he who, two years ago, could discover so many grievances, could not at present produce one, though supported by all the authority of Parliament.
On the first of May Lord Chatham moved one of his tedious and obscure resolutions, tending to petition the King to dissolve the Parliament, in order to allay heats between the undefined rights of Parliament and the magistracy (of London). He said he saw the approaching destruction of liberty, and would sooner go to Switzerland, America, or to Constantinople, should it fall under the power of Russia. The Chancellor, even Bathurst, answered him with contempt—Lord Mansfield seriously—Lord Sandwich sarcastically wishing him a good journey to Switzerland, and quoting the fate of an orator at Geneva, whose brains had lately been knocked out by a brickbat in a tumult there. The motion was rejected by 72 to 22.
The 6th had been appointed for the Lords’ hearing the appeal in the cause between Lord Chatham and the relations of Sir William Pynsent, which had been referred to the Judges. They came, prepared to deliver their opinions, five on the one side and three on the other. They were going to speak, when Lord Mansfield suddenly arrived, and told them a new idea had struck him, which he was sure would reconcile their sentiments. He gave it; they put up their papers, saying, they should all return on the morrow of one opinion, and retired. On the 8th they concurred in Lord Chatham’s favour, and the House decided accordingly.[187]
This proceeding was imputed to mean court or timidity in Mansfield. In truth, this session had been notoriously marked by partialities and personal considerations. Lord Pomfret had carried his cause by gross favour of the Court Lords.[188] Lord Mansfield, in compliment to Lord Lyttelton, whose daughter was married to the pretender to the title of Anglesey,[189] had gone great lengths to serve the latter, though in vain; and Lord Lyttelton had as openly declined opposition to secure Lord Mansfield’s patronage. Lord Camden, though more connected with Lord Lyttelton, had carried himself with less bias. The borough of Shoreham had been unjustly punished by the House of Commons, who opened the right of voting there to all Sussex, because seventy members of what was called the Christian Club had set their votes to sale, while ninety innocent voters remained untainted. Lord North, trusting the Lords would not confirm the sentence, let it pass, but the Lords passed it too.[190] A bill prohibiting divorced women from remarrying, was thrown out by the credit of Lord Beauchamp and Charles Fox. A bill for promoting the navigation of Chester, and which had passed the Commons, was rejected by the Lords, solely because it would prejudice the Duke of Bridgwater’s navigation; and Adam, the Scotch architect, was supported by the King and the Scots with success against the City of London, on whose territory and rights he had encroached with his new buildings at Durham Yard, to which he and his brothers gave the affected name of the Adelphi.
The session was to rise on the 9th of May, but as the Lord Mayor and Alderman Oliver would ipso facto be at liberty the moment the Parliament was no longer sitting, the King, for fear of the mob, who would be assembled to escort the suffering magistrates from the Tower, stole unexpectedly to the House of Lords, made a very soothing speech, and put an end to the session. The two prisoners were conducted in ceremony to their houses; and at night the City was much illuminated, but without any tumult.
It is difficult to say which made the more contemptible figure on this conclusion of the City’s resistance,—the King and the House of Commons on one side, or the Opposition and the City’s magistrates on the other. The latter by disunion rendered themselves ridiculous and insignificant; and yet neither the Crown nor House of Commons dared to take advantage of the neglect into which the two martyrs were fallen. If the King comforted himself with views of future aggrandizement by the humiliations of the Opposition, it must be owned that he bought those prospects with most disgraceful mortifications. Surely it had been more glorious to have purchased the love of his people by condescensions and reverence for the constitution. It was pitiful consolation, and beneath the majesty of ambition, to sit a tacit spectator of the persecution of Wilkes by his friends, when all the artillery of Government had been vainly employed to fulminate so worthless a man!
No sooner was the session at an end, than the paper war which had been carried on anonymously between Wilkes and parson Horne, broke out under their respective names with redoubled violence.[191] They told all they knew of each other, and yet proved nothing but little tricks, foolish vanities, and suspicions of each other. Men wondered they had nothing worse to say. Horne appeared to have scarce any parts, and Wilkes not much better. These peevish jarrings diverted them from exposing and making advantage of the weakness of the Court in its conduct towards the magistrates. All Wilkes, his Lord Mayor, or the remnant of the Bill of Rights attempted, and that without success, was a test in all boroughs where candidates should be sworn, to try to obtain shorter Parliaments, the removal of pensioners and placemen from the House of Commons, and a more equal representation.
Things being quiet, Lord Bute stole again into England; from a mixture of timidity and pride he had been wandering about Italy incognito, under his private name of Sir John Stuart.
At the beginning of June died three men in great offices. The first was Lord Strange, Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster; a man of whom much has been said in these Memoirs.[192] He died suddenly at Bath, aged fifty-five. The second was George Montagu, Earl of Halifax, Lord Privy Seal. He was of the same age, but had outlived the reputation of parts, which in his youth he had been supposed to have, his fortune, and his constitution, the latter of which he had destroyed by drinking, and his fortune by waste and deliberate neglect. The third was Richard Trevor, Bishop of Durham, a dull proud man, neither respected nor censured.
The young Earl of Suffolk succeeded Lord Halifax as Secretary of State,—a post he had declined a few months before on the want of languages, which he certainly had not acquired in so short an interval. The late Prime Minister, the Duke of Grafton,[193] succeeded Suffolk in the Privy Seal; but, with proud humility, desired not to be called to the Cabinet, where he would only have been subordinate. Lord Hyde was made Chancellor of the Duchy; Dr. Egerton, Bishop of Lichfield and Coventry, was removed to Durham, and was succeeded by Dr. North,[194] brother of the Minister.