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 despotic, nor had they forgotten how lately they had trembled with apprehension of losing their power. Here were more than motives sufficient to egg on general or particular vengeance. And in general I must leave it; for after long search and much information, I cannot fix the deed on any single man. There was but one man among the suspected that ever solemnly denied having a share in it; and he constantly did: I mean Lord Bute. All the rest have charged it on others, though still without disavowing having had a hand in it themselves. The King often afterwards protested to Lord Hertford that his Ministers464 forced him to it. Grenville declared that his Majesty was more eager for it than any of them. The Duke of Bedford alone was frank, and avowed that though he had not recommended the measure, he had told his colleagues, when they proposed to remove Mr. Conway from the bedchamber only, that it was foolish to provoke him by halves; and that to leave him his regiment, and take away the bedchamber, would be telling other officers that they might oppose the Court with impunity.
Be it as it may, the boldness of the step was almost unprecedented. Sir Robert Walpole had dismissed the Lords Westmoreland465 and Cobham466 from the command of regiments; and Mr. Pitt from a cornetcy; but it was not till by a personal, violent, and constant opposition, that they had made themselves as obnoxious as possible. Yet even that measure, provoked as it was, had occasioned great clamour; and had contributed to animate the Opposition, which at last overthrew that Minister. Mr. Grenville had joined in that Opposition, had risen on that foundation; and the Duke of Bedford had signed a protest against the measure of dismissing officers for parliamentary reasons. How different was the case now! The temper and fairness of the man disgraced, his aversion to faction, the disinterestedness of his character, his general co-operation with the measures of Government, his being recently recommended to favour by Prince Ferdinand for his services in Germany, and his being brother to the ambassador at Paris—all these were considerations that made the measure amazing. But when it was observed that this punishment was inflicted for a single467 vote in Parliament, when it was evident that that vote had been peculiarly conscientious, and given in a cause avowed by the nation, and against a practice certain of being, as it soon after was, condemned by the Courts of Law, and though maintained by Parliament in retrospect, yet given up for the future by that very Parliament as pernicious; when the context, too, appeared to be, that military men in Parliament were to forfeit their profession and the merit of their services, unless implicitly devoted to the Court; could these reflections, when coupled with the arbitrary measures which the nation had observed to be the system of the Court, fail to occasion the blackest presages? Lord Bute, in truth, had slunk away from his own victory; but Grenville remained, and had Bute’s tools, and Sandwich and Rigby, to war with on the constitution, and Lord Mansfield and Norton ready to turn the law against itself.
It was a beautiful contrast, the behaviour of the person aggrieved. His temper, decency, and submission were unalterable and unequalled. He neither complained nor tried to instil a sense of his injuries into a single friend, though he wished they should take his part, and resent for him. He could not have entertained a wish worse founded: his friends were rejoiced at not being called upon; and had no ambition to share the crown of his martyrdom. There lived not three more interested men than the Duke of Argyle,468 Lord Lorn, and Lord Frederick Campbell, the father and brothers of Lady Ailesbury,469 Mr. Conway’s wife. The first loved money, and had incurred unpleasant suspicions in his efforts to obtain it. Lord Lorn470 was sordidly covetous, and had not sense enough to foresee a blessing in futurity beyond the first half-crown that glittered in his eyes. Lord Frederick471 was sensible, shrewd, and selfish; and on this and a subsequent crisis showed that no connection or obligation could stand against the eagerness with which he pursued immediate fortune. Nothing else weighed with him, except the inveteracy of national prejudice. As Mr. Conway had acted in opposition to Scottish measures, Lord Frederick, forgetting Mr. Conway’s friendship and kindness, and his own youthful situation, and borne away by a hot temper, often and indecently attacked him in Parliament, though without any brilliancy of parts to colour over such improper behaviour. The Duke of Richmond, who had married Lady Ailesbury’s daughter, kept himself more free from blame. He had been witness to the integrity of Mr. Conway’s conduct at the conference with Mr. Grenville, and certainly loved him, though not enough to participate his disgrace. The Duke, however, offered to take a part in Parliament if Mr. Conway’s friends would move for an inquiry into the cause of his dismission; but that offer did not include his Grace’s engaging any farther against the Court.
There was still another relation of Mr. Conway more deeply involved in his disgrace, and more immediately called upon to resent it; his brother, Lord Hertford. Yet there were both real and specious reasons for his submitting to it.472 Mr. Conway had taken this part, not only without consulting him, but when he must have known how unwelcome it would be to Lord Hertford, then in the King’s service both at home and abroad, and well treated; connected with the Ministry, and ever desirous of being so with all Administrations. Lord Hertford had even, after his brother’s first vote, made remonstrances to him, though in vain. On the other hand, honour, interest in a general sense, and personal resentment, called on Lord Hertford to espouse his brother’s quarrel. Ambassador in France, where no officer was ever broken but for cowardice or some atrocious crime, it could but strike the French Court that the Ambassador stood in little estimation at home, when such an affront was put on the family. Could he expect more consideration if he acquiesced? On the other hand, should the Opposition succeed, in which, besides his brother, were his wife’s nephew, the Duke of Grafton,473 and his old friends, whom he had already offended by not acting with them, what could he expect but, at best, the humiliating circumstance of being saved by his brother whom he had abandoned? Nor could Lord Hertford doubt but that Mr. Conway partly suffered on his account, as far as Lord Holland had any share in the measure. Yet, though there had been no instance of such a disgrace remaining unresented, much less when such a character was so unjustly treated, not a single resignation marked that the sufferer had either a friend or relation in the place. He was at once sacrificed by the Court, and abandoned by his own family.
It became the more incumbent on me to make him all the reparation in my power. I offered him six thousand pounds, which he refused; and I altered my will, giving him almost my whole fortune unless his regiment should be restored to him; a destination with which I acquainted him. And though it certainly would not augment the gift, I determined to hazard all I had rather than not revenge both him and myself. Grenville, the very day before the dismission of Mr. Conway, whether to detach me from him, or fearing I should make use of the indiscretion he had been guilty of, ordered the payment of my
