While the arrangement of the new drama was thus settling, there was an important actor to be made easy; but it was one who, whenever he appeared of most consequence, was sure of rendering himself insignificant. This was Charles Townshend. After his usual fluctuation, he accepted the post of First Lord of the Admiralty, and actually went to St. James’s to kiss hands for it. Presuming that nothing would or could be refused to him, without asking it, without even naming it to any minister, and as if the seats of his colleagues at that Board were in the nomination of the First Commissioner, he carried to court with him a Mr. Burrel, one of his followers, intending the latter should kiss hands along with himself as another Lord of the Admiralty. Thinking his honour engaged to carry through this absurdity, he would not kiss the King’s hand unless Burrel was admitted too. It was flatly refused, and Townshend was told that the King had no further occasion for his service. Lord Shelburne was immediately named to succeed him at the head of the Board of Trade, and Lord Sandwich to fill up the place destined to Townshend at the head of the Admiralty.
These were all the public promotions calculated to oil the new springs of Government. But the Favourite did not close the scene of his administration without conferring still more solid marks of his power and friendship on his family and intimate dependents. The reversion of Auditor[326] of the Imprest was obtained for his own son Lord Mount-Stewart. My place of Usher of the Exchequer was granted in reversion to Samuel Martin;[327] and a place[328] in the Custom-house, held by my brother, but the far greater share of which had been bequeathed to me by my father for my brother’s life, was also granted in reversion to Jenkinson.[329] I was, I confess, much provoked at this last grant, and took occasion of fomenting the ill-humour against the Favourite, who thus excluded me from the possibility of obtaining the continuance of that place to myself in case of my brother’s death; but in truth, except in the want of that attention, I had no reason to complain. I had refused to accept the grant[330] from Fox, and I had in terms told Lord Bute that I would accept no favour from him, though with great civility, and without acting in any shape as hostile to him. Thus my resentment kept no deep root: and I can say with the utmost truth, that as I afterwards, though never connected with him, was on many occasions friendly to that great favourite, so no word in these Memoirs to his prejudice has been dictated by a vindictive spirit, but the whole narrative is faithfully the representation of what I knew and heard of him. Infinite ill has he occasioned to this country, in which light only it is my intention to pass sentence on his character. In other respects, the meanness of his abilities and the poorness of his spirit place him below resentment. His private virtues, the long and bitter persecution he has undergone, and many domestic misfortunes, would extract every sting which exact or necessary justice did not sharpen. The last transaction I am going to mention flowing notoriously from his dispensation, was of a nature not to be palliated or forgotten. To see it in its full force of indignity offered to so mighty a country, the reader must place himself at the moment when England, triumphant over France and Spain, had annihilated their navies, and sat sole arbitress of peace and war, absolutely secure that Europe combined could not wrench her conquests from her, and sure of proving her moderation by consenting to peace on almost whatever terms she should please to dictate.