have worked himself up to a pitch of frenzy; throughout, to be swayed by intolerable vanity.453 The blow to Guerchy was heavy and cruel; and scarcely less mortifying to the Duc de Nivernois. Praslin, a hard, unfeeling man, took it with implacable resentment; and yet, in one respect, acted sensibly and honourably: instead of ruining St. Foix, the person whose letters D’Eon had, unprovoked and wickedly, disclosed, he was preferred, and never suffered any marks of his master’s displeasure. Every possible attention was employed here to console M. de Guerchy, and to prevent his thinking that he was lowered in the public esteem; but was it, alas! possible he could believe so? The other foreign Ministers demanded satisfaction for so gross an insult on one of their order; and the Court was willing enough to grant any reparation in its power. But what reparation could it make proportioned to the offence? All it could, it did. The Attorney-General was ordered to file an information against D’Eon for a libel.
The imbecility of the Opposition, notwithstanding the large accession to their numbers on the question of the warrants, had left the Ministry in possession of full power. The sense of the nation had in vain appeared to be averse to them. It still continued so, wherever its genuine voice could be heard: and never more than on the following occasion. The death of the Earl of Hardwicke had left open the honour of High Steward in the University of Cambridge. Lord Sandwich, on the prospect of that event, had declared himself a candidate for that office, though attended with neither salary nor power. Lord Royston, son of the deceased and now Earl of Hardwicke, was his competitor. Ambitious industry was never exerted so indefatigably as by Sandwich on this occasion. There was not a corner of England, nay, not the Isle of Man, unransacked by him for votes. He ferreted out the mad, the lame, the diseased, from their poor retreats, and imported them into the University. Letters on letters were written, and fawning applications made to all who could influence a vote of any country clergyman. Lord Hardwicke, on the other hand, was cold, proud, and void of generosity.454 With the clergy, indeed, he had much connection: and, being a man of no vice, and by poring over historic MSS., supposed to be learned, he seemed adapted to fill a nominal charge in a society that is expected to be devout and studious. At least, the profligacy of Sandwich could not but be unsuitable to them, whether they had the reality, or only the semblance of religion and learning. When the day of election came on, the votes appeared to be equal, though each side pretended to have a majority of one. Great altercations ensued, and the meeting broke up in confusion; on which recourse was had to common law, where, after many months, a decision was pronounced in favour of Lord Hardwicke. Many instances appeared of bribery practised by Lord Sandwich; who, besides being rejected, experienced many insults and indignities. The under-graduates who, having no votes, had not been courted by him, were riotous, and hissed his chief agents: and when he went to the University in the month following, and dined in the hall of Trinity College, they marked their abhorrence of him by quitting the hall, and refusing to dine with him! Young Thomas Pitt,455 and Frederick Montagu,456 Sandwich’s own cousin, who had gone down to support him, were so disgusted with his practices, and with the factious confusion he had caused in the University, that they declared they would assist his cause no longer. When the former told him he would ruin the University, he replied, “That would be nothing to him: it would be the better for Oxford.” Yet himself had been bred at Cambridge—but Oxford was cherished by the Court.
On the 12th of April came on the election of East India Directors, when Sullivan’s list was chosen, though Clive had the support not only of the Administration, but of the Duke of Devonshire.457 Sullivan himself was elected by a majority of but one vote. He thought that in the new Direction he had twelve votes to ten; but before the day of their balloting for their chairman, Lord Clive had bought off one of them. When the election came on, Sullivan desired to be named without being obliged to submit to a ballot, at the same time cajoling the other party with great professions to Lord Clive. His antagonists, however, insisting on a ballot, the numbers appeared to be eleven and eleven. Sullivan finding himself betrayed or overreached, retired with heat, and Rous, his principal enemy, was chosen chairman. Had Sullivan, who was the creature of Lord Shelburne, succeeded, Colonel Barré was to have gone Governor to Bengal, which was given to Lord Clive, and he was soon after decorated with the Order of the Bath, to give dignity to his new employment.
At the same time, to mark that Parliamentary services or disobedience were the leading steps to favour or disgrace, Mr. Bridgman458 was turned out of the Board of Greencloth for his vote on General Warrants; and was succeeded by Richard Vernon,459 formerly an officer, a jockey, a gamester, and brother-in-law of the Duchess of Bedford. Mr. Cadogan460 was appointed Surveyor of the Royal Gardens; and Jeremiah Dyson was made one of the Lords of Trade. Of this man it is necessary to say a few more words. He was a tailor’s son, had risen under Nicholas Hardinge from a subaltern clerk of the House of Commons, to succeed him as first clerk, and by education and principle was thought and had conversed as a staunch Republican.461 In that employment he had comported himself with singular decency and intelligence. In truth his parts were excellent: he was quick, subtle, shrewd, clear, both in conception and delivery, and was master of argumentative eloquence, though void of every ornamental part of it. Being of an unhealthy complexion, and very fretful temper, he had quitted his laborious post, and was now come into Parliament, secretly sold to the Favourite; but from his behaviour as their clerk, having conciliated much goodwill to himself among the members, he was for some time heard with great favour and satisfaction, an indulgence he lost afterwards, when his warmth made them recollect he had once been their servant. He now appeared as devoted to George Grenville, and indeed was excellently useful, from his parts and great knowledge of Parliamentary business, to all who employed him. But proving both slippery to his friends as fast as they fell, and vexatious to his enemies, few men became equally unpopular. Having deserted Grenville on a change of times, and happening to convert his tied wig into a bag, Lord Gower being asked the reason, said, “It is because no Tye will hold him.”462 Dyson will appear again on the stage in a critical moment.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Prorogation of the Parliament.—Walpole’s Conduct on the dismissal of General Conway for voting against Ministers on the Question of the legality of General Warrants.—Trial of Carteret Webbe for Perjury.—The Earl of Northumberland Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland.
On the 19th the Parliament rose. And now it is that I am obliged to weave the history of my own conduct into a large part of the following narration. Two considerable eras having taken their complexion from my councils, the thread of my story would be imperfect, if I omitted what relates to my own behaviour. I shall give it as briefly as the subject and clearness will permit, and hope the reader will excuse egotisms where no glory was the result of my actions. Chance, more than design, presented the means; and if the moments were luckily seized, it was from no merit, no foresight of mine, that those moments were brought on.
Having fully seen the incapacity of the Opposition, sensible how ill they were united, and foreseeing that their strength would rather diminish than augment, and at the same time flattering myself, from the resistance which the Ministry had experienced, that they would be less flippant in their innovations on liberty, which was fortified by getting rid of general warrants, I had determined to give over politics; and to withdraw myself from shallow councils. I was preparing to make a visit to my friend and relation,463 Lord Hertford, at Paris, when, two days after the rising of the Parliament, I was stunned with notice of Mr. Conway being turned out of the King’s bedchamber, and dismissed from the command of his regiment of dragoons. As I had been a principal cause of this unworthy treatment, and of this destruction of his fortunes, nothing could be more sensible to me than this blow. Nor could I remain a moment in doubt, from the complexion of some in power, but that the stroke was aimed still more at me than at Mr. Conway, though directly I was out of their reach. The Bedford faction I knew were my mortal enemies. Yet I saw, too, that Mr. Conway had a share in the resentment of others. Grenville was not of a nature to pardon the slight Mr. Conway had made both of his favour and power. He had offended Lord Sandwich, too, by refusing to influence the chaplain of his regiment to vote for him at Cambridge; and Lord Holland had long groaned for an opportunity of revenging himself on Lord Hertford for his treatment of Bunbury. The tone of the ruling Administration was