On the 24th of March, SHELBURNE had the satisfaction of conveying to Lord ROCKINGHAM the royal concession of his constitutional demands—obtained after a wearisome negotiation, and only by the piling up of argument on argument in successive conversations at the ‘Queen’s House,’ lasting sometimes for three mortal hours. [Sidenote: DEATH OF LORD ROCKINGHAM, 1782, 1 July.] Three months afterwards, the new Premier was dead. And with him departed the cohesion of the Whigs. [Sidenote: FORMATION OF LORD SHELBURNE’S MINISTRY.] As Secretary of State, Lord SHELBURNE’S chief task had been the control of that double and most unwelcome negotiation which was carried on at Paris with France and with America.[3] For it had fallen to the lot of the utterer of the ‘sunset-speech,’[4]—‘if we let America go, the sun of Great Britain is set’—to arrange the terms of American pacification. And the obstructions in that path which were created at home were even more serious stumbling-blocks than were the difficulties abroad. The cardinal points of Lord SHELBURNE’S policy, at this time, were to retain, by hook or crook, some amount or other of hold upon America, and at the worst to keep the Court of France from enjoying the prestige, or setting up the pretence, of having dictated the terms of peace. That the split in the Whig party was really and altogether inevitable, now that ROCKINGHAM’S death had placed SHELBURNE above reasonable competition for the premiership, was made known to him when at Court, in the most abrupt manner. On the 7th of July (six days after the death of the Marquess), Fox took him by the sleeve, with the blunt question: ‘Are you to be First Lord of the Treasury?’ [Sidenote: Walpole to Mann (from an eye witness), 1782, July 7.] When SHELBURNE said ‘Yes,’ the instant rejoinder was, ‘Then, my Lord, I shall resign.’ Fox had brought the seals in his pocket, and proceeded immediately to return them to the King. In his first speech as Premier, Lord SHELBURNE spoke thus:—‘It has been said that I have changed my opinion about the independence of America.... My opinion is still the same. When that independence shall have been established, the sun of England may be said to have set. I have used every effort, public and private—in England, and out of it—to avert so dreadful a disaster.... [Sidenote: _Parliamentary Debates_, vol. xxiii, col. 194.] But though this country should have received a fatal blow, there is still a duty incumbent upon its Ministers to use their most vigorous exertions to prevent the Court of France from being in a situation to dictate the terms of Peace. The sun of England may have set. But we will improve the twilight. We will prepare for the rising of that sun again. And I hope England may yet see many, many happy days.’