of Lords, he had been drinking and singing loose catches with Wilkes at
one of the most dissolute clubs in London. Shortly after the meeting of
Parliament, the Beggar's Opera was acted at Covent Garden Theatre. When
Macheath uttered the words, "That Jemmy Twitcher should peach me I own
surprised me," pit, boxes, and galleries burst into a roar which seemed
likely to bring the roof down. From that day Sandwich was universally
known by the nickname of Jemmy Twitcher. The ceremony of burning the
North Briton was interrupted by a riot. The constables were beaten; the
paper was rescued; and, instead of it, a jack boot and a petticoat were
committed to the flames. Wilkes had instituted an action, for the
seizure of his papers, against the Under Secretary of State. The jury
gave a thousand pounds damages. But neither these nor any other
indications of public feeling had power to move Grenville. He had the
Parliament with him; and, according to his political creed, the sense of
the nation was to be collected from the Parliament alone.

Soon, however, he found reason to fear that even the Parliament might
fail him. On the question of the legality of general warrants, the
opposition, having on its side all sound principles, all constitutional
authorities, and the voice of the whole nation, mustered in great
force, and was joined by many who did not ordinarily vote against the
government. On one occasion the ministry, in a very full house, had a
majority of only fourteen votes. The storm, however, blew over. The
spirit of the opposition, from whatever cause, began to flag at the
moment when success seemed almost certain. The session ended without any
change. Pitt, whose eloquence had shone with its usual lustre in all the
principal debates, and whose popularity was greater than ever, was still
a private man. Grenville, detested alike by the court and by the people,
was still minister.

As soon as the Houses had risen, Grenville took a step which proved,
even more signally than any of his past acts, how despotic, how
acrimonious, and how fearless his nature was. Among the gentlemen not
ordinarily opposed to the government, who, on the great constitutional
question of general warrants, had voted with the minority, was Henry
Conway, brother of the Earl of Hertford, a brave soldier, a tolerable
speaker, and a well-meaning, though not a wise or vigorous politician.
He was now deprived of his regiment, the merited reward of faithful and