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 bills at the Treasury; a step that, far from soothing, but served to increase my resentment. I dreaded lest Mr. Conway should think I had kept any underhand measures with the Treasury; but I soon convinced both him and the world how steadily I embraced the cause of my friend. Yet for the first time in my life I acted with a phlegm of which I did not know myself capable. I shut myself up in the country for three days, till I had conquered the first ebullitions of my rage, and then returned to town with a face of satisfaction, which some thought indifference; and others joy at having dipped Mr. Conway in Opposition. Both were mistaken. I knew that both Mr. Conway and the Opposition were little formed for the business. I had everything to discourage me, and nothing but perseverance and the firmness of my own temper to carry me on. I foresaw, indeed, that the persecution he had undergone would raise the character of Mr. Conway, would lend him an importance he would never have assumed, and might one day place him at the head of this country. I foresaw that the violence and unprincipled rashness of the Ministers would conduct them to a precipice; but I should far overrate my own sagacity, if I pretended to have discovered that those prospects were near enough to administer any comfort to my impatience. I knew the folly of those I was to act with. I could not flatter myself it would be exceeded by the folly of those I was to act against.
If self-interest restrained Mr. Conway’s family from embracing his defence, it was as natural that the Opposition should caress him. A martyr is as creditable to a party in politics as to a sect in religion. Yet so decent and so dignified was the Opposition of that time, that they expressed none of the heat and ardour with which parties usually seize such an event. The Duke of Devonshire, indeed, came to me, and with great delicacy desired that I would in his name make an offer to Mr. Conway of a thousand pounds a year, till his regiment should be restored.474 This noble offer Mr. Conway as generously declined. However, it gave lustre to our cause; and it was my purpose to raise as high as I could the character of our party, and to spread