Birth of the Prince of Wales.--Treasure of the Hermione.--Conquest
of the Havannah.--Indifference of the Court on that event.--
Negotiations for Peace.--Not popular in England.--Reception in
France of the Duke of Bedford.--The Duc de Nivernois.--Beckford
elected Lord Mayor.--Duel between Lord Talbot and Wilkes.--Lord
Bute’s Delegates in the House of Commons.--Grenville and Lord
Bute.--Union of Lord Bute and Fox.--The latter reproached by the
Duke of Cumberland.--Lord Waldegrave and the Duke of Devonshire
decline the proposal of Fox.--Disgust at the union of Bute and
Fox.--Purchase of a majority to approve the Peace.--Fox’s revenge
against the Duke of Devonshire.--The King and the Marquis of
Rockingham.--Further severity to the Duke of Devonshire.
On the 12th of August, the Queen was delivered of a Prince of Wales;
and the same morning the treasure of that capital prize, the Hermione,
arrived in town in many waggons, and passed through the City to the
Tower. The sum taken amounted to near eight hundred thousand pounds.
In the beginning of the following month came the first news from the
Havannah; and before the end of it we learned the entire conquest
of that important place by the three Keppels,[238]--the Earl of
Albemarle, the Commodore and the Colonel his brothers. The honour they
won was a little soiled by their rapaciousness and by our great loss
of men: but to Spain the blow was of the deepest consequence, and the
place irrecoverable by any force they could exert. Yet such a victory
seemed to infuse as little joy into the Court of St. James’s as into
that of Madrid. The Favourite and his creatures took no part in the
transports of the nation; and, when he declined availing himself of any
merit from the conquest, it was plain he was grieved either to have
more to restore at the peace, or less reason for making that peace but
on the most advantageous terms: but he was infatuated, and, breaking
through all the barriers of glory, he sent the Duke of Bedford to Paris
to settle the preliminaries, whence the Duc de Nivernois arrived for
the same purpose.
Sullen and silent as Mr. Pitt was, and feeble and impotent as the
faction of Newcastle, still the City and merchants showed some symptoms
of indignation at this obstinate alacrity for treating. The Duke of
Bedford was hissed as he passed through the principal streets; and
treasonable papers were dispersed in the villages round London. But
in France the Duke was received as their guardian angel. The most
distinguished and unusual honours were paid to him; and the principal
magistrate of Calais, thinking him descended from the other John Duke
of Bedford, brother of Henry the Fifth, complimented his Grace (and
no doubt felicitated himself on the comparison) on seeing him arrive
with as salutary and pacific, as his great ancestor had formerly landed
there with hostile intentions.
His counterpart, the Duc de Nivernois, had been long employed in
negotiations at Rome and Berlin, but had not the good fortune to please
at the latter Court, where the King even turned into ridicule his
puny and emaciated little figure. His ill-health, the titles that had
centred in his person, and had filled him with vanity (for he was Peer
of France, Prince of the Empire, Grandee of Spain, and a Roman Baron),
and his affection for polite learning, had disposed him to live in a
retired circle of humble admirers, to whom he almost daily repeated
his works both in prose and verse; but not without having attempted to
soar higher. He had assumed devotion, in hopes of being Governor to
the Dauphin: but, except in concluding the peace, which, considering
our eagerness, he could not avoid concluding, he had never met with
brilliant success in any of his pursuits; being, as the celebrated
Madame Geoffrin[239] said of him, “Guerrier manqué, politique manqué,
bel esprit manqué, enfin manqué partout.” To England he bore no
good-will: and though, till the treaty was signed, he concealed, as
much as peevishness would let him, the disgust he took to this country,
and was profuse in attentions to all, and in assiduity of court to
the Favourite and his faction, yet, though he remained here a very
little time after the signature, his nature broke forth, and scarce
was enough good-breeding left to skin over the sore reluctance of a
momentary stay.[240]
The nation was far less impatient than the Court for peace; and, though
no great burst of spirit appeared against it, there were sufficient
symptoms of ill-humour to warn the prime minister, that, without
redoubling his industry and taking more solid measures, he might
still be foiled in the attempt of forcing an inglorious peace on the
nation. Beckford, who had been desirous of resigning his alderman’s
gown, was, against his will, elected Lord Mayor; a mark of their
good-will to his friend, Mr. Pitt. The North Briton spread the alarm
as much as possible; but the flippancy of the author began to draw
storms on his own head. Wilkes having in one of those papers ridiculed
the flattery of Lord Talbot, who, officiating as Lord High Constable
at the Coronation, had endeavoured to back his horse to the gate of
Westminster Hall, that he might not turn his own back on the King, was
challenged by Lord Talbot; and after a series of letters, which had
more the air of a treaty than a defiance, and consequently reflected no
great honour on either, they fought a bloodless duel on Bagshot Heath.
These little rubs having alarmed the Favourite, he began to consider
how ill-qualified his delegates would be to support his treaty in the
House of Commons, if either warmly or wittily attacked. It was too
precious a cause to trust to Sir Francis Dashwood. Grenville had not
much more credit, though more sense and gravity; but was tedious and
ill-heard, and had been trained to such obsequious deference for Mr.
Pitt, that at that time no man thought him likely or proper to be
opposed to so capital a master. Grenville was besides unsatisfied; and,
aiming higher, had been unwilling to risk an appearance of honesty
when it was not in his own cause. He had neglected to traffic with the
members of the House of Commons; had secured none of them; and, being
pressed by Lord Bute on that head, fairly owned he would not deal with
them, unless the power was his own, and their dependence rested on
him. Lord Bute was startled, and would have compromised, as himself
was unacquainted with the men, that the recommendation of members to
favour,--that is, to places and pensions,--should be made through
Grenville to himself. But Grenville was obstinate, and soon had cause
to repent both his frankness and perverse ambition. It was instilled
too into Lord Bute, that Grenville was not so much at variance with
his family as he wished to be thought--an imputation of which he soon
appeared to be guiltless: but the die was cast; and he heard with
unspeakable astonishment, and with a rage not to be described, that he
must exchange with Lord Halifax, that is, return to be First Lord of
the Admiralty, and quit the seals, and with them the management of the
House of Commons, which Mr. Fox had consented to undertake. The blow to
Grenville was grievous, but could not be avoided or resented--_then_.
No retreat towards his brothers Pitt and Temple was left him. Avarice
decided the conflict, and he submitted to accept the Admiralty.
When Fox thus stooped to be the Favourite’s agent, he gratified many
more passions than he could be supposed to mortify. In truth, except
his pride, which had seldom restrained him, what views could he have
but this step would gratify? To ravish the glories of the war from
his rival Mr. Pitt, to sacrifice them, and to be selected to defend
that sacrifice, glutted his spirit of competition. Favourite he could
not be, for the Princess[241] hated, and Lord Bute feared him: but
to be necessary to both was worth ambition, and the surest means of
gratifying it; and to be master of the secret of the negotiation
promised that superabundance of wealth, which by that secret he
acquired. Should he succeed in carrying through the peace, he would
have the first weight in the House of Commons (for what harmony there
was between these _rival friends_ may readily be conjectured); should
he fail, it were but the loss of the Paymaster’s place, inconsiderable
in peace compared with its produce in time of war: for it must be noted
that he would not accept the seals, and thus stood in no responsible
light; a strain of prudence that might have administered alarm to the
Favourite himself!
Thus in the space of four months were the Princess and Lord Bute by
their rash and ill-digested measures reduced to lean for support
on Fox, whom they had most dreaded as the minister of the Duke of
Cumberland; and who would add his own unpopularity to that of Lord
Bute, and would necessarily determine Pitt to oppose with increased
resentment.
Fox had embraced this invitation with such alacrity that he had signed
the treaty with Lord Bute without consulting any of his friends;
concluding, as over-refined politicians are apt to do, that he could
bring them to his lure, and, while he paid too high compliments to
his own abilities, setting too slight estimation on theirs. His first
application was to the Duke of Cumberland. That haughty and sensible
Prince received him with scorn, reproached him warmly with lending
himself to support a tottering administration, and bitterly with his
former declarations of having given up all ambitious views. The next
trial made by Fox was on Lord Waldegrave,[242] to whom he urged that
his Lordship had so much ridiculed the Princess and Lord Bute, that
they had more to complain of than he had; and he endeavoured to enclose
the Earl in his treaty with the Court, by asking him, if it should be
proposed to call his Lordship to the Cabinet Council, whether he should
like it? The Earl, who had been bred a courtier, who was of too gentle
manners for opposition, and too shrewd not to see that the power of the
Crown was predominant, desired time to consider, and went to Windsor
to consult the Duke of Cumberland. His Royal Highness acknowledged the
attention with many thanks, but would give no advice. The Earl, who
wanted not to be told, that not advising him to make his court when he
was disposed to do it, was advising him against it, was not courtier
enough to quit a Prince, his friend, for a Court that he himself
despised and hated; and immediately wrote to Fox to desire the proposal
might not be made to him. The Duke of Devonshire[243] was in like
manner endeavoured to be softened by Fox, who wished to wear the credit
of reconciling his own friends to the peace, and bringing their support
to the administration. But here again he was foiled. The Duke gave him
a civil answer, assured him of his personal good wishes, but declined
any connection with him as minister.
Abandoned by his highest and most showy friends, Fox felt the
mortification of discredit both with his patron and the public, and
the keenest appetite for revenge. As a politician, his credit was
saved by his industry and success; and by his arts his vengeance was
soon gratified on two of those that thus cast him off. But now were
the seeds sown, which, though slowly, produced such bitter crops in
subsequent years. Detested by the public, Fox could never recover from
the stain contracted at this period:--but first we must relate his
triumph, and the temporary victory he gained for the Court.
Nothing was so unpromising as the prospect of the new system at first.
All the devotion of the Tories to the Court could not reconcile them
to the nomination of Fox. They knew the mischief he had done them,
and had not the quickness to see that a renegade is tied to make
satisfaction by greater benefits. Lord Mansfield, not trusted, as he
had expected to be, by Lord Bute, had blown up discontents against the
peace. Lord Egremont and George Grenville had adopted those doubts;
and doubts from men in high place convey extensive influence. Had the
peace been instantaneously proposed to the House of Commons, there is
no question but it would have been rejected; so strong a disgust was
taken at the union of Bute and Fox, and so numerous were their several
personal enemies. Yet in one respect Bute had chosen judiciously: Fox
was not to be daunted, but set himself to work at the root. He even
made applications to Newcastle; but the Duke of Cumberland[244] had
inspired even Newcastle and Devonshire with resolution! This, however,
was the last miscarriage of moment that Fox experienced. Leaving
the grandees to their ill-humour, he directly attacked the separate
members of the House of Commons; and with so little decorum on the
part of either buyer or seller, that a shop was publicly opened at
the Pay-office, whither the members flocked, and received the wages
of their venality in bank-bills, even to so low a sum as two hundred
pounds for their votes on the treaty. Twenty-five thousand pounds, as
Martin,[245] Secretary of the Treasury, afterwards owned, were issued
in one morning; and in a single fortnight a vast majority was purchased
to approve the peace!
Bad as that peace proved, it was near being concluded on terms still
more disadvantageous; for France, receiving earlier intelligence than
we did of the capture of the Havannah, had near prevailed on the Duke
of Bedford to sign the treaty,--but Aldworth,[246] his secretary, had
the prudence or foresight to prevent that precipitate step.[247]
The Court having secured the obedience of Parliament, it was determined
to assume a high tone of authority; to awe, and even to punish the
refractory. “The King, it was given out, _would_ be King,--would _not_
be dictated to by his ministers, as his grandfather had been. The
prerogative was to shine out: great lords must be humbled.” Fox--whose
language ever was, that the Crown must predominate whenever it would
exert its influence--warmly upheld the doctrine of rewards and
punishments; and, having employed the former with so much success, he
was rejoiced to inflict the latter to glut his own vengeance. The first
fruit of these councils struck mankind with astonishment. The Duke of
Devonshire, who had kept himself in the country, coming to town on the
28th of October, went to pay his duty to the King, and, as is customary
with the great officers, went to the backstairs, whence he sent the
page in waiting to acquaint his Majesty with his attendance. “Tell
him,” said the King angrily, “I will not see him.” The page, amazed,
hesitated. The King ordered him to go and deliver those very words. If
the page had been thunderstruck, it may be imagined what the Duke felt.
He had, however, the presence of mind to send in the page again to ask
what he should do with his key of Lord Chamberlain. The reply was,
“Orders will be given for that.” The Duke went home with a heart full
of rage, and tore off his key, which immediately after he carried to
Lord Egremont, the Secretary of State; and the next morning his brother
Lord George Cavendish, and Lord Besborough[248] his brother-in-law,
resigned their places. As the Court urged that the Duke’s disgrace
was owing to his refusal of attending Councils, his Grace’s friends
pleaded that he had asked and obtained the King’s leave not to attend
them, as he seldom had attended them even in the late reign; and
that, his summons having been made by a commis in Lord Egremont’s
office, the Duke did not think that such a message interfered with his
dispensation. Some said there had been no intention to dismiss the
Duke; attributing the affront to a sudden start of passion in the King,
who, coming from Richmond that morning, had met the Dukes of Devonshire
and Newcastle together in a chariot, whence suspecting a Cabal, he
had gone home in anger, and, at the moment the Duke arrived at St.
James’s, was writing to Lord Bute that _now was the time_; words
which proved at least that the Duke’s disgrace had been meditated,
and which in truth nobody doubted. The Princess had more than once
termed him ironically _the Prince of the Whigs_; and his Grace having
dared to desert from Fox’s banner, left no doubt of the latter having
contributed to irritate the prejudice already conceived. Nor could Fox
wipe off the suspicion: though, as soon as the affront was known, he
had hurried to Devonshire House,[249] and protested his utter ignorance
of any such design. The Duke received him coolly, did not pretend to
believe him; and his family never forgave it.
The fairness of the Duke’s character, his decent and timid caution,
and the high rank in which he stood with the party, made the measure
much wondered at; yet it was far from producing such open offence
as might have been expected, nor did the consequences spread. The
Marquis of Rockingham, five days afterwards, resigned the Bedchamber;
but, offering to explain his disgusts, the King with much haughtiness
refused to hear him--another strain of authority much vaunted, and not
without effect. The Peerage itself kissed the rod, which was declared
to be held out to humble them. Nor did they take the alarm, though the
rigour towards the Duke of Devonshire was prosecuted farther; for, a
Privy Council being summoned November the 3rd, the King ordered the
Duke’s name to be struck out of the Council-book: a severity of which
there had been no precedent in the last reign but in the cases of
Lord Bath and Lord George Sackville; the first, in open and virulent
opposition; the second on his ignominious sentence after the battle
of Minden. John Duke of Argyle,[250] when his regiment was taken from
him, was not thus affronted; nor had George the First refused to admit
Lord Oxford[251] to kiss his hand on the Queen’s death, nor denied an
audience to the Earl Marichal[252] involved in Jacobitism.