Bold Address of Beckford to the King.--His Death and
Character.--Prosecutions of Almon and Woodfall.--Voyage of the
Princess Dowager of Wales to Germany.--Eccentric Conduct of
the Queen of Denmark.--Suit of Lord Grosvenor against the Duke
of Cumberland.--Trial of the Kennedys for Murder.--Conduct
of Mr. Horne.--Licence of the Press.--Instances.--Libel
on the King of Spain.--Dispute with Spain concerning the
Falkland Islands.--Building of the Adelphi.--Its Political
Consequences.--Promotion of Lutterell.--Death of Lord Granby.--His
Character.--Vacant Regiment bestowed on Conway.--Meeting of the
Inhabitants of Westminster.--Imminence of a War.--Diplomacy of Lord
Weymouth.--Lord Mansfield meditates Resigning the Speakership of
the House of Lords.--Death of Mr. George Grenville.--His Character.
1770.
The King had scarce time to enjoy the favourable conclusion of the
session, before a new attack was made on him. A remonstrance had been
sent from Newcastle, and, on May the 23rd, the second remonstrance
from the City of London was presented by the Lord Mayor and Common
Council. It had been drawn up by Lord Chatham, or formed on one of his
late speeches. The King made a short and firm answer, referring to
his former. He had no sooner spoken it, than, to the astonishment of
the whole Court, Beckford, the Lord Mayor, desired leave to say a few
words. This was totally unprecedented. Copies of all intended harangues
to the Sovereign are first transmitted privately to Court, that the
King may be prepared with his answer. On this occasion, the King was
totally at a loss how to act. He was sitting in ceremony on his throne,
and had no means of consult, no time to consider what to do. Remaining
silent and confounded, Beckford proceeded, with great expressions of
loyalty, and of assurances of the respect and attachment borne to
his Majesty by the citizens, and he besought his Sovereign not to
listen to secret and malevolent insinuations against them, and humbly
solicited some favourable syllable of reply. The King, however, made
none, but suffered them to kiss his hand, notwithstanding the murmurs
of the courtiers who surrounded him, and who were scandalized at the
innovation.
The citizens assembling three days afterwards to consider of an
address on the birth of a young Princess, the Aldermen Harley and
Rossiter loudly censured the Lord Mayor for his novel address to the
King, uncommissioned by the City. It might prevent his Majesty, they
urged, from receiving their addresses in the same state with which he
received those from Parliament and the Universities,--a distinction
granted to no other corporation but to the City of London; and might
occasion a greater inconvenience, for, as the maxim declares the
King can do no wrong, should a king on any similar occasion answer
improperly, it could not be imputed to his Ministers. Beckford appealed
to the Common Council, who applauded his behaviour. Wilkes, who had
displeased his party by not attending the remonstrance to St. James’s,
and who had been reproached as gained by the Court, pleaded that he
had not gone thither lest his presence should give occasion to another
massacre. He objected to pay much compliment to the King on the birth
of his daughter, at a time when his Majesty would lend no ear to the
complaints of the City. To the Queen, Wilkes said he had no objection
to their saying what they pleased. On the 30th, the address was
carried; but at Temple Bar the gates were shut against the Aldermen by
the people, who concurred with Beckford and Wilkes in resenting the
King’s behaviour, and Harley was dragged out of his chariot and escaped
with difficulty: but by order of the Lord Mayor the gates were opened,
and they proceeded to St. James’s, where, before their admission to the
King, the Lord Chamberlain notified to Beckford that his late behaviour
having been unprecedented, his Majesty desired no such thing might
happen again: to which Beckford, bowing, replied, “To be sure not.”
They were then admitted to the presence; and though the address was
colder than usual, the King told them that while their addresses were
so loyal, the City should be sure of his protection.
This was the last public incident in the life of William Beckford, Lord
Mayor of London, he dying three weeks afterwards of a violent fever,
contracted, as supposed, from the agitation into which his violence had
thrown his blood, and from sudden cold caught in the country, whither
he had retired for a little repose. He died on the 21st of June, aged
sixty-two. He had boldness, promptness, spirit, a heap of confused
knowledge, displayed with the usual ostentation of his temper, and
so uncorrected by judgment, that his absurdities were made but more
conspicuous by his vanity. Under a jovial style of good humour, he
was tyrannic in Jamaica his native country, and under an appearance
of prodigality, interested. On the other side, the excesses of his
factious behaviour were founded neither on principle nor on rancour.
Vain glory seemed to be the real motive of all his actions.[100]
His death was one of the heaviest blows Lord Chatham could receive,
cutting off all his influence in the City; and it was another cause of
the Opposition’s ensuing humiliation, the turbulence of Beckford, his
imposing noise, and his great wealth, concurring to his authority. His
successors in the party were utterly contemptible, except Trecothick,
who was a decent man. This last was chosen Mayor for the rest of the
year. A statue was voted to Beckford’s memory, and ordered to be placed
in Guildhall, with the words he had ventured to speak to the King
engraven on the pedestal,--so strong was the party as yet in the City.
Lord Chatham, the day before Beckford’s death, forced himself into his
house, and got away all the letters he had written to that demagogue.
The celebrated Junius alone kept up the flame of opposition with any
show of parts; but having at this time satirized the King, even for
his private virtues, it did but throw discredit on the author. Almon,
the printer, was now tried for selling Junius’s former Address to his
Majesty; and though he pleaded that the copies had been left at his
shop and sold by his servant without his knowledge, the judge told the
jury that a master was answerable for his servant; and they found
Almon guilty.[101] This man was reckoned to have made a fortune of
10,000_l._ by publishing and selling libels. Woodfall, the original
publisher of Junius’s Address, escaped better, being found _guilty
of printing and publishing only_, though Lord Mansfield, who had
likewise tried Almon, endeavoured by the most arbitrary constructions
to mislead the jury, telling them that they had nothing to do with
the _intention_, nor with the other words in the indictment, as
_malicious_, _seditious_, &c., which he affirmed were only words of
course; and which yet would have fallen heavily on the accused, had
the jury paid regard to such abominable doctrine. The despotic and
Jesuitic Judge went farther: he said, the business of the jury was to
consider whether the blanks were properly filled up; as to the contents
of the paper, whether true or false, they were totally immaterial--no
wonder juries were favourable to libellers, when the option lay between
encouraging abuse, and torturing law to severe tyranny! It did the jury
honour that they preferred liberty to the voice of the inquisitor. Not
content with open violations of justice, he carried the jurors home
with him--though without effect.[102] Nor was his management of the
two trials less wicked. He had selected Almon for the first sacrifice,
though only a second publisher, before Woodfall, the original editor,
because Woodfall being an inhabitant of the City of London, the Chief
Justice had little hope of influencing a Middlesex jury: but Almon
residing in Westminster, was more likely to be convicted: in which
case it would be more difficult for the jury to absolve the original
publisher, when even his copyist had been condemned--a shameful wile,
for which the Attorney-General could not help making an apology! Almon
tried to obtain a revision of his sentence, but Lord Mansfield put
it off, till he should see the event of Woodfall’s trial. When the
latter’s sentence was pronounced, this second Jefferies insisted that
the jury should swear they thought him guilty of _publishing only_,--an
inquisition unprecedented, unheard of! To impose new oaths on a jury!
and after sentence! and after they had been dissolved! What criminal
could be more heinously guilty than such a judge? Miller and Baldwin,
two other printers, were brought in not guilty for the very same crime
for which Almon was condemned--probably from the indignation conceived
at Lord Mansfield’s illegal conduct.
Lord Holland now returned to England in a weak state, which he affected
to represent as more deplorable than it was, confining himself to his
house, from which he stirred no more. The embassy of the Comte du
Châtelet being expired, he returned home, and was replaced by the Comte
de Guines,[103] a man of less abilities, but very grateful to this
country from the decency and fairness of his behaviour.
Another journey excited uncommon curiosity. The Princess Dowager of
Wales, after an uninterrupted residence of thirty-four years in this
country, and after having secluded herself in a manner from the world
during the last nine years, set out for Germany, under pretence of
visiting her brother, the Duke of Saxe Gotha, and her daughters, the
Queen of Denmark, and the Princess of Brunswick. As mystery and policy
were imputed to all her actions, her declarations were not believed,
merely because _she_ made them. The people concluded she went to meet
Lord Bute; others expected that some stroke would be struck during her
absence to which she might plead not having been privy. As she carried
the Duke of Gloucester with her, some believed that it was a trial to
break his connection with Lady Waldegrave: some that she was displeased
at the increasing power of the Queen: and a few, though perhaps not the
worst guessers, that she went to secure her wealth in Germany. That the
Princess of Brunswick was included in the motives of that journey is
most probable. It was settled that the Princess and her husband, the
hereditary Prince, should come to England the next year; and it is as
certain that the Queen prevailed on the King to forbid their coming.
The Princess of Wales, who had so cordially hated both her daughter
and son-in-law, had taken much affection to them, not only from the
court they paid to her, but from the use she found in her daughter. The
Princess Dowager having lost much of her influence over the King, was
often refused favours that she asked of him. This her haughty spirit
could not brook. Princess Augusta had no such reserve. Her intimacy
coeval with the King had given her entire familiarity with him! and
she would take no denials: her mother employed her in teazing the
King till he granted whatever she asked. The ease and gaiety of the
Princess Dowager during her residence abroad, showed how much share her
unpopularity, fear, and sullen pride had in her recluse system,--fear,
not without cause: as she passed through Canterbury she was hissed
and insulted--yet at Dover she met with no affronts; nor were there
any illuminations or bonfires in London for joy of her departure, as
had been expected. She had a slight interview with her daughter of
Denmark, an extraordinary Princess! Christian the Seventh had conceived
an instantaneous aversion to her on their marriage; and had even
disgraced his favourite cousin, the Prince of Hesse, for taking her
part. While her husband was in England, the Russian Minister treated
her disrespectfully; but though the Czarina governed the Danish King,
the Queen with proper spirit commanded the insolent foreigner to quit
the kingdom. Her resolution continued after her husband’s return; and
at last gained the ascendant. Bernsdorffe, Prime Minister and creature
of Russia, was disgraced; so was young Holke, the King’s favourite.
Thus far her Majesty acted with reputation; but when the public beheld
the King’s physician engross all favour, and when that physician seemed
equally dear to both King and Queen, the wildest conjectures were let
loose. Certain it is that the Queen showed a lofty spirit as well as
singular manners. She was grown to an enormous fatness; yet when she
met her mother on the frontiers, she was accoutred in a man’s habit
with breeches of buckskin: and when the Princess of Wales lamented the
disgrace of Bernsdorffe, the ancient Minister of the family, the Queen
of Denmark said abruptly, “Pray, Madam, let me govern my own kingdom as
I please.”
During the absence of her Royal Highness was decided, against her
youngest son the Duke of Cumberland, the suit for adultery with a
young woman of quality, whom a good person, moderate beauty, no
understanding, and excessive vanity had rendered too accessible to the
attentions of a Prince of the Blood. Their letters were produced at the
trial, and never was the public regaled with a collection of greater
folly! Yet to the lady’s honour be it said, that, bating a few oaths,
which sounded more masculine than tender, the advantage in grammar,
spelling, and style was all in her favour. His Royal Highness’s diction
and learning scarce exceeded that of a cabin-boy, as those eloquent
epistles, existing in print, may testify. Some being penned on board of
ship were literal verification of Lord Dorset’s ballad,--
“To you, fair ladies, now at land
We men at sea do write;
But first would have you understand
How _hard_ ’tis to indite.”
Grievous censure fell on his governor and preceptor, Mr. Legrand and
Mr. Charles, and not less on the Princess herself, so totally had his
education been neglected. He had been locked up with his brother, the
Duke of Gloucester, till the age of twenty-one, and thence had sallied
into a life of brothels and drunkenness, whence the decency of the
elder, and his early connection with Lady Waldegrave, preserved the
Duke of Gloucester. The younger was pert, insolent, senseless, and not
unwillingly brutal. So little care taken of a Prince of the Blood did
but confirm the opinion of the public, that the plan of the Princess,
Lord Bute, and the King had been to keep down and discredit the King’s
brothers as much as possible. The Duke of Cumberland, at least, did
not disappoint the scheme, as will hereafter appear. As a dozen years
afterwards it was evident that no greater care, though with still
more rigorous confinement, had been taken of the morals and style of
the Prince of Wales, who issued from that palace of supposed purity,
the Queen’s house, as if he had been educated in a night-cellar, it
gave but too much ground for suspecting that, undeterred by what had
happened to his brother, the jealousy of his heir had not been less
predominant in the King than it had been in the neglect of his brothers.
Other trials of note there were at that time. Lord Chatham lost a
cause against one of Sir William Pynsent’s relations to the value of
15,000_l_, a sum he could ill spare after his ungovernable waste, and
which but sharpened his appetite for recovery of power.
A criminal trial made more noise. Two Kennedys, young Irishmen, had
been charged with, and one of them had been condemned for, the murder
of a watchman in a drunken riot. They had a handsome sister, who was
kept by two young men of quality. Out of friendship to them, Mr.
George Selwyn had prevailed on six or seven of the jury to make an
affidavit that, if some circumstances, which had really been neglected
by the counsel for the prisoners, had appeared on the trial, they
would not have brought in their verdict murder. Mr. Selwyn applied
for mercy, and the young convict was reprieved; but when the report
was made in Council, Lord Mansfield prevailed to have him ordered for
execution. Mr. Selwyn, whose constant flow of exquisite wit made him
generally acceptable, applied in person to the King, and represented
that Lord Rochford, the Secretary of State, had under his hand assured
the pardon; that such an act had always been deemed pardon, and that
the prisoner had been made acquainted with it. The King immediately
renewed his promise, the criminal was ordered for transportation, and
was actually on board the vessel bound for the plantations, when
Horne, the clergyman, and other discontented persons complained of
the pardon, and not only complained of it to blacken the King, but,
horrible spirit of faction! instigated the watchman’s widow to appeal
against it, which, if sentence should again follow, would bar all
pardon; nor could the King do more than reprieve from time to time.
The woman did prosecute; and the young man was again remanded to
his gaol and terrors, a second punishment, unjustly inflicted; for,
though probably guilty, he had satisfied the law. Nothing, however,
being more difficult than to effectuate such appeal, errors were
continually found, the prisoner was remanded to prison as often as
brought to trial, and the widow at last yielded to a compensation,[104]
notwithstanding the unwearied endeavours of the merciless priest. That
turbulent divine was soon afterwards found guilty himself of defaming
Mr. Onslow, and fined 500_l._ He was one of the principal incendiaries
and promoter of all libels, and, in truth, their excess was shocking,
and in nothing more condemnable than in the dangers they brought on the
liberty of the press, which it was difficult for its warmest friend
to defend. It was in every man’s mouth, that the evil was grown past
sufferance. Every man trembled, expecting, what almost every man
experienced, abuse. The good name, the credit, the character of all
were at the mercy of anonymous malice and a mercenary printer. The
universal language, that abuse was too general to be regarded, was not
an adequate answer. Abuse spreads further than vindication, nor does
it even die by neglect; it takes root in the country and makes lasting
impressions. Two answers, indeed, there were; first, the difficulty of
drawing the line. Ministers are and ought to be lawful game, yet the
law could not except them as proper to be abused. The other was the
spirit of the Court, which aimed at despotism, and the daring attempts
of Lord Mansfield to stifle the liberty of the press, without authority
of the law, and without any new restrictions made by the legislature.
He had, indeed, effected an aggravation of the excess, for his
innovations had given such an alarm, that scarce a jury would find the
rankest satire libellous; and that indemnity encouraged the printers to
go to the most envenomed and unwarrantable lengths, of which, to prove
my impartiality, I will quote some flagrant examples. I have mentioned
the embittered licentiousness of Junius, particularly on the Dukes of
Bedford and Grafton, reproached with misfortunes in their families.
Another paper, containing severe reflections on the latter Duke, was
published, affecting to be written by the Duke of Richmond. A second
paper, attributed, in like manner, to the Duke of Grafton, threatened
to kick the Duke of Richmond,--infamous, though unsuccessful attempts
to excite a duel between those adverse lords!
The other instance, of a blacker, because of a more extensive dye, as
it might have proved, was at least distinguished by the novelty and
singularity of its humour. It was a very ludicrous and ironic satire on
the King of Spain, though many of the facts were borrowed or by mistake
adapted to him from his mad brother, the late King Ferdinand.[105] A
second letter was promised on the King of France; but three French
officers went to the printer and stopped it, by vowing they would
murder him, if any invective against their master should appear. Some
Spaniards were disposed to execute what the French had threatened,
but were with difficulty prevented by their Ambassador, the Prince of
Masserano, who told them they would infallibly be hanged. They said
they could not die in a better cause. That Prince was inexpressibly
hurt, and told our Ministers he did not know how to write the account
to his Court; he wished the insult might not cause a war. This attempt
was the more flagitious, by being calculated to blow into a flame a
quarrel of a serious nature then in agitation between the two Courts.
Despairing faction grounded its last hopes on blood and a rupture
between the two nations.
In the account of Lord Anson’s voyage round the world, there is
dropped a hint that a settlement in the South Sea would be of great
advantage to England in time of war. Lord Egmont, when at the head
of the Admiralty, had adopted that idea, and caused possession to be
taken for us of one of the Falkland Islands, a desolate rock near
the straits of Magellan. According to the received code of European
usurpation, prior occupancy or discovery implies right. To have taken
nominal possession of another country, not before known to any of us
invaders, constitutes property among Christian potentates, or robbers,
and by that piratic jurisprudence, the Falkland Islands belonged to,
though abandoned by, Spain. Our breach of this iniquitous seniority of
claim was highly resented by the King of Spain, personally a hater of
England ever since he had trembled before our navies, when only King of
Naples, and had been humbled in the last war. The Governor of Buenos
Ayres, within whose district lay the desert in question, was ordered
(underhand) to dispossess us, and did. That intention had been known
to our Administration some months before the Duke of Grafton quitted
the reins; but, according to his custom, he had neglected the notice,
or, with equal indifference, had intended to slubber over the quarrel
in tame conferences with the Spanish ambassador here; and there the
affair had dozed, till the “Favourite” sloop, arriving in the month of
June, brought advice that our colony had been expelled from the island,
and, by rousing the nation, awakened the Administration. Whether we had
been the aggressors or not, was not a consideration to have weight with
the people, much less with Opposition. Nothing was in the mouths of
either but the insult; and whatever the Ministers thought, or whatever
they proposed to bear, it was not openly that they dared to talk any
language but war, or at least resentment. Orders were given to fit out
fleets and to impress men, and a messenger set off for Madrid to demand
immediate restitution of the island. The answer was very indefinite,
and too unsatisfactory to bear publication. A categoric answer was then
said to be demanded, but no such answer arrived. France talked peace;
her finances were greatly in disorder; we trusted to their language or
their situation; Spain behaved as depending on their support, or as
resolved to extort it; but I must not too much anticipate events. A
fire in the magazines at Portsmouth, to a considerable amount, and the
authors of which were not discovered, was imputed rather to our friends
the French than to Spain our enemy, and looked like a return for a
discovery the former had made of some such design from hence. A young
Irish officer of some birth, Gordon by name, who had fled for a duel,
had been beheaded at Brest, and had been proved to have been in the pay
of our Ambassador, Lord Harcourt.
Wilkes still kept up a flame: he was chosen Master of the Joiner’s
Company, procured a remonstrance from the county of Surrey, and Richard
Oliver, an unknown young citizen, but a member of the Bill of Rights,
was chosen unanimously to represent the City of London in the room of
Beckford. Eyre, the Recorder, an able man and spirited, offended the
City by refusing to attend their remonstrance, which he affirmed was a
libel. All the prejudice they could do to him was to refuse to consult
him on points of law, by which he lost about 200_l._ a year.[106] They
had a longer contest with the Adams, Scottish brethren and architects,
who had bought Durham Yard, and erected a large pile of building with
dwellings and warehouses, under the affected name of the Adelphi. These
men, of great taste in their profession, were attached particularly
to Lord Bute and Lord Mansfield, and thus by public and private
nationality, zealous politicians. The citizens, on whose rights over
the river they had encroached, went to law with them, and applied to
Parliament, where Court partiality on one side, and party malice on the
other, considered nothing but their several prejudices: the influence
of the Crown decided, accordingly, in favour of the Adams. But the
circumstance which makes that contest history, was, its giving date to
a new subdivision of factions. Debates for and against the Adams had
run very high amongst the Aldermen and Common Council. Their speeches,
or rather their personal abuse, were printed in the public parades with
the parade of Parliamentary orations. Alderman Harley said, he rejoiced
at any disgrace that fell on the City; and that the Aldermen had been
very indulgent to suffer Wilkes to stand candidate for the City when
he was outlawed. Wilkes with equal modesty replied, that in so doing
they had acted very illegally. But the person who took the lead in
those wrangles was Alderman Townshend, the agent of Lord Shelburne,
who, it now came out, was tampering to wrest the City out of Wilkes’s
hands. He had even gained over Parson Horne, the publisher of those
vulgar debates; and who, to serve his new friends, constantly gave the
advantage to Townshend over Wilkes,--sources of a quarrel that blazed
much higher afterwards, and ruined the Opposition in the City.
The Court, as if to balance the advantages they reaped by the feuds in
the Opposition, gave a new handle to clamour by raising their desperate
tool, Colonel Lutterell, to be Adjutant-General in Ireland, obliging
Colonel Cunningham, who had distinguished himself by restoring the
discipline and model of the Irish army, to exchange that post for a
government which they forced from Colonel Gisburne for a large pension,
and the promise of the next good government. Cunningham abandoned them
the next year in their distress. The gratitude of the Lutterells was
of another kind, and will have its place.[107] The Middlesex election
was still the favourite grievance. A meeting of the freeholders of
Yorkshire was advertized, in order to remonstrate, for the 26th of
August, but the High Sheriff refused to summon the county; on which
Lord John Cavendish and twenty-seven more, advertized a meeting for
the 25th of September. When that day arrived, Charles Turner proposed
a new remonstrance; but to the surprise of the most zealous, Sir
George Saville talked with much moderation; and Lord John occasioned
greater astonishment by advising the assembly to expect, by decency,
redress from the King. The assembly, not knowing how to decipher that
change of language, broke up perplexed, and content with thanking their
representatives, Sir George Saville and Lascelles.
The key to this mystery, never publicly divulged, was, that Lord
Mansfield had opened a negotiation with Lord Rockingham, whose aunt
he had married, and the Court had offered to make sacrifices of two
or three of its most specious friends: but as the Marquis, who had
come to town on purpose to conclude the bargain, found it by no means
intended to reinstate him in the first place, the treaty broke off,
after the leaders had shown how ready both sides were to give up their
second-rate friends.
While discord and interest thus tore in pieces the Opposition, fate was
preparing to deprive them of their most important centurians. Beckford
was already gone. The next was the Marquis of Granby, the idol of the
army and of the populace. He died at Scarborough, October 20th: in so
few months did Lord Chatham lose his tribune and his General, and was
reduced to his ill-content friend, Chancellor Camden, his ill-connected
brother, Lord Temple, and his worse-reconciled brother, Mr. Grenville!
Were there any reality in the idea that noble blood diffuses an
air of superior excellence over the outward form, and refines the
qualities of the mind; and were that idea not refuted by the majority
of examples to the contrary, Lord Granby would have appeared a shining
instance of both effects. His large and open countenance, its manly
and pure colours glowing with health, his robust and commanding
person, and a proportion of florid beauty so great, that the baldness
of his head, which he carried totally bare, was rather an addition to
its comely roundness than a defect, and a singularity more than an
affectation,--all distinguished him without any extrinsic ornament,
and pointed out his rank when he walked without attendance, and was
mixed with the lowest people, who followed him to beg his charity,
or to bless him for it. His mind was as rich in the qualities that
became his elevated situation. Intrepidity, sincerity, humanity,
and generosity, were not only innate in his breast, but were never
corrupted there. His courage and his tenderness were never disunited.
He was dauntless on every occasion, but when it was necessary to
surmount his bashfulness. His nerves trembled like a woman’s, when it
was requisite that he should speak in public. His modesty was incapable
of ostentation.[108] His rank, his services, and the idolatry of the
people could inspire him with no pride,--a sensation his nature knew
not. Of money he seemed to conceive no use but in giving it away: but
that profusion was so indiscriminate, that compassion or solicitation,
and consequently imposture, were equally the masters of his purse. Thus
his benevolence checked itself, and wasted on unworthy objects the sums
he often wanted to bestow on real distress.[109] Nor was it less fatal
to his own honour, but plunged him in difficulties from which some
discretion in his bounty would have secured him. As his understanding
was by no means proportioned to his virtues, he was always obnoxious to
the interested designs of those who governed him; and between his own
want of judgment and the ascendant of those who hampered him in their
toils, by supplying his necessities with money at exorbitant interest,
he was bought and sold by successive Administrations and different
parties; and generally, when the former fell, he abandoned those he
had attached himself and been obliged to, and lent himself to measures
which his principles disapproved, and then reverted to those principles
against his inclination. No man meant to feel more patriotism, or to
be more warmly attached to the constitution of his country; yet his
unsuspicious nature suffered him to be easily made the tool of its
enemies; and when he sacrificed his darling command of the army in a
convulsion of integrity, he neither acted with grace nor firmness, nor
showed a knowledge of the question for which he devoted himself, nor
made the stand so soon as he ought to have done; and, what was worse,
he was forced upon the step he took unwillingly by a man[110] who had
not the reputation of common honesty, or pretended to be actuated by
any principle but self-interest and revenge.
In an age more simple, Lord Granby had been a perfect hero. In a rude
age he would probably have been a successful general from his own
valour, and the enthusiasm of attachment which his soldiers felt for
him; but in times wherein military knowledge is so much improved, it
was perhaps fortunate for his country that the sole command was never
entrusted to him on any capital emergency. Yet they must have been the
many solid virtues which he possessed, that could make him so greatly
respected in a corrupt age, when talents are more esteemed than merit,
or when hypocrisy alone runs away with the character and rewards of
virtue.
His domestic qualities were all of the amiable kind. His only
remarkable vice proved fatal to him: his constant excesses in wine
inflamed his sanguine complexion, hurrying him out of the world at
forty-nine!
The regiment of Blue Guards, vacant by Lord Granby’s death, was
immediately given to General Conway. Lord Holland, when acting
Minister in the House of Commons, had carried a positive promise of
that regiment, on the first vacancy, to the Duke of Richmond. The
Duke, who did not expect that engagement would be kept to him, now in
earnest opposition, wrote an artfully handsome letter to the King to
release him from that promise; but his Majesty had violated it before
he received the Duke’s dispensation, and made no answer.[111] The
Duke was not less hurt at Conway’s accepting the place, knowing it
had been promised to his Grace. Conway pleaded having had no notion
that the Duke thought of it, now he was so fixed in opposition. The
Duke owned he had not expected it; but asked Conway a distressing
question,--whether he had had more friendship for Lord Granby, for
whose sake he would not accept the Ordnance, which Lord Granby had
resigned, than for him, who was his son-in-law and intimate friend;
yet Lord Granby had resigned it, which made a difference--and Conway,
who was fonder of applause than money, thought it would be popular
to refuse Lord Granby’s spoils. The King was probably not sorry to
occasion a jealousy between the Duke and Conway; but I reconciled them.
The Duke for years resented the King’s breach of his word; and though
he paid his duty to the Queen, he constantly left the drawing-room
without approaching the King. The fluctuation of parties in 1783 and
1784 brought them together again; but though the Duke grew a zealous
courtier, contrary to his many warm declarations, the King, who had
given the offence, was not so cordially reconciled; and though he
always embraced an enemy to expose him, his alacrity was as great in
sacrificing him on the first opportunity.
On the 27th of October, the Princess of Wales and the Duke of
Gloucester returned from Germany. They travelled all night and arrived
very early in London, to prevent her Royal Highness receiving any
insults from the populace.
The preparatives for war and the want of men occasioned orders being
given for pressing. Wilkes, as the patron of liberty, declared against
that practice as illegal; and, as sitting Alderman, dismissed a man
who had been impressed within the liberties of the City. Sawbridge
did the like; yet the latter was by no means attached to Wilkes,
nor led by him. The strictness of Sawbridge’s principles and the
insinuations of his comrade Townshend, had made him look with aversion
on the profligacy of Wilkes. They publicly disagreed at a numerous
and tumultuous meeting of the lowest inhabitants of Westminster,
assembled by invitation in the Hall, where Wilkes read a Paper to them
calculated to promote an impeachment of Lord North for the neglect of
the Falkland Islands, for advising the measures taken on the Middlesex
election, and for the contempt into which the nation was fallen with
foreign countries. The paper recommended to advise his Majesty to
remove all his Ministers, particularly Lord Mansfield, and to admit no
Scot into Administration. It proposed laws for empowering electors to
choose any man without regard to any sentence passed on him for any
crime whatsoever; and for prohibiting general warrants being issued,
even for recruiting the army and navy; and other laws to allow an
additional witness to be brought to convict a man, though acquitted by
a jury or pardoned by a Court! The extravagant injustice and folly of
the two last propositions, and the latitude and impracticability of
the rest, wore evident marks of absurdity and despair: and the three
first heads could by no means be applicable to Lord North, the two
first having happened in the Duke of Grafton’s Administration; and the
contempt conceived for us by foreigners being the result of Lord Bute’s
peace, of the distracted and fluctuating counsels of the Court, and of
repeated changes of contradictory Administrations. One More then called
out, desiring to have the paper read again, most of the audience, he
said, not having heard distinctly the particulars, and being averse to
vote for what they had not heard. Having a loud voice, More himself
was desired to read the paper, which he did, and disputed with Wilkes
on many articles of it. Sawbridge, too, opposed the insertion of the
contents into a memorial, because in so venal a Parliament Lord North
would be sure of an acquittal, which would only do him service (and in
truth it was evident that Lord North was only attacked as Minister for
the time being). Sawbridge therefore proposed another remonstrance to
the King, which was agreed, and was confined almost to the Middlesex
election. It was signed by Wilkes as chairman of the assembly, and
presented to the King on the 7th of November by Sir Robert Bernard, who
would not kneel when he delivered it. Wilkes published an enthusiastic
account of the above meeting, professing he believed that the voice of
the people was the voice of God.
This unprosperous state of the Opposition was very favourable to the
Ministry, especially to Lord North, who wished to avoid a war with
Spain; nor was the unprejudiced part of the nation at all eager for
war. The Rockingham party called for it to embarrass the Government,
and the patriots in the City meant to clog the operations of it. In
this situation no answer being arrived from Spain, and the Session
of Parliament being ready to open, it seemed extraordinary that Lord
North, possessed of so much power, did not put off the meeting, which
was fixed for the 13th of November, as it was possible a definitive
answer might arrive on the 10th, and leave but three days to determine
on peace or war.[112] Lord North said he had two speeches ready
for the King, either a martial or a pacific one--but was that a
justification? or indeed was it prudent to leave so little time for
option? The fact, I believe, was, that he was duped both at home and
abroad. Francés, the French _Chargé-d’affaires_, persuaded him that
the Duc de Choiseul was intensely bent on preserving peace--a point
on which I shall say more hereafter. On the other hand, the most
mysterious, and indeed suspicious, conduct was held by Lord Weymouth
and his governor Wood, who communicated as little as possible of the
negotiation to Lord North. This conduct requires both a detail and a
comment.
Not only to Lord North was Lord Weymouth reserved and incommunicative;
not only to Francés would he give no opening; but to Robert Walpole,
Secretary to the Embassy at Paris (whence Lord Harcourt was absent),
his dispatches were so mysterious and inexplicit, that Thomas Walpole
advised his brother to send them back, or come away. Every letter
began with directions not to admit the French as _mediators_, but only
as friends. This was proper; but the caution was so great and the
repetitions so frequent, that it looked more like fear of the letters
being called for by Parliament, than dignity inspired by national
honour. It was understood so little in the latter light by the Duc
de Choiseul, that he said to Thomas Walpole, then at Paris, “Milord
Weymouth ne parle point, et Milord Rochfort parle trop.” The latter
was a weak man, zealous against France, and obnoxious to Choiseul,
who, made impatient by Lord Weymouth’s dilatory darkness, and apprised
of Lord North’s pacific disposition, said at last to Robert Walpole,
“Votre Ministère ne veut pas faire la guerre, et ne sait pas faire la
paix.” Wood came under bad suspicions, and, I believe, very deservedly,
on this enigmatic conduct, to which many motives concurred. His ideas
were by no means ready, though in writing he had the art of elucidating
them beautifully. He was full of guile, dark, and interested. His
patrons, Lord Weymouth and Lord Gower, were impatient to overturn Lord
North, and share or scramble for his power; and Wood, though willing
to promote their views, had certainly a farther view of his own. He
was impressed with a notion that war with Spain was unavoidable; and
concluded that his ancient master, Lord Chatham, would be called out
by the nation to manage that war--at least, on the first check given
to our arms. This he inadvertently dropped; and the irregularities
of Lord Weymouth’s subsequent conduct confirmed the opinion that
Wood was not unwilling to purchase his pardon of Lord Chatham, by
the sacrifice of Lord North, and by the treachery of Lord Weymouth.
Nor was this the most culpable part of Wood’s conduct. Francés,
who trafficked deeply in our stocks, as they fluctuated during the
vicissitudes of the negotiation, discovered Wood in the same path, and
playing with the transactions as it suited his moneyed views. This
Francés communicated to many, and, I believe, to Lord North, of whose
honour he spoke highly, and vaunting that he himself could conclude
the peace in a day’s time, if not traversed by Wood; for whatever were
Choiseul’s views, Francés acted with seeming passion for pushing on the
negotiation. France was, indeed, ill prepared for war. The very war
which Choiseul had conjured up between Russia and Constantinople had
fallen heavily on the French trade to the Levant, where the Russians
had obtained a signal naval victory, to the demolition of the Turkish
fleet, and where they paid little regard to the merchantmen of France.
In this suspense, the courier not being returned from Spain, the
Parliament met; but first must be mentioned two memorable events.
About four days before the opening of the Houses, Lord Mansfield,
Speaker of the Lords, acquainted the King with his intention of
quitting that post. As there was so little time for supplying his
place, both the King and Lord North were grievously offended with
him;[113] but to the public it was matter of triumph and ridicule,
pusillanimity being the sole reason of his abandoning so lucrative a
post. Lord Chatham had sent him word, that he would inquire into and
complain of the administration of justice in this country, four of the
judges being become dependent on the Court--his Lordship as Speaker of
the House of Lords, and three of the others as Commissioners of the
Great Seal. The panic occasioned by that threat operated so strongly,
that the King was obliged to determine on the Attorney-General for Lord
Keeper; but as his health would not allow him to officiate immediately,
Lord Mansfield, hoping that he had deprecated the thunder by publishing
his intended resignation, consented to act for a few days; and by
degrees recovering his abject spirits, was reconciled by the sweetness
of the profit, and remained Speaker.
The second event hinted at, was the death of Mr. George Grenville. He
had been dangerously ill in the summer, had recovered in some degree,
relapsed, and had been brought to town in October for advice, where he
soon fell into a desperate state, followed by a delirium that lasted
to his death, which happened the very morning the Parliament met. His
body being opened, his case appeared most singularly uncommon: his ribs
were carious or quite worn away, and his skull as thin as paper. This
extraordinary malady was imputed to a disorder in his blood, which had
penetrated to the blood-vessels of his bones, and had corroded them.
Mr. Grenville was, confessedly, the ablest man of business in the House
of Commons, and, though not popular, of great authority there from his
spirit, knowledge, and gravity of character.[114] His faults, however,
had been capital, and to himself most afflicting. His injudicious Stamp
Act had exposed us to the risk of seeing all our Colonies revolt; and
his resentment of the repeal had prevented him from ever forgiving
Lord Chatham and Lord Rockingham, a sincere junction with whom might
have driven the Court to restore him to power. His rash and ungrateful
provocation of the Favourite, his indecently taking part with the
Bedfords in their violent insult to the Princess on the Regency Bill,
his forcing the King to break his word and turn out Mr. Mackenzie,
and his silly parsimony in stinting the King’s expense in trifles,
were crimes that had never been forgiven--the King, the Princess, and
the Favourite being as weak in not pardoning him, as he had been in
offending. No man would have seconded their views with more resolution
or a more vindictive spirit. This was well-known to Lord Mansfield,
who had constantly aimed at the restitution of Grenville, and whose
recent panic had been increased by the prospect of Grenville’s death,
having probably been privy to, if not the mediator of, a secret treaty
that came out after Grenville expired. The latter, in short, had made
his peace with Lord North, and was ready to accept almost any place.
A new coldness that appeared between Lord Chatham and Lord Temple was
no doubt owing to this transaction, Grenville depending too much on
his brother for the reversion of the family estate to have dared to
treat with the Court, unless secure of Lord Temple’s sanction. That
coldness, however, was laid on the private affairs of the family. A
panegyric immediately pronounced by Lord North on Grenville on the
day of his death--a promise made, and soon performed, of taking care
of Whateley, his secretary--the revolt of Lord Suffolk and Lord Hyde
(Grenville’s intimate friends) to the Court--their ensuing preferments,
and the accession of almost all his faction to the majority, to the
absolute dereliction, not only of Lord Chatham, but of Lord Temple,
confirmed the negotiation--at least, proved how secure Lord North had
been of Grenville’s concurrence. To Lord Temple’s factious ambition
his brother’s death was fatal. He could not command a vote in either
House, nor could avoid the part he took of declaring his intention
of abandoning politics. Lord Chatham was left almost as destitute of
followers; and Lord Rockingham, his competitor Grenville being removed,
now depended on being named to the Treasury, should Lord Chatham ever
recover power: but Grenville’s death was no step to the success of the
Opposition.