That I would take no place was well known,--I had frequently declared it. From the Duke of Cumberland, to whom I had never paid court; from the Duke of Newcastle, whom I had constantly ridiculed; from Lord Rockingham and the Cavendishes, whom I had treated with a very moderate share of regard; I had no reason to expect much attention: and though some notice is due to all men who are respected in a party, _they_ were excusable in proposing nothing for me, when they found nothing demanded for me by my own intimate friend and near relation. He must be supposed to know my mind best: if he was silent, what called on them to be more solicitous for my interest? But what could excuse this neglect in Mr. Conway? For him I had sacrificed everything; for him I had been injured, oppressed, calumniated. The foundation of his own fortune, and almost every step of his fortune, he owed solely to me. How thoroughly soever he knew my sentiments, was a compliment at least not due to me. Whatever was due to me, much or little, he totally forgot it; and so far from once endeavouring to secure my independence, in his whole life after he never once mentioned it. I had too much spirit to remind him of it, though he has since frequently vaunted to me his own independence. Such failure of friendship, or to call it by its truer name, such insensibility, could not but shock a heart at once so tender and so proud as mine. His ensuing conduct completely opened my eyes. When I saw him eager and anxious to exalt his brother Hertford to the Vice-royalty of Ireland, and his brother-in-law Lorn to a regiment; and when he omitted no occasion of serving them and the Duke of Argyle[175] and Lord Frederick Campbell--all four, men who had abandoned him to persecution without a pang, I saw clearly into his nature. He thought it noble, he thought it would be fame, to pardon the neglect he had met with; and that the world would applaud his generous return of their ungenerous and interested behaviour. No glory would have accrued from his serving me, as it would have been natural and no more than was expected. His heart was so cold that it wanted all the beams of popular applause to kindle it into action. I had command enough of myself not to drop a word of reproach on a friendship so frozen; but, without murmur, and with my wonted cheerfulness, as soon as my strength was tolerably recruited, I declared my intention of making a visit to Lord Hertford, at Paris, before he quitted his embassy. I acted with the same unconcern to the whole party, for I would neither suffer them nor my enemies to know that I had any cause to be dissatisfied with Mr. Conway. When I scorned to open myself, even to him, it was not likely I should be more communicative to others. As disgust with my friends did not, as most commonly happens, reconcile me to my enemies, I foresaw that I might still have occasion to make use of my power with Mr. Conway to the annoyance of the latter; for though Mr. Conway had