The Duke of Richmond was struck with the violence of Sir George Saville’s behaviour, and lamented it to Mr. Conway and me. Sir George had told the Duke that it had been concerted with nobody, and that he should not repeat it every day, which would be womanish: but he was glad he had gone so far; it would convince the county of York that he had said nothing at the meeting which he would not maintain in the House. He intimated too, that if the dissolution was refused, he should go still farther--but he never did. I said, Sir George’s behaviour was the more blameable for not having acquainted his friends with his intention; he knew them to be conscientious and men of honour, knew they would not desert him; and thus had ventured embarking them without their consent: he would have been answerable for the lives and fortunes of all who might have fallen in the quarrel. His behaviour had tended to stir up insurrections, which would end in the loss of our liberties, as in the long run the Crown certainly, this King probably, would get the mastery. Could they withstand the King and both Houses? They had polled the nation, and the majority by far was against them. Not a dozen counties, and only a few boroughs, had petitioned. What strength should they have to support them? The greater part of England, all Scotland to a man, and Wales, were against them. Would Lord Chatham, would Lord Temple, would Grenville, join them, or not be the first to make their peace? I besought the Duke to mollify Sir George Saville--not to countenance him. “Good God, sir!” said the Duke, “do you think I would go into rebellion?” Mr. Conway discussed the merits of the question very ably, and showed it had ever been the usage of Parliament to incapacitate improper members. Lord Rockingham’s friends had yielded to the incapacitation, and now disputed the consequences. In a free government the minority must submit to the majority, or nothing could go on. Did it become Burke, an Irish adventurer, to treat the House of Commons with such unexampled insolence? “Do you think, my Lord,” continued Conway, “that the majority will bear to hear themselves abused daily? Do you think we are more afraid than you are? Was it come to calling names, or to cutting throats?” The Duke bore this remonstrance with great temper: he had, indeed, as I have said, been staggered at the outrage of his friends, and I believe this conversation had so much weight with him, as to promote his moderating, and consequently preventing a repetition of such hostilities.