Having foreseen the death of the Duke of Devonshire, and apprehending that it would break up and dissolve our party, I determined to know if we had anything farther to trust to. During the summer I had had frequent conversations with Lord Lyttelton, who was on good terms again with Mr. Pitt and Lord Temple, and who really admired Conway. Lord Lyttelton’s object was to reconcile George Grenville and his brothers, and to make a coalition between that whole family and the Opposition, with or without the Bedfords, but totally to the exclusion of Lord Bute. No man so addicted to wisdom was less wise than Lord Lyttelton; no man so propense to art was less artful; no man staked his honesty to less purpose, for he was so awkward that honesty was the only quality that seemed natural to him. His cunning was so often in default, that he was a kind of beacon that warned men not to approach the shallows on which he founded his attachments, always at a wrong season.[25] Mr. Pitt had neither tasted his views nor reasons; and Lord Temple, who was growing less disinclined to his brother George, neither trusted Lord Lyttelton with that secret, nor with the growing coolness between him and Mr. Pitt. On this miscarriage I resolved to feel my way myself, and went to Stowe. My doubts, if any remained, were there fully cleared away. I discovered that Lord Temple had no influence, scarce any intercourse with Mr. Pitt; and, though he endeavoured to slide over that coolness, I was determined to fathom it; and did. I said I had prayed Lord Lyttelton to bring about an interview between Mr. Conway and Mr. Pitt; that the latter wanted a second in the House of Commons, and could have no man so confidential, trusty, or creditable, as the former; that I was sorry to find no disposition to union in his Lordship’s friends; and that though I would try my utmost till Christmas to cement our party, I should give over a foolish and hopeless opposition, if I met encouragement nowhere.