Irish Parliament Prorogued.--Public Feeling.--Opening of the
British Parliament.--Lord Chatham proposes an Amendment to
the Address.--Debates in the House of Commons on the illegal
Election of Lutterell.--Daring Conduct of Burke and Sir George
Saville.--Lord Camden loses the Seals.--Dismissal of the Earl of
Huntingdon.--Resignation of Lord Granby.--Charles Yorke refuses
the Seals.--Death of Sir John Cust.--Acceptance and Suicide of
Yorke.--Sir Fletcher Norton elected Speaker.--Disinterested Conduct
of General Conway.--Motion in the Lords for an Inquiry into the
State of the Nation.--Marquis of Rockingham and Lord Chatham.--The
Duke of Grafton determines to Resign.--Hostile Motion of Dowdeswell
in the House of Commons.--Interviews of Conway with Grafton and his
Secretary.--Intrigues against the Duke of Grafton.--His Resignation
and Character as a Minister.
1770.
As a question of greater magnitude had seldom been agitated than the
demanded dissolution of the Parliament, the expectation of the public
rose in proportion as the session approached. Not that any man supposed
the King, fortified by a majority of both Houses, would listen to that
petition; but in what manner he would reject the prayer of so many
towns and counties, and how that rejection would be received by men
who did not seem disposed to be corrected by reproof, was matter of
curiosity to all, and to many a subject of deep anxiety. Before the
moment arrived, it was known that the Lord-Lieutenant had prorogued
the Parliament of Ireland; a motion had been made to inquire of him if
he was ordered or intended to prorogue them before the usual time? He
answered, that he should always be desirous of complying with their
requests, when he could do it with propriety: that he did not think
himself authorized to disclose his Majesty’s instructions to him upon
any subject, without having received his Majesty’s commands for so
doing. That with regard to his own intentions, they would be regulated
by his Majesty’s instructions and by future events. Mr. Flood,[25] an
able speaker, on whom Lord Townshend much depended, moved to adjourn,
that they might do no business till they should receive a more
favourable answer, but the proposal was rejected by a majority of 14;
and the money bills arriving from England, they were passed; and then
the Lord-Lieutenant prorogued the Parliament.
In England, as a signal to the hostilities that were to ensue, the
petition from Yorkshire was presented to the King on the 5th with
several others; but the Mayor and Corporation of Liverpool addressed
his Majesty against a petition then soliciting in their town; and as a
new mark that the Court party, in the City of London, were recovering
ground, Alderman Harley was chosen President of St. Bartholomew’s,
the first hospital in the metropolis, by 20 votes out of 22, against
Beckford, though a senior Alderman and then Lord Mayor. But the
want of unanimity was more noxious to the Opposition than all the
efforts of their enemies. Lord Chatham’s profusion had involved him
in debts and great distress; and that distress reduced him to more
humane condescension than he usually practised. He sent a message
to Lord Rockingham, professing high esteem, and desiring a personal
interview to remove former misunderstandings, and to cement a common
union between the friends of the public. The Marquis, with ill-timed
haughtiness, replied, that he lived in Grosvenor Square. The Earl sent
again, that being very infirm, and confined at Hayes, it would be
exceedingly kind in Lord Rockingham to come thither--the same answer
as before: how sensible! to war on King and Parliament, and reject
almost the only ally that had any weight! Wilkes, and the popular party
in the City, Lord Rockingham shunned like the plague. In the House of
Lords, where he did not dare to open his mouth, and had scarce one
follower that could, he pushed back the most admired orator of the
age. Such was the able commander under whom the campaign opened on
one side! The general on the Court side (the Duke of Grafton) did not
yield to him in trifling. How confounded was the avidity with which all
mankind pressed for a sight of the King’s speech, when they found not
a word said on the petitions; but instead of them, a lamentation about
the horned cattle.[26] The first draught of the speech had run in a
style of commendation of the House of Commons: this, as too insulting,
Mr. Conway had obtained to be laid aside. He did not guess that the
imagination of the Duke of Grafton could furnish nothing more to the
purpose, or more interesting to the public, than the distemper amongst
the cattle! A preface so ridiculous could not detain men long from the
serious business in question. In the Upper House, Lord Chatham, after
descanting on the ambition of the House of Bourbon, turned to the
election of Lutterell, and proposed an amendment of the address, to
assure the King that they would immediately inquire into grievances,
especially those on the Middlesex election. This motion, calculated
to create a breach between the two Houses, was not agreeable even to
several of the Opposition;[27] but he had drawn it himself,[28] and
persisted in it, telling the House he would not have appeared but on
so extraordinary an occasion. The Chancellor spoke strongly on the
same side, and declared for the amendment; as did Lord Temple, Lord
Lyttelton, and Lord Shelburne; the latter chiefly on the alarming
posture of Europe, where we had not, could not get, an ally. The Duke
of Grafton replied to the foreign part of the debate, answered for the
tranquillity of Europe, and said we had not a difference there which
could not easily be settled. Lord Mansfield and Lord Marchmont entered
largely into the case of the Middlesex election; and the former urged,
that though the House of Commons should have done wrong, a breach
between the two Houses would be much more fatal. Lord Chatham replied,
but with so little precision and logic, as was usual with him when
reduced to argue, that Lord Denbigh and Lord Sandwich, both keen, and
the former brutal enough, when his brutality to opponents would be
flattery at court, ridiculed him severely; and Sandwich professed he
did not comprehend what Lord Chatham had meant, and defied any single
Lord to give an account of what he had said. Lord Weymouth told the
Chancellor sharply, that if it was so wrong as his Lordship had urged,
to incapacitate Wilkes, his Lordship ought not to have set the Great
Seal to the new writ--the Chancellor could only reply that he had not
read the writ.[29] At ten at night, one hundred Lords to thirty-six
rejected Lord Chatham’s amendment. Lord Dartmouth conscientiously
voted against his friends; the Duke of Northumberland, for popularity,
against the Court.[30]
In the House of Commons, the success of the Administration was
less brilliant, though their majority, as might be expected when
the majority consisted of the criminals themselves, was very
considerable: yet Lord Granby, swayed by Calcraft, and leaning towards
Lord Chatham, who had made him commander-in-chief (though in truth
he had owed something to every Ministry, and had paid them all with
ingratitude),[31] balanced the credit of the victory a little by
declaring he renounced and repented of his last year’s vote for the
expulsion of Wilkes. Dowdeswell proposed engaging to inquire into
grievances. Barré said, disregard to petitions might teach the people
to think of _assassination_. This outrageous expression passed without
censure. Lord North spoke long and well. Conway endeavoured to recover
Lord Granby, and mentioned the petitions with respect. Some of the
members for Buckinghamshire declared the majority in their county had
been against petitioning: and Mr. Grenville, then under deep affliction
for the recent loss of his wife,[32] pleaded that he had not signed the
petition, that he might not take any personal share in Wilkes’s case.
The Attorney-General and Norton censured the petitions, which Dunning,
the Solicitor-General, defended. Rigby ridiculed them, and stated the
great majority of towns and counties that had not concurred in them.
The amendment was rejected by 254 against 138.[33]
But it was next day, on the report, that the great blow was aimed at
and in the House of Commons.[34] Burke on the former day had attacked
the House itself, and hinted that the majority was so guilty that they
did not dare to take notice of the insults offered to them, and the
reproaches cast on them. On the report he added, that he was conscious
he had deserved to be sent to the Tower for what he had said; but
knew the House did not dare to send him thither. Sir George Saville
adopted and used the same language. Lord North took notice of it,
but said he supposed Sir George had spoken in warmth. “No,” replied
Saville coolly, “I spoke what has been my constant opinion; I thought
so last night, I thought the same this morning. I look on this House
as sitting illegally after their illegal act [of voting Lutterell
representative for Middlesex]. They have betrayed their trust. I
will add no epithets,” continued he, “because epithets only weaken:
therefore I will not say they have betrayed their country corruptly,
flagitiously, and scandalously, but I do say they have betrayed their
country; and I stand here to receive the punishment for having said
so.” Mr. Conway, sensible of the weight of such an attack from a man so
respectable, alarmed at the consequences that would probably attend the
punishment of him, and firm in his own irreproachable virtue, took up
the matter with temper, wisdom and art, and showed the impropriety and
indecency of such language; and by that address prevented Saville from
repeating the provocation, and soothed the House into sober concern,
before any reciprocal heat had been expressed against the offender:
for though Serjeant Glynn asserted that when the House had been in
the wrong, it was right to say so; and though Charles Fox replied
with much applauded fire, moderation had made its impression, and a
scene was avoided that might have had the most fatal termination. Not
only was Sir George Saville composed and ready to provoke the whole
wrath of the legislature, but had the Ministers dared to send him to
the Tower, the Cavendishes, and the most virtuous and respectable of
his friends, would have started up, would have avowed his language,
and would have demanded to share his imprisonment. A dozen or twenty
such confessors in the heart of a tumultuous capital would have been
no indifferent spectacle: the great northern counties were devoted
to them. Then, indeed, the moment was serious! Fortunately there were
none but subordinate Ministers in the House of Commons, not one of
whom chose to cast so decisive a die. The House sat silent under its
ignominy--a punishment well suited to its demerits: and the sword was
not called in to decide a contest in which Liberty and the Constitution
would probably have been the victims. This was in effect the critical
day; for though the struggle continued, and not without material
convulsions, yet the apprehensions of rougher commotions wore away.
Losses, dissentions, profligacy, treachery, and folly dissipated great
part of the Opposition, and began
“Ex illo fluere, ac retro sublapsa referri
Spes Danaüm!”
The Duke of Richmond was struck with the violence of Sir George
Saville’s behaviour, and lamented it to Mr. Conway and me. Sir George
had told the Duke that it had been concerted with nobody, and that he
should not repeat it every day, which would be womanish: but he was
glad he had gone so far; it would convince the county of York that he
had said nothing at the meeting which he would not maintain in the
House. He intimated too, that if the dissolution was refused, he should
go still farther--but he never did. I said, Sir George’s behaviour
was the more blameable for not having acquainted his friends with
his intention; he knew them to be conscientious and men of honour,
knew they would not desert him; and thus had ventured embarking them
without their consent: he would have been answerable for the lives and
fortunes of all who might have fallen in the quarrel. His behaviour had
tended to stir up insurrections, which would end in the loss of our
liberties, as in the long run the Crown certainly, this King probably,
would get the mastery. Could they withstand the King and both Houses?
They had polled the nation, and the majority by far was against them.
Not a dozen counties, and only a few boroughs, had petitioned. What
strength should they have to support them? The greater part of England,
all Scotland to a man, and Wales, were against them. Would Lord
Chatham, would Lord Temple, would Grenville, join them, or not be the
first to make their peace? I besought the Duke to mollify Sir George
Saville--not to countenance him. “Good God, sir!” said the Duke, “do
you think I would go into rebellion?” Mr. Conway discussed the merits
of the question very ably, and showed it had ever been the usage of
Parliament to incapacitate improper members. Lord Rockingham’s friends
had yielded to the incapacitation, and now disputed the consequences.
In a free government the minority must submit to the majority, or
nothing could go on. Did it become Burke, an Irish adventurer, to
treat the House of Commons with such unexampled insolence? “Do you
think, my Lord,” continued Conway, “that the majority will bear to
hear themselves abused daily? Do you think we are more afraid than you
are? Was it come to calling names, or to cutting throats?” The Duke
bore this remonstrance with great temper: he had, indeed, as I have
said, been staggered at the outrage of his friends, and I believe this
conversation had so much weight with him, as to promote his moderating,
and consequently preventing a repetition of such hostilities.
Humiliating to the House as were the speeches of Burke and Saville,
that of the Chancellor had been more inflammatory, and more provoking,
as founded in law, and coming from so eminent a member of the
Administration. The Duke of Grafton accused him of having made no
objection to Lutterell’s admission; his friends affirmed he had;
and Lord Sandwich allowed that he had reserved to himself a liberty
of acting as he pleased on every question relating to Wilkes. The
Chancellor’s mind certainly fluctuated between his obligations to Lord
Chatham and the wish to retain his post. The Duke of Grafton’s neglect
determined the scale.[35] The King’s Speech had borne hard upon the
Colonies, and had not been concerted with the Chancellor. All letters
to our Governors in America had promised redress; but every post was
accompanied with contradictions, too: so that no officer in America
knew whether he was or was not to follow his instructions; or which of
his instructions was to be the rule of his conduct. The Chancellor,
judging his fate determined, had taken his part with spirit. The
chiefs of the law and army, disgusted, might make a dangerous schism.
I persuaded Mr. Conway to interpose with the Duke of Grafton and save
the Chancellor; but he found the Duke’s resolution fixed, who told
him he was to see a person of consequence at night on that subject. I
said, “That person is Charles Yorke, who is afraid of being seen going
into the Duke’s house by day-light.” It was; but first it had been
thought necessary to make Lord Mansfield the compliment of offering him
the Seals, who refused them, but boasted of the offer to Sir Gilbert
Elliot. The latter, dissatisfied with the Duke of Grafton (and probably
both Mansfield and Elliot desirous of getting rid of the Chancellor),
trumpeted the secret round the town, till it came to Lord Camden’s
ears, who told the Duke he heard his fate was determined. The Duke did
not deny it, and they parted civilly. Thus lost Lord Camden the Seals,
valued at thirteen thousand pounds a-year. He had saved little or no
money, and had four or five children. All he had obtained was a flying
pension of 1500_l._ a-year, till his son should attain a Teller’s
place, of which he had the reversion. As the pension, which was granted
on Ireland, had since been included in the new tax of four shillings in
the pound on absentees, it was a littleness unworthy of the sacrifice
he had made to ask, as Lord Camden did, to have the deduction made up
to him.
As success had given spirit to the Court, and had converted their
fears into vengeance, another victim was marked; this was the Earl
of Huntingdon, Groom of the Stole, a man too much vaunted for
talents which he had proved he did not possess, and destitute of
that wealth and interest which so often supply the want of talents.
By affecting personal attachment to the King, he had escaped in all
the late changes; though his post would often have accommodated the
Administration; but the vanity of his royal descent[36] having prompted
him to ask the title of Duke of Clarence, and a refusal following, he
had flattered himself with obtaining it, as so many other titles had
been wrenched from the Crown by Opposition. He absented himself on the
first day of the session, and kept away his relation, Earl Ferrers. The
King, glad of an opportunity of getting rid of him, too harshly sent
for the golden key. Yet few pitied Lord Huntingdon, as few had pitied
the Duke of Northumberland, who had both paid profuse court to Lord
Bute, and had both deserted or duped him.[37] The post of Groom of the
Stole was given to Lord Bristol, who rejoiced to find himself in so
secure a harbour, and piously vowed not to risk himself by any want
of the most servile assiduity and attendance. Lord Coventry[38] took
occasion, as first Peer in the Bedchamber, to resent Lord Bristol’s
preferment; but was, in truth, devoted to Lord Temple, and desirous of
quitting the Court; as did the Duke of Manchester, too, another of the
Bedchamber. The Duke of Beaufort was a greater loss. He had been the
first convert of his family from Jacobitism, and now gave up Master of
the Horse to the Queen, on some private dissatisfactions; yet, however,
did not differ with the Court.
Severely as Lord Camden and Lord Huntingdon had been treated, no
endeavours were spared to preserve Lord Granby. The Duke of Grafton
stooped to every kind of intercession, but found the haughtiness with
which he had behaved to Calcraft returned tenfold by the arrogance of
that minion of fortune, who, to ensure Lord Granby’s dependence and
resignation, now lent him sixteen thousand pounds, additional, to a
great debt already contracted. Lord Granby accordingly, on the 17th,
resigned his post of Commander-in-Chief and Master of the Ordnance,
retaining nothing but his regiment of Blue Guards. Lord Chatham was
not less in the power of the usurer Calcraft--so low had those two
men, who had sat at the top of the world, reduced themselves by their
dissipations! Lord Granby’s part was the weaker, as he recanted a vote
he had not understood, for reasons he understood as little.
On the 15th, Lord Rockingham requiring to have the Lords summoned for
a motion he intended to make, the Duke of Grafton desired it might
be postponed, and that the House would adjourn for a week; meaning,
that the dismission of the Chancellor would deprive them of a Speaker
for some days. Lord Shelburne opposed the delay with much violence,
and said the cause demanded accusation, as the Chancellor had been
dismissed for a single vote; but no wretch would be found vile enough
to accept the Seals in his room. This was thrown out to deter Yorke;
and not a syllable of threat could be levelled at his timidity without
effect.
After struggling with all the convulsions of ambition, interest,
fear, honour, dread of abuse, and, above all, with the difficulty of
refusing the object of his whole life’s wishes, and with the despair
of recovering the instant if once suffered to escape, Charles Yorke,
having taken three days to consider, refused to accept the Seals of
Chancellor. It saved some distress to the Ministers that Sir John Cust,
Speaker of the Commons, being seized with a paralytic stroke, sent
his resignation to the House, which adjourned to the 22nd, and gave
time for making new arrangements, when so many parts of Government
were unhinged. In no light was Sir John Cust a loss. His want of parts
and spirit had been very prejudicial. He had no authority; and by his
sufferance of Barré’s, Burke’s, and Saville’s insults, which he ought
to have checked, had endangered the country itself. He died unlamented
a few days after.[39]
The wanton insolence of the Court on the first day’s victory, was well
nigh costing them a total defeat. They had dismissed the Chancellor
without being provided with a successor. Mr. Conway acquainted me, in
the greatest secrecy, that the Duke of Grafton, dismayed at Yorke’s
refusal of the Great Seal, would give up the Administration. Not a
lawyer could be found able enough--or if able, bold enough--or if bold,
decent enough--to fill the employment. Norton had all the requisites
of knowledge and capacity, but wanted even the semblance of integrity,
though for that reason, was probably the secret wish of the Court.
He was enraged at the preference given to Yorke; yet nobody dared
to propose him, even when Yorke had refused. Sir Eardley Wilmot had
character and abilities, but wanted health. The Attorney-General, De
Grey, wanted health and weight, and yet asked too extravagant terms.
Dunning, the Solicitor-General, had taken the same part as his friends,
Lord Camden and Lord Shelburne. Hussey, so far from being inclined to
accept the office, determined to resign with his friend, Lord Camden,
though earnest against the dissolution of the Parliament. Of Lord
Mansfield, there could be no question; when the post was dangerous,
his cowardice was too well known to give hopes that he could be
pressed to defend it. In this exigence, Grafton’s courage was not
more conspicuous. His first thought, without consulting the King’s
inclination, was to offer the Administration to Lord Chatham or Lord
Rockingham; but inclining to the latter. He had desired Mr. Conway to
come to him in the evening and meet Lord Gower, Lord Weymouth, and Lord
North, in the most private manner, for consultation. Conway went away
in haste to Court, promising to return and dine with me, that he might
consider what advice he would give to the Duke at night; but what was
my astonishment, when, in two hours, Mr. Onslow came and told me that
Mr. Yorke had accepted the Seals! He had been with the King over night
(without the knowledge of the Duke of Grafton), and had again declined;
but being pressed to reconsider, and returning in the morning, the
King had so overwhelmed him with flatteries, entreaties, prayers, and
at last with commands and threats, of never giving him the post if not
accepted now, that the poor man sunk under the importunity, though he
had given a solemn promise to his brother, Lord Hardwicke and Lord
Rockingham, that he would not yield. He betrayed, however, none of the
rapaciousness of the times, nor exacted but one condition, the grant
of which fixed his irresolution. The Chancellor must of necessity be a
peer, or cannot sit in the House of Lords. The Coronet was announced to
Yorke; but he slighted it as of no consequence to his eldest son, who
would, probably, succeed his uncle, Lord Hardwicke, the latter having
been long married, and having only two daughters. But Mr. Yorke himself
had a second wife, a very beautiful woman, and by her had another son.
She, it is supposed, urged him to accept the Chancery, as the King
offered, or consented, that the new peerage should descend to her son,
and not to the eldest. The rest of his story was indeed melancholy, and
his fate so rapid, as to intercept the completion of his elevation.[40]
He kissed the King’s hand on the Thursday; and from Court drove to
his brother, Lord Hardwicke’s--the precise steps of the tragedy have
never been ascertained. Lord Rockingham was with the Earl. By some it
was affirmed, that both the Marquis and the Earl received the unhappy
renegade with bitter reproaches. Others, whom I rather believe,
maintained that the Marquis left the House directly;[41] and that
Lord Hardwicke refused to hear his brother’s excuses, and retiring
from the room, shut himself into another chamber, obdurately denying
Mr. Yorke an audience. At night it was whispered that the agitation
of his mind, working on a most sanguine habit of body, inflamed of
late by excessive indulgence both in meats and wine, had occasioned
the bursting of a bloodvessel; and the attendance of surgeons was
accounted for, by the necessity of bleeding him four times on Friday.
Certain it is that he expired on the Saturday between four and six in
the evening. His servants, in the first confusion, had dropped too much
to leave it in the family’s power to stifle the truth: and though they
endeavoured to colour over the catastrophe by declaring the accident
natural, the want of evidence and of the testimony of surgeons to
colour the tale given out, and which they never took any public method
of authenticating, convinced everybody that he had fallen by his own
hand--whether on his sword, or by a razor, was uncertain.
Yorke’s speeches in Parliament had for some time, though not so soon
as they ought, fallen into total disesteem. At the bar, his practice
had declined from a habit of gluttony and intemperance, as I have
mentioned. Yet, as a lawyer, his opinion had been in so high repute,
that he was reported to have received an hundred thousand guineas in
fees. In truth, his chief practice had flourished while his father was
not only Lord Chancellor, but a very powerful Minister. Yorke’s parts
were by no means shining. His manner was precise and yet diffuse,
and his matter more sententious than instructive. His conduct was
timid, irresolute, often influenced by his profession, oftener by his
interest. He sacrificed his character to his ambition of the Great
Seal, and his life to his repentance of having attained it.
Two days after Yorke’s death the Great Seal was put into commission
in the hands of Baron Smythe and the Judges Aston and Bathurst. Sir
Fletcher Norton had been made easy for the preference of Yorke, by
the promise of the Speaker’s chair--and now, by an unwonted fit of
decency, said he would not profit of the Government’s distress, but
would remain Speaker. He was accordingly proposed by Lord North and
Mr. Rigby. Lord John Cavendish, to the surprise of everybody, proposed
Thomas Townshend the younger, but confessing he had not communicated
his intention to the person he named. Lord George Sackville concurred
with Lord John, and both threw out as many indirect aspersions on
Norton as they could with any tolerable decency--the only reason
probably for opposing him; and that they might deny his being
unanimously elected. Townshend declared with astonishment, that he had
not only never thought of the office, but knew himself totally unfit
for it, and besought them to excuse him. He and his family voted for
Norton, who was chosen by 237 to 121, and who, with a manliness at
least in his profligacy, took possession of his post, without acting
those stale affectations of modesty with which other Speakers have been
wont to get themselves forced into the chair.
The very day on which Yorke died, Dunning, the Solicitor-General, and
James Grenville (unwillingly, to gratify the violence of his brothers)
declared they would resign their places. That of Master of the Horse to
the Queen, was given to Lord Waldegrave.[42]
There also remained vacant, the posts of Commander-in-Chief and Master
of the Ordnance. Foreseeing that the latter, if not the former, would
be offered to General Conway, fearing it would involve him deeper
with the Court, and desirous that he should preserve his character of
disinterestedness, I early begged him to accept neither, as it would
not become him to profit of Lord Granby’s spoils, with whom he had
lived in friendship, and which would render him unpopular. He was
overjoyed at hearing this opinion, as it was his own. Accordingly,
when the King offered him the Ordnance, he desired to be excused,
but offered to do the whole business of Master without taking the
salary; adding, that if his Majesty would appoint no Master, he
thought he could make advantageous improvements in the office. Lord
Granby, too, would be less desperate, if he saw his posts not filled
up. The King told Conway _he was a phenomenon; that there was no
satisfying other people, but he would not take even what was offered
to him_[43]--but as it suited the King’s views better to find men
mercenary than disinterested, this virtue, as will appear, did not long
make impression on him. He consented to Conway’s plan, and told him
at the same time that Lord Granby had been agitated even to tears when
he resigned, and had told his Majesty that he did not mean opposition:
that, indeed, in cases of state, he must follow Lord Chatham; and
Lord Camden in those of law. The King owned to Conway, that he had
frightened Yorke into accepting the Seals by reproaching him with
refusing to serve in that distress of Government, and by assuring him
it was the last time the Seals should ever be offered to him.
Sir Jeffery Amherst, the most wrong-headed of men, would not hear of
Yorke’s peerage, unless his own was granted too. Mr. Conway showed him
the necessity of a Chancellor’s peerage, and that all who had promises
of peerages had acquiesced. It did not satisfy him: he had resented
Lord Camden’s peerage before; and now went into the King to resign--but
was again pacified.
Conway himself was on the point of receiving a more real insult. The
Duke of Grafton talked to him of destining the Mastership of the
Ordnance to some great peer, not below him in the army. This pointed
either at Lord Halifax or Lord Sandwich, neither of whom had ever
served, but ranked as Lieutenant-Generals by having had commissions to
raise regiments, which they never raised during the rebellion. Conway
started, and declared firmly he would resign if such a person should
be put over him. I doubt, however, whether it would not have been
tried, if greater troubles had not intervened. Both the Earls were poor
and impatient: the Bedfords, who had now most weight with Grafton,
favoured them--at least, preferred them to Conway. It was not thought
safe to send so unpopular a man as Sandwich to Ireland. Thither Lord
Gower wanted to dispatch Lord Hertford once more, that he might himself
recover the Chamberlain’s staff, the best introduction to personal
familiarity with the King--but he could compass no one of his plans.
Lord Chatham had stooped in the meantime to visit Lord Rockingham; in
consequence of which interview, and driven on by his friends who were
ashamed of their attachment to a mute, the Marquis moved the Lords to
go into the state of the nation; delivering his proposal with all the
ungracious hesitation of terrified spirits, and hobbling through the
grievances of the nation, which he imputed to the Court’s design of
governing by Ministers unwelcome to the people. Lord Chatham made one
of his highest coloured orations, inflaming Lord Rockingham, whom he
complimented largely, to pursue the recovery of the Constitution, and
advising him to carry the pursuit even to extremes, the democratic part
of the Constitution having been, he said, intentionally oppressed.
In his own wild and indigested manner he threw out, that the House
of Commons, wanted alteration; and to deliver it from the influence
of the Crown by the power of the latter over the rotten part, the
venal boroughs and burgage-tenures, he should advise the addition
of a third member for every county. With his usual versatility, and
with more meaning, he chanted next the sacredness of prerogative, and
thence blamed the Crown’s yielding to bind itself not to recall the
additional troops newly granted in Ireland thence, (by which concession
alone that very requisite increase had been obtained); for himself,
he declared he would never touch prerogative, he would not come near
it, he would not pull a feather from that master-wing of the eagle.
Of Corsica, he said, France had gained more in that pacific campaign
than she had done in the most belligerent of the last war. He concluded
with recommending union to the Opposition for the present purpose of
redress of grievances. What might happen afterwards he did not know--an
intimation that he had not been able to persuade Lord Rockingham to
cede to Mr. Grenville his pretensions to the Treasury. The 25th was
named for considering the state of the nation; but when the day came,
Lord Rockingham moved to adjourn the debate for ten days, which was
allowed. The motive was, Lord Chatham’s having the gout in his hand.
This was the more indecent and absurd in that some of the Opposition
had the very day before protested against adjourning that very question
for a week till a new Chancellor could be chosen. Lord Sandwich
ridiculed their not being able to go on without Lord Chatham--which, he
might have added, was saying that _the little finger of Lord Chatham
was heavier than the loins of the law_.
A more important officer was wanting than even a Chancellor. Mr. Conway
had sent for me on the evening of the 22nd. It was to tell me that the
Duke of Grafton had announced to him in the morning that he could not
get a Chancellor; that his head turned, that he could not bear it,
that he was determined to resign: that he should not have one great
lawyer in the Cabinet to advise him; that Lord Mansfield had been
pressed to accept it and had refused: that he could not fill up the
empty places, so many persons had resigned. The posts of Chancellor,
Privy Seal, Master of the Ordnance, Attorney and Solicitor to the
Queen, a Vice-Treasurer of Ireland, and two Lords of the Bedchamber,
were vacant; that he had told his resolution to nobody but to Lord
Gower, Lord Weymouth, and Lord Jersey, and to his own two Secretaries,
Stonhewer and Bradshaw. The two last, the Duke said, approved his
resolution; Lord Jersey did not. Lord Gower and Lord Weymouth had
offered to stand against the storm with him, if he would venture.
Conway had represented against the confusion into which his Grace would
throw the kingdom--but in vain: he would hear no reasons. From the Duke
Conway had gone to the King, whom he found in the utmost distress (or
at least pretending to be), and persuaded that the Duke was inflexible,
who, his Majesty said, had told him, his head turned. Conway hinted at
trying Lord Rockingham, but the King said, he knew the disposition of
Lord Rockingham and his friends, and would not hear of them. He was
as thoroughly averse to Lord Chatham: both, he said, were engaged to
dissolve the Parliament; but he would abdicate his Crown sooner. “Yes,”
continued the King, laying his hand on his sword, “I will have recourse
to this sooner than yield to a dissolution.” He talked of trying to go
on, if Lord North would put himself at the head of the Treasury. Conway
left me to go again to the Duke, to whom he hinted at the want of
spirit in not standing his ground; but the resolution was too strongly
taken, and he was deaf to all remonstrances.
The moment was indeed serious; yet, had not the King been so thoroughly
averse to the Opposition, he would not have found them obdurate. Burke
owned to me that his friends would be content without a dissolution,
provided an Act of Parliament were passed to take from the House of
Commons the power of incapacitation. The Duke of Richmond confessed
the same to Mr. Conway. Lord Chatham was never inflexible towards
prerogative; but the subservience of Lord North was more tempting; and
on him the King fixed. Lord North owned to Conway that the King had
pressed him to accept the Treasury, professed he did not desire it, but
would undertake it rather than expose the country to confusion.
Whether Lord North’s readiness to be his successor awakened the Duke
of Grafton’s jealousy, on the 25th his Grace talked of going on if
the Attorney-General De Grey would accept the Great Seal, as the Duke
expected he would. He told Conway that he was extremely pressed to fill
up the vacancies; that Lord Sandwich teazed him to be made Privy Seal,
or Master of the Ordnance, since Mr. Conway would not take it. Conway,
who had offered to give it up, to make Amherst easy, said, the King
had consented he should remain Lieutenant-General of the Ordnance; and
that, in any case, he would not act under a man of so bad a character
as Sandwich, nor would see anybody else put over his head. He was glad,
he said, to hear his Grace talk of continuing; for himself, he would
take no part, unless his Grace remained. He had no objection to Lord
North, but had never had any connexion with him; for the Bedfords, he
knew they were his enemies. The Duke made no reply; and Conway and I
concluded the wayward fit was gone, as, to our knowledge, it had done
so often before.
On January the 25th, the Commons went into a committee on the state
of the nation, when Dowdeswell moved to resolve, that the House of
Commons is bound to follow the laws of the land and the usage of
Parliament, which is part thereof.[44] Conway said, this was a very
needless declaration; it was a truism, and admitted by everybody; the
House might as well vote that Magna Charta was the law of the land; but
he supposed this was meant as a foundation for other questions, and
therefore he called on Dowdeswell’s candour to state what he intended
should follow. Dowdeswell refused; and therefore Lord North said, as
he supposed the motion alluded to the case of Wilkes, he would add the
words “and had been so followed in the case of the late election for
the county of Middlesex.” Grenville said this was unfair; and that,
in a complicated question, any member had a right to separate the
parts, and call for each distinctly. Conway replied, that he had known
questions made complicated on purpose to destroy them; and reminded
Grenville of Dr. Hay’s and Wedderburne’s long and absurd addition to
the question on general warrants, which did destroy that question.
Wedderburne said, if the motion was a truism, was that a reason for not
allowing it? Would any man begin to refuse paying a bill, by denying
that two and two make four? He went into the law part of the question;
and his position that there had been no question exactly in point,
made great impression on the House, no man being a more acute or more
accurate speaker. Young Charles Fox, of age but the day before, started
up, and entirely confuted Wedderburne, even in law, producing a case
decided in the courts below but the last year, and exactly similar to
that of Wilkes. “The court,” he said, “had had no precedent, but had
gone on analogy.” The House roared with applause. Sir W. Meredith said
rudely, he wished Mr. Conway acted then with the same patriotic spirit
that he had shown on general warrants, when he had gained the hearts
of the nation. Conway replied with fire that he hoped his character
was as good as ever, or as that gentleman’s. Had nobody any integrity
but those who called themselves patriots? Lord Coke, the oracle of the
law, quoted the case of Hall, in the reign of Henry the Eighth, and
called it _the ancient usage of Parliament_. Selden and Maynard held
the same doctrine. Who would dare to affirm, that those were not the
greatest constitutional lawyers? What was set against them but two or
three pamphlets (meaning those written by Dowdeswell and Meredith),
ingenious, indeed, but were they of weight to be opposed to Coke,
Selden, and Maynard? Sir William Meredith was unlucky in addressing
his censure to Conway, who was in reality what Sir William wished or
affected to be, a most conscientious man. Conway’s virtue was firm,
and not to be shaken by interest or caprice. He persisted in uniform
integrity, supported the Court when he thought it in the right, but
disdained its temptations. He sometimes fluctuated and refined too
minutely; but if he yielded to his scruples, they never were infused
by a glimpse of self-advantage. Sir William was not long after this
gained to the Court by a White Stick; and though he again relinquished
it, as he said, on principle, he lost more on the side of judgment
than he recovered on that of conscience; and left it more doubtful
whether he was an upright than a very unsettled man. In an age wherein
honesty could boast few genuine martyrs, Conway was certainly the most
distinguished. He never ceased to attest his attachment to virtue,
at the risk of a most precarious fortune; and he had one merit that
added to the beauty of his character, and in which he was singular,
that he never mixed party or faction with his line of conduct. The
Duke of Richmond, Sir George Saville, and Lord John Cavendish, were,
undoubtedly, of as unblemished virtue as Conway; but they had all
three independent fortunes, and had no opportunities of making equal
sacrifices. All three, too, were devoted to their party, and from
that point of honour, which did little to their judgment, remained
inflexibly attached to that poor creature, Lord Rockingham. The debate,
whence I have digressed, lasted till three in the morning, when
Lord North’s amendment was carried but by 224 to 180--a threatening
diminution to the Administration, who saw their majority on the first
day of the session sunk from 116 to 44.
If the Duke of Grafton was alarmed before, his panic was augmented by
this decrease of forces. He again declared to the King he would resign,
yet still desired his friends to keep the secret.
The next day Mr. Conway related to me two extraordinary conversations
that he had had,--the first with the Duke himself, the other with his
secretary, Stonhewer. Conway had again tried to encourage the Duke to
be firm and surmount his dejection; bidding him beware that there were
no Treasury secrets that might endanger him. The Duke broke out, said
he was determined to resign immediately, for--_he was betrayed_. “There
is no man, Mr. Conway,” continued he, “on whom I can depend but you.”
Conway was amazed. “No,” continued the Duke, “there is no dependence on
connections. I am betrayed by my own confidential secretary, Bradshaw.
I will go to Lord North, and press him to accept directly.” Farther, he
would not open himself. From the Duke, Conway went to Stonhewer. The
latter was a modest man of perfect integrity, invariably attached to
Grafton from his childhood.[45] He having approved the Duke’s intention
of resigning, it was probably from being but too well acquainted with
his patron’s unfitness for the first post in the State, or from having
silently observed how dangerous it was for the Duke to remain in so
responsible an employment, surrounded by traitors. Stonhewer told
Conway that the Bedfords had taken little or no pains to persuade the
Duke to retain his power. They had made him believe, through Bradshaw,
through whom the negotiation passed, that the Attorney-General was more
averse to take the Seals than the Duke found him--and Stonhewer owned
that he thought Bradshaw a villain. The King, he said, had used the
Duke ill, and was not disinclined to his resigning. Mr. Conway had had
the same suspicion.
The truth, I believe, of this plot and these intrigues, was this.
The King, worn out by Grafton’s negligence, and impracticability,
had wished to get rid of him. It was known afterwards, that Bradshaw
was secretly the tool of the King and Lord Bute, and had probably
engaged Rigby to facilitate his Majesty’s plan of suffering the Duke
to resign,--which, however, he was so unjust as to resent for a long
time after. Rigby, Lord Gower, and Lord Weymouth, all feared that the
Duke’s irrational conduct would involve them in his fall, and Lord
Gower particularly hoped, by betraying him, to stand nearer to the
chief post. Thus they dissuaded his resignation so faintly as rather to
encourage it. The rich reversion obtained by Bradshaw, by or for his
treachery, confirmed his share in the transaction. The Duke and Duchess
of Bedford were far from being counsel to the resignation; in truth it
was entirely concealed from them. That the Duke should not communicate
it to them, was most extraordinary. That Lord Gower did not, confirmed
his share in the plot. Of all the set, Rigby’s part was the most
dark. His concealing the Duke of Grafton’s intention from the Duke of
Bedford, was unjustifiable: yet he could not trust the Duchess with
it, as her ambition was infinitely gratified by having her niece, the
Duchess of Grafton, wife to the Prime Minister; and as her attachment
to Rigby was cooled, she would not have bent to his secret views. Thus
they did not hear a syllable of Grafton’s purpose till the very last
day, and then Bedford vehemently urged him not to resign: but it was
too late. Yet, if Grafton had opened half an eye, he soon closed it,
continuing his intimacy with Lord Gower and Rigby, and his confidence
even to Bradshaw.[46] Had not the Duke himself dropped his suspicions
to Conway, and had they not been confirmed by the immaculate honesty
of Stonhewer, I should almost doubt the fact, though treachery was so
notoriously the characteristic of the Bedford faction.
The secret, though in so many hands, was not less well kept from the
public, than it had been from the Duke and Duchess of Bedford; for
though Grafton resigned on the evening of the 27th, it was not known
till very late on the 30th, when Lord North was declared the successor.
Such was the conclusion of the Duke of Grafton’s Administration, which
had lasted two years, and when he was but thirty-four years of age.
His fall was universally ascribed to his pusillanimity; but whether
betrayed by his fears or his friends, he had certainly been the chief
author of his own disgrace. His haughtiness, indolence, reserve,
and improvidence, had conjured up the storm; but his obstinacy and
fickleness always relaying each other, and always _mal à propos_, were
the radical causes of all the numerous absurdities that discoloured his
conduct and exposed him to deserved reproaches; nor had he a depth of
understanding to counterbalance the defects of his temper. The power
of the Crown and the weakness of the Opposition, would have maintained
him in his post, though he was unfit for it, as immediately appeared
by the Court’s recovering its ascendant the moment the Duke retired;
for though Lord North had far better parts, yet his indolence proved as
great as Grafton’s; but having as much good humour as the Duke wanted,
it was plain that the Parliament were willing to be slaves, provided
they could be treated with decency. Grafton had quitted the King’s
service, when Prince, disgusted with Lord Bute: had been captivated by
Lord Chatham, yet came into place without him; then quitted for him,
Lord Rockingham and the Whigs. He then declared against a place of
business; then gave himself up to Lord Chatham, and was made his first
Lord of the Treasury; grew as violently partial to Mr. Conway, yet was
with difficulty persuaded to stay in place even with him--then would
act with nobody but him: as abruptly and lightly consented to let him
retire to make way for the Bedfords; and after a life of early decorum,
dipped with every indecency into the most public and abject attachment
to a common courtezan, gave himself up to Lord Bute’s influence:[47]
rushed into an alliance with the Bedford’s, whom he hated, against
his interest; and at last permitted them to betray him, not without
suspecting, but without resenting it.
The detail of his conduct was as weak and preposterous as the great
lines of it. His intrusion of Lutterell, his neglecting to call the
Parliament before the petitions spread, his wasting his time at
Euston and Newmarket though the tempest raged, his disgusting the
Chancellor, and when he had disgusted him, not turning him out before
the Parliament met, but leaving him to avail himself of the merit
of martyrdom by being turned out for his speech and vote; and then
turning him out when it was both too late and too soon, because no
successor had been prepared in time; these wild and inconsistent steps
plunged him into difficulties which yet he might have surmounted, if
his inconstancy had been art, his rashness courage, or his obstinacy
firmness.
He was the fourth Prime Minister in seven years who fell by his own
fault. Lord Bute was seized with a panic and ran away from his own
victory. Grenville was undone by his insolence, by joining in the
insult on the Princess, and by his persecution of Lord Bute and
Mackenzie. Lord Rockingham’s incapacity overturned him; and now the
Duke of Grafton, by a complication of passions and defect of system,
destroyed a power that it had depended on himself to make as permanent
as he could desire. It was pretended that his secret reason was the
preference given by the Queen to Lord Waldegrave for her Master of
Horse over the Duke’s friend, Lord Jersey. The Duke had not asked it
for him, but was capable of resenting its not being offered, and as
capable of being influenced by that little reason as by any of eminent
magnitude.[48] He did not quit without signalizing his retreat by two
pensions that were loudly censured. One was to his tool, the traitor
Bradshaw, the reversion of Auditor of the Plantations, worth 1500_l._
a-year. The other a pension on Ireland of 1000_l._ for Dyson stamped
with a royal breach of promise; the King having permitted the Duke
of Northumberland to pass the regal word that no more pensions for
a term of years should be granted on Ireland but on extraordinary
occasions.[49] Dyson’s merits were not of that noisy kind that
would bear to be detailed, and yet now ranked with those of Prince
Ferdinand and Sir Edward Hawke, whose names had been cited by the
Attorney-General as proper precedents for his Majesty’s munificence.